The Gender Plan Read online

  “I just threw up my final firewall,” replied Thomas. “That’ll buy us at least twenty minutes, and then the cameras are gone. What’s up?”

  “How long is the distance between neighboring manhole lids?”

  Mags shot me a curious look, clearly wondering where I was going with this. To be honest, even I wasn’t sure if it was worth a shot. But I had the kernel of an idea rooted inside of me.

  “On average… three hundred and fifty feet, but in older parts of the cities, the manholes are spaced out a bit farther.”

  “And the water in the sewers right now… can it kill me?” I wanted to double check. “Does it have any water from the river in it?” I watched Mags’ confusion disappear, and she made a face, as if she had smelled something rotten. I understood that look—but if I could get into the sewers, then I might be able to get us out of our current predicament.

  “No, the sewers drain from the city into pipes that extend over the river. King Patrick’s father was adamant about not having any chance of the river getting into his system. As for the cleanliness of it… They had to flood the system with clean water from the building, while also preventing it from draining. However, the ratio of fresh water to… mmm… soiled water is about 93.7 to 6.3.”

  I took a deep breath, setting my mind to fully understanding what this alternative path could offer and whether it would be worth it, and then checked my watch. We had thirty minutes before Ms. Dale hit her rendezvous. Amber had hit hers ten minutes ago, and Drew had been at his for twenty. My and Ms. Dale’s teams were the last ones, and we all needed to make it on time, or this mission was a no-go.

  “Wait one minute,” I said into the mic. Turning to Mags, I looked at her, prepared to ask her a question, when she started speaking.

  “I can’t swim,” she blurted out. “Papa never let me learn. So if your plan is to just have us follow the street down to cross, that isn’t going to work.”

  I faltered. That had been my plan. However, I had overlooked the fact that not everyone in the group would know how to swim—or be strong enough swimmers under the dangerous conditions of the sewers. I was certain Alejandro was, but... Could Tim even swim?

  I looked over to where Tim was crouched behind the trunk of the car. “Any minute, they’re going to send people out of the building,” I said. “They’ll try to flank us, come at us from both sides. We need to get out of here, and the only way to do that is down that street. Do you see any other options here? I really am looking.”

  Mags hesitated, and then stood up and scooped the map into her hands. “C’mon,” she said as she darted over to Alejandro’s side of the street, moving over to her uncle.

  The man standing next to Alejandro moved to one side as she shouldered her way into their line, looking up at the building, studying it. I moved in close to her, apologetically shoving the man next to Alejandro farther down, and looked over her shoulder as she considered the building and the map together.

  “Okay, this might sound crazy, but could we use the sewer to get in under the building?” She lowered the map, and I blinked at her.

  “I have no idea,” I said. “One sec.” I quickly transmitted the question to Thomas.

  “Absolutely, but the entryway will be narrow and difficult to see,” he affirmed. “It would be very easy to miss in the dark.”

  Mags smiled widely, a dimple forming in her cheek. “You and a few men get into that building and ambush them from behind,” she said. “We’ll get in a shootout with them down here to distract them, while you go take their advantage away.”

  I found myself nodding approvingly. I liked her plan instantly—but I would need help. “Alejandro, Mags, get me anybody who can swim. Five is good, but ten would be better. Split the difference if you can. You’re going to need the manpower too.”

  Mags nodded and darted back up the sidewalk to race across the street. I moved away from Alejandro, heading back down the darkened part of the street, out of view of the people who guarded the intersection, to the nearest manhole. The heavy metal lid was covered partially by a few charred pieces of rubber, and I squatted down, tossing them to one side. I slid my fingers into the slots on either side of the crescent emblem for Patrus emblazoned on the top, and then lifted the lid up a few inches, until I could catch the edge and slide the whole thing back.

  I pulled out my flashlight and clicked it on, setting it on the softest setting. Dark water flowed only about eight inches below street level. I stared at it, trying not to think about what was floating by down there, and then pulled my backpack off. Reaching into the side pockets, I pulled out one of the waterproof bags Violet had given to everyone.

