which was on treads.
A bulldozer , Harvath thought to himself. Not a good sign. The only reason you brought in something that big was if you had something very large to unearth or to cover up. Though he had never held out much hope for the staff and patients of the Matumaini Clinic, he had held out some. The revelation that a bulldozer had likely been involved in the pit now dashed that hope.
It also raised his concern as to who had staged the alleged attack on the clinic. Hazmat suits, jet fuel, and earth-moving equipment spoke to a very high level of sophistication.
He wanted to examine more of the pit. There was still that question poking at the back of his mind from when he had seen the original satellite footage of it. Something hadn’t made sense. Was it the shape of the pit? The part where the heat was concentrated?
Unfortunately, he was out of time. He needed to get back before Decker took off.
Retracing his steps, he moved as quickly and as quietly as he could.
CHAPTER 14
----
B y the time he got back to Decker, she had completely filled the canisters and was almost done filling the bladder.
“What did you see?” she asked. “Is anyone at the clinic?”
He shook his head. “Everything’s quiet.” Pointing at her empty buckets, he added, “Want me to finish the bladder?”
“Thanks,” she replied.
Taking Jambo’s machete, he chopped off a tree branch about the diameter of a closet rod, notched it in two places at both ends and then, picking up his buckets, as well as Decker’s, headed down to the river.
When he returned with the pole across his shoulders and two buckets on each side, Decker was drinking from one of the large, plastic water bottles they had brought in with them.
“You want some?” she asked, holding the bottle out to him.
“No, you finish it,” he answered as he set the buckets of water down. “You’re going to need it.”
“So are you.”
She was right. Now was as good as any time to get started. He pulled a bottle from his pack, twisted off the top, and guzzled over half of it. Then he turned his attention to the canvas sling that held the bladder.
A gallon of water weighed almost eight and a half pounds. While he figured they would only need ten to fifteen gallons apiece, he had spec’d a forty-gallon bladder, just in case. Not counting the powdered-chemicals he had added, the weight of which was negligible, the bladder clocked in at over three hundred pounds.
Once they were a “safe” distance away from the river, he had begun looking for a level piece of ground with a strong enough tree. That’s how he had chosen where to stop.
Into each of the sling’s heavy-duty grommets, he attached a carabiner, which itself was attached to a cable leading to a hoist ring. He removed a ratchet lever hoist, suspended it from the tree limb, and went to work lifting the bladder.
When he had it at the level he wanted, he moved the PVC frame underneath it, extended the hose and tried the nozzle. The water was cold, but it smelled clean and the pressure was excellent. He positioned the supplies they would need and then returned to the bottle of water sitting next to his pack.
As he was drinking, Decker tossed him a pair of surgical scrubs.
“Time to get dressed,” she said.
He half expected her to either retreat down the path, or behind the opaque sheeting affixed to the makeshift PVC shower stall, but she didn’t bother.
Instead, standing next to her own pack, Decker began to slowly get undressed. Apparently modesty wasn’t one of her strong suits. Neither was subtlety.
Harvath didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t help himself. The way in which she took off her clothes practically begged for a cover charge and a two drink minimum. He disliked everything about her, but when her mouth was shut and her clothes were dropping to the ground, she wasn’t half bad.
The only reason he shifted his eyes away was because he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of
A bulldozer , Harvath thought to himself. Not a good sign. The only reason you brought in something that big was if you had something very large to unearth or to cover up. Though he had never held out much hope for the staff and patients of the Matumaini Clinic, he had held out some. The revelation that a bulldozer had likely been involved in the pit now dashed that hope.
It also raised his concern as to who had staged the alleged attack on the clinic. Hazmat suits, jet fuel, and earth-moving equipment spoke to a very high level of sophistication.
He wanted to examine more of the pit. There was still that question poking at the back of his mind from when he had seen the original satellite footage of it. Something hadn’t made sense. Was it the shape of the pit? The part where the heat was concentrated?
Unfortunately, he was out of time. He needed to get back before Decker took off.
Retracing his steps, he moved as quickly and as quietly as he could.
CHAPTER 14
----
B y the time he got back to Decker, she had completely filled the canisters and was almost done filling the bladder.
“What did you see?” she asked. “Is anyone at the clinic?”
He shook his head. “Everything’s quiet.” Pointing at her empty buckets, he added, “Want me to finish the bladder?”
“Thanks,” she replied.
Taking Jambo’s machete, he chopped off a tree branch about the diameter of a closet rod, notched it in two places at both ends and then, picking up his buckets, as well as Decker’s, headed down to the river.
When he returned with the pole across his shoulders and two buckets on each side, Decker was drinking from one of the large, plastic water bottles they had brought in with them.
“You want some?” she asked, holding the bottle out to him.
“No, you finish it,” he answered as he set the buckets of water down. “You’re going to need it.”
“So are you.”
She was right. Now was as good as any time to get started. He pulled a bottle from his pack, twisted off the top, and guzzled over half of it. Then he turned his attention to the canvas sling that held the bladder.
A gallon of water weighed almost eight and a half pounds. While he figured they would only need ten to fifteen gallons apiece, he had spec’d a forty-gallon bladder, just in case. Not counting the powdered-chemicals he had added, the weight of which was negligible, the bladder clocked in at over three hundred pounds.
Once they were a “safe” distance away from the river, he had begun looking for a level piece of ground with a strong enough tree. That’s how he had chosen where to stop.
Into each of the sling’s heavy-duty grommets, he attached a carabiner, which itself was attached to a cable leading to a hoist ring. He removed a ratchet lever hoist, suspended it from the tree limb, and went to work lifting the bladder.
When he had it at the level he wanted, he moved the PVC frame underneath it, extended the hose and tried the nozzle. The water was cold, but it smelled clean and the pressure was excellent. He positioned the supplies they would need and then returned to the bottle of water sitting next to his pack.
As he was drinking, Decker tossed him a pair of surgical scrubs.
“Time to get dressed,” she said.
He half expected her to either retreat down the path, or behind the opaque sheeting affixed to the makeshift PVC shower stall, but she didn’t bother.
Instead, standing next to her own pack, Decker began to slowly get undressed. Apparently modesty wasn’t one of her strong suits. Neither was subtlety.
Harvath didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t help himself. The way in which she took off her clothes practically begged for a cover charge and a two drink minimum. He disliked everything about her, but when her mouth was shut and her clothes were dropping to the ground, she wasn’t half bad.
The only reason he shifted his eyes away was because he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of
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