Page 48 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
Jez snorted. “Only ten?”
“Shut up.”
“Can you pick a lock?” Emmy asked her.
“Why is that even a question?”
“Okay, so we have three people who can pick locks and didn’t manage to sleep with a hostage, but Heath’s a little slower at it than I am.” She said it matter-of-factly, no insult intended. Not to Heath, anyway. “And we’ll need to create a distraction, preferably one that doesn’t risk starting World War III.”
“So that means breach charges are out?” Jez joked, even though nothing about this was funny.
“We could just drive in through the old front gate.”
“Ha-ha.”
“No, I’m actually serious.”
“No, you’re actually crazy.”
“Think about it—the place is a rental. If we show up with a suitcase and say ‘oh gee, there must have been a mix-up with the booking,’ I don’t think they’ll shoot us. I mean, Marc’s over there catching some rays with a novel, and he’s a fucking hostage. They shot blanks on Malati. These people are a bunch of chancers who got lucky, not hardened criminals.”
“So we get in close, check out the weapons sitch, and then incapacitate them?”
“I have plenty of zip ties. C’mon, there are three and a half of us, and if we can’t outwit half a dozen climate activists, we should all quit our jobs.”
“We don’t know where the weapons are,” I tried.
“Kamryn wasn’t carrying,” Jez pointed out.
The girl who’d run over to talk with Marc was Kamryn Delacort. Echo had begun ferreting out the goods on her the moment we left the Hotel Metrolux, and she went by KD online.
Emmy scoffed. “And what do we have? Water pistols?”
“We’d rather avoid shots being fired.”
What if a stray bullet hit Marc? Or Serena?
“I’m not suggesting we go in all guns blazing. I’m saying that these people won’t shoot us on sight if they don’t think we’re a threat, and we can make a better assessment of the situation if we’re in the middle of it.”
“What if Serena flips out and begs you for rescue?”
“She won’t, not with Heath there,” Emmy said. “As far as she’s concerned, her brother’s come to save the day, and she won’t risk jeopardising that. She trusts him far more than two idiot tourists. Same for Marc.”
“Will Marc recognise you?” I asked her.
“I doubt it. He’s only ever seen me in formalwear, and he was mostly looking at my boobs.”
And…I was back to wanting to punch her.
“Well, I’m not going down there.”
“I’ll go. Jezebel can be my backup.”
“I’m not gonna be your backup,” Jez bitched. “You can be my backup.”
“So you admit my plan’s reasonable, then?”
Oh, she’d walked right into that one.
