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The line would have worked better before Diana had shaved her head and dressed to look like a boy, but Caine saw that Drake immediately took the bait.
“That’s what you want?” Drake asked. “You want me to take Sam down? Either he kills me or I kill him, right? Either way, that’s good for you and this witch here.”
“You’re stalling, Drake,” Caine said.
Caine could practically read the psychopath’s mind as the gears in his head turned over the possibilities. No way Drake could refuse.
No way. Not if he wanted to go on being Whip Hand. Not if he ever hoped to replace Caine.
“I’ll take Sam down,” Drake said in a voice he intended to be menacing but that came out sounding just a little wobbly.
He must have been less than satisfied with the effect. So with a low growl he repeated, “I’ll stop Sam right here.”
Caine nodded, offering just the slightest acknowledgment. He turned away from Drake and winked at Diana, who kept her expression carefully blank.
Poor Drake. It wasn’t enough to be ambitious. A leader had to be smart. A leader had to be ruthless and manipulative, not just a thug.
Great leaders had to know when to manipulate and when to confront.
Most of all, a great leader had to know when to take great risks.
“Let’s hope they built that fuel rod strong,” Caine said.
He raised his hands and the fuel rod rose, floated in the air, tethered at one end to the crane.
“Hit the release,” Caine ordered.
Jack said, “Caine, if it breaks open—”
“Do it!” Caine roared.
Even Drake took a step back. And Jack hit the button that released the robot crane’s hold.
Caine thrust his arms forward, palms out. The cylinder flew like the bolt from a crossbow.
His aim was good. But not perfect. The cylinder scraped the concrete as it shot through the hole.
“That’s the quick way to do it,” Caine said.
“If we find it and it’s broken open, we’re all dead,” Jack moaned.
Caine ignored him. He turned to Drake. He saw shrewd calculation in his lieutenant’s eyes.
“I’ll take care of Sam,” Drake said.
Caine laughed. “Or he’ll take care of you.”
“I’ll catch up with you, Caine,” Drake said.
It was a warning. He left little doubt that if he survived the encounter with Sam, he’d be ready to take Caine down next.
“Tell you what,” Drake said. “I’ll bring you your brother’s hand. He took mine: it’s time I paid him back.”
Sam watched Edilio and the others drive off. He felt strangely peaceful. The first time in days.
The only life he was risking here was his own. And in his mind, he had a plan: If he did this, he was done. Done.
He’d made too many mistakes. He’d overlooked too many things. It wasn’t him who’d thought to try fishing, it was Quinn. And it wasn’t Sam who’d thought of using SUVs to keep harvesters safe from the zekes. It was Astrid.
