“Committee upper.”
“I’m not …” Correcting him would be a waste of time. Since Lamont had changed my eye color back to its original blue, I had difficulties convincing people I had been raised in the lower levels like them. “Are all your colleagues wondering or just you?”
Again he masked his emotions. “Just me.”
“And you didn’t say anything to Hank?”
“No.”
I waited.
Wiping the sweat off his chin with his shoulder, he jabbed the torch in my direction. “I knew this would happen if I said anything.”
Just in case he decided to attack me with his torch’s white-hot flame, I planned which tool I would grab from my belt. Hopefully, my outward calm remained. “This?”
“Stop with the dumb act. You figured out a bomb set off the explosion, you talked to Jacy, and now I’m your primary suspect.”
Guess I needed to work on my investigative skills. Even though I wasn’t an expert in reading people, I noted the edge in his voice when he said Jacy’s name. “You would have looked less guilty if you reported your concerns to Hank.”
He shrugged, but there was nothing casual in the movement. “Force of habit. I’ve learned to keep a low profile.” Bubba Boom absently rubbed his hand along the bottom of his rib cage.
“If you didn’t build that bomb, who did?”
I surprised a laugh from him. “I don’t know. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not? You like welding up ruptured tanks? Sanding out rust spots and re-painting the walls? What if he sets off another one? What if someone you care for dies in the next blast? What if he blows a hole to Outside and—”
“Impossible.”
“Which one?”
“Damaging one of the Walls. We measured them, they’re two meters thick.”
“How?”
“Cogon’s Gateway. That inner room between the doors is as wide as a Wall.”
Interesting and good to know. “My other points are still valid. There might be another explosion.”
“And I still wouldn’t squeal on a fellow scrub.”
“You do know the Pop Cops are no longer in charge, right?” I didn’t wait for his answer. “The worst thing we’d do is incarcerate the saboteur. He wouldn’t be fed to Chomper. And he wouldn’t be tortured into submission either.”
A stubborn tightness hardened his gaze.
I couldn’t say when I decided he wasn’t guilty; it was an internal instinct. “You think I’m an upper.”
A slight confused nod.
“My clothes and eye color gave me away.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think being called an upper is better or worse than my old nickname of Queen of the Pipes?” I asked him.
He stared at me.
“I like Queen of the Pipes better. It doesn’t have any prejudices or wrong assumptions associated with it. And the best thing, the Pop Cops didn’t give me that name. I earned it. Just like these …” I pulled up the bottom of my shirt, and showed Bubba Boom the line of round scars that followed the edge of my ribcage where Commander Vinco had gouged out my skin. “And if I knew the bastard who was blowing holes in our home, he wouldn’t need to worry about Chomper. Oh no. He’d need the ISF to protect him from me.”
Bubba Boom’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Or she would need protection. Even the Queen of the Pipes can make wrong assumptions.”
I smiled. “Never said I was perfect. And I’m not going to accuse an innocent.”
He held up a hand to stop me. “I didn’t get a chance to fully examine the blast site. Did you find any shrapnel that looked like it didn’t match any of the surrounding equipment?”
“Shrapnel as in pieces of the bomb?”
“Exactly.”
“Yes.”
He set his torch and mask down. “Okay, I’ll look at the site first, and then I’ll need to see what you found.”
I followed him to the blast location. He squinted at the damage, ran his fingers along the scorched marks, sniffed the wreckage, and sorted through the rubble. Filling his pockets with odd bits of metal and wires, he straightened and asked to see what we had collected.
The control room was empty when Bubba Boom and I entered. I showed him the pieces Logan found. He set everything out on a table, including the fragments he had gathered. Arranging and turning the bits, he scrutinized each one.
Logan arrived, but I hushed his questions. He stood next to me as we waited for Bubba to finish.
“This doesn’t look familiar,” Bubba said. He held the biggest chunk up to the light.
“Not one of yours?” Logan asked. His tone was almost nasty—very unusual for him.
“I stopped building these. You know that better than anyone,” Bubba said.
These two had a history. Wonderful.
“The Pop Cops aren’t around. You could have returned to your old ways.”
Bubba Boom huffed in exasperation. “You’re still mad at me? I never told the Pop Cops about you and your sister. That was more important than the fact I stopped helping you design your little gadgets.”
“Those gadgets—”
“Logan, that’s enough,” I said. “He agreed to assist us with finding the bomber.”
Giving me an odd look, Logan said, “How did you find out about him?”
“Jacy.”
Logan and Bubba exchanged a glance.
“What?” I demanded.
“A distraction?” Logan asked him.
“Could be.”
Fear sizzled up my spine. “Another bomb?”
“No,” Logan said. “More like keeping you busy and away from the real culprit.”
“Why would Jacy do that?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” Logan said. “He’s hard to read.”
“Anything that
