Chapter - 327
The warehouse freezer was a cathedral of ice and anxiety. It was minus fifteen degrees, a temperature that made breath plume in thick white clouds and turned fingers clumsy and numb.
Rick stood in the center of the room, wearing a heavy parka over his suit trousers (because he refused to wear snow pants), safety goggles, and holding a gas-powered Stihl chainsaw.
In front of him was a massive, six-hundred-pound block of crystal-clear ice.
"Okay," Rick yelled over the idle rumble of the chainsaw. "Let's review the payload delivery system."
Sharon sat on a stack of frozen beef crates, shivering despite her thermal gear. She was checking the seals on the metallic canisters of Sleepy Hollow gas.
"The gas is heavier than air," Sharon shouted back. "Once the ice melts to the core, the canisters expose. The pellets sublime instantly. It'll create a low-hanging fog that will knock out anyone sitting down in about thirty seconds. Standing targets take maybe a minute."
