Read Online The Breaking Point: A Body Farm Novel by Jefferson Bass - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jefferson Bass
Tags: United States, Suspense, Literature & Fiction, Thrillers, Crime, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Contemporary Fiction, Thrillers & Suspense
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muttering I couldn’t quite catch, then he snapped the phone shut and glared at the group as if we were his problem, saying, “So? Now what are we waiting for?” I was wondering that myself, though I wasn’t in a position to ask.
McCready looked startled—or was it angry?—for a split second, but his answer was matter of fact. “We’re waiting for a couple key pieces of gear,” he said. “Should be here any minute.” He recapped the team’s assignments, concluding, “Remember, safety first. Followed closely—really, really closely—by evidence preservation.” He scanned the agents’faces. “Any other questions for me? For Dr. Brockton or Mr. Maddox? No?” He pointed toward the door. “Okay, fellows, let’s go get it.”
Remembering the thirty-foot bluff we’d have to descend to get to the wreckage, I couldn’t help wondering, Get it? How?
I didn’t have to wonder for long. As we exited the command center, I heard a deep, powerful roar. A moment later a crane lurched into view and rumbled along the rocky ridge road. McCready, Prescott, and Maddox huddled briefly, and then Maddox limped into the crane’s path. Waving his arms to get the driver’s attention, he headed toward the rim of the bluff, motioning the crane to follow. As they traversed the edge, silhouetted against the sky, I imagined for a moment that Maddox was a farmer, leading some immense, long-necked, bellowing beast out to graze. He stopped, peering down the bluff, and then pointed to the ground at his feet, indicating the spot where he wanted the crane. Then he raised his arm overhead and slowly lowered it to horizontal, pointing straight out over the abyss, miming the motion of the machine’s boom.
The crane had a capacity of sixteen tons—thirty-two thousand pounds—according to prominent warnings stenciled on the vehicle and on the boom. No problem, I thought; from where I stood, it looked as if most pieces of the wreckage weighed less than I did. Sidling over to Maddox, I joked, “Reckon we’ve got enough muscle?”
Maddox shrugged, looking more dubious than I’d expected. “It’s not the load capacity I’m worried about, it’s the boom length,” he said. “The plane only weighed six tons, dripping wet, so this thing could easily hoist a whole Citation. Plus another whole Citation. The trick’ll be reaching out far enough. The boom’s a hundred feet long.” He studiedthe debris field below, then looked again at the boom, now swinging out in a gargantuan imitation of Maddox’s pantomime. “Might be enough. Wish we had another fifty feet.” He frowned at the rough jeep road the crane had lurched up to reach us. “Might be tough to get a bigger rig up the mountain, though.”
I thought, Might be? I was amazed that any rig had managed to make it up.
I felt sure the crane could get the wreckage up the bluff. But I still wasn’t clear on how we could get down.
That answer, too, was quick to materialize. Two of McCready’s agents emerged from the back of the ERT truck, big coils of rope slung over their shoulders. The ropes were red nylon, interwoven with diamonds of black—a pattern that made them look more like rattlesnakes than I liked. Two other agents brought out bundles of harnesses, racks of carabiners, and other climbing hardware. The agents with the ropes tied them off to cleats at opposite ends of the crane, then flung the coiled bundles off the edge of the bluff. For a moment, as the bright red loops separated and unspooled, they looked like party streamers, and the juxtaposition—the festive unfurling against the grim backdrop—gave me a surprising pang. Poor Richard, I thought, followed by a line of Shakespeare’s: So quick bright things come to confusion.
“Yo, Doc .” I turned to find McCready staring at me.
“Sorry. Were you saying something to me?”
“Only three times. You wanna stay up top till things cool off some more? Or would you like to get a closer look? Probably too soon to
McCready looked startled—or was it angry?—for a split second, but his answer was matter of fact. “We’re waiting for a couple key pieces of gear,” he said. “Should be here any minute.” He recapped the team’s assignments, concluding, “Remember, safety first. Followed closely—really, really closely—by evidence preservation.” He scanned the agents’faces. “Any other questions for me? For Dr. Brockton or Mr. Maddox? No?” He pointed toward the door. “Okay, fellows, let’s go get it.”
Remembering the thirty-foot bluff we’d have to descend to get to the wreckage, I couldn’t help wondering, Get it? How?
I didn’t have to wonder for long. As we exited the command center, I heard a deep, powerful roar. A moment later a crane lurched into view and rumbled along the rocky ridge road. McCready, Prescott, and Maddox huddled briefly, and then Maddox limped into the crane’s path. Waving his arms to get the driver’s attention, he headed toward the rim of the bluff, motioning the crane to follow. As they traversed the edge, silhouetted against the sky, I imagined for a moment that Maddox was a farmer, leading some immense, long-necked, bellowing beast out to graze. He stopped, peering down the bluff, and then pointed to the ground at his feet, indicating the spot where he wanted the crane. Then he raised his arm overhead and slowly lowered it to horizontal, pointing straight out over the abyss, miming the motion of the machine’s boom.
The crane had a capacity of sixteen tons—thirty-two thousand pounds—according to prominent warnings stenciled on the vehicle and on the boom. No problem, I thought; from where I stood, it looked as if most pieces of the wreckage weighed less than I did. Sidling over to Maddox, I joked, “Reckon we’ve got enough muscle?”
Maddox shrugged, looking more dubious than I’d expected. “It’s not the load capacity I’m worried about, it’s the boom length,” he said. “The plane only weighed six tons, dripping wet, so this thing could easily hoist a whole Citation. Plus another whole Citation. The trick’ll be reaching out far enough. The boom’s a hundred feet long.” He studiedthe debris field below, then looked again at the boom, now swinging out in a gargantuan imitation of Maddox’s pantomime. “Might be enough. Wish we had another fifty feet.” He frowned at the rough jeep road the crane had lurched up to reach us. “Might be tough to get a bigger rig up the mountain, though.”
I thought, Might be? I was amazed that any rig had managed to make it up.
I felt sure the crane could get the wreckage up the bluff. But I still wasn’t clear on how we could get down.
That answer, too, was quick to materialize. Two of McCready’s agents emerged from the back of the ERT truck, big coils of rope slung over their shoulders. The ropes were red nylon, interwoven with diamonds of black—a pattern that made them look more like rattlesnakes than I liked. Two other agents brought out bundles of harnesses, racks of carabiners, and other climbing hardware. The agents with the ropes tied them off to cleats at opposite ends of the crane, then flung the coiled bundles off the edge of the bluff. For a moment, as the bright red loops separated and unspooled, they looked like party streamers, and the juxtaposition—the festive unfurling against the grim backdrop—gave me a surprising pang. Poor Richard, I thought, followed by a line of Shakespeare’s: So quick bright things come to confusion.
“Yo, Doc .” I turned to find McCready staring at me.
“Sorry. Were you saying something to me?”
“Only three times. You wanna stay up top till things cool off some more? Or would you like to get a closer look? Probably too soon to
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