Thursday, September 8, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
One thing was certain. The C4 charge snuggled nicely into the coupling between the private suites car and the coach seats car in front to it. He smiled as he twisted the connection between the blasting cap and the preloaded cell phone. He dusted off his palms and stood, he stepped over the coupling toward the rear of the train. He was not going to miss this for the world.
Knight walked out of the bus station in Jamestown, NY. Lucille Ball grow up here, and it looked like when she left she took everything exciting about the town with her. He slid into the seat of his rental car and adjusted his mirrors. He had to chase the Lake Shore Limited to the north. He would meet it somewhere near Lake Chautauqua if he hurried.
Moot convinced Ferris that waiting around for the action to come to them in Chicago was bunk. It was plain that the students and the thumb drive were on the Lake Shore Limited, and the perfect place for them to land the Sikorsky on the train was in a narrow, hilly stretch of track in western New York state.
Madonna finished her press conference and held her hand out for her essence of hydrangea and pomegranate cooler. She held her hand steadily in the air for 2.3 seconds as her brows lowered. She was about to point out to her assistant her failings when Courtney Love staggered into the Main Parlor of the Atheneum Hotel.
"Madonna, what are you doing here? Chautauqua tent revivals have nothing to do with Chautauqua, NY. Nothing." Love sputtered and threw an empty bottle of Champagne over her shoulder. "You are thinking of Chautauqua, Ohio." She staggered toward the dais, the press cameras flashing wildly. "What an idiot." Love gasped and fell to the floor, dead asleep.
Madonna had just finished this vital segment of publicizing her cause to promote the restoration of circus tent revivals, and was now upstaged.
Knight walked out of the bus station in Jamestown, NY. Lucille Ball grow up here, and it looked like when she left she took everything exciting about the town with her. He slid into the seat of his rental car and adjusted his mirrors. He had to chase the Lake Shore Limited to the north. He would meet it somewhere near Lake Chautauqua if he hurried.
Moot convinced Ferris that waiting around for the action to come to them in Chicago was bunk. It was plain that the students and the thumb drive were on the Lake Shore Limited, and the perfect place for them to land the Sikorsky on the train was in a narrow, hilly stretch of track in western New York state.
Madonna finished her press conference and held her hand out for her essence of hydrangea and pomegranate cooler. She held her hand steadily in the air for 2.3 seconds as her brows lowered. She was about to point out to her assistant her failings when Courtney Love staggered into the Main Parlor of the Atheneum Hotel.
"Madonna, what are you doing here? Chautauqua tent revivals have nothing to do with Chautauqua, NY. Nothing." Love sputtered and threw an empty bottle of Champagne over her shoulder. "You are thinking of Chautauqua, Ohio." She staggered toward the dais, the press cameras flashing wildly. "What an idiot." Love gasped and fell to the floor, dead asleep.
Madonna had just finished this vital segment of publicizing her cause to promote the restoration of circus tent revivals, and was now upstaged.
Valentine pushed the gas pedal deeper into the floor and the car's speedometer blew past 90 mph. Nothing but rural wasteland as far as she could see, and the roads were practically empty as she chased the Lakeshore Limited, hoping against hope that Atticus was safely on board. She would never have agreed to allow his participation in this mission if she'd known the whole thing would fall so utterly apart. Damn those stupid, selfish women who put the whole organization - not to mention a critical mission - at risk... and for what? Vanity? Power lust? And damn Knight. Fear mixed with anxiety pushed her foot deeper toward the floorboards.
"Atticus, please, please be on that train" she murmured to herself.
She promised herself she'd tell him everything after this was over. She'd confess how young she was, how unprepared to raise a child, how much it had hurt to walk away, to pretend he didn't mean everything to her as she watched him grow from a maddening distance. She had to watch over him, to protect him from a now uncertain future.
"Atticus, please, please be on that train" she murmured to herself.
She promised herself she'd tell him everything after this was over. She'd confess how young she was, how unprepared to raise a child, how much it had hurt to walk away, to pretend he didn't mean everything to her as she watched him grow from a maddening distance. She had to watch over him, to protect him from a now uncertain future.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
He smiled a little. He liked C4 explosive. It smelled funny but it does so much damage to people and property with so little effort and volume. Combine C4 with 650 tons of moving metal, like a passenger train, and one gets a good deal of bang for one's buck. One thing that was kind of a drawback was the blasting cap. And the funny smell. The smell that dogs could smell. Anywhere.
C4, or the common plasticized explosive stable enough to carry around in one's pocket, needed a impact AND heat to cause its ignition to accelerate exponentially. Otherwise it just burned like plastic, or when impacted, did nothing at all.
Carrying it around in his pocket all time did burn the skin on his leg sometimes, like when the zip lock bag melted or if the duct tape ripped the bag open.
All the C4 he had ever had used had a taggant added to it. All the C4 in the world, or as far as he knew, had a taggant added to it. It was a law or something. That is what the dogs could smell. Even when he wrapped it up will 6 layers of plastic, dogs could smell it.
If the talking dogs could lie, he could hide from their minds. Still, until dogs could verbalize that here was explosive nearby, he didn't care so much. He liked what the C4 could do. he fingered the two blasting caps he stole from the maintenance shed under Grand Central. He smiled.
C4, or the common plasticized explosive stable enough to carry around in one's pocket, needed a impact AND heat to cause its ignition to accelerate exponentially. Otherwise it just burned like plastic, or when impacted, did nothing at all.
Carrying it around in his pocket all time did burn the skin on his leg sometimes, like when the zip lock bag melted or if the duct tape ripped the bag open.
All the C4 he had ever had used had a taggant added to it. All the C4 in the world, or as far as he knew, had a taggant added to it. It was a law or something. That is what the dogs could smell. Even when he wrapped it up will 6 layers of plastic, dogs could smell it.
If the talking dogs could lie, he could hide from their minds. Still, until dogs could verbalize that here was explosive nearby, he didn't care so much. He liked what the C4 could do. he fingered the two blasting caps he stole from the maintenance shed under Grand Central. He smiled.
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