Read Online Quicksilver (The Forensic Geology Series, Prequel) by Toni Dwiggins - Free Book Online Page B

his own, taking water samples—as I said. I was in Sacramento trying to get the permit for a second round of tests. Had a few problems with the first round.”
    “What kind of problems?” Walter asked.
    Shelburne sighed. “Dredging is a violent process. It sucks up the riverbed—sediment and gravel along with the mercury. Breaks up large drops into smaller ones.”
    Relevant or not, I flinched. “It floured ? Into reactive mercury?”
    “Yes.”
    Jesus. “You’re talking methylation.”
    “Yes. Bacteria convert the inorganic mercury into the nasty form, and that gets into the food chain.”
    I glanced at the river.
    “I wouldn’t eat the fish.” He gave a tight smile. “In fact, you can take that advisory all the way downriver to the San Francisco Bay.”
    I said, “Methylated mercury is a neurotoxin.”
    “ Yes . Hence the word problems . Hence the need to tweak the technology. Hence the need for a second round of tests.”
    I shook my head.
    “By the way, storm waters rile up mercury-laden sediments all the time. Mercury gets methylated all the time. It’s already in the state’s water transport system. We just added to the problem.”
    “And Henry?” Walter asked. “Was he involved with the startup?”
    “No, of course not. He had no money to invest, no skills to offer. He’s hardly a company man, anyway.”
    “But he was aware of it?”
    Shelburne shifted. “Actually, no. Henry and I hadn’t been in touch. And then, at Dad’s place, I didn’t bring it up—no point until I knew if the technology would work. As far as Dad goes, he and Henry had nothing to do with one another for years. In any case, once the estate is settled, Henry will inherit half the company.”
    I said, “Did Henry know his dad died here? How he died?”
    “He read the report. Didn’t seem to rattle him. Remember, he spends his life in the wild. Hey, we Shelburnes are hunters. Dad was a hunter. Dad died as he lived, hunting the new gold rush. And he was hunted, in death.” Shelburne put his hand to his neck, as if there were a tie to adjust. “Admittedly, that’s all too wild-kingdom for me.”
    ~ ~ ~
    W alter had moved to sample upstream of the gravel bar when he shouted, “ Oh dear .”
    I sprinted across the bar to the rocky bank.
    Shelburne was already sprinting along the bank.
    We joined Walter and looked where he was looking. Into the river.
    The water was clearer here than at the gravel bar. It ran over bedrock and it ran fast and everything on the river bed was glaringly visible. A metal bottle lay on the bottom. It was cylindrical with a screw-cap top lying alongside. It was open. It was rusted. It was about the size of an extra-large water bottle but you wouldn’t want to drink from it. A word came to mind. Flask . In my reading during the drive across the Sierra, I’d come across that word. Heavy iron flasks were needed to hold heavy liquid mercury. Seventy-six pounds of quicksilver per flask.
    A few of those pounds were scattered downstream from the flask, like breadcrumbs. Carried by the fast-moving flow.
    It didn’t take much of a leap to assume that some of the silvery stuff had been carried still farther, until it hit the catch-basin. Until some of it found its way to the hidden ledge, where droplets liked to coalesce.
    I wondered how much of the silver heart was thanks to Mother Nature and how much was thanks to Henry Shelburne. I guessed it didn’t matter.
    Robert Shelburne muttered, “Christ, Henry.”
    Walter spoke. “I suppose one could find flasks abandoned in old mines.”
    I went cold. “You’re saying Henry found a stash?”
    Walter turned to Shelburne. “Is that likely? And if so, how would he transport it? The weight.”
    “Likely, sure. Transport... Rent a horse? Or could’ve lashed it to his backpack. Heavy load but I guess it’s doable.”
    I said, “Why here ? It can’t be coincidental that he leaves it here, where your father died.”
    “That’s my brother. Some kind of