Chapter 2 #2
And I can’t believe it works! At last week’s meeting, goddamn Fiona Carson fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.
She couldn’t wait to abandon this town after graduation.
Now that she’s back, out of the blue, she’s dumber than I ever thought.
She’s not even getting paid off by the developers.
She actually agrees with them. I guess that’s what you get when you live in the city—you think everything should be more city.
I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she realizes how much people around here don’t want this. That we’ll resist.
I’m nearly at the construction site when I realize I’m ranting to myself. I slow to a crawl and kill the headlights, then pull off the road and park between a couple of trees so the car is barely visible.
I chose tonight because construction doesn’t happen on the weekends.
Saturday night is the least likely time for anyone to be around, meaning it’s almost guaranteed no one will drive up here.
Also, waiting more than a week after the meeting announcing the expanded development plans makes it safer, since it’s just past the new moon.
I grab my tool bag from the passenger seat and debate going to the trunk for the sugar, but decide to make an entry into the worksite first. There are a few hundred yards of road and one more bend to traverse.
I’d prefer not to sneak along that entire approach carrying a fifty-pound bag on my shoulder only to find somebody there.
My course of action decided, I creep along the road with only my tools until I reach the turnoff.
I pause in the darkness, pressed up against a tree, and survey the area, searching for any sign of movement or a telltale light.
Seeing none, I scan for my targets and consider my plan.
I leave the tool bag, then jog back to the car and return carrying the bag of sugar.
I grab the tools and hurry down the dirt entrance into the site, reasonably certain the coast is clear.
I’ll have a busy night, and I need to make sure I’m gone before dawn.
My main priority is the container cement silo.
It’s where I’m going to score the biggest hit against the operation.
This site is where they’re building both the passenger terminal and the machine facilities—which requires a strong concrete foundation anchored to the bedrock across a large footprint.
The top of a mountain with a steep curvy road isn’t a great location to send concrete mixers loaded down with ten to fifteen tons, so they’ve set up a stainless steel silo and brought up cement, sand, and aggregate—the components of concrete—individually.
That way, they can add water when they’re ready and use a pump to pour it.
Mixing in fifty pounds of sugar will absolutely ruin their concrete.
I make my way up the metal ladder welded to the silo’s exterior, balancing the sack on my shoulder. When I reach the hatch, I pull on the crossbar and swing the door wide. Then I rip open the bag and pour in the sugar.
Beyond the standard ingredients, builders often add chemical agents to concrete to adjust the curing time and ultimate strength of the product.
Two pounds of sugar in a full ton of dry cement can actually make the structure stronger, but it increases the curing time.
However, adding more than that causes problems. Four pounds per ton is pretty much all it takes to ruin the entire batch so that it will never cure.
The materials are stored together and simply look like a mass of white powder.
Even if anyone checks the silo after they find their site wrecked, they won’t be able to tell the sugar is in there.
The best part is they won’t realize there’s a problem until they’ve spent the time and effort to set up the foundation and poured tons of concrete.
They’ll lose weeks waiting for the foundation to cure like it’s supposed to.
Then they’ll have to clear all that useless concrete out of the site, regrade and reset the building footprint, get new mix, then pour and cure everything again.
By the time that happens, we may be into fall, forcing the crew to deal with the rainy weather.
Even if they manage that, they won’t get much further before the wet and cold make it too dangerous to keep working.
They’ll be stuck all winter, steadily burning money. Not too shabby for one night’s work.
Once the bag is empty, I drop it to land near my tools and close the hatch. Then I pause and survey the area from my higher vantage point, making out the dark shapes of the construction equipment and the massive support column that will bring the gondolas into the terminal.
Suddenly, something shifts in the night below me.
Shit! I press against the silo and hold my breath, watching the area near the column like an owl hunting a mouse.
It can’t be the shadow of a tree branch this far into the site, and it was too big to be blowing leaves.
Someone who works here wouldn’t be skulking around in the dark. Was it a cougar? Am I trapped up here?
There it is again. Holy shit, I think in amazement, that’s a person. Who the hell would be at the site now?
Whoever it is shouldn’t be here any more than me, making me confident they won’t call the cops. I rush back to the ground as quietly as I can, stopping long enough to remove the pry bar from my tool bag and heft it like a club before stalking over to the giant column.
“Who the hell are you?” I shout, opting for shock and awe to gain the advantage.
“Oh fuck!” the figure screams, spinning to face me.
“I said who are you, and what are you doing here?” I demand loudly, brandishing my pry bar club.
The figure stares for a moment, then asks, “Dickie?” in astonishment. “You asshole, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” The woman’s voice shifts from surprise to anger in a blink.
“Wait… Carson? Is that you?” This whole situation has tumbled out of my grasp. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask again, much less confidently.
“I’m just out for a walk. Thought I’d enjoy the construction site in the middle of the night. Take it all in. What does it look like I’m doing, Dickie?”
I step to the side and peer beyond Fiona Carson to look at the support column. My eyes track between the objects taped to it and her shadowed face a few times before I realize what I’m seeing.
“What the fuck are you doing with a bomb?”