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Thomas arched a brow. “A pen?”
“A pressurized ink-injector pen,” Arty corrected. “Filled with a lovely concoction of tetrodotoxin. One click to release the safety, another to administer the dose. Instant paralysis.” He twirled it between his fingers. “But don’t jab yourself unless you’d like to experience firsthand how fast the human nervous system shuts down.”
I reached out and took it, weighing it in my palm. It felt natural, heavy, dangerous. I uncapped it and admired the gold nib. “Does this thing actually write?”
“It’s a pen. Of course, it does . . . at least, until you cock the mechanism, readying to deploy the serum.” Arty smirked at a thoroughly enchanted Thomas. “Figured you’d like that one.”
He moved on, picking up a watch with an unassuming black leather strap. “This is for emergencies.”
I lifted a brow. “What kind of emergencies?”
Arty grinned. “The kind where you need to blow something up.”
Thomas set the pen on the table and sat up straighter. “I’m listening.”
Arty flipped the watch over, tapping a small hidden dial on the back. “There’s a detonator fuse hidden inside the casing. One tap arms the charge. Tap twice, boom.”
“Boom?” I repeated.
“Boom,” Arty confirmed.
I exchanged a look with Thomas. He was already far too excited.
“Wait,” Thomas said before he could move on to the next item. “What goes boom? I can’t push the button and blow up a watch I’m holding in my hand.”
“Okay.” Arty held up a palm. “The second tap doesn’t make it go boom. It starts a sixty-second timer that ends in boom. Feel better now?”
Thomas nodded. “Much.”
Arty moved on to a pair of cufflinks. “These are a little more subtle,” he said, tossing them onto the table. “Each contains a single-use incendiary charge. Pop one, and you’ve got yourself a distraction that burns at 1200 degrees.”
“In a cufflink?” I said, astonished. I picked one up, turning it between my fingers.
“It should last a few minutes, long enough to grab the attention of guards or whoever you’re trying to avoid. Just be sure to toss it within five seconds of popping the switch. Think of it like a grenade without a failsafe or reset pin.” Arty adjusted his glasses.
I set the cufflink down and met his gaze. “Thanks, Ar—Stork.” We were among our closest allies; still, I had to remind myself to follow protocol. In our game, we could never betoocareful.
Raines exhaled, standing. “The train leaves in three hours. You need to be on it.”
I glanced at Thomas. We were in.
There was no turning back.
There were no second chances.
Raines gathered a few maps and other papers.
Thomas didn’t budge. “Aren’t we forgetting something?”
Raines scrunched up his brow.
Manakinnevermissed a beat. “You might want your cover identities and papers?”
Raines’s expression shifted to “Oh, right,” as he retook his seat.
Manakin stood and let his gaze fall on each of us one at a time, as though considering whether to continue the discussion. “Let’s talk covers and insertion.”
“Sounds like a kinky night out. I’m in,” Egret quipped, earning a round of laughter from the group—and a scowl from Manakin.