Page 45 of Under Fire in Big Sky

“We have a few minutes at most,” he said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Then let’s not waste another second arguing.”

Eli gritted his teeth. When Olivia stood her ground and dug in, getting her to change her mind was like trying to move a brick wall, and they didn’t have time for it. “Listen up, everyone. The bomb won’t be someplace where it can be easily spotted. But it will be near flammable material or something that would quickly trigger a chain reaction.”

“There’s a spot on the flash tank of each of the scrubbers where you could hide something,” Johnson said. “It’d be easy to miss during our spot checks. I can show you. Also, the centrifugal compressor. A device would have to be placed on the outside of it, but most likely underneath the unit. That would be the best spot where we wouldn’t see it as we did our checks.”

“If the bomb were set off inside the power plant?” Trujillo asked.

“It would do serious damage to the gauges and equipment, but it’d only be deadly if someone were inside. The biggest impact from it would be our inability to control the system, but it’s shut down now.”

“What about the economizer?” Eli gestured to a large box-shaped unit that was located between two large silos.

“I doubt it’d be there. We have a clear view of it from the plant. It’s impossible to hide anything on it, and to get inside, you need tools to open it. We would’ve spotted anyone messing around with it.”

“And the precipitator?” Olivia asked.

“No solvent runs through it. No amines and no hydrogen sulfide. In the great scheme of things, it’d cause minimal impact, and it’d be easy to replace.”

“Okay.” Eli gave a quick nod. “We’ll take the compressor.”

“We’ll check out the scrubbers,” Trujillo said, taking the extra radio from Johnson and handing it to Liv, who was standing closer to him.

Lenek frowned, clearly unhappy with the decision, but Eli didn’t blame him.

The FBI agents took off with Johnson while Eli and Olivia headed in the opposite direction.

As they reached the compressor—a tube encircled by a metal coil, resting on a four-legged steel frame—Liv removed a mini flashlight from her blazer pocket.

“I’ll check under it.” Moving the handbag that she wore cross-body from her hip to the front and dropping the respirator, Liv got down onto her back and slid beneath the steel frame that had about eight inches of clearance from the ground. “Search around the compressor, just in case. The bomb could’ve been planted after their last check of the equipment.”

Not only that but the coil wrapped around the large metal tube offered plenty of hiding spots, where a quick, careless search might have missed something.

Taking out his cell phone and activating the flashlight, he got to work. Eli circled the hefty piece of machinery, the beam from his phone dancing across the surface of pristine metal, with each shadow a potential place to conceal a device. The air hung thick with the scent of mechanical oil and the pressure of the ticking clock.

“I’ve got nothing,” he said.

Liv climbed out. “Same.” She keyed the radio. “It’s not here at the compressor.”

“So far, we’ve found nothing either,” Trujillo said.

Carrying his respirator, Eli came up beside Liv. “Johnson, are you sure about the economizer?” he asked over the radio. “How long would it take to get inside it? What does it even do?”

“I don’t know how long. Maybe a minute or two. You’ve got to remove eight screws. And the economizer, well, it’s the main heat exchanger.”

Before Johnson could even finish explaining, Eli took off running toward it. A piece of equipment that managed the transfer of heat as the gas streamed through would perfectly amplify the blast overpressure of a bomb, ensuring a chain reaction.

At the economizer, one big rectangular box, he slipped a hand in his back pocket and pulled out his kit that had lock-picking tools and his EOD Leatherman. He set down the respirator and whipped open the multi-tool. It had everything—pliers, a gripper, hard wire cutter, blasting cap crimper, serrated blade, double-toothed wood saw, even both a flathead and Phillips screwdriver in two different sizes. The Leatherman was a combat engineer’s best friend.

Liv ran up beside him. “Where’s your knife?”

“Right boot,” he said, already at work.

“Trujillo is coming to help.” She tugged his pants leg up, grabbed it from the sheath, and began loosening the screws alongside him.

The equipment was new. The screws, not tightened by age and dust, moved easily.

Agent Trujillo bolted over. He checked his pockets for something to use. Fished out a penny and assisted.