Page 70 of Count Down

“Both before my time,” Gina replies.

“Plus, you can pretty much find anything on YouTube these days.”

I unscrew the cap on the brake fluid reservoir. I dip in the turkey baster and suck it up full of brake fluid. I put the cap back on and Gina closes the hood.

We head back inside, keeping the back door propped open. I set the baster down on the counter next to the pool cleaner. “Can you grab me a wine glass?” I ask Gina.

While she goes and picks one out, I go over to the stove top. It’s a large industrial range and the gas pipes are easily accessible behind it. I pop the gas hose off the pipe and make sure the valve is open. There’s a sharp hissing noise coming out of the pipe nozzle and I immediately smell something like rotten eggs.

I head back to the counter and Gina hands me the wine glass. “We’ll have about ninety seconds to make a run for it.” Gina nods back to me. “Take my keys. Go to my car in the alley. I want you to start it and then get in the passenger seat and wait for me.” Gina nods again, takes the keys, and heads out back.

I’m hesitant to have us separate even for this minute. But I don’t want to mix these explosives while she’s in here. And the more quickly we’re ready to run, the better.

I open the pool cleaner and get a whiff of chlorine over the rotten egg smell of the gas. I pour about a quarter of a cup of the white granules into the wine glass. I close the container and toss it back in the direction of the cleaning closet.

I pick up the turkey baster of brake fluid and pour in about as much as the pool cleaner. I swirl it together, like it’s some explosive wine I’m about to taste. It mixes, looking like a harmless white liquid.

I toss the turkey baster to the corner and hurry out the back door. I slam the door behind me, trapping the gas so it builds up in the kitchen.

Gina has already turned the car around in the alley and she’s waiting for me in the passenger seat. I jump in, shift into drive, and speed out of the alley. I head back south toward downtown Philadelphia, trying to put as much space between us and the restaurant as possible.

“The two chemicals will react and keep heating up,” I tell Gina. “Eventually they’ll hit a temperature where the vapors of the brake fluid will ignite. Half a wine glass of it will make flames a few feet high. But with the gas leaking in there…” I shake my head and grin as I drive.

I turn right on Roosevelt Blvd. Then we hear it. A loud boom that almost shakes the car. I don’t look back, but Gina does.

“Ho-ly shit,” she breaths. “It looks like it blew the top right off the building.”

“At our next place,” I say. “Let’s just have electric appliances.”

She’s still looking at the smoke rising behind us.

I reach over and place my hand on Gina’s knee. “You’re safe now.”

“What about you?” She asks, turning to look at me. She takes my hand and holds it in hers.

“I’m going to have to leave town.” I can feel my heart rate increase just thinking about it. I’ve got to leave the only place I’ve ever known. Give up the only life I’ve ever lived.

“Well, I’m coming with you,” Gina says. She squeezes my hand.

“Really?” I want her to come with me. More than anything. I can’t imagine leaving her. But I can’t force her to give up everything just because I have to. “You’d leave everything? You’d leave your family?”

“I wouldn’t be leaving everything,” she says. “I’d be with you.” She turns and looks out the window, still holding my hand. “And I’m not leaving my parents. They’ve already left me. What you said back at the restaurant was true. My father doesn’t care about me.”

“I was lying to Solonik. I had to make him doubt his plans.”

Gina shakes her head. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t right.”

“I had set up a bust for the Russians tonight. Your father might have been busy with that,” I say. I doubt Nicoletti was involved in the bust, but maybe he had to be available. Even as I say it, I know it’s a weak excuse.

“I spent the whole night wondering if my parents would come to the showcase. Then doubting if he would even negotiate with the Russians to stop them from torturing me… or worse.” Gina looks straight ahead in front of the car. “I shouldn’t have to wonder if someone is there for me, even if it isn’t life or death.”

“I’d love for you to come with me. If you want to.” I squeeze her hand.

“Without a doubt,” she says. “Where are we going?”

“Should we try Spain?” I ask.

A smile spreads across Gina’s face. She nods.

---