Chapter 97 97

Chapter 97 97


The paper contained familiar concentration symbols and material strength calculation formulas. Clayton was certain that the Gray Cap Gang was preparing some sort of explosive—whale oil, black powder, or something else. They were planning an explosion. Fortunately, the scale of the explosion was not massive; it was a level he could accept—the power would be enough to collapse half of the second floor of the Rusty Silver Coin.

Well, that was actually pretty damn big.

Substituting his own property into the scenario, Clayton suddenly couldn't accept it. However, it was certain that the Gray Cap Gang’s plan had nothing to do with his house. Clayton had studied a little bit of blast calculation; the formulas left on this draft were not for demolition work on buildings. There was a string of data on the paper that was particularly strange; it was listed separately, not within those formulas, serving only as a reminder. Clayton had never seen similar data, but guessed it was probably related to the environment of the explosion—either the depth or the material strength of the blast area.

This was a problem that didn't need to be considered on colonial battlefields. Few people would build bunkers in the colonies. The Loren region where he served had some fortifications, but they were built by the Dorn Kingdom to suppress the natives. The Touton people didn't build fortifications, and when they were truly fighting the Touton people, no one used these things at all. The location of a bunker had to be special, otherwise, others would just bypass it. The Touton people had no demand for the areas occupied by Dorn; all combat goals were just to make them bleed as much as possible, and it was about the same for them. Flat-ground combat had very few elements to consider—so few that as long as the explosives could explode, it was a success.

"Damn it." Clayton frowned at the paper. Urban areas were different from war zones; even the smallest explosion could cause a huge stir. All explosives were controlled items. Being able to obtain these things showed that the Gray Cap Gang didn't act on impulse. Even the cheapest refined whale oil wasn't something ordinary people could get—not because of the high price.

In life, finished refined whale oil was quite scarce. The power company would transport electricity to wealthy residents through pipes; back at the power plant, that refined whale oil had already reacted completely. Only institutions with sufficient financial resources and self-power generation needs would store canned refined whale oil. Such places were usually factories and mansions where power could not be cut off. Gangs certainly had the power to get so much refined whale oil, but such profit-seeking organizations had to consider the risk of loss before acting. Could the benefits of their planning exceed the risk of stealing whale oil? This question was very important. If it were robbing a bank or a rich man’s private vault, Clayton thought this was in line with actual needs and the gang’s positioning. But there were no rumors of chemical theft in the news recently. Where did the Gray Cap Gang get the explosives?

Clayton suddenly raised his head, staring straight into the void. He remembered where the Gray Cap Gang might have gotten the explosives: the Wiesont Textile Mill.

"Count our whale oil usage. I want to know what changes in consumption compared to the previous monthly average?" Ackeret (actually the lower part of his beak) ordered the factory foreman. After Clayton found him and told him his guess, Ackeret didn't express a bit of doubt, immediately taking Clayton to the Wiesont Textile Mill to count the inventory. The textile mill had experienced a riot not long ago, and Clayton had read about this accident in the newspaper. The cause of the accident was said to be that some workers were dissatisfied with their wages, and then had a physical conflict with another part of the workers who didn't have such troubles. During the workers' brawl, someone caused a fire, burning some machines. Naturally, the reserve of refined whale oil for power generation must have been damaged. The textile mill was the property of the Elder Council. Clayton thought they would have the energy and responsibility to investigate their losses clearly.

The foreman led a few workers into the warehouse, and Clayton had to wait a while to know the results. During the wait, the sound of the manual looms in the next workshop made it hard for him to calm down. It was like the sound of a third-rate bard playing a broken lute. He couldn't stay here for five minutes, but the workers had to endure it for more than ten hours a day. Taking advantage of this, Clayton thought to kill time, so he asked Ackeret about some things that were not easy to talk about before.

"How did you get the workers here to accept your appearance and keep secrets for you? Don't say it’s the extra reward from the Elder Council. Even if there is money, the sense of secrecy of ordinary people is not that strong." He looked at the owl’s face and asked sincerely.

