Max was both a cop and a rich asshole, so he would have the contacts and finances to create a complex device. If the bomb consisted of two separate compounds that needed mixing to be armed, the best way to defuse it would be to blow up the two compounds while they were still separated. But he didn’t have any C4.
Given the circumstances, though, he hoped that Max would have been forced to improvise a more basic device. He remembered a Marine friend in Iraq encircling a bomb with shaped charges, using the technique to chunk out the device. But that wouldn’t help here. Once the first charge blew, Max could simply shoot Christos.
A metal glint just underneath the bridge caught Rif’s attention. He leaned forward for a better view. The bomb was placed in the most inaccessible spot possible. He scaled the girders, avoiding looking down at the plummeting depths of the river below.
Sweat and rain made him wish he had gloves. His fingers ached as they clung to wet steel. Thea’s voice in his earpiece spurred him on. She was doing great.
He kept climbing. Almost there. The bomb clung to the inside of one of the girders, like a tumor adhering to bone. Most explosive devices consisted of one of four nitrates—ammonium, sodium, potassium, or calcium—along with whatever exotic mixture provided the desired outcome. Fire, projectiles, and explosive damage were among the most common. This was one of the latter varieties—there was enough C4 to decimate the bridge. If he could remove the primer from the volatile material, and if it wasn’t hot-wired, it’d be a lot easier than defusing the detonator.
Especially this detonator, which was linked to a cell phone. Max, or even an accomplice, could trigger the explosion at any second.
One option left.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Thea couldn’t quite process Max’s words. Papa had hired him to fake his own kidnapping? No way. But Christos’s defiant expression and the set of his jaw seemed to confirm it. She’d seen that look before.
Her stomach twisted, but her voice remained firm. “I believe you, Max. But why did my father hire you?”
“Oh, I’ve done lots of work for Christos over the years. When you like deals to go your way and can’t keep your zipper up, having a police official in your pocket can be quite useful.”
There was a ring of truth in all that. Papa was relentless when he wanted something, and she’d witnessed his womanizing streak herself.
“But why fake his own kidnapping?” she asked.
Max prodded Christos in the arm. “I think you should answer that one.”
Papa spoke for the first time, his mouth bloodied. “Nikos was planning to kidnap me. I had to beat him to it.”
Nikos? It couldn’t be. “But . . . killing Piers? He was part of our family! All the staff on the yacht . . .” She pulled back. She couldn’t afford to antagonize any party here. The situation called for de-escalation.
“No one was supposed to die.” Papa glared at Max. “I trusted the wrong man.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Regrettable but necessary. It’s a shame those people chose to work for a monster.”
She turned to her father. “Why didn’t you just confront Nikos?”
He didn’t answer at first. Seconds passed. “Because I’m afraid of my own son. He wasn’t just going to kidnap me. He wants to kill me. This was the only way to draw him out.”
Max’s face darkened. “Prince Nikos becomes a boy soldier, a killer. Now that boy is the world’s most prominent arms dealer.”
“Arms dealer?”
“Your brother is Ares—and Ares wanted to reclaim his rightful throne.”
Nikos was the world’s most infamous arms dealer, the one who kidnapped CEOs? Shock rippled through Thea’s brain.
“Christos had me track your brother for years. I stumbled on something recently that revealed his alter ego,” Max said.
“I did my best to help Nikos when he was a boy, but he was damaged beyond repair,” Christos said. “As Ares, he sold arms to rebels, contributing to political unrest; he kidnapped and murdered people. Then I found out about this twisted revenge plot.”
Goose bumps rippled along Thea’s arms at the thought of how her brother could behave when someone interfered with his plans. She touched the scar on her face. Even with Max Heros holding Papa hostage on the bridge, she was more worried about Nikos.
Rif’s voice murmured in her ear. “I’m cutting around the bomb so it’ll fall into the gorge. Wait for my signal.”
Rif balanced on a girder, twisting his body so he could access his backpack. The falls roared below, causing black vortexes of swirling water. If he survived this, he could always join the circus as a tightrope walker.
The conversation on the bridge sliced to the marrow. It didn’t surprise him about Nikos, but what the hell had Christos been thinking, hiring Heros to kidnap him? Why hadn’t his godfather come to him with the problem?
Shaking his head, he ignited the torch. Black smoke filled his vision. He waited for it to clear, then opened the oxygen valve. The blowtorch’s white-hot flame began to chew at the girder. But would he have enough time?
Chapter Seventy-Seven