we're going to apportion blame, let's not forget ourselves."
"Nobody's blaming anybody, Mr. Reynolds. How extensive is the damage?"
"Enough. Terry and I figure that these guys let off three charges here -- that's the gas-oil hydrotreater -- and the same number next door at the Naptha hydrotreater. In fact, we've been extremely lucky -- we could have had gas explosions and fuel fires. We had none. As it is, damage is comparatively slight. We should be on stream again in forty-eight hours."
"Meantime, everything is shut down?"
"Not the draglines. But the rest is. The radial stackers are full."
"One of the plant operatives, you think?"
Brinckman said, "I'm afraid we're sure. It's a big plant but it takes surprisingly few people to operate it, and everybody on a shift knows everybody else. A stranger would have been spotted at once: Besides, we know it was an inside job -- six thirty-ounce explosive charges were taken from the blasting shed last night."
"Blasting shed?"
Reynolds said, "We use explosives to break up large chunks of tar sand that have become too tightly bound together. But we've only got small charges."
"Big enough, it would seem. The blasting shed is normally kept locked?"
"Double-locked."
"Somebody forced the door?"
"Nobody forced anything. That's why Brinckman told you we're sure it was an inside job. Somebody used keys."
"Who normally holds the keys?" Dermott asked.
Reynolds said, "There are three sets. I hold one, Brinckman has two."
"Why two?"
"One I keep permanently," Brinckman explained. "The other goes to the security supervisor for the night shift, who passes it on to the person in charge of the morning and afternoon shifts."
"Who are those other security shift supervisors?"
Brinckman said, "My number two, Jorgensen -- this is his shift, really -- and Napier. I don't think that any of the three of us is much given to stealing explosives, Mr. Dermott."
"Not unless you're certifiable. Now, it seems unlikely anyone would risk abstracting keys and having copies made. Not only would they be too likely to be missed, but there's also more than a fair chance that we could trace the key cutter and so the thief."
"There could be illegal key cutters."
"I still doubt the keys would have been taken. Much more likely someone took an impression. That would need seconds only. And that's where the illegal side would come in -- no straight key cutter would touch an impression. How easy would it be for anyone to get hold of the keys, even briefly?"
Brinckman said, "About Jorgensen's and Napier's I wouldn't know. I clip mine to my belt."
Mackenzie said, "Everybody's got to sleep."
"So?"
"You take your belt off then, don't you?"
"Sure." Brinckman shrugged. "And if you're going to ask me next if I'm a heavy sleeper, well, yes, I am. And if you're going to ask me if it would have been possible for anyone to sneak into my room while I was asleep, borrow my key for a couple of minutes and return it unseen, well, yes that would have been perfectly possible too."
"This," Brady said, "is not going to take us very far. Sticky-fingered characters with an affinity for keys are legion. Would there have been any security man in this area tonight?"
"Jorgensen would know," Brinckman said. "Shall I get him?"
"Won't he be out patrolling sixteen miles of conveyor belting or something?"
"He's in the canteen."
"But surely he's in charge -- on duty?"
"In charge of what, Mr. Brady? There are four men keeping an eye on the four draglines. The rest of the plant is closed down. We think it unlikely that this bomber will strike again tonight."
"Not much is unlikely."
"Bring him along to my office," Reynolds said. Brinckman left. "I think you'll find it warmer and more comfortable there, Mr. Brady."
They followed Reynolds to the office block, through an external room where a bright-eyed and pretty young woman at the desk gave them a charming smile, and on into Reynolds' office where Brady began divesting himself of
"Nobody's blaming anybody, Mr. Reynolds. How extensive is the damage?"
"Enough. Terry and I figure that these guys let off three charges here -- that's the gas-oil hydrotreater -- and the same number next door at the Naptha hydrotreater. In fact, we've been extremely lucky -- we could have had gas explosions and fuel fires. We had none. As it is, damage is comparatively slight. We should be on stream again in forty-eight hours."
"Meantime, everything is shut down?"
"Not the draglines. But the rest is. The radial stackers are full."
"One of the plant operatives, you think?"
Brinckman said, "I'm afraid we're sure. It's a big plant but it takes surprisingly few people to operate it, and everybody on a shift knows everybody else. A stranger would have been spotted at once: Besides, we know it was an inside job -- six thirty-ounce explosive charges were taken from the blasting shed last night."
"Blasting shed?"
Reynolds said, "We use explosives to break up large chunks of tar sand that have become too tightly bound together. But we've only got small charges."
"Big enough, it would seem. The blasting shed is normally kept locked?"
"Double-locked."
"Somebody forced the door?"
"Nobody forced anything. That's why Brinckman told you we're sure it was an inside job. Somebody used keys."
"Who normally holds the keys?" Dermott asked.
Reynolds said, "There are three sets. I hold one, Brinckman has two."
"Why two?"
"One I keep permanently," Brinckman explained. "The other goes to the security supervisor for the night shift, who passes it on to the person in charge of the morning and afternoon shifts."
"Who are those other security shift supervisors?"
Brinckman said, "My number two, Jorgensen -- this is his shift, really -- and Napier. I don't think that any of the three of us is much given to stealing explosives, Mr. Dermott."
"Not unless you're certifiable. Now, it seems unlikely anyone would risk abstracting keys and having copies made. Not only would they be too likely to be missed, but there's also more than a fair chance that we could trace the key cutter and so the thief."
"There could be illegal key cutters."
"I still doubt the keys would have been taken. Much more likely someone took an impression. That would need seconds only. And that's where the illegal side would come in -- no straight key cutter would touch an impression. How easy would it be for anyone to get hold of the keys, even briefly?"
Brinckman said, "About Jorgensen's and Napier's I wouldn't know. I clip mine to my belt."
Mackenzie said, "Everybody's got to sleep."
"So?"
"You take your belt off then, don't you?"
"Sure." Brinckman shrugged. "And if you're going to ask me next if I'm a heavy sleeper, well, yes, I am. And if you're going to ask me if it would have been possible for anyone to sneak into my room while I was asleep, borrow my key for a couple of minutes and return it unseen, well, yes that would have been perfectly possible too."
"This," Brady said, "is not going to take us very far. Sticky-fingered characters with an affinity for keys are legion. Would there have been any security man in this area tonight?"
"Jorgensen would know," Brinckman said. "Shall I get him?"
"Won't he be out patrolling sixteen miles of conveyor belting or something?"
"He's in the canteen."
"But surely he's in charge -- on duty?"
"In charge of what, Mr. Brady? There are four men keeping an eye on the four draglines. The rest of the plant is closed down. We think it unlikely that this bomber will strike again tonight."
"Not much is unlikely."
"Bring him along to my office," Reynolds said. Brinckman left. "I think you'll find it warmer and more comfortable there, Mr. Brady."
They followed Reynolds to the office block, through an external room where a bright-eyed and pretty young woman at the desk gave them a charming smile, and on into Reynolds' office where Brady began divesting himself of
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