Read Online Wood's Wall by Steven Becker - Free Book Online Page A

softball. Back at the bench, he poured the material into the chamber and joined the halves, holding them together with hot glue. 
    The ball rolled in the pan, slowly turning grey as the lead adhered to it. He rotated the ball until the molten lead was used up and set it aside to cool. Geiger counter in hand, he ran it over the lead cased ball. The needle stayed in the green, indicating that it was safe. That was good enough for now, he thought. Next, he needed to fill the lead box and reseal it.
    The space below the bench was full of gear. Mac was on his knees, pulling out tools, wondering why he could keep a boat so organized while his work space was a disaster. The compaction tester was all the way in the back, dusty from the years it had sat there untouched. He hadn’t needed the tester since he retired from commercial diving ten years ago. He lifted the compactor onto the bench and started to take it apart. The tester, called a nuclear densitometer lay in pieces. It held a small amount of radioactive material in it to test for soil compaction. The radioactive material removed from the unit, Mac lay the parts of the tester aside. The material from the tester was impotent compared to the brick, perfect for a red herring. A geiger counter reacted to radioactivity. It didn’t specify the type. The material from the tester would cause a reaction. It would take a nuclear engineer to realize it wasn’t the more potent plutonium he’d removed. 
    Relieved, he cleaned up and took the lead ball out to the boat. He’d dispose of it in the morning. He was just placing the box back in the safe when Mel startled him.
    “Hey, whatcha doing?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing.” 
    “My head hurts.” 
    He went up to her, hurrying before she had a chance to come down. “Quite the binge for you. Surprised you’re even up.”
    “Sorry about that. I was so pissed at my boss. I came back and ran the old bridge to Pigeon Key and back. Still pissed.”
    “Four miles in this heat, and I know you didn’t take it slow. Just glad you made it back. Want to talk about it?”
    “Not now. I’m cool, don’t want to get all worked up again. Tomorrow.” She kissed him and headed upstairs. 
    Still a little shaky from the work, he poured himself another Scotch and went out on the back deck. He was in over his head and he knew it. With any luck, Trufante could pass off the bricks without incident. He assumed the material was headed to a terrorist group. Who else would smuggle in plutonium? These groups were seldom highly trained. He hoped they wouldn’t notice the less potent material. Whatever they made with it would be harmless. He would hide the lead ball with the real material where no one would find it tomorrow morning. 
    The phone vibrated on the counter, but he ignored it. 
     
    ***
     
    “Where is the last brick then? I’ll deal with the gringos about what they have stolen and snorted.”
    The man in the apron dragged him closer to the chum grinder. He hit the power switch and the motor whirled.
    “Cajun. You going to answer?”
    Before he could answer the man grabbed his hand and stuffed it into the inlet. He struggled, but the man was more powerful. His wrist was buried in the intake when the blades found his index finger. 
    “ Alto .” Cesar yelled over the noise. The man started pushing harder - then restrained himself. He backed away, allowing Trufante to extricate his hand from the machine. It came out dripping blood. He grabbed for a towel and fell to his knees.
    “Well Cajun, do you have something to say?”
    “Shit, I would have told you without this.” He held up the mangled hand.
    Cesar ignored him. He said something in Spanish to the butcher, who quickly left, flashing a quick smile at Trufante on his way out. 
    “Well?”
    “Give me my phone.” Trufante was sweating, dialing with his right hand as blood dripped from his left. He writhed in pain, waiting for Mac to answer, his pinkie finger missing to the