K. Janssen - Hampton Manor

“Oh! Now I get it.”

The Assassin smiled. He gets it . The Planet can rest easily now. “ Get to work and get me those blueprints and maps. Then I’ll show you how it’ll be done.”

The next morning a pile of paper rested on the Assassin’s desk. He spent four hours poring over the network of water mains, periodically referencing the list of construction dates. A brochure from the Old Brooking Water District boasted about the use of concrete water mains chosen for their ability to withstand corrosion and internal and external pressure, minimizing the likelihood of ever cracking or leaking. On the downside concrete mains were more difficult to shut down should that ever be necessary. The decision as to whether a water main or the pumping station should be taken out was a difficult one for him to make. The water main section supplying water to the Hampton mansion was only twelve years old and was constructed with steel reinforcements, making it difficult to create a structural collapse. The pumping station, on the other hand, was “ancient” by any standard. No improvements had been for over thirty years due to budget restrictions. A spate of recent breakdowns made the Old Brooking Municipal Pumping Station an “accident waiting to happen.”

Finally, the Assassin settled on a two-pronged approach. The last pump between the station and the mansion was “jerry-rigged” to supply water through a seventy-five foot section of twenty foot diameter conduit which was only ten feet below the ground and not reinforced by steel. Damage to this section, some of which was directly under the electrical control panel, would effectively shut down the station and the town’s water supply for at least several weeks until water could be diverted from nearby towns.

He decided on taking out the electrical grid starting with one of the transformers. The resulting explosion would set off a chain reaction throughout the grid and cause the pump to implode down into the main. Failure of the electrical grid would automatically cut off the flow of water from the reservoir. Reserves stored in the town’s water towers would drain quickly into the streets. Within an hour Old Brooking would run dry. All that would be needed to complete step one would be twenty five pounds of strategically placed Nitrex and given the absolute lack of security at the facility, that would be the easiest part of the job.

He was counting on the fact that Nitrex was a powerful explosive that could be set off by a remote control device. It was mostly used at construction sites to remove large boulders. His construction company had a supply on hand. Over the years he falsified the inventory records so that he would have an untraceable supply of Nitrex for his private use. Nitrex was also difficult to detect before and after use, making it a perfect choice for high impact explosions. Best of all it wouldn’t leave his “signature” behind.

The fire at Hampton Manor required more elaborate planning. He would first need to torch a building on the opposite side of the town for a diversion. With the water supply shut off, what little water was in the system or in storage would soon be depleted by that blaze. He chose, as his target, an abandoned warehouse that was once a lumber yard. The proximity to other businesses meant that the fire department would make it a priority to contain the fire, rather than just let it burn to the ground; a catch 22 for them.

Up-to-date blueprints of Hampton Manor were easily obtained from the Old Brooking Planning Commission since, several years back, blueprints were filed for the major reconstruction to the West Wing of the mansion to house Adam Hampton II. The Assassin spent over three hours poring over the prints, looking for the weak spots. The first was a narrow shaft between two bedrooms on the second floor that dropped down to a space behind the control room in the West Wing. It could be accessed from a panel in the wall of a closet in one of the bedrooms. The interior of the shaft was one foot wide and two feet long with an eight inch diameter pipe in the center. More than enough space remained to lower a Nitrex package into the wing. The oxygen and nitrogen tanks, known to be stored nearby, would assure that the wing would be an inferno within minutes.

The search for a second bomb site took longer and required some ingenuity on the Assassin’s part. It would have to be a Pyro/Nitrex bomb that would create enough heat to ignite wood, plastic and some metals on contact. To work best it needed to be placed near the East Wing somewhere between the front and back doors so the conflagration would spread quickly through the main living space and the East Wing, simultaneously. No obvious location was evident on the prints. Out of frustration he tossed the highlighter he was using down onto his desk, knocking over a half filled Styrofoam cup and sending a stream of black coffee down onto the blueprints of the first floor. He grabbed a napkin and began sopping up the coffee. As he did he noticed that the spill ended at the bottom of the broad staircase leading up to the second floor. It was as if providence was pointing at the answer to his dilemma. Of course, that’s it. There has to be a space under the staircase. That would make a perfect location, but why isn’t a door or panel shown anywhere on the prints? I’ll have to check on that.

Two days later, in the guise of a reporter from an Architectural magazine, the Assassin was given permission to roam about Hampton Manor to take photographs. He located the panel on the second floor and the entrance to the space under staircase. He had was sufficient time to plant the Nitrex devices he had stored in his backpack. A late night visit to the Old Brooking Water District’s pumping station and the abandoned warehouse completed the preliminaries of his plan.

He needed the Hamptons to be together, preferably, after dark. There was always more confusion at nighttime fires. This required an inside contact to alert him when the father and son were together in the West Wing. Ten thousand dollars bought him that contact in the person of Neil Gilbert a young Registered Nurse employed by Adam Hampton. All that was left to do was to wait for the right opportunity. Hopefully that won’t be too long.

He took a room in a rundown motel at the edge of town. It was a perfect location for what he had in mind. From there it would take only minutes to be within the range of the remote detonator that would destroy the pumping station and set off the warehouse fire. Ten minutes later he could be driving past Hampton Manor where a press of the last button would finish the job for which he would be paid a cool one million dollars.

Chapter 29

Lauren sat on a box in the storage area of her house. Packing was not going well. She started two days ago but has made little progress. There were too many memories attached to the items she picked up. At this rate it’ll take me a week to pack. I’ve got to stop reminiscing about everything I touch. Hell, half of this crap should go in the trash can. I think I’m going to have to go by the rule that if I haven’t used it in the past three months, or plan to use it in the next three, it goes to the poor or out in the trash. That should help move things along.

With her new resolve she emptied the storage room within two hours and returned to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Daniel walked into the kitchen just as Lauren was ready to uncork the bottle.

“When did you get back?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I was at my lawyer’s office signing the last of the contracts. Everything is on schedule. We’re free to go. That is if I can get you to finish up here. Hell I had all my stuff packed two days ago. You’re still days away.”

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long, Daniel, but I am making progress. I just finished going through the storage room.”