  She’s cleverer than I give her credit for, I thought with a smile as I yanked my earbud, microphone, and gloves out and dropped them into the slit in the bag. Grabbing one edge, I pulled it hard, stretching the pliable fabric, and then folded it across the gap and around the odd bundle that my communication devices formed. The fabric stuck snugly against itself, sealing the entire packet. I inspected it, but the lines had almost disappeared, with one corner visible to make it easier to reopen with a stiff tug.

  Tucking the packet into my pocket, I slid my rifle off my shoulders. It was too bulky for this job; it would have to stay with the team. I would have somebody collect and redistribute the larger weapons from my team of swimmers after we went down.

  I was just wrapping up my pistol and extra ammo when I heard the sound of padding feet moving over. “There was movement on the first floor,” Mags said as she hurried around the car with a group of our people in tow. I counted six, including Harry, Cruz, and Alejandro. “Margot took two shots into one of the rooms, but she doesn’t think she hit anyone.” She gave me a thin-lipped, grim look.

  “I’m sure she didn’t miss on purpose,” I replied, pulling out my gas mask and screwing down the filter valve until it was sealed shut. I couldn’t use it to breathe, but it would help protect my eyes and allow me to see underwater. I looked up at the volunteers and gave them a quick rundown of what we were doing and how to use the bags to protect their weapons.

  “Here,” Mags said when I was finished, holding out a mesh bag with ten objects in it. I lifted them up, inspecting them closely. They weren’t really round, as I had first thought, but rather rounded out by a trick of geometry, small alternating black and white pentagon shapes. I recognized them immediately. They were wharf-markers. The white pentagons contained bulbs that would flash every few seconds to mark the path for a dockworker on days or nights when the fog on the river got too thick to see through. And they were waterproof, at least for a little while—it was a useful quality when you were working on the docks. “And here, I made sure the other men took these instead.”

  She held out a pistol, this one with a silencer on it, and I quickly unwrapped mine, exchanging it with hers and then putting it into one of the bigger pockets on my pants. “Thanks,” I said, looping the strap of the bag containing the wharf-markers around my bicep. “They’re going to be coming soon. Make sure you have a team ready in the back, in case they try to flank you.”

  Mags gave me an odd look and patted me on the shoulder. “We’re gonna clear out and take position in the building Alejandro’s against,” she said. “It’s not as tall as theirs, but it will give us an advantage. And the stairs are easier to control. I’ll get a second team on the roof across the street to help out, and send a few people to the next checkpoint to play watchdog. I got this, so don’t worry. And I’ll keep a close eye on Tim.”

  She bent over and picked up my vest and backpack, adding them to the pile of heavy gear the rest of the swimmers had dropped. I couldn’t take the vest—none of us could—because the armor would sink me in the water. “Be careful,” she called over her shoulder as she moved back to the building.

  Positioning the cinched-down gas mask atop my forehead, ready to deploy, I sat down on the edge of the manhole, dangling my feet into the water. I felt my pockets, double checking that my pistol, ammo, a
nd comms were in place, all tucked in the waterproof bags, and then handed my rifle to Gregory, several more dangling from straps over his shoulder. It was painful having to leave my rifle behind, but given that this gang had been known to stockpile weapons, I was betting there would be plenty of larger guns for us to filch inside.

  “Thirty seconds between each person,” I said to the group of swimmers. “I’ll drop a wharf-marker at every breathing spot, so you won’t miss it, but there will also be a left turn, and I will drop one there at the junction, okay?”

  “Do not worry, my friend,” said a voice from behind me, and I turned to see that the first person lined up to swim with me was Cruz, crouching behind me, his gear ready to go. “We are going to be big heroes after this, no?”

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to the cold water that was already trying to suck me down through my pant legs. Alejandro moved over to me and knelt next to the hole. “I’ve been meaning to ask you—where’d you pick up Cruz? He seems a bit crazy, even for how you folks operate.”

  I shook my head, and my mouth began moving before I realized what I was saying. “It’s a long story, Alejandro. I miss Owen.”

