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Twenty-Five

As the gloomof the deepening evening settled in, Ellie sat inside the tent and plotted furiously.

She needed to talk to Adam Bates. It was absolutely essential that they coordinate their plans for escape.

The thought made her stomach twist uncomfortably. Ellie had no doubt that Adam would still be willing to save her from Dawson and Jacobs. He would never abandon her to a pair of thugs… no matter how poorly he thought of her after learning that she’d lied to him.

The interior of her canvas prison was sadly short on potentially useful supplies. Dropping to her belly at the side wall of the tent, Ellie took advantage of the growing gloom to lift the canvas ever-so-slightly and peer out.

Mendez still slouched by the front flaps, holding his rifle. He looked desperately bored.

She tilted the little gap she’d made in the tent flap and twisted to get a peek at the back.

Flowers gave her a cheerful wave from where he sat on a stump.

Ellie pulled herself back into the tent, cursing softly.

She might be able to slip past her guards once it was truly dark. After all, two men couldn’t possibly keep their eyes on every angle of the tent at all times. If Ellie waited long enough—and used a less noticeable spying gap—she could probably find an opportunity to slide out and escape… but then what?

The camp was crawling with men, and it was madness to think that Adam would be left conveniently unguarded.

Ellie needed a way to make sure that she wouldn’t be spotted before she reached him—and that she would find him alone when she did. She needed a distraction.

The obvious solution lay in the steam barges that she had seen floating on the river a short distance from the shore.

The temperature at which water converted into steam changed based on atmospheric pressure, and steam engines were pressurized. Were that pressure to drop precipitously—perhaps from a fracture in the boiler caused by overheating—the remaining water in the system would instantaneously convert to gas.

Gas took up more space than water. In a confined environment, a rapid increase in mass had to find a way out—ergo, explosion.

An explosion would be a perfectly adequate distraction.

Ellie pressed her face to the canvas tarpaulin covering the floor. Through a much smaller gap in the side of the tent, she peered out at the watercraft.

“Maybe if I drained some of the water from the cooling system,” she muttered to herself under her breath as her mind worked furiously, “then added a few paraffin canisters to the firebox…”

“Added paraffin to what?” a voice behind her demanded with obvious alarm.

“Bates!” Ellie cried out as she whirled around.

He was just visible across the shadowy interior of the tent where he stood by the entrance. His expression was slightly aghast.

“Hold on—cooling system? Firebox?” he said. “Sweet hell—are you talking about blowing up a boiler?”

“Well, not anymore,” Ellie retorted as she climbed to her feet. “Not now that you’re here.”

“What a relief.”

Adam did not sound the least bit relieved. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose as though fighting a headache.

“Please promise me you’ll stick that plan on the shelf,” he said. “No—burn it. Just erase it from your brain. Pretend it never existed.”

“The plan was perfectly sound.” Ellie crossed her arms in irritation. “Entirely based on hard science.”

“Blowing up a steam engine?” Adam shot back as his voice rose.

Ellie stepped closer, dropping her own words to a fierce whisper as she glanced at the tent flap—beyond which Mendez was almost certainly trying to eavesdrop.