“This is the first time Sasha’s ever met anyone in person.” His frenzied eyes dart between us. “I swear that’s all I know. I told you everything, so you’re going to let me go now, right?”
I glance at Park. “What kind of government spies would we be if we just let him go?”
Park shakes his head. “Not very good ones.”
I frown at Nicholas, shaking my head with fake pity so he’ll sweat things out for a second longer. “I’m not sure if we can.”
We totally can.
The CIA will want to keep Nicholas Lawrence alive for questioning and to squeeze any other information out of him. Then he’ll live the rest of his days in federal prison where he belongs.
“You’ll have to catch me first.” That’s when Nicholas half-stands—as much as his tied legs will allow—and throws his weight behind him. He falls back as if he means to slam the wooden chair against the ground, trying to break it in half to escape. But the action causes his feet to kick out in front of him, knocking into my arm holding the fluoroantimonic acid. The Teflon dish flies in the air, and everything stalls, shifting into slow motion. I watch in shock as the liquid rises out of the bowl, suspended in the air like my breath. Park tackles me, pushing me out of the way of the dangerous chemical. We fall to the ground at the same time the acid spills all over Nicholas’s face and neck, with a small drop landing on his crotch. The clear liquid mixes with the moisture in his body, turning a brownish bubbling color as it immediately melts away his skin like Frosty the Snowman in the sun, only I don’t think Nicholas will be back again someday.
Nicholas’s mouth opens as if he’s going to scream out in agony, but it’s like the acid swallowed up his voice and his breath. His eyes roll back into his head, and he lays there limp.
We both sit stunned.
“I saw that whole thing going differently,” I finally say.
Park sits up. “The acid only splattered on him a little bit, so maybe he’s really okay.”
I scratch the side of my head. “Yeah, but it’s like eating through his body and clothes, so probably not.”
“Should we splash water on him just in case?” He glances over his shoulder. “I saw one of those safety showers over there.”
“Technically, pouring water on him will cause exothermic hydration, which will make it worse, but if that makes you feel better, you can throw water on him.”
“Not if it’s going to make him explode or something.”
“I don’t think it matters at this point.”
Park turns to me. “This wasn’tourfault, was it?”
“I mean, I did get the acid out,” I shrug, “but I was never going to use it on Nicholas. I just wanted to scare him into giving us information. If anything, I killed him with kindness because I didn’t dip his hands in the acid.”
“And how could we have known he would kick your arm?”
“Right? He didn’t have to fling his feet out.”
“That’s on him.” Park nods. “Don’t kick things. I’ve always said that.”
“Exactly!” I point at him. “He really should’ve controlled his anger.”
“And besides, Nicholas worked in a lab, so even if you didn’t pull out the most dangerous acid, that still could’ve happened to him.”
“All chemists know this is a hazardous job.”
We both nod in silence.
Park points to Nicholas’s crotch, where the drop of acid burned through everything. “Is it too soon to crack a joke about chestnuts roasting on an open fire?”
“Probably.”
“You’re right. Well,” Park claps, “should we go?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
FORTY-TWO