"Secret? No need." Ackeret looked at the exposed power transmission pipes on the wall outside the control room, leaning against the wall, one foot tapping the rhythm with the toe of his leather shoe. "They don't know who I am. I always tell them that I wear a mask to prevent inhaling the poisonous gas emitted by the generator here." Clayton looked at him in surprise, not expecting the answer to be like this. That owl head was a size larger than an ordinary person’s head, but the expression was vivid. If Clayton were a worker, he would definitely be suspicious, or at least spread rumors. "They are really naive." He commented. Ackeret laughed: "Naive? Maybe. But because the poison gas is real, they haven't doubted the authenticity of the mask."

"Tsk." Even though Ackeret had always expressed kindness to himself, Clayton couldn't like him back. He had doubts about his intuition before, but now he had the answer. Clayton lost the interest in communicating with him and was silent for a while, having more patience for the foreman’s work. They didn't live up to his expectations, soon finished the counting task, and came out of the warehouse to report. "The amount of whale oil consumed last month was 81 standard cans. Due to the fire caused by the previous riot, we lost about 16 to 17 cans of whale oil extra last month." The foreman handed the report to Ackeret, which recorded the details of daily whale oil consumption. The textile mill did not use electric looms, so the consumption of whale oil was not much, basically used for lighting, and the average monthly consumption would not have much error.

Ackeret held the report in one hand and brought it to his face to check, questioning the data on it: "Is there no recoverable part of the damaged whale oil?" The foreman looked at him, trying to guess the supervisor’s mood from the changes on the "mask." Ackeret was the security supervisor, and investigating whether employees privately misappropriated factory materials was also within his scope of duty.

"No recovery, they were all burned out, Mr. Ackeret."

"I don't understand this number. If so much whale oil was burned, the fire that day should not have been so easy to extinguish."

"The workers broke some of the cans first, and then it started to catch fire. Perhaps some whale oil seeped into the sand used for fire extinguishing."

"Then where are the recycled industrial cans?" Ackeret put down the report and looked at the foreman coldly. The foreman shivered imperceptibly: "They have been sent back to the original factory for repairs."

"Forty percent of those cans are made of iron; they won't burn or deform. They can be put back into production with simple repairs. I think the whereabouts of this precious property should not be decided by you. If the work of the motor is affected by the interference of the replacement frequency of the cans, leading to the order not being completed, our loss will be at least a hundred pounds. Your position determines that you cannot be responsible for this. So now tell me, before dealing with it like this, have you reported to anyone?" The foreman wiped his forehead with an ugly face: "No, sir, I thought it was just a small matter."

"I will let others count the number of cans. The original factory also belongs to the company invested by Pulitzer. They will draw up an operation list in the near future. The specific time may be next week. I hope your personal decision has left traces on it. Otherwise, someone will go to jail." The foreman showed a very bitter smile. This expression was so obvious that anyone with eyes could see that he had misappropriated this part of the property, but Ackeret seemed to see nothing and was still talking about the handover of affairs. Clayton had to interrupt Ackeret’s teasing of employees. Compared to the interests of the Elder Council, he valued more whether what he was doing could improve efficiency.

"How much did the Gray Cap Gang give you?"

"What are you talking about? I have no contact with them." Ackeret’s attitude gave the foreman a little confidence; he thought he could muddle through. The lieutenant lifted one side of his coat and showed him his service pistol: "Don't pretend. I am a sheriff. The part of the refined whale oil taken by the Gray Cap Gang will be used for crime, but they are all hidden now. If you have any clues about them, it’s best to say them now. Because if their crimes cause serious casualties, you who supply them with whale oil are also worthy of a hanging. If Mr. Gron insists on you paying compensation, we may sell your body to the medical school and use it as compensation."

"Don't do this!" The foreman collapsed all at once, which was much more serious than going to jail. The whale oil he stole was not worth fifty pounds, not worth his life, no matter how expensive it was.

"I swear I don't know what they are going to do. When they came to me, they only said they wanted to use it for private power generation. I thought they were going to build a secret base in the forest."

"A medium-sized gang building a secret base in the forest... Why do you think it is the forest?" Clayton found the point halfway through. The Elder Council’s former employees were also attacked by Athena in the forest. Is there anything special here? The foreman hadn't spoken yet, and Ackeret answered for him.

"Because there is an abandoned mine there, which is very suitable for hiding people, or hiding stolen goods. I heard that different gangs will use it to hold a black market."

If you want to do something you don't want the city people to know, the forest outside the city is obviously a good place to go.