Chapter 82
Driving up North Capitol Street, Shane said, “I hate moving this truck through traffic.”
In the passenger seat, following the GPS map on his phone, Flynn said, “Just don’t get in a wreck. If we get pulled over here,
we’re done.”
Shane said, “Freeways are fine, but this inner city shit is nerve-racking. We didn’t spend enough time in class on this stuff.”
Flynn said, “Would you shut the fuck up. We’re almost there.”
Shane reached a red light and stopped, remaining silent. Flynn said, “It’s about a hundred meters up. Take your next left.”
The light turned green and Shane began moving forward slowly. The car behind him honked, then raced around the truck in the
right lane. Flynn barked, “Fuck, man, drive like you know what you’re doing.”
They passed a park, then reached what looked like three brick silos in a row going away from the road, with two sets of stairs
and a wheelchair ramp rising up a berm in front of them.
Flynn said, “What the fuck? That’s the location. There’s not a fucking entrance.”
Shane continued on, saying, “Look at the map for another entrance. Maybe the GPS is just screwed up. You don’t have it on
walking, do you?”
Flynn looked at his screen and had, indeed, set it to moving on foot. He clicked the car icon and the route adjusted. Not
wanting to admit his mistake, he said, “Piece of shit. Go down to the next light and take a left. We have to box around to
the other end.”
Shane accelerated to the next intersection, passing cranes and earth movers at a large construction site, then turned left on Michigan Avenue, driving a block to the final intersection. Waiting at the light, he saw what looked like a large lake across the street in front of them.
He said, “That’s the reservoir. It’s right there. I thought we were going to be away from it.”
Flynn looked and said, “We would have been, if the damn GPS had worked.”
“We’re going to drive right by the entrance. We’ll be on camera.”
Flynn said, “Would you quit whining? It is what it is. So they see us pass by, so what?”
The light changed and Shane said, “The ‘so what’ is that my name is attached to this truck through my CDL. If they get the
license plate, it won’t matter if I drive away afterwards, they’ll know who was driving it.”
“You take the money and disappear. They’ll have to wonder if you were hijacked or some other weird shit. In fact, maybe we
stage something like that with the truck when we’re done. Leave it in Virginia with a bloody handkerchief or something.”
Shane nodded, saying, “That might work. Maybe contact the shipper anonymously through that ‘How’s My Driving?’ bumper sticker
and say the guy driving was out of control and leave a description that’s not me. A black guy maybe. It’s already late to
the destination anyway.”
Shane saw the water extending out to his right and said, “You sure about this? I mean, poisoning the FBI and DEA?”
Flynn said, “I don’t really give a shit. Those assholes deserve it, and anyway, we’re not poisoning all of them, if you think
about it. Maybe one or two people get enough fentanyl to OD, but they might not even die. Most will just get high from contact,
and they’ll figure it out pretty quickly.”
Mollified, Shane said, “Yeah, that’s true.” He giggled, saying, “I’d hate to be taking a shower in one of those buildings
tomorrow morning.”
They reached the front of the reservoir on the right, a two-lane entrance with an imposing eight-foot iron gate, a guard shack
on the left with a stalk housing multiple cameras.
Flynn said, “This is it. Next left.”
“Here? Right in front of the entrance?”
“Yes! You’re about to pass it.”
Shane looked out his window and saw a line of the same brick silos on a concrete median. Interspersed between them were several
squat one-story brick shacks, a narrow one way road looping around the structures, the park on the right and the construction
area on the left.
He turned into the road and Flynn said, “All the way down, right next to where we passed the stairs on North Capitol.”
He inched forward past the silos and buildings, seeing the berm at the end, a sedan parked next to it. Just before he reached
the final building he saw a man exit, holding his hand above his eyes to cut the glare of the headlights. It was Sardar.
Shane continued forward until Sardar was outside his window and stopped, rolling down his window. Sardar said, “Which side
is the drain?”
“Left side.”
“Good. Loop around and stop next to the building.”
Shane followed his instructions and they both exited the cab. Sardar met them at the entrance to the garage, and Shane saw
it was an old maintenance shed, with pipes and valves snaking around inside like spaghetti.
Flynn said, “Where’s the money?”
Sardar pointed to the vehicle at the berm, saying, “In my car, ready to go.”
“Let’s get that first.”
Sardar led them to the trunk and opened it, exposing two carry-on suitcases with the zipper expansion opened. He unlocked
one and opened the lid, exposing stacks of hundred dollar bills. Flynn picked one up and flipped through it. Satisfied, he
hoisted one bag out of the trunk, Shane getting the other.
They hauled them back to the truck, Shane asking, “What is this place, anyway?”
“It’s the original sand filtration site for Washington’s water.
This is where the water was purified in the old days.
” He pointed back to the reservoir and said, “Now, the DC water supply is modernized, all behind that fence, but the pipes from the old site are still connected to the outgoing water stream.”
Flynn said, “You mean the law enforcement water supply, right?”
Sardar recognized his slipup and nodded his head, saying, “Yes, yes. The special supply for the government. That’s why they
built it here, on the old site.”
They tossed the suitcases in the cab of the truck and Flynn asked, “Why are they still connected?”
Sardar shrugged and said, “I guess it cost too much to dig them out of the ground. Easier to just leave them in place and
connect the new filtration site.”
They followed Sardar inside the building. Sardar shined a flashlight into a hole in the floor, illuminating a large pipe with
a circular hatch bolted on top. He said, “We need to remove that hatch, then pump in the contents of the truck. That’s it.”
It turned out the process was easier said than done. It took them more than an hour to break through the century of rust on
the bolts, with Flynn cursing the entire time. Eventually, they had the hatch removed.
Sardar said, “Now I need your expertise.”
Flynn turned to Shane, saying, “Show ’em what that truck-driving school taught you.” He pulled a pistol from his waistband,
saying, “I’m going to have a look around.”
Shane unhooked a large rubber hose attached to the side of the truck, coupled it to a valve at the bottom of the tank, then
ran it into the building, dropping it through the hole in the pipe under the floor. He said, “Ready to open the valve?”