Free The Bombmaker by Stephen Leather Page B

heat the mixture. Electric woks are good.'
    'How many?'
    'The more you have, the faster you can process it. Every pound of fertiliser has to be mixed with alcohol, then heated for three or four minutes. Say you do five pounds at a time. Three thousand pounds could take a full two days, working around the clock.'
    'Two days?'
    'It's a big job. You don't seem to understand how big a job it is.'
    'So, if we can get six woks going, it'll take eight hours?'
    'That's right. But it's hard work. And you have to have someone stirring all the time. It's a sort of stir-fry job, you know.'
    'So, four. There'll be four of us, so four woks. What else?'
    'Electric coffee grinders. I'd get four of them, too.'
    'Four it is.'
    Andy sat back and folded her arms. 'What are you going to do with it? The bomb?'
    'That's not your concern.'
    'Well, it is, sort of. There are different mixtures for different effects.'
    'Whatever's most effective. Whatever'11 give us the biggest bang, okay?'
    Andy wanted to lie, to give her wrong information or to withhold something vital, something that would render the 62 THE BOMBMAKER explosive inert, but she couldn't risk it. She didn't know how much they already knew. This could be a test, and if she failed the test it could be as dangerous as refusing to co-operate. She nodded slowly. 'Aluminium powder,' she said. 'You'll need about six hundred pounds.'
    'Where would we get that from?' asked the woman.
    'Paint suppliers again,' said Andy. 'The best sort to ask for is pyro grade 400 mesh.' She was surprised how easily the technical terms came to her. It had been years since she'd even thought about the components of a fertiliser bomb. The information belonged to another life, a life she had long ago walked away from.
    'It's easy to get?' asked Green-eyes. 'There's not a register or anything?'
    Andy shook her head. 'It's got too many uses. No one checks. But you'd be better buying it through a front company,
    something with decorator in the letterhead. And with that sort of amount, you might be better getting it from several different suppliers.'
    'What about the alcohol?'
    'It's got lots of legitimate uses, too. I'd buy it from several sources, though.'
    The woman scribbled on her pad again.
    'Sawdust,' said Andy.
    'Sawdust?'
    'As fine as possible. Two hundred pounds. Any sawmill will sell it to you. You can say it's for a pet shop. That's what we used to do. And detergent. Sodium dodecyl benzenesulphonate.'
    She spelled out the words slowly. 'A chemical supplies company will sell you the pure stuff. But almost any soap-based washing powder will do.' The information was all still there, she realised. It always had been, and probably always would be. A shopping list of death, imprinted somewhere in her neural pathways.
    'How much will we need?'
    'Thirty pounds or so.'
    'And?'
    a 'That's it,' said Andy. 'Ammonium nitrate, aluminium powder, sawdust and detergent. You can add diesel oil if you want. It's not vital, but it helps.'
    'How much would we need?'
    'Ten gallons or so.'
    'And what equipment are you going to need?'
    'Desiccators.'
    'Desiccators?'
    'To dry out the fertiliser. It absorbs moisture, and as soon as it's damp it's useless.'
    'Are they easy to get?'
    Andy shrugged. 'Depends. You might have to order one.'
    'Is there anything else we could use?'
    'An electric oven. And baking trays, a couple of inches deep.'
    Andy did a quick calculation in her head. 'One oven will dry about four hundred pounds a day. So it'll take you about eight days working around the clock to do it all.'
    'And if we get four ovens -- two days, is that right?'
    Andy nodded.
    'Okay. What else?'
    'Respirators. Protective glasses. Overalls. Gloves. Plastic gloves and oven gloves, too.' She steepled her fingers under her chin and furrowed her brow as she thought. It had been a long time. A long, long time, and she wasn't sure if she'd remembered everything. She ran through the processes in her mind. 'Thermometers. Metal ones. And a