35
Surrounded
The bomb beeped, the countdown clock froze.
00:01
If Philippe had hit the DISARM button a fraction of a second later, we’d have all been toast. The bomber slumped back in agony on the floor. No reason to fight anymore. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my sleeve and felt for my own heartbeat. Good, it was still there.
Philippe returned the cutters to his rucksack and got back on the phone. “We found a code,” he said. “Thanks, Max.”
Max talked him through unclipping the wires and the tubes from the explosives. Within seconds, Philippe had unscrewed one from the device. A small, clear vial in a protective carbon casing.
“I think Belinsky may have had something to do with that,” I said.
“As in—”
“The guy you traded Mobutu for, yeah. He was here. He sta
