I see it, and my stomach drops.
It's beautiful in the way that all sophisticated devices are—elegant, purposeful, every component serving a function. The housing is custom-machined aluminum, with a timer display LED that remains bright in dim lighting, and wires color-coded in the system I developed specifically for training.
But there are additions. Greer has made modifications that twist my design into something lethal.
A pressure plate under the primary housing that wasn't in my original design. A trembler switch is wired to the secondarycircuit. A third component I don't immediately recognize, connected to what appears to be a cell phone receiver.
Three separate trigger mechanisms, each capable of detonating independently. Disable one wrong, and the others fire. It's diabolically clever, with Greer's grubby fingerprints all over it—his understanding of my teaching methods used against me, his modifications specifically designed to kill someone using my own protocols.
"Talk to me," Flint says quietly from behind me. "What are we looking at?"
"A nightmare." I pull out my tablet and snap photos from multiple angles. "Three trigger systems. The primary is my design—an adaptive trigger that learns and counters disarmament attempts. The pressure plate means I can't move it. The trembler means I can't let my hands shake. And the cell phone receiver means Greer or his partner can detonate remotely if they realize I'm here."
"Can you disarm it?"
"I don't know." The honest answer, the one that makes my hands want to shake and my breathing want to speed up. "I designed the primary system to be difficult but not impossible. But with these modifications... Greer knows how I think. He's anticipated my approaches. This thing is built specifically to kill me if I try."
Flint moves beside me, careful not to disturb anything, his presence warm and solid despite the obvious pain in his breathing. "But you're going to try anyway."
"I don't have a choice. This detonates, the building comes down, possibly triggering a wildfire in the surrounding forest. And Device Four is still out there." I force myself to breathe slowly, to center the panic before it can take root. "So yes. I'm going to try."
"Then tell me what you need."
I pull out my tool kit, laying out wire cutters, circuit testers, magnification goggles, everything I might need. "First, I need to identify which trigger is primary—which one controls the main charge. Then I need to bypass or disable the secondary triggers without activating the primary. Finally, I need to disarm the primary without triggering the fail-safes Greer built in."
"And if you're wrong about any of those steps?"
"Then we die instantly and won't know we made a mistake." I meet his eyes, seeing my own fear reflected there but also his steady confidence. "You should leave. Go back to the command post. Let me do this alone."
"Not happening."
"Flint—"
"Carolina." He takes my hand and squeezes it gently, though I can see the movement causes him pain. "I'm staying. Let me anchor you. You'll work better with me close. So use me. And trust that whatever happens, we face it together."
I want to argue.
I want to save him from what might be the last few minutes of his life. But the truth is, he's right. His presence grounds me, reminds me I'm not alone in this, and gives me something to fight for beyond just not failing again.
"Okay," I whisper. "Stay behind me. If I tell you to run, you run."
"If you tell me to run, we both run." He squeezes my hand once more, then releases it. "Now show me what you need me to do."
I position him behind and to the left, where he can hand me tools without being directly in line with the device. Then I kneel in front of the bomb, my headlamp illuminating the components in harsh LED white, and let my training take over.
First, assess. I use the circuit tester to trace the power flow, identifying which components are active, which are redundant, which are the actual threats, and which are designed to confuse.
The pressure plate is exactly what it looks like—a contact switch that closes the circuit when the device is lifted or moved. Simple, effective, and I'll have to work around it.
The trembler is more sophisticated —a mercury switch that detects vibration or sudden movement. I'll need to keep my hands steady, my breathing controlled, and no sudden motions.
That one I can manage if I focus.
The cell phone receiver is the wild card. If Greer or his partner is monitoring, if they realize I'm here working on the device, they could trigger it remotely at any time. I can't disable that one first because it's integrated into the primary trigger—cutting it would probably detonate the whole assembly.
"I need to start with the pressure plate," I say, narrating for Flint's benefit and my own. "It's the most straightforward. I'm going to shunt the contacts so it thinks it's still under load even after I disable it."
"What do you need?"