  Alejandro patted me on the shoulder, and then I sucked in a deep breath, lowered my mask, and slipped into the dark water.

  27

  Viggo

  Where the hell is the damn manhole? I swung the flashlight around while desperate thoughts taunted me, screaming that I’d already swum past it, and now I was trapped, suspended in this watery tunnel until I couldn’t take it anymore and I breathed in the murky water—I felt the pressure build in my throat, my body fighting with my mind to convince it to exhale, and I applied logic to the primal fear, going through the options in my brain.

  It was possible that I’d missed it. The water was dim, and in spite of the flashlight in my hand, everything down here seemed a lesson in gray. Colors were muted, shadows exaggerated. And always, just behind the light beam lurked the slow, heavy press of the darkness. It loomed, a reminder that the only thing keeping me from certain death was the flashlight I held in my hand.

  And it was hard to gauge distance down here. Thomas had given only an average when we had talked about the distance, but that didn’t mean each gap had been three hundred and fifty feet exactly. Which meant I might not be as far down as I thought.

  I kicked, shifting myself so that I was more on the left, so I could see the branch off to the building we were headed for. Swimming on this side, I might risk the next surface point, which was more in the middle of the tunnel... But I had to find this turn. My heart pounded hard in my chest, reminding me that oxygen was essential for life, but I was fine. Safe for just a little bit longer before I would even contemplate panicking.

  Even taking painstaking care, I almost missed the turnoff. It was a narrow passage just behind a section of protruding wall, but the shadow the wall cast as I swam by it made it almost disappear. If I hadn’t looked back twice, needing to know for sure, I might have missed it entirely. I swiveled around in the water, making for the opening, my lungs feeling compressed and my motions seeming impossibly slow. Reaching into the mesh bag, I scooped out one of the few remaining wharf-markers and switched it on. The halogen lights pulsed brightly, and I dropped it just past where the wall jutted out.

  I could reach out and touch the sides of the walls in this passage, but I focused on the ceiling, using the natural fingerhold of the bricks to propel myself along. Resisting the urge to gasp for breath, I rolled my head back, looking for some sign of the next manhole, but found nothing. The urge to panic was back, my body starting to shake violently. My vision dimmed and went gray for a second, and I had to clamp my teeth together to keep myself from inhaling.

  I began to stretch farther forward, my hands grabbing the bricks in claw-like fashion. My chest burned and my neck clenched. I was so focused on fighting back the impending unconsciousness that I almost didn’t notice it when my hand hit empty space. I followed it forward and up, kicking my feet as my hips dragged against the corner of the brick. I was already trying to inhale when I surfaced, suctioning the mask tighter to my face.

  Ripping it off, I gasped, and then gagged and coughed, my body’s instincts stepping over each other in relief. I sucked in another gasp of air, this one better, more familiar, and felt the deep satisfaction of being alive. Reaching up with shaking arms, I slipped my fingers through the small holes on the bottom of the lid, giving my legs a moment to rest.

  I breathed in sharp pants, water blowing off my lips. I fought back a shiver, my arms and limbs aching from the cold and oxygen deprivation. I desperately wanted to sit there for longer, but I knew that whoever was coming behind me was going to be just as desperate for air, and I couldn’t block their way. I also had to check whether this was actually our exit.

  Flexing the arm that held me up, I raised my torso a few more inches out of the water, turning my ear toward the holes and listening. I heard the rustle of leaves overhead, and realized I was somewhere under the park. Which was good—it meant I only had one more stop to go.

  After exhaling slowly and sucking in an equally slow breath, I replaced the mask and dove. I dropped the marker and kept on, using the brick stone like a ladder. The next manhole felt significantly closer, and even though I surfaced quickly, I was less winded than before. I raised myself up a few inches, listening to the street.

  Gunfire popped loudly overhead, and I heard the sound of heavy feet moving. A shadow carrying a bright torch passed by, and I quickly slipped my fingers out of the holes in the lid, not wanting to risk the chance of being discovered.

