But the pressure in the main boiler began dropping fast. Alex hit the floor and covered his head. Around him was pure chaos, and visibility dropped to nothing.
Five minutes later, when the steam had thinned, guards in gas masks rushed in. They found Alex alive against the wall, his hands badly burned. Nearby, under the fallen pipe, lay what was left of Sly.
Major Bailey entered behind them, covering his face with a handkerchief. He looked at the gauge. The needle had fallen back into the safe zone. The camp—and his career—had been saved.
He walked over to Alex, who was trying to stand. “You lucky son of a gun,” the major said quietly. “You stopped the reaction.”
Bailey nudged Sly’s body with his boot. “So. Sabotage. The Count decided to start a war with me.”
The major bent toward Alex. His eyes were cold now. “You saved my life, Walker. But you know where the gold is, and Sly is dead.”
“Now it’s just you and me in this equation. I have one last offer. You give me the gold voluntarily, right now.”
“And I sign papers transferring you to an open settlement. You’ll live in the work village, do lab work, practically a free man.”
“Or I hand you to the Count. And believe me, he already knows his perfect plan failed because of you.” Alex looked down at his burned hands.
He understood this was the endgame. The Count had already marked him for death, and the major was offering a deal with the devil. But Alex had a third option, one he had been preparing since the night of the safe.
An option neither the criminal boss nor the officer had calculated. “I don’t want a settlement, Major,” Alex said hoarsely, lifting his eyes. “I want a full pardon and travel papers.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Bailey said, genuinely stunned. “That’s impossible.” “No,” Alex said firmly. “It’s possible.”
“Because the gold isn’t in the camp anymore. It’s already gone.” “What?” Bailey’s hand flew to his sidearm. “Where?”
“To the capital,” Alex said. “If I don’t make a phone call to a certain number within 24 hours, a package gets opened at central security. It contains your gold and your fingerprints on it.”
Silence filled Major Bailey’s office, dense as lead. The only sound was the ticking of the wall clock, measuring out seconds that might be the last good ones either man had. The commander kept one hand on his holster. His face had gone white, and sweat stood out on his forehead.
He stared at Alex, searching for some sign of a bluff, some crack in the story. But all he found was that same cold emptiness. The same abyss he had sensed the first time they met.
“The capital,” Bailey rasped. “How? Mail is inspected. Every package is checked.”
“You’re lying. You’re trying to scare me.” “You forgot about secure courier service, Major,” Alex answered calmly, as if delivering a lecture…
