The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

Roger that.

Viggo nodded at Thomas, and Thomas shut off the long-distance transmitter, moving swiftly to break it back down. I heard one of the vehicles start and looked over in time to see Ms. Dale driving it toward some trees growing in a tight cluster, followed by Morgan starting hers up as well. The only thing left inside was Desmond’s body, and if we died inside the palace, it could be a few days before anyone found the vehicles. We wanted to make sure of that, at least.

I shuddered and stepped back as Viggo pulled up the sleeves of his suit and zipped it up. He smoothed his hands over it, and I handed him his bag.

“That should be everything,” I said, turning off the subvocalizer for now. If only for this moment, I wanted to hear my husband’s voice responding to mine. “You have ten pounds of semtex with detonators, a mask in case there’s any tear gas, a knife, the tranquilizer gun with five darts for Elena or any boys you encounter, waterproof bags—” He let out a surprised laugh, and I shot him a look as I continued, “The special canteens that pull water out of the air, some rations, extra magazines… Have I forgotten anything?”

He bent over and placed a kiss on the top of my head. “Of course not. Best wife ever,” he said in a low voice in my ear, and my stomach dropped a little, my body growing warm with desire and anticipation. I somehow managed to take a slow breath and push the feeling down—now was not the time for me to be lusting over my husband. Even if he did look amazing in his Liberator suit and tactical gear, with his long hair gathered behind his neck and the spectacles still perched on his nose.

He moved over toward where Owen was now helping Thomas get his gear on, and I trailed after him, bending over to scoop up my own bag and weapon.

“I really want to tell you about the notebook and stuff I brought, Owen,” Thomas was saying as we walked up. Owen was focused on trying to cinch him into his bulletproof vest. Unfortunately, I could immediately see what the problem was: Thomas’ belly was a bit too rotund for the strap to slip through and then double back to cinch down on the other side.

“Suck it in, Thomas,” Owen grated, tugging hard at the strap, and Thomas yelped in pain. Owen made a frustrated noise and let go of the strap. “This isn’t going to work,” he announced.

“Then let me leave it off,” Thomas replied, shifting his shoulders. “It’s heavy and hot and itchy, and I’d rather not. Besides, I really need to explain the system I created here, so you can use it as effectively as possible in the event I—”

“Knock it off, Thomas,” Owen growled, raking a hand through his blonde hair. “You’re starting to make me nervous.”

“What?” Thomas blinked, his face reflecting his surprise. “No, I just wanted to prepare you on the off chance I—”

“Knock it off, Thomas,” Owen repeated, slightly louder this time, and Thomas sighed.

“All right, Owen. Here, help me get this off.”

“Hurry up, you two,” Viggo said as he bent over and picked up Thomas’ handheld. “How do I search for RF waves again?” he asked.

“Left column, third one down. Sniffer.exe. Just hit it, and the modifications I made to the handheld will be red on the screen. Red blobs indicate where the activity is concentrated.”

Viggo began to move the handheld around as Owen helped Thomas pull off the vest. Thomas zipped his suit up quickly, and bent over to pick up his bags.

“Anything?” he called, and Viggo shook his head.

Thomas moved over, his short legs moving briskly, and plucked the handheld from Viggo’s hands. He adjusted a few buttons on the screen and began swinging it around, whether nervously or just plain impatiently, it was hard to tell. After a moment, he smiled, and nodded.

“Over there,” he said, pointing.

Viggo moved over to it, Thomas and the rest of us behind him. Tim nudged his way over, and I reached out to tousle his hair.

“Do you have the serum Dr. Tierney gave you?” I asked, and he nodded.

“In bag. What now?”

Viggo kicked the ground a few times, finding one place that seemed more disturbed than the rest, and one kick reverberated slightly. Squatting down, he felt around in the dirt, and then pulled back handful after handful of wet grass and earth, until he seemed to find something about half an inch down. He pulled a few more handfuls away, and then dug his fingers into something, and a square bit of earth bounced up half an inch at an angle. He pulled it open, revealing a flat door with a keypad on it.

“We’re going down there,” I told Tim, and he gave me an annoyed look.

“I know. You be okay? You hate tunnels.”

I shrugged. “Not as much as I hate falling,” I replied, and he smiled.

“Maybe you go first,” he said with a wink, and I resisted the urge to push him. Instead I turned toward him and checked his uniform.

“Are you wearing your vest?” I asked, and he nodded. “Have you tested the suit yet?”

Tim hesitated and then nodded again.

“Hurts,” he informed me, and I frowned, a pang of fear going through me. If he couldn’t use it, then that meant he could be exposed and vulnerable in a fight.

I couldn’t think about that now. Viggo had told me about Tim’s abilities in the field. I had to trust that my brother was more than capable of taking care of himself.

“You’ll be okay,” I said quietly, sensing that he needed my reassurance. “Tim Bates—unstoppable ultimate warrior.”

He gave me an incredulous look and shook his head, his gray eyes returning to where Thomas was now hacking into the door, trying to get it open.

“Don’t like fighting,” he said after a minute. “Too much sad people. Too much crying.”

My face fell, and I nodded. “I know, Tim. Believe me, I know.”

Morgan jogged over, finished with hiding the car, and looked around. “How are we doing?” she asked, her eyes moving over to Thomas and Viggo, crouched over the door.

“We’re in,” Thomas announced—whether he had heard Morgan or was just informing the rest of us, I wasn’t sure—and there was a sharp hiss as the door was pulled open. Viggo turned on his flashlight and shone it into the hole below, revealing metal rungs embedded in the rock, the ladder running down a stone tube that was maybe three feet wide.

I swallowed as I looked at it, and then put the fear aside, reminding myself that it was better than falling. It was strange, but the thought comforted me. Viggo swung in first and began moving down the ladder, seemingly unbothered.

“You don’t think we’ll encounter anyone coming up?” asked Amber, and Morgan shrugged.