“You aren’t drug runners,” Dayana managed.
“Answer the question.”
“If you are, I’m dead anyway.” Dayana switched from liquid Spanish to British-accented English. “I’m NCA.”
Melissa looked over Duane’s shoulder and then wished she hadn’t. A large package was nestled against the lab’s hull. A timer was counting down in bright red numbers.
“What is this, a Mission Impossible movie?”
“No,” Duane offered cautiously. “That’s definitely a bomb. It’s going to shatter this lab in one minute-fifty.”
Melissa’s training had her setting a countdown timer on her watch while her mind churned. “Can you disable it?”
Duane studied it carefully for five achingly long seconds. “Probably not in time.”
“This was Richie’s danger signal.”
“What danger signal?” Chad and Duane asked in unison.
“Long story
