Читать книгу A Richard Rohmer Omnibus - Richard Rohmer - Страница 16

Near Aklavik / 7:48 a.m., MDT

Sam Allen bent over to strap on his second snowshoe. As he did so he said to Bessie, “We’ve got a tough day ahead of us. I’ve planned to set these last five charges along a fifteen-mile stretch. We’re going to have to hurry to finish and meet Freddie at Rat Lake at six.” He straightened up and looked southwest down the 120-foot swath cut by the pipeliners to where the pipe emerged at the river’s edge. Although the pipe had not been buried completely in the permafrost and tundra, it had been sunk halfway down, and the part above the surface covered over with a mound of earth or “berm” of gravel and soil so that the natural vegetation could grow and cover over the pipe. In this way it was hoped the wildlife would not be impeded and that the whole corridor could return to an apparent state of nature. Because of the covering, Sam had had to set the charges at water-crossings. He knew there was no natural gas in the pipe yet but that it was under pressure for testing, and that the moment the first explosion went off, the company would get reconnaissance helicopters out to locate the break and find any other explosives which they had set. This was what had happened when the first set of five bombs had blown the pipe successfully two weeks before.

Sam and Bessie slipped their heads through the holes in the white sheets which they had brought to provide some camouflage against a possible survey helicopter patrolling the line. Bessie said, “I’m ready to go. Shall we leave the tent and packs here, Allen, while we set this charge?”

“I think so.” Sam reached into the small tent and dragged out an old and much-used knapsack. From inside he carefully drew out a small blue plastic bag. The package was about the size and weight of a 32-ounce bottle of booze. But, as Sam had said to Bessie, it packed one hell of a lot more wallop. The plastic explosives were powerful enough to rip out a five-foot section of 48-inch steel pipe cleanly. Attached to the explosive was an arming device and a timer mechanism, both of which had to be delicately engaged once the bomb was in place.

With the timer, Sam had planned to set the bombs to go off at random intervals down the line over a twelve-day period. Although this bomb was the sixth to be placed, it actually would explode two days later.

The arming mechanism had a fail-safe device designed to prevent anyone from disarming the bomb once the charge was in place and the timer set. Projecting through the casing of the unit was the rim of a small wheel. To disarm the bomb, the wheel had to be turned fully clockwise and the connecting wires removed between the explosive and the timer. If the wheel were turned counter-clockwise it would detonate the explosive charge and, with it, the person turning the wheel.

When they reached the pipe, Sam handed the explosives to Bessie and, taking the shovel, chopped away at the snow around the base of the pipe where it re-entered the berm. Then he laid the plastic bag out on the snow between his snowshoes, squatted down on his haunches, and set out the arming device, timer and plastics in front of him. He connected the two wires running from the plastic charge through the detonator to the timing unit and pulled back his sleeve to check the time. It was 7:50. He reached inside his pocket to fish out the piece of paper on which he had marked the locations of the ten bombs, together with the date and times selected for their explosion. The list confirmed a time of eleven o’clock two days from now.

He set the timer for 51 hours, and then wrote down on the list the number and date of the bomb, the time at which it was planted, and the time delay. He set the marker on the disarm wheel and pushed in the red arming button. He could feel it engage. The bomb was armed, the timer was set.

He turned to Bessie and nodded. At the signal she stooped over and gingerly lifted the explosive package while Sam picked up the arming device and timer. They lowered the bomb back into the plastic bag. Then Sam eased it into the opening he had made in the snow and covered it over, smoothing out the surface.

“That’s it,” he said. “Let’s pick up the stuff and move on.”

As they turned to go back to the tent, they suddenly stopped. In the distance there was a faint chopping sound. Bessie shouted, “Helicopter!”

In their clumsy snowshoes they raced for the edge of the clearing and the protection of the trees. They knew from the sound that the helicopter was very close and flying low. They threw themselves in the snow between the trees and pulled the white sheets up over their heads, covering themselves completely, except for their snowshoes. As they lay in the snow barely daring to breathe, Sam could hear the blades of the helicopter whacking through the air just above the treeline as it passed straight over top of them. He knew that the pilot and the observer in the helicopter had probably been airborne for at least two hours out of the Canadian Arctic gas base near Arctic Red River. By this time, their eyes would be tired from the bright sunlight and they probably wouldn’t be able to see very much, even the snowshoe tracks. Sam was right. The helicopter went straight on, without pausing.

When they were certain that the helicopter was gone, Sam and Bessie got up, went quickly back to the tent, packed up, and then set off at a fast pace down the pipeline corridor.