  “BOY!” bellowed someone overhead, and I pressed myself even lower into the water. “WALK OVER HERE OF YOUR OWN FREE WILL, AND WE SHALL LET YOU LIVE! YOUR FRIENDS HAVE ABANDONED YOU!”

  There was the sound of distant gunfire, and I heard boots scuffling back, some men cackling. “A mother never abandons her young!” I heard Mags’ voice clearly, and shook my head. If she’d wanted the men’s attention on her, then she had gotten it.

  Something tugged hard on my pants, and I realized how much time I had wasted listening. I sucked in a deep breath, replacing the mask, and just as I was pushing back into the water, I heard the leader start giving orders.

  Under the water, I made out Cruz’s face in the mask. He pointed up, and I stopped him, pointed to my ear, and then pointed up. He made a circle with his finger and thumb, and then shot up. I let him pass, dropping a marker down under him, and then continued swimming, hoping that Cruz would hear part of the orders.

  I kept moving along the ceiling, pausing for just a moment to shine the flashlight around the tunnel. The next opening slowly revealed itself, and I swam up to it, pausing when I realized it was a grate placed right against the surface of the water. It was large enough for a fully grown man to squeeze through, but I was worried it wasn’t going to open.

  I planted my hand against it and pushed. The grating wobbled, but held fast. Pushing off it, I allowed myself to sink down to the bottom, planting my feet on the rock below. I sank down farther, folding my knees up and pressing my butt down to the bottom—then pushed off hard from the floor, thrusting my arm up toward the grate with as much energy as I could muster.

  The flat of my palm connected to the grating, and a side of it pushed up. My lungs starting to squeeze again, I continued to press on it, forcing it out of the way.

  I climbed out of the hole in the floor, and a wave of cold air hit me. Water splashed all over the dark orange floor. I slid my mask off my face, letting it drop, taking slow and steady breaths as I moved the flashlight around the room.

  It was small. One door, closed, stood ten feet away from the rectangular hole leading to the sewer. Rows of pipes lined the wall, some leading back into it, others moving through large metal drums or branching into new pipes. A bare wall was behind me.

  I dropped a wharf-marker down into the hole, and then stripped off my shirt, twisting it into a long line and squeezing as much water o
ut of it as I could. There was a swish and slap in the water, and then Cruz surfaced, his hands gripping the sides and hoisting himself up until he was sitting with his legs dangling in the water.

  The mask made a popping noise as he broke the seal and took it off, and he managed a deep breath, his chest heaving. “The leader, he ordered his men to go to the roof of the building across the street from Mags,” he said, running a hand over his short hair to slick some of the water out. “He sent another group of men to come in from Tim’s street, so she’s pinned from three locations.”

  Digging into my pocket, I used my still damp shirt to try to collect any residual moisture from my face, especially my ears. The bundle with the earbuds slipped into my hand, and I quickly unwrapped the items.

  “Get your legs out of the hole,” I told Cruz as I slipped the bud into my ear, and tugged on the glove. Pressing my fingers together, I quickly transmitted, “Mags, we made it to the building. We overheard the leader—he’s going to approach you through the building east of you, and down the street north as well. They’re going to go for the roof across from you, so tell your men to be ready.”

  “Well, that’ll buy us a few minutes,” she replied. “And if you get up to their shooting position, you’ll have a clear line of sight on all of them.”

  I heard someone surface and looked over to see Harry pulling himself through the hole and crawling forward, his clothes sucking wetly over his paunch. “That’s the plan,” I told her. “Be careful, okay?”

  “You too,” she replied. “Over and out.”

  Quickly unwrapping the rest of my gear, I pulled the wet strands of my hair back and retied them behind my head. I pulled the shirt back on, pocketed the extra ammo, and then grabbed the pistol. As I did, we were joined in succession by Carl, then April, then Marna. That was five volunteers. Alejandro brought up the rear, surfacing with a small splash. “Heavens above!” he spat as he grabbed the edges. “I thought that tunnel would go on forever.”