Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (35 page)

C
hapter
30

I
t was already tomorrow in Hong Kong
,
and Lei Chang was deep into analyst
’
s
’
reports on Montana Creek Mining.
As managing director of URAN-China
Nu
c
lear Corp
.
, he
’
d already initiated limited buying of the j
unior uranium company
’
s shares.

The deeper
Chang
dug into Montana Creek Mining
’
s core results
,
the more excited he got.

He punched ore grades and
possible
tonnages into his calculator
, and
whistled softly when he
saw
the numbers.

By the end of the day, Chang had made up his mind. UCNC would keep buying Montana Creek Mining shares until they were just below the
10
percent reporting threshold. Then he
’
d meet with his superiors in Peking and get the okay to make a tender offer for control of the company.

Once he got the okay, he
’
d show the imperialist Yankee dogs a trick of two.

C
hapter
3
1

R
ed
used
one of Bob Malott
’
s snow
-
plow trucks to clear the roads and drill pads at the Sullivan Mine. Old man winter had been in full force and effect over the break. Fish
climbed up
on Red
’
s drill
and
set the
mast
angle using the
cli
nometer
on his Brunton compass. This hole would be
drilled at a
seventy
-
five
-
degree
angle
. He projected they
’
d intersect the vein at around seven hundred feet.

Fish
lifted his B
runton
compass from the
mast,
and
looked over at Red.

“
All set,
Red,
”
Fish
said, closing
his
compass and putting it in the leather holster on his belt.

“
Steady, ready, go,
”
Red replied, grinning broadly
as he fired up the compressor
.
“
Let
’
s see if we can make some hole before we all freeze to death.
”

“
My thoughts exactl
y,
”
Fish said, rubbing his gloved hands on his heavy flannel pants.

“
When do you want me to start pulling core?
”
Red yelled, above the sound of the air compressor
.

“
Trip
out at six hundred ninety feet and put the core barrel on,
”
Fish replied.
“
If my calculations are right, we should be in the vein at seven hundred feet or so.
”

Red nodded and touched his index finger to his
army
-
surplus
,
Korean
-
era winter hat
. He released the clutch, and the down
-
hole hammer bit began pounding its way toward the vein.

C
hapter
3
2

P
eter Manetti
entered Canada as Joseph Baglio
,
as before
. He rented a car
a
nd checked into
a downtown hotel
,
as before. Just a business
-
man on a repeat trip to Vancouver to check on his various investments.
Everything routine, nothing to arouse anyone
’
s interest.

Manetti
s
taked out Twisp River Resources
’
offices in the part of downtown Vancouver known as
Gas
t
own
. F
or five days he monitored Malcolm
’
s comings and goings
, i
ncluding
two evening visits
to
his
girlf
r
iend
’
s
house
.

By
week
’
s end
Manetti
was ready. He place
d
a call to Al
Pantelli
,
using a throw
-
away cell phone.

“
Al,
Peter
. I
’
m all set. Any change in plan
s
?
”

“
No
. C
lose the account
,
”
Al replied.

“
I
’
ll call you when
it
’
s done
,
”
Peter
said
,
and hung up. He dropped the phone on the pavement and stomped
on
it before t
ossing it into a
nearby
D
umpster.
Malcolm
’
s fate
was
now
irrevocably seal
ed
.

Manetti
would use the same toxin
as with Rosenburg
but with a different method of exposure. The following Tuesday Malcolm left work at six in the evening. And as he
had done
the previous
Tuesday, he
did not go straight home.

Manetti
smiled
when he thought of the old maxim
.
B
ait the trap with chocolate or pussy
,
and you
’
ll get
‘
em every time
.

The maxim
was right.
Malcolm headed straight to his
girlfriend
’
s
house.
Manetti
watched him knock on the door and saw the same good
-
looking broad let
him
in.

“
Enjoy it
,
Malcolm
, b
ec
ause it
’
s going to be the last
piece of tail
you
’
ll
ever get,
”
Manetti
whispered
,
as he
watch
ed
from his parked car.

Manetti
pulled
on a pair of surgical gloves
and took an
official Vancouver
p
olice parking ticket from his
shirt
po
cket. He
’
d lifted the ticket from a parked car in front of an expired parking meter.
He planned to place the ticket under the windshield wiper on Malcolm
’
s car.
T
he top portion of the ticket
would be impregnated
with VX.

