The room was silent. Eyes blinked on blank faces. Ted Ross looked around the table and wasn’t sure what to say next. He couldn’t say it any clearer than that. In the awkward silence, Victor suddenly felt sorry for the guy and cut in. “What he’s saying is they can put radiation in the oil and then measure the radiation in the ground along the pipeline and, wherever you find a buildup of radiation, you’ve probably found the leak.”
“So what, we’re talking about pouring nuclear waste through our pipes?” Marshall laughed. “That sounds nuts to me.”
Ted Ross shook his head slightly. “Uh, actually, we’re talking about miniscule trace amounts of stable radioactive material, just enough to really stand out from background radiation so you can distinguish the oil from everything else below the surface.” There was silence again. “It’s perfectly safe. It doesn’t harm the oil or anything else. Once the small amount that comes in from these three lines is mixed with other oil at the refinery and processed, the radiation level will not be noticeably different from background radiation.”
Victor could tell the silence in the room was irritating Ross. But Ross continued, “Look, when all of the independent wells out there in Indio, Nickelback, and Bakersfield pump their oil out of the ground and bring it to the collection points, there’s already radiation in it. Everything has radiation in it. If you turned a Geiger counter on in this room, it would pick up radiation. We’re talking about adding a small amount to it so that it has just a little more than normal, that way, wherever we find an increase in the radiation level along the line, we’ll know that’s where an excess of oil has stockpiled and that’s where the leak is.”
Marshall hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to defer to people on things he didn’t understand. But Ted Ross looked like a guy who knew what he was talking about. Finally, Marshall said, “Well, as long as you can assure me it’s safe. I can’t imagine the news stories if something like this got out—radioactive oil contaminating the groundwater—or some such nonsense.”
Marshall leaned into the table and rested his elbows on it. He looked around at the faces and paused until they were all staring back at him. After a few seconds of shaking his head, he said, “Well, if this is safe, then I guess go ahead and do it. Do we need to hire somebody to do something like this?”
“No sir,” Ted Ross responded, “we can do it in-house.”
Marshall pushed himself back from the table and stood. “Well, Doctor Ross,” Marshall grinned, “I hope you like the desert, cuz I want your ass out there tonight.”
VII
Fucking coyotes.
That’s all Eddie Gates could think when he heard about it on the local radio report. He slammed his hand on the narrow kitchen table and sent a wave of coffee sloshing over the edge of the cup and onto his plate of toast, soaking the bread. “Motherfucker,” he mumbled, lifting the cup off the table and trying to contain the spill with the edge of his other hand.
Eli came in from the hallway, barely awake and scratching at his wild hair. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me, man. It’s the news. The radio said some asshole was driving in on the south road last night and ran into a coyote.” Eddie forgot about the coffee and stared at Eli, waiting for him to ask what else. The coffee worked its way to the edge of the table and began running onto the faded yellow linoleum.
Eli shrugged, “So what?”
“So what? I’ll tell you so what. Apparently the coyote this guy hit was carrying some guy’s fucking leg.” Eddie raised his eyebrows, like a mime faking laughter. “Now how many bodies do you think are lying out there in the desert right now?”
“I dunno. Twenty?”
“This shit ain’t funny.” Eddie got up and snatched a dishtowel off the counter and tossed it on the puddle of coffee, then sat back at the table. His elbow stuck to something when he leaned his head on it. “This goddamned place is a fucking mess.”
“Dude, calm the fuck down.” Eli rummaged through the cupboards, found a stack of white foam cups he’d stolen from the cafeteria during his last day at Monarch and poured himself some coffee. “It ain’t no big deal.”