Badwater (The Forensic Geology Series) by Toni Dwiggins Read Free Book Online

the shipper sends us an electronic copy to check against the papers that go in the truck. Got that crypto stuff, real secure.”
    “Not in my experience.”
    “Hey, nothing’s foolproof but we take all reasonable precautions.” A stitch of sweat appeared on Ballinger’s lip. “This...incident...this is a first.”
    “Your facility has had no problems before?”
    Ballinger licked the sweat off his lip. “No more’n anybody else’s.”
    “Anti-nuclear agitation?”
    “Nah nah, we don’t get that crap here.”
    “Right,” Miller put in, “the locals love us. We employ them. And once a year the feds make the good citizens of Beatty pee in a cup, just to keep us honest.”
    “Hey,” Ballinger said, “I myself grew up in Beatty and there was real competition for jobs here. Course, you need serious training you wanna go far in this biz.”
    I wondered if some local was upset about not getting a job here, if this was a question of sour-grapes sabotage. My attention caught on a suited figure checking the mechanics of a truck filled with sand. He kept glancing at us, like he expected Ballinger to come correct him. I wondered if he was new on the job. He abruptly turned his back. Name on his tape was Jardine. My attention returned to the issue at hand. I said, “Mr. Ballinger, I’d like to check the unloading area.”
    “For what?”
    “Talc. On the chance our perp tried this before. And succeeded.”
    “Missy, that’s friggin nuts.”
    I flushed. I was beat, out of my element, and not a little hungry. I said, “I’d still like to monitor.”
    “Oookay, but you’re not going out there unsupervised and you’re sure not going right now.”
    I did not really care to go out there right now. The suited figures, retreating behind a portable shield, did not care to be out there either. The sand truck guy, Jardine, threw us another glance. I fought the urge to wave. I folded my arms and watched the delicate dance of the crane boom as it lifted the cask from the flatbed. The operator directed this dance with a handheld remote, guided by a camera mounted on the boom. I held my breath. I guessed he held his.
    “What puzzles me,” Soliano said, “is why the perp filled the dummy cask with talc—the cask we found at the crash site. Why not simply leave it empty?”
    “Nah nah,” Ballinger said, “that’d set off alarm bells. Package gotta weigh what the manifest says it weighs—that’s how we adjust the crane boom angle.”
    “I see. He is clever.”
    “No he’s not. Because he’s not gonna sneak it past us. Not today, not last week, not ever. See, it’s gonna get metered and if it contains talc we’re gonna say, well that cask isn’t throwing off any gammas. Then we’re gonna sample and find out why not.”
    “Who is going to say? The woman with the tallywhacker?”
    “Her, today. Another day, whoever on the cask team signs up.” Ballinger blew a shot of air onto his moist upper lip. “How’s it matter?”
    “You tell it to me. We have ruled out the manifest, which is possible to diddle. It is possible to spoof the weight, with talc. But it is not possible for a cask of talc to give off gammas, as you explain.” Soliano lifted his palms. “Consequently, the person metering the cask is a key player. That person could falsely report, yes?”
    Ballinger turned to Miller.
    “Moi? The site radiation safety officer god? Falsely report?”
    “You join the cask team, Hap? Criminy, just go get the roster.”
    I watched Hap Miller saunter off, feeling a little naked without the radiation safety officer god on immediate watch. And then my attention returned, like a grappling hook had got hold of it, to the unloading zone. The crane boom swung slowly, so slowly that if it were moving a bucket of water not a drop would spill. It came to a halt over the trench, bobbed, and the cask sank into its concrete coffin.
    Almost time.
~
    J ardine was doing better now. Doing the job. Handling the recon.
    He came