The
street
where
Manetti
was parked
had little traffic
,
and h
e
’
d
seen only one or two pedestrians since he
arrived
. It was perfect. He pulled on a hat, wrapped
his
wool scarf up over his mouth
,
and pulled
up
the collar of his overcoat. About all anyone would be able to see, should
someone
pass by
,
would be his eyes.

Manetti too
k
the
metal shoe polish
tube
containing the VX
from the inside pocket of his overcoat. He held
the tube
low in his lap
, well
b
elow the view of any passerby. Carefully, he
removed the
plastic
cap
a
nd
placed it on his left thigh. Holding the tube in his right hand, he
turned
the sponge applicator head
with his left hand, a
quarter turn counterclockwise
.

He felt the metal give more than he heard the faint click.
O
ily liquid oozed between his gloved fingers and dripped onto
the
crotch
of his slacks
.
Manetti
held his breath. In
hal
ation of the toxin was even deadlier than contact with skin.
The metal tube had failed.
H
e could see a
hairline crack
,
from which the VX issued.
A manufacturing defect
,
or maybe the toxin
had corroded the metal?
It didn
’
t really matter
. He
’
d
be
toast
as soon as the toxin reached his skin
, i
f he didn
’
t take a breath first.

He tossed the ruptured container on
the
passenger
-
side
floor mat
.
With his
left hand
,
he
peeled the
contaminated
glove
off his right hand
a
nd threw it in the same general direction. N
eeding to breath,
he threw open the driver
’
s side door and stepped out into the frigid January night. He ex
haled
, t
ook a deep breath
,
and worked
to unbuckle and unzip his slacks. He was just about to get his pants off when he felt a cold dampness
on his lower belly.
M
a
netti
quickly
pulled a pen
and the parking ticket
from his coat pocket
. He
scribbled
two
words on the back of the parking ticket
an
d then sank to his knees.

“
F
orgive me,
Julie
,
”
Manetti
whispered softly.
“
I
’
m coming home.
”

T
he first seizure hit him like a freight train
.

Chief Inspector Rand got the call in the middle of the night. A cab driver dropping off a fare
had
reported a man
lying
beside an open car with his pants part way off.
Officer Malone, of the Vancouver Police Department,
had
responded to the call
,
a
nd bec
ome
the second casualty.

Rand drove to the location in North Vancouver. An emergency response team was already on
-
site when he arrived. Several of the ERT
’
s were in hazmat suits with gas masks.

David Osgood from the Ministry of Public Safety pulled up near the
c
hief
i
nspector
’
s car and walked over to where Rand was watching the operation.

“
Inspector,
”
David said, pulling off his right glove to shake hands
,
“
d
on
’
t tell me
it’s
happened
,
again?
”

“
Looks that way, David. But this one
’
s different. Looks like the assassin bought it
, a
long with one of our own.
”

“
What
’
ve we got so far?
”

“
Looks like the killer
’
s vial of toxin
,
I
’
m
assuming it
’
s VX again
,
leaked and took him out. When Officer Malone arrived on scene
,
he managed to somehow get contaminated. Not sure if by in
halation
or by contact with the skin
,
o
r both
.
”

The hazmat team was putting
Peter Manetti
into a special body bag. Officer Malone was already bagged and tagged.

“
They found a note, evidently written by the
assassin
just moments before his demise,
”
Rand said.
“
They
’
ve bagged it in a chemical bag.
”

“
What did it say?
”
David asked.

“
Just two words
:
Pantelli
slash
Trueblood
,
and a partial word that could be
chemical, chemist,
or
chemistry
.
”

“
Mean anything to you?
”
David asked.

“
Pantelli,
could be the
Pantelli
crime family in New Orleans. We
’
re still checking on
Trueblood
. If the third word is
chemist
, it could be a nickname the assassin used.
”

A uniformed police sergeant approached Chief Inspector Rand and David Osgood.

“
Excuse me
, sir
,
”
the officer said, saluting the
c
hief
i
nspector.

“
Yes, sergeant?
”
Rand
replied
.

“
Sir
, we
’
ve gone house to house in the immediate area. Looking for anyone who may have heard or seen something. There
’
s a gentleman we
’
re questioning who was visiting in the house just up the street.
”

“
Did he see anything?
”
Rand asked.

“
No,
sir
. But
you may want to talk to him just the same. H
is name is Trueblood.
”