The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

“Everyone will flock there,” Violet cut in, horrified. “Those people will not only fight over the water, but if they drink it…”

“So the water is already toxic?” asked Mags, alarm making her rise in her seat.

“No,” Henrik soothed. “Or very unlikely. Calm down, everyone, please. We still have some time—but not long. A little over a day, if Thomas’ models are correct.”

Everyone fell silent at that, and Mags sat back down, but on the edge of her seat. “I need to confer with Drew and Logan. Can you give us a moment?”

We nodded, watching as they slipped from the room. Tiffany moved back into the screen. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t even know the water had been shut off. I spent most of the day with Logan, getting across the city.”

“That’s all right, Tiffany. So, what do you think? Will they help us?”

She gave a little shrug. “I honestly don’t know, but I hope so.”

We lapsed into silence, waiting for the rebel leaders to return. They didn’t keep us waiting long. Almost five minutes later, they were back, Drew and Logan arranging themselves on the couch. Mags moved closer to the camera, but remained off to one side, so we could still see the two men. “Send us the instructions for how to get the cameras on. If that checks out, we’ll hear your plan to get into the city and free the water treatment plant. If it’s good enough, we’ll join you. But we have a stipulation.”

“What is it?” asked Ms. Dale, wariness worming into her voice.

“You can’t fulfill it—only the king can.”

Maxen jerked in his seat, surprise dancing across his features. “What can I help you with?”

Mags’s face split into a wide, impish grin. “You have to agree to let the people who remain decide if you should continue on as their king. And if they don’t, you step down and let the people decide who will lead them.”

Everyone turned and looked at the king, whose face was wide-eyed with shock. Even I was a bit stunned by her demand. Not that I disliked it, but for them to go straight for the throat like that, have it out in the open, was definitely unexpected.

The king seemed to be aware of all eyes on him, and his face quickly changed.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly. “I am but a humble servant to the will of my people.”

“That remains to be seen,” Mags said honestly. “I gave Tiffany my contact info. Send us the coordinates and the instructions for the camera stuff. I’ll get a team on it. We’ll call you back when it’s done.” Before we could reply, she had reached down and killed the connection.

We sat in silence, every one of us pondering the interaction.

Finally, Ms. Dale swiveled around in her chair, a crooked smile on her face. “I like her.”





19





Violet





“I really hate this idea,” I repeated for the third time as I watched Jay open the trunk of the car, revealing Desmond.

A pillowcase covered her head—Dr. Tierney had administered a sedative before they transported her.

“Me too,” replied Viggo, squeezing my hand. “But there was nowhere else we could put her, short of our safe house, and I don’t want to leave her there with the children and the doctors, if we can avoid it. Besides, it’s better to keep her close, but not too close, right? This is a good compromise.”

I knew Viggo was right. But it was still unnerving. We were on the verge of a major mission, and Desmond would be kept in a shack Harry had discovered a little over a mile away from the farmhouse, near where we had parked the truck with Solomon, just to keep him safe and calm. Loud noises seemed to set him off, as evidenced by the impressive dents in the container in the back. People from several locations who weren’t leaving for the raid were already going to be coming to the shed to help feed and care for Solomon; Desmond’s guard would have plenty of backup. None of this was ideal, but we were too short on time and resources to find anything better. There was just so much on the line, and things were falling into place faster than we had imagined.

Mags’ team had made it to Thomas’ safe house in an apartment he had rented out long term before any of this had gone down. He’d hidden his server in there, for fear of the damp interfering with it, and could remotely link with it once it was turned on. Within four hours of our conversation with her, Mags had called to report that they’d followed the instructions we’d sent her. Thomas confirmed, and the conversation with the three rebel factions continued. It seemed that they were satisfied with our exchange after all—his cameras had bought their trust, or at least their cooperation.

Henrik explained his plan at each stage, from taking out the guard posts—specifically the ones that were particularly vulnerable and close to the water treatment plant—to the plan he had cobbled together for taking the water treatment plant, based on images from the nearby cameras pointed at the street. Questions were asked and answered, new ideas proposed and improved upon, and just like that… the time to start was now. And though it felt like we were moving at breakneck speed, it was good: if Thomas’ projections were correct, and if Elena’s forces were tampering with the water source, we had less than thirty-six hours to stop them.

Viggo helped Jay pull Desmond out of the trunk, but Jay took the brunt of her weight, holding her on his own. My mouth pressed in a thin line, but I ignored it. It had been Jay’s choice to help with this, and I wasn’t about to stand in his way when it came to him and how he wanted to handle his mother. I just knew that if she said anything out of line to him again, I would…

I sighed. Desmond’s stalemate had us stuck. We still had no way of knowing for sure whether or not she was telling the truth regarding the boys, and wouldn’t even be able to try to formulate a plan to check until after this current insanity was done. It was imperative that we deal with the water treatment plant first—if only by the sheer numbers of people who would be affected by anything sinister that went on there. For now, we were doing the best we could.

Jay hefted Desmond up and carried her across the overgrown yard, stepping onto the sagging collection of boards that made up the shack’s front stoop. Lacey, a young refugee woman, was already holding the door open for him. The room was already lit—a fire burned in the small wood oven to the left of the room, generating enough heat to keep the chill outside from fully permeating the dilapidated one-room building.