Sandstorm

7:09 P.M.

SEATED ONthe floor, Painter stared around the crowded room. Coral had already reported and debriefed him on all that had happened, her theories, and her concerns. She now sat beside him, checking her weapon.

Across the room, Safia stood with her group. They smiled and soft laughter floated from them. They were a new family. Safia had a new sister in Kara, a mother in Lu’lu. But what about Omaha? He stood at her side, not touching, but close. Painter saw how Safia would lean ever so slightly in the man’s direction, almost touching, but not.

Coral continued cleaning her gun. “Sometimes you just have to move on.”

Before he could respond, a shadow shifted on his right, by the entryway.

He watched Cassandra step into the room. Pistol in one hand, she was calm, unconcerned, as if she had just come in from a stroll to the park.

“Now isn’t this cozy,” she said.

Her appearance startled everyone. Weapons were snatched.

Cassandra didn’t react. She still had her pistol pointed at the ceiling. Instead, she held out a familiar device. “Is that any way to greet a neighbor?”

“Don’t shoot!” Painter boomed, already on his feet. “Nobody shoot!”

He even moved to stand in front of Cassandra, shielding her.

“I see you recognize a deadman’s switch,” she said behind him. “If I die, poor Dr. al-Maaz loses her pretty little head.”

Omaha heard her words. He had already shoved Safia behind him. “What is this bitch talking about?”

“Why don’t you explain, Crowe? I mean the transceiver is your design.”

He turned to her. “The tracker is… not the bomb.”

“What bomb?” Omaha asked, his eyes both scared and angry.

Painter explained, “When Cassandra had Safia in her custody, she implanted a small tracking device. Cassandra modified it with a small amount of C4. She holds the detonator. If she lets go of the trigger, it will blow.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Omaha said. “We could’ve removed it.”

“Do that and it blows, too,” Cassandra said. “Unless I first deactivate it.”

Painter glared at her, then back to Safia. “I’d hoped to get you somewhere safe, then have a surgical and demolition team remove the device.”

His explanation did little to quell the horror in her eyes. And Painter knew some of it was directed at him. This was his job.

“So now that we’re all friends,” Cassandra said, “I’ll ask you to throw all your weapons out into that courtyard. Everyone now. I’m certain Dr. Crowe will ensure that every weapon is accounted for. One slip and I may have to lift my finger and scold someone. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”

Painter had no choice. He did as Cassandra instructed. Rifles, pistols, knives, and two grenade launchers were piled into the courtyard.

As Coral threw her half-assembled gun with the others, she remained by the entry. Her eyes were on the cavern. Painter followed her gaze.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“The storm. It’s grown worse since your arrival. Much worse.” She pointed to the roof. “The energy is not draining fast enough. It’s destabilizing.”

“What does that mean?”

“The storm is building into a powder keg in here.” She turned to him. “This place is going to blow.”