and coffee table, set off by a large, triangular thick glass ashtray. The beige nylon seating was heavily soiled and the coffee table had cigarette burns all around the edge. The room was cold and it was obviously up to the guest to put the heaters on.
To the right of the main door was the bathroom. I'd check that out later. First, I bent over one of the two electric heaters. It was a small, square three-bar thing on the door side of the bed. Plugging it in, I threw the switch and the elements started to heat up, filling the air with the acrid smell of burning dust.
The second heater, nearer the window, was a more elaborate, decorative model, with two long bars and, above that, a black plastic log effect with a red background. I hadn't seen one since I was at my auntie's house, age seven. I plugged it in, too, and watched as its red bulb lit up beneath the plastic and a disc started to spin above it to provide a flame effect. It was almost better than the TV.
I went into the bathroom. Its walls and floor were tiled, mostly brown, but others, blues and reds, had replaced some of the broken ones in the days when broken ones were replaced. The management's policy had evidently changed in recent years.
There was another two-bar electric heater on the wall above the bath, as well as an ancient, oval-shaped gas water heater with a visible pilot light and a long steel tap which swiveled so you could fill either the bath or the sink. I was expecting the worst, but when I turned the tap on the pilot light became a raging flame, with sound effects to match. I was jealous. I wanted one in my house. The water was instantly hot, which was good news; I'd be needing a lot of that soon. Turning it off, I went back into the bedroom, where the heaters were starting to do their stuff. Pulling the curtain aside, I had a look out to sea. I couldn't see a thing, except snow swirling in the light spilling from the window.
I closed the curtains and went down to unload the car, starting with two mines in a box and the my purchases from the gas station.
The old woman never looked up once as I came and went, either because she knew better than to enquire into a customer's business, or because she was genuinely gripped by the dubbed version of the sixties Batman TV series.
Once back in the room I started running the bath, slowing the flow to a steamy trickle. I used a screwdriver from the multi tool set to help remove the two mine caps and could smell the green PE the moment the first came off.
Holding each mine in turn under the tap until it filled with hot water, I then lowered them into the bath, still letting the water run so that it would eventually cover them. Then I went down to the car and collected another two. They were heavy and I didn't want the drama of dropping one. It took three trips in all to get everything upstairs.
On the final trip I took another newspaper from the back seat and covered the windshield.
I kept unscrewing mine caps until all six were in the bath in two layers, representing a total of over seventy pounds of PE. Molten explosive would have been injected into the dull green casings at the factory and left to set to an almost plastic state; I'd have to wait for the hot water to soften it again before I could scrape it out.
Back in the bedroom I turned on the television in time to see Batman and Robin tied together in a giant coffee cup, an animated American voice-over telling me I'd have to wait until next week for the next exciting instalment, followed by the Russian translation which said they really couldn't give a fuck what happened.
I got hold of the reel of det cord, which looked just like a green clothesline, except that instead of string inside the plastic covering, there was high explosive. This stuff would have the job of initiating the two charges I was going to construct with the PE once I'd got it out of the mines. I cut off about the first foot of cord with my Leatherman; it was probable that the explosive core had been affected by the climatic conditions and/or age, but if so, the contamination normally wouldn't have penetrated further than six inches. The reel then went to the window side of the bed; only prepared kit would go this side from now on. That way things wouldn't get confusing as I became more tired.
Without any announcement, Charlie's Angels suddenly burst onto the screen. I hoped it was the series with Cheryl Ladd. Farrah Fawcett never did it for me when I was a kid. As the monotone Russian translation started up I went back into the bathroom. The water level still had a way to go as the steaming water trickled out of the water heater.
Time to check the batteries. They were normal rectangular 9volt ones with press-stud tops for the positive and negative terminals, the sort that are used in smoke detectors or toys. One of them would be the initiation device, providing the electrical charge that would run along the firing cable, which I still had to obtain. It would then initiate the detonator, which would fire up the det cord, and, in turn, the charges. All this could only happen if the power from the battery was strong enough to overcome the resistance from the firing cable and det.
You attach the firing cable to a flashlight bulb; if it lights up when you transmit power along the length of firing cable, you've got enough juice to make the thing go bang.
It was getting warm enough to take my jacket off now. I took the insurance policy out of the inside pocket; it was looking a bit the worse for wear, so I folded it neatly, fished around for the condom, and stuck it into the small key pocket on the front right-hand side of my jeans.
Next, I pulled the plug off the bedside lamp and ripped the other end of the cord out of the lamp base, ending up with about five feet of firing cable-not enough. I needed to be close to the explosion, but five feet was suicidally close. The fridge cord gave me another five.
The bath ought to have been almost full by now. I went and checked just as Charlie's Angels, dressed up as old women but still looking very glamorous and without a hair out of place, were about to infiltrate an old folks' home on some secret mission.
All the mines were covered with hot water, so I turned off the faucet.
I couldn't see a toilet brush anywhere, but there was a rubber plunger.
Using its handle to prod the PE in one of the mines, I found it was still too hard.
Footsteps in the hall signaled that the hotel had some new guests.
There was a female giggle and lusty Russian male talk as they passed, then I heard the door next to mine bang shut. Stretched out on the bed watching Charlie's Angels free the world of evil, I connected the two lengths of flex and taped them up.
Ten feet of firing cable was still not enough. The trouble was, I wouldn't know how much I needed until I was on target, and I'd have to err on the side of safety. I wished I had about a hundred yards of the stuff, but where would I find some at this time of night?
Tomorrow would be too late; I wouldn't have enough time to mess around looking for a hardware store. I had to make more of my own, so it was bye-bye, Cheryl. Due to the positioning of the wall outlet, the power line for the TV was quite long; in total I ended up with about eighteen feet of cable.
With the TV now off I could hear the romance developing next door.
There were plenty of oohs and aahs, a bit of giggling and a few slaps on bare flesh. I didn't need the dubbing.
I joined the last section of wire together using the Western Union pigtail method. Chinese laborers used it to repair downed telegraph lines in the Wild West; it's basically a reef knot with the tail ends twisted together. It not only guarantees conductivity, but makes it unlikely the connection will get pulled apart.
The three lengths were all of different thicknesses and metals, but as long as they conducted electricity that was all I was worried about. I wrapped the copper wires at one end around the flashlight bulb and taped it in place. Now all I had to do was complete the circuit with the two steel wires at the other end of the cable on the battery terminals and bang, perfect, the bulb glowed.
I repeated the process with the other battery, and both worked for now.
If they both failed on target and I didn't get detonation, I'd have to switch to plan B and put on the bandanna.
Untaping the wire from the bulb, I twisted the two copper wires together, then the two steel wires at the other end, and earthed it against the back of the fridge. That would take away any electricity still in the cable; the last thing I wanted was to connect the wires to a detonator and have the thing explode immediately. That wouldn't be a good day out.
The coil of firing cable joined the det cord on the window side of the bed and I placed the two batteries on top of the TV. You never keep the initiation device with the detonators or the rest of the equipment; the fuckup factor is never far away, and I wasn't taking any chances.
