“Mo, take her and get to Paige, then get out of here.”
“Mo, you lay a hand on me, and I promise I will knock you out,” Astra hisses.
Mo looks at me with exasperation on her face. She knows Astra will take her apart if she tries to do as I ask, but ever the good soldier, looks like she wants to follow my orders anyway.
“Mo, you go. Take Paige and get to a safe distance,” I tell her.
“You sure?”
“Actually, wait,” I say. “Run to the vehicles and get me the box of tools in the back of the SUV. I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”
“Copy you.”
Mo turns and sprints outside, leaving Astra and me staring at the bomb attached to the lock of Ashley’s container. I search the face of the device and see there are four screws holding it in place and the glowing red letters on the display screen simply say “armed.” As if we need the reminder. I look at the keypad, lamenting the fact that the only guy who could give us the right code to disarm the device is splattered all over the pavement outside.
“We could try punching in random numbers and hope we get lucky and hit on the right combination to disarm the bombs,” Astra offers.
“Unless Townsend put a limit on the number of guesses we can make before it sets the whole thing off,” I say.
“Yeah, I suppose that kind of seems like his style.”
A couple of minutes later, a red-faced, out-of-breath Mo runs back into the warehouse and hands me the small box containing my toolkit.
“That’s great. Thank you,” I say. “Now, take Astra and get out of here.”
“Still not going,” Astra says, defiantly folding her arms over her chest. “Nice try though.”
I sigh and feel time slipping by. Every second feels like a hundred-pound weight being added onto my shoulders. I don’t have time to stand here arguing with Astra any longer.
“Fine. Stay,” I say. “Mo, get Paige and get to cover a safe distance away.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Positive.”
Mo hesitates but, no doubt feeling the pressure of time herself as well as my fraying patience, turns and runs out of the warehouse, leaving me with Astra.
“Why are you being so defiant?” I turn to her and ask.
She shrugs. “It’s my nature.”
“Not funny. Benjamin will never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”
“Do you know what your sister, the international assassin and pretty much the baddest woman on the planet, would do to me if I let something happen to you?” she responds. “Yeah. I’m not here for that, so let’s do each other a favor and defuse these bombs, huh?”
“Please, Astra,” I say. “I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“Then you better make sure nothing happens to me because I’m not going anywhere,” she replies flatly. “Now, can we get to work and save these kids?”
“For the record, I don’t feel good about this.”
“The bright side is, if we blow ourselves up, you won’t have to live with the feeling long.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“It’s really not,” I say and open the toolkit. “Okay, let’s get to work.”
I pull the Phillips screwdriver out of the box and quickly pull the first screw out of the device’s face plate. Sweat is streaming down my back, and I feel it beading up on my forehead. My heart is racing like I’m in the middle of a hundred-yard sprint and my hands are shaking, making it difficult to line the tip of the screwdriver up with the screw. Astra puts her hand over mine and looks me in the eye, a sober expression on her face.
“Take a breath, Blake. Focus,” she says.
Closing my eyes, I draw in a breath and hold it for a ten count, then exhale. I feel only marginally calmer, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. It’s not like I have time for a full-on meditation and chakra cleansing session or anything.
“You got this,” Astra says.
My hand a little steadier, I slip the head of the screwdriver into the screw channel and begin to turn it, then stop as a thought occurs to me.
“You okay? What is it?” Astra asks.
“It just hit me that we need help.”
“You think?”
“I think I know where to find it.”
“Will they get here in time?”
