First he indicated to John a small spray nozzle at the top of the glass chamber. It wasn’t connected to anything outside the device at present.
"Here is where I inject mineral spirits to coat the potassium before removal," Farris said.
Then he pointed at the lower edge of the glass chamber. John hadn’t noticed before, but this edge was not made of glass. Farris explained that it was made of a custom polymer that could withstand both heat and substantial caustic chemical contact, while still remaining pliable. It looked sort of like a wide, clear windshield wiper blade.
It was time to switch the ingot trays and Farris wanted to demonstrate. John was a bit apprehensive. But he allowed Farris to proceed.
To remove the tray of potassium ingots from the apparatus, Farris first increased the argon flow to establish positive interior pressure. This assured that, if any gas leaked, it would be argon leaking out, rather than air leaking in.
From the corner of the lab, Farris retrieved a red, two-gallon weed sprayer. He pumped the handle to pressurize the sprayer, then connected its hose to the fitting on the top of the device. When Farris squeezed the sprayer trigger, a fine mist issued from a spray nozzle above the ingot tray. An oily sheen gradually began to appear on the otherwise dull ingots. He continued spraying until the oil began to pool on the tray. Then he released the trigger and disconnected the sprayer from the device.
The oil spray was necessary, Farris explained, to coat the potassium before it left argon isolation. Otherwise, the potassium would contact the water vapor in the air and the whole lab would go ‘Boom!’ He said it as though he needed to oversimplify for the infidel.
John ignored the insult. He had come to terms with the situation. He knew he had made his bed. Now he would lie in it — regardless of irritations.
To transfer the ingot tray out of the enclosed space, Farris used a flat metal handle, shaped like a football goal post. Holding it by the bottom of the ‘post,’ he inserted the handle through the windshield wiper slot and attached it to the ingot tray.
John held his breath as Farris slid the entire tray out of the glass enclosure.
Once the potassium was in open air, Farris moved quickly to a row of five-gallon, stainless steel chemical containers. Presumably, several of the containers in the row already held other finished potassium metal, submerged in large amounts of mineral spirits. Rotating a hinge on the handle ninety degrees, Farris lowered the entire ingot tray into the container and beneath the surface of the mineral oil. He then released the hinge, removed the handle from the container and looked at John with pride.
The kid’s pretty impressed with himself, John thought. But as long as the process works, who cares what the little shit thinks.
"How much of this stuff are we going to end up with?" John asked.
"Best guess? That twenty-ton load of potash will yield about fifteen of those five gallon buckets."
"How much do the buckets weigh?"
"Potassium is one of the lightest metals. Its atomic number is 19 and its atomic weight is just over 39 — nearly as light as aluminum. The contents of the containers will weigh about the same as water. The buckets probably won’t be completely full. So I would say they will weigh maybe twenty kilos each."
John did the math in his head. Twenty kilos would be just over forty pounds. Great! That was a lot lighter than John had feared. He had thought potassium might end up being as heavy as lead or something. Having these steel buckets weigh under fifty pounds made part of the job a lot easier.
"Farris. May Allah bless your service," John said, trying to keep their tenuous relationship intact.
Farris took offense at this non-Muslim’s invocation of a blessing from Allah. But he let it go. Just another culturally ignorant American.
"I need to have a meeting with Urland and Brenda about some things. Is there anything else I can get you?" John offered.
"Iced tea, no sugar. Maybe a jug of it. With lots of ice."
It sounded as though he was ordering from the menu and John was his servant. Again, John tolerated Farris’s arrogance.
"I’ll get it up here as soon as we’re done with the meeting."
John closed the metal lab door behind him and walked to the house. Urland and Brenda were waiting at the kitchen table, a beer in front of each of them.
"How ‘bout a cold one?" Urland asked cheerfully. "Got plenty of Old Style."
"I know. I’ve been buying it," John said, with no small amount of sarcasm. "Thanks anyway, but I’ll pass on the beer right now."
"Sure. No problem."
"Okay," John began. "Let’s cut to the chase. I need you guys to be in top physical condition for your next big role in this operation."
Urland made a muscle with his right bicep, looking at it proudly. Brenda looked depressed.
"I need each of you to be able to lift and carry a five-gallon bucket of water at least a hundred yards without stopping to rest."
They looked at each other.
John continued. "There are some plastic buckets in the granary. Fill two of them with water. Then each of you can practice carrying one pail halfway down the driveway. You can stop at the ‘Mean Dog’ sign. Rest no more than one minute. Then carry them back up the driveway. When you can do this ten times in succession, resting no more than a minute at each end, you will be ready."
"Aren’t we getting enough exercise moving the sand pile?" Brenda asked hopefully.
"Sorry. Different muscles," John said.
"Okay. Got it, Chief. Carry lots of water," reported Urland. Brenda still looked depressed.
"Oh yeah… please take a large insulated jug of iced tea up to the lab. Kid is dying in the heat up there. No sugar. Extra ice." John needed to keep Farris happy and hydrated for a while longer.
"Yeah. Sure." It was Brenda.
CHAPTER 28
United States Army Corp of Engineers Lock and Dam Number 3 is located less than a quarter mile down the Mississippi from the Prairie River Nuclear facility. Most of the dam projects on the river were built during the Roosevelt era as part of the CCC work program. Lock and Dam No. 3 was one of those projects and had been completed in 1938.
According to a recent official government report:
Lock and Dam 3 is connected to high ground on the Wisconsin side primarily by low-lying ground consisting of natural river levee banks, a series of sheet pile and rock overflow weirs called spot dikes and sections of constructed embankments that overtop during higher levels of river discharge. The constructed parts of the embankment system were not built to modern standards of engineering design, and have been deteriorating since the dam was completed despite a series of repairs.
The Wisconsin embankment conditions have reached an unacceptable level of instability and the system is subject to imminent failure.
Repairs to the dam were slated to begin next year. Now was the perfect time for someone to raise serious hell with the dam, if someone were so inclined.
And John was so inclined.
It was after midnight when John motored upstream from the Red Wing public landing in his sixteen-foot Sylvan aluminum fishing boat. It would be about a twenty minute ride up to Marsh Lake, adjacent to Lock and Dam Number 3. He had been there often, fishing for bullheads, catfish, carp and other bottom-feeding species. They loved the quiet, muddy water of the river shallows.
So far, the Sigler family’s avenging angel was having a good day. The quarry company used much nicer explosives than he had dreamed possible. After cutting the padlock off the storage trailer, he could immediately see the stacks of wooden dynamite boxes — more than ample for his needs.