[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
as they came to investigate. But they had phones and radios and a
communications network that would hem him in. If he could find a way to
approach the station from the back, lights out, they might never see him, even
after he pulled away with his quarry.
His phone chirped. It was Zeke. You close by? the young man said.
Not far. What's up?
We're gonna hafta torch this place.
Why?
Once they figure they've busted every rebel that used to gas up here, they're
going to torch it anyway, right?
Maybe, Buck said. So why not let them?
They might search it first.
And find what?
The underground, of course. I can't even think about gettin' all the stuff
outta here that could give my dad away.
What more can they do to him?
All they got him on now is sellin' gas without GC approval. They fine him or
make him sit a month or two. If they find out me and him was runnin' a rebel
forgery biz outta here, he becomes an enemy of the state.
Good thinking. Buck never failed to be amazed at the street wisdom of the
unlikely looking Zeke. Who would have guessed that the former druggie-biker-
tattoo artist would be the best phony credentials man in the business?
And remember, Mr. Williams. We were feedin' people outta here too. Groceries,
you name it. Well, you know. You bought a bunch of 'em. OK, here's what I'm
thinkin'. I rig up a timer to a sparking device. You know, it ain't the gas
that burns
anyway.
I'm sorry? Buck felt stupid. He had been a globe-trotting journalist, and a
virtual illiterate was trying to tell him gasoline fires aren't what they
seem?
Yeah, it's not the gas that burns. When I was workin' above ground, helpin'
Dad in the station when it was legal and all, I used to toss my cigarettes in
a bucket of gas we kept in the service bay.
No, you didn't.
I swear.
Lit cigarettes?
Swear to I mean, honest. That was how we put 'em out. They'd hiss like you
was tossin' 'em into a bucket o' water.
I'm confused.
We kept gas in there to clean our hands on. Cuts grease, you know. Like if
you just did an axle job and now you gotta go fill a tank or write on a credit
card receipt or something.
I mean I'm confused about how you could throw a cigarette into a container of
gasoline.
Lots of people don't know that or don't believe it.
How'd you keep from blowing yourselves to kingdom come?
Well, if the bucket of gas was fresh, you had to wait awhile. If you saw any
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
of that shimmerin' of the fumes over it, like when you first pour it in there,
or when you're fillin' your tank, well, you don't want any open flame of any
kind near that.
But once it sat and the, uh, shimmering fumes were gone?
Then we tossed our cigarette butts in there.
So, it's the fumes.
Yeah, it's the fumes what burns.
I get it. So, your thoughts?
See, Mr. Williams, it works the same in an engine. Like a fuel-injected
engine shoots a fine spray of gas into the cylinders and the spark plugs spark
and burn it, but they're not burning the spray.
The spray is emitting fumes and that's what's, in essence, exploding in the
cylinder, Buck said. Now you've got it.
Good. I'm heading your way, so cut to the chase.
OK. I moved two huge boxes of stuff out by the pile of dirt in the back, and
I got one big canvas bag. All my files, my equipment, everything is there.
Even had room for some food.
We have plenty of food, Zeke.
Never have enough food. Anyway, the stuff's out there waitin'. I figure if
you don't get seen comin', I can be waitin' for ya and load my stuff in there
real quick before I
jump in.
Sounds like a plan. Back to the torching.
Yeah. I've got auto parts down here. I cut a feed from the pipe that leads to
the storage tank, which runs right by the wall we dug out here, and I hook a
fuel injector to it. When I leave, I turn the spigot, the gas runs through the
fuel injector and starts sprayin' gasoline.
And pretty soon the underground is filled with gas.
Fumes.
Right. And you, what, toss a match down the stairs on your way out to the
car?
Zeke laughed.
Shh.
Yeah, they can't hear me. But no, tossing a flame down here then would blow
me all the way to Chicago. Save you a trip, eh?
So how do you ignite it?
Put a spark plug on a timer. Give myself five minutes or so, just in case. At
the right time, kaboom.
Kaboom.
Bingo.
Zeke, even if I agreed, you'd never have time to rig that all up. I'm not ten
minutes away.
I figured you'd agree.
And so ?
It's all done.
You're kiddin' me.
Nope. If you're ten minutes away, I'll set the timer for fifteen, and when I
leave I'll open the spigot.
Hoo, boy, you're resourceful.
I know how to do stuff.
You sure do, but do me a favor.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plalternate.pev.pl
|
