Shadow of the Wolf Tree by Joseph Heywood

Author:Joseph Heywood [Heywood, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Lyons Press
Published: 2010-05-03T14:00:00+00:00

30

Fence River Road, Iron County

FRIDAY, JUNE 2, 2006

He considered a nap, shower, and fresh clothes, but nixed it all; his mind roiled with too many questions. He called Simon and asked him to meet him on the Fence River Road northeast of Crystal Falls.

They pulled their trucks up, one facing north, the other facing south, and put down their electric windows. “You hear?” he asked del Olmo.

“I talked to Elza. Willie-fucking-Pete?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t figure out if it was aimed at us or we just stumbled into it.”

“Professional situational awareness,” del Olmo said.

“You guys use Willie Pete in the Gulf War?” Service asked. Del Olmo had served with the marines in Desert Storm, during the reign of George the First.

“All the time. I hate that shit.”

“It was ubiquitous in Vietnam, in mortar shells, arty, grenades, rockets, everywhere. What form did you guys use?”

“Infantry, man—M15 grenades, now obsolete,” said del Olmo. “Eggshell-thin and serrated so they’d come apart, spread the shit. Cup and a half of pure white phosphorus, twenty-meter kill zone, with some fragments reaching beyond.”

“Any way to extract the phosphorus?”

“Why?”

“I’m thinking out loud here. Manufacturers load grenades. What goes in must come out.”

“Manufacturers, sure, but grunts? I don’t think so. Only a psycho would screw with that stuff,” said del Olmo.

“Point conceded . . . but what would it take?”

“In addition to severe psychosis and a lot of know-how? Nerves of steel, steady hands, some specialized equipment, chemical knowledge, a room with no air—hell, I don’t know.”

“How about M16 rounds? If you wanted to play a joke, how difficult would it be to switch the gunpowder for sugar, or some other substance?” asked Service.

“Possible and not really dangerous, but what would be the point? The whole idea of a joke is max effect for minimal effort, right?”

“How about a whole case of ammo?”

Simon del Olmo laughed out loud. “Are you shitting me? Eight hundred and forty rounds? How the hell would you get ahold of that much, even in a free-fire zone?”

“For argument’s sake, this is just a theoretical.”

“Could be done, but real labor-intensive, and what do you do with all the powder after you make the switch?”

“Average marine could do it?”

“Semper fi—the average marine is better than the top army pud. Does all of this have a point?”

“Maybe. If you and I had a grenade, could we do it?”

“Not me, no way. Like I said, you need to keep air off it.”

“But manufacturers do it.”

“They get paid, have tools, equipment, special buildings, all that good stuff. I had a gunny tell me once about World War Two. The Krauts had arty shells with Willie Pete. Air bursts. This white snow would start falling and the grunts would start running like hell to get out from under the shit.”

Service said, “The stuff we hit was in soft plastic, about the size of biscuits. Punch a hole, air gets in, it ignites. They were sealed to keep air out.”

“Good thing for the sealer. Maybe they were made underwater, but then I don’t know how you get the water out without leaving some air.

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