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Polk had fallen for Sylvia’s trap perfectly. She figured he’d be so excited to see her prone body that he wouldn’t notice the difference in the boots she wore and the ones on the dead mercenary she’d dragged behind the cook’s island.
With the borrowed mask firmly on her head, she sprinted out of the galley refrigerator and leaped onto Polk’s back, wrapping her arm around his neck and her legs around his waist.
He was thrown off balance by the sudden weight shift and staggered backward, firing the submachine gun at the ceiling. Some of the bullets ricocheted off the hanging iron pots, but none of them hit her or Polk.
First, he tried to turn the weapon to shoot her, but he couldn’t get the right angle. He dropped the gun and crushed at her fingers in an attempt to get her off.
Sylvia cried out as he increased the pressure, but she didn’t let go. With her other hand, she pried at the edge of his mask and peeled it away from his face. The ambient air was now seeping into the mask, unfiltered.
She didn’t need to get it all the way off his head. Sylvia just needed to outlast him. The second he drew in a breath, he was done.
He must have realized what she was doing because he slammed her back against the refrigerator door. A jolt of pain lanced through her spine in the same place where she’d fallen down the stairs. Still, she held on, keeping a gap in the mask.
Sylvia wanted to enrage Polk, to get him so blinding mad that he’d forget what danger he was in. She knew exactly what to say.
“You haven’t heard from your wife, have you?” she yelled. “That’s because she’s dead. At the bottom of the ocean with the Marauder.”
Polk didn’t cry out, but Sylvia could feel him tremble with anger. He rammed her even harder against the door and at the same time yanked her leg to the side. The combination was enough to make her lose her grip. She fell to the floor.
Polk turned around and glared down at her, his furious eyes wide behind the mask, which was now sealed against his face again.
“I’ll kill you for that,” he growled, his chest heaving as he could finally draw a breath.
“You forgot to clear your mask,” Sylvia said.
All of the air that had contaminated the inside of the mask when she unsealed it was still in there. She hoped it was enough of a dose.
Polk looked horrified as he realized that she was right. He reached down for her, but his eyes rolled back in his head. He keeled over right on top of her.
Sylvia struggled to push him off, rolling him onto his back.
She rapidly searched his pockets for the key to the rocket control system, but the only thing she found was his phone. Maybe he had an app to deactivate the rockets and abort the launch.
She pulled his mask off and put the phone in front of his face. The phone unlocked, and she quickly set it so it wouldn’t relock.
Even unconscious, Polk continued to scowl.
“That’s what you get for messing with my family,” she said.
She hopped to her feet and sprinted for the bridge.
SEVENTY-FOUR
Juan’s plan to get out of the citadel depended on the ship sinking because there was only one way to get up to the ventilation hatch thirty feet above them in the ceiling. The room would have to flood as the ship sank, buoying them up until they could open the hatch. The fireproof door on the main level of the citadel wasn’t designed to be waterproof as well, so that’s where the water would enter the room first.
The problem was the cable securing the citadel’s ceiling hatch to the wall. It was an inch thick, with a huge nut and bolt holding it tight. The eyebolt attaching it to the wall was halfway to the ceiling, far out of reach. The only thing tall enough to stand on were the food shelves, but they were on the other side of the room and bolted to the floor.
Juan wasn’t going to attempt to loosen the nut and bolt. That would take far too long while they were floating on the surface of water flooding into the chamber. Instead, he was going to blow it in half.
He, Eddie, and Raven had taken off their heavy body armor and dropped their weapons, even MacD’s crossbow.
“He’s never going to forgive me for this,” Raven said.
“I’ll buy him a better one,” Juan said.
The only thing he refused to give up was the duffel with the antidote vials inside. He had it slung over his shoulder.
