the one after that, and the one after that. Finally, on his fifth attempt, with sweat dripping off his forehead from tension and physical exertion, he found the one that did the job.
With a sigh of relief, Payne opened the door as quietly as he could and slid into the cabin with nary a sound. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkened interior of the room, but when they finally focused, he realized his mission had just become a whole lot easier.
He had been hoping to find Ariane or Jones.
Instead, he had hit the mother lode.
STILL in handcuffs, Jones opened the silver shell of the explosive and carefully probed the interior of the bomb for booby traps. He found several. If he had removed the anklet’s casing without care, the device would’ve exploded in his face, triggered in a millionth of a second by a series of trip wires that protected the outer core of the mechanism.
Thankfully, he noticed them in time.
After neutralizing the safeguards, Jones dug deeper, examining the high-tech circuitry that filled the unit. “I’ll be damned,” he said, impressed. He had never seen a portable explosive filled with so much modern technology: data microprocessors, external pressure sensors, satellite uplink antennae—which he broke off—and digital detonation switches. The kind of stuff that couldn’t be bought at Radio Shack. “This is some serious shit!”
Using the sharpened lever from the toilet, Jones continued to explore, searching under the electronic hardware for the actual explosive. In order to take out the door, Jones needed to understand how much force the device was capable of producing. He assumed that the component was filled with a relatively stable explosive, something that could handle sudden movements and exposure to body heat or static electricity, but he wasn’t sure what. C-4, a commonly used plastic explosive, was a possibility, so were RDX, TNT, and pentolite. Because of the high-tech craftsmanship of the anklet, Jones figured that the manufacturer would use something newer, sexier. Perhaps a synthetic hybrid.
When Jones finally discovered what he was dealing with, he gaped in fascination. The device was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Two vials, three inches in length, sat tucked underneath the circuitry. Each plastic cylinder was filled with a liquid—one red, the other clear. They were connected to a third vial, which was twice as wide as the others, through a series of slender plastic tubes. Each one was color-coded and approximately the width of a pencil.
The cylinders, the liquids, the tubes. All of them were new to Jones.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
As the words left his mouth, his problems actually worsened because he heard the distinct sound of keys rattling directly outside. Someone was about to enter the cabin.
Jones hastily looked around for a hiding place but found nowhere to stash the equipment. The mattress was probably his best possibility, but Jones knew if he was forced to sit on the bed, there was a chance that his weight could detonate the device, and the thought of shrapnel being launched up his ass was a bit unsettling.
Finally, with no other options in mind, Jones scooped up as many parts as he could and ran toward his bed. After setting the explosive on the floor, he turned his mattress on its side and angled it across the back corner of the room like a child’s fort. He figured, if he timed things just right, he could throw the explosive at the guard the moment he entered the room, then duck behind the bed for protection.
The knob twisted with a squeak.
Jones knew the plan wasn’t perfect, but he also realized that this could be his only chance to escape. That was why he was willing to risk everything on this plan. His entire life on one moment.
The door swung open.
Making things tougher, Jones had to throw the explosive with his hands bound together, forcing him to use an overhead soccer toss. And on top of that, his ribs still ached from the beating that Greene had given him earlier.
A man wearing black fatigues entered the cabin.
Jones had no choice. This had to be done.
In one swift motion, he launched the explosive at the dark figure and dropped to the floor behind his protective foam shield. In anticipation of a powerful blast, he covered his face and ears, curling into the fetal position against the back corner of the room. He was lucky he did. The cylinders ruptured on contact,