Before Altswood Can Cry (The Altswood Saga #4)

Chapter 9 - Underground

Chapter 9 - Underground

Jules dragged me into his room, his eyes big and frantic. I opened my mouth to explain as soon as he closed the door, but before I could get a word out, he frantically pressed his hand over the lower half of my face.

"Do you want the whole class to hear you scream about nuclear weapons?" he hissed. "Quiet, someone is outside."

I stilled. True enough, there was the sound of shuffling down the hallway—the slow, lazy footsteps of someone waking up to use the bathroom. The sounds became fainter and fainter, until another door down the hall clicked quietly.

"They're gone," I said, my words muffled against Jules' palm.

Jules took a step back. He exhaled deeply, then ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell were you talking about before?"

"This."

I slid the laptop out from under my arm and shoved the screen toward him, presenting the list of materials the bomb-makers had been asked to acquire. Eyebrows furrowed, Jules scanned through the list.

I could pinpoint the exact moment he translated the instruction for uranium and came to the same conclusion as I had.

I'm afraid that they are onto me, Taverna had said. I need you to go upstairs and hide all my notes, hide my laptop.

"Claudio Taverna wasn't some innocent officer who stumbled onto a terrorist plot," I said evenly. "He didn't hack them. He made the plans for the bombs, and if his phone call to his partner is any indication, he must have had second thoughts and backed out."

Jules covered his face with his hands.

"And if he didn't want his cipher and his laptop getting into the other officers' hands that badly while he was dying," I continued, "it's not because he was afraid of getting caught. It's because one or many more of them are also a part of the people who are trying to make this final nuclear bomb. They need these activation codes."

Jules finally tore his hands away from his face when I pointed to the sequences. His face paled against the light of the screen.

"Annabelle, this is far bigger than us," he said tightly. "We have to find help."

"Help?" I echoed. "From a police force with a terrorist among its ranks?"

"Fine," Jules said. "Let's go to the US embassy. Let's bring in the CIA. Or Interpol. Or whoever the hell has some sort of jurisdiction here. We have proof now. They'll believe us."

It was as good of a plan as any.

The laptop tucked under my arm, we sidled into the hallway, waiting a moment to make sure no one was wandering around after using the bathroom. When the scene seemed clear, we hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time.

Except when we reached the first floor landing, with one staircase separating us from the lobby, Jules reached out and snagged my elbow.

"Annabelle."

I blinked. "What?"

Jules held out a hand and gestured for me to wait. While I held still, he inched forward, edging toward the stairs and doubling over so he could peer into the lobby below.

Suddenly, Jules stepped back. "The motion-sensing lights," he whispered. "Why are they on?"

I dropped to my knees immediately, checking for myself. Sure enough, the floodlights were on full blast outside the hotel, which meant...

"Go back," Jules hissed. "Annabelle, go."

We darted up the stairs again, backtracking just as the hotel's front door creaked open.