Page 39 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 9
“You’re starting at the wrong end,” I said. “That’s where Santa used to park his sleigh. The belt had to be raised like that because the stack of presents on his sleigh gets so tall.” Or at least, that was what the tour guides here claimed. I traced the path of the conveyor belt with my finger all the way back to where it disappeared into a brick wall with a big old-fashioned factory window. The wall was painted with red and white stripes and SANTA’S WORKSHOP was scrawled over the window in big green bubble letters.
Ash ran over to the wall and stopped at another, shorter conveyor belt in front of it. “What is this for?” she asked.
“That’s where the elves would feed raw materials into the workshop to be made into toys. Once they were finished, thetoys would pop out up there all wrapped and ready to deliver.” I pointed back to the raised conveyer belt.
“Wow,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m really at Santa’s workshop!” She ran her hand along the belt.
There was a loud bang like an old car backfiring. And then it started moving.
“Ah!” she screamed and jumped back.
“What you do?” asked Slavanka.
“I didn’t do anything! I just touched it…”
More bangs and clangs and dings rang out from behind the brick wall. And then a single, impeccably wrapped present appeared on the belt high above our heads.
We all watched as the belt carried it across the room. And then it got to the end and fell ten feet to the floor.
It bounced once. Twice. Thrice. And then the belt stopped and the glass atrium once again fell into silence.
A shiver went down my spine. “Wow, okay. This feels very murdery.”
“Does it?” asked Ash. “But it’s so beautiful wrapped. Look at those corners. And the tie on that bow.”
“Exactly. It’stooperfect. Definitely the work of a serial killer.” Was Isabella a serial killer? It seemed likely.
Ash didn’t seem to share my concerns though, because she ran right over to the package. “You guys!” she yelled as she looked at the tag. “It’s to us. From… From… Santa!!!”
I was going to warn her not to open it, but it was too late. She’d already untied the bow and torn the paper off.
Inside was a square red and green box. Ash lifted the lid off and pulled out the contents: a little metal rectangle with a big red button.
“What do you think it’s for?” she asked.
“It bomb,” said Slavanka.
“Yup. Definitely a bomb,” I agreed.
Ash laughed. “You guys, why would Santa want to blow us up? Especially with you dressed like that, Slavanka.” It looked like this was the first she’d noticed that Slavanka was dressed like an absolute Christmas snack. “Wow. What lucky guy was getting you for Christmas?”
“Chad,” said Slavanka.
“Chad as in…” Ash looked at me. “Your Chad?”
“Long story,” I said. “Which I’ll be happy to tell you as soon as we’re at least 500 yards away from that bomb.”
Ash shook her head. “Santa wouldn’t send us a bomb.”
“Yeah, but Crazy Isabella would. And she’d label it as being from Santa so that we’d push it.”
Ash looked horrified. “Wow. You really think she’sthatcrazy? Even if she is, it doesn’t matter. Because everyone knows that Santa’s magic makes it physically impossible for anyone to label a present as being from Santa unless it’s actually from him.”
“That is definitely not true.”
“He must have included instructions or a note or something,” said Ash, turning the button over and getting dangerous close to inadvertently hitting it. “Aha!” She held up the lid of the box. “There’s a message inside. It says: If you want to help me deliver presents, hit this button.”
“Don’t!” I yelled.
