Chapter 137
‘Whatabout his bug fogger?’ Poe said. ‘The one with the aerosolised ricin? As soon as he’s cornered he’ll use it to force his way out.’
‘It’ll be empty,’ Doyle replied.
‘Empty? Why would it be empty?’
‘I’ve seen the blueprint, Poe. It’s pure bluff.’
‘He hasn’t bluffed so far.’
‘He is with this.’
‘You think he’s scared of dying?’
‘Almost certainly, but that’s not why it’ll be empty. That bug fogger is jerry-built. The way he had to drill holes and reseal them. The way the single-use nozzle is being used a second time. None of that makes for a safe device. He couldn’t carry it in a bag or put it in a pocket. One sharp bump and “poof”, he’s the next Darwin Awards winner.’
Poe laughed. Bradshaw had bought him a Darwin Awards book for his birthday. It was packed with tales of people who had died doing something stupid. His favourite was the terrorist who didn’t put enough stamps on his letter bomb. It was returned to sender and the would-be bomber was so excited about receiving mail, he opened it.
‘If I call his bluff and it’s fully loaded, it’ll be me who wins the next Darwin Award,’ he said.
‘Trust me. It’ll be empty.’