Chapter 1193: The Polluted Town

Nitrobenzene is a common chemical raw material—flammable, explosive, and a precursor to many explosives. For example, the famous TNT is chemically known as trinitrotoluene.
Sodium chlorate is a herbicide, also flammable and explosive; its effects are enhanced when mixed with substances like phosphorus or sulfur.

“Wyatt works at an agricultural supply store. He definitely got the sodium chlorate under the guise of herbicide use. We should check there to see what we can find out.
As for the coal power company—what kind of person is this Griffin?”

Jubal was feeling a headache come on. A coal-fired plant and explosives—those two terms together were practically synonymous with a terrorist attack.

Alice looked over the file she had just compiled. “Larry Griffin. But he sold his shares in the coal power plant two years ago. He now lives in Pelham, a suburb of Birmingham.”

“Should we notify the power plant to tighten security?” Aubrey asked.

“Tell the state police to increase patrols and monitor suspicious vehicles near the plant.” That’s what Jack said, but deep down he didn’t think the Hammond brothers were targeting the power station.

Especially Greg Hammond. He didn’t strike Jack as a brainless rural redneck. The first two murders looked far more like calculated acts of vengeance.

Still, this case left Jack feeling listless.

Before he crossed over into this world, Ceres had been deeply engaged in environmental protection efforts. Though not without their problems—like opportunistic politics, bureaucratic inertia, or local protectionism—those efforts had yielded real results. That included their state-run coal-fired power plants.

Unlike the West, where environmental standards often existed only on PowerPoint slides or in slogans, Ceres enforced the strictest emissions standards in the world.

Today, those towering smokestacks emitted not thick black smoke, but nearly invisible water vapor. Wastewater and solid waste were also fully recycled and reused.

What Greg’s wife had mentioned—coal ash—refers to the fine particles collected from flue gas after pulverized coal is burned in power plants. The coal is ground to under 100 microns, then burned, and the resulting smoke is filtered to capture these particles.

Burning one ton of standard coal produces roughly 0.138 tons of coal ash, which contains a large amount of pollutants—like mercury, lead, and other heavy metals—as well as sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxides.

If released into the air, these pollutants are relatively easy to detect. But when collected and buried as waste, it might appear environmentally sound—until it causes soil salinization and severe heavy metal contamination.

The standard procedure is to recycle the ash: extract valuable metals and rare earths, then turn the remainder into construction materials like cement or fly ash bricks.

To a country like Ceres, constantly rebuilding infrastructure, coal ash is actually a valuable resource—for roads, bridges, and dams.

But in America, where most coal plants are privately owned, the cheapest method is to bury it somewhere no one is watching.

This method might seem harmless in the short term—as long as it’s buried deep enough, no one notices.
But ten or twenty years later, when rainwater corrodes the barrels and the metals leach into the groundwater, the pollution lasts for centuries.

“It’s absolutely sickening,” Clay said after reading up on the issue.

Jack sneered. “Now you know why the fish and crabs in the Hudson River and New York Bay aren’t safe to eat?”

From 1947 to 1977, General Electric dumped unmeasurable amounts of industrial waste into the Hudson River. That included insulating fluids from transformers, full of PCBs, mercury, cadmium, and other heavy metals.
It had the same effect as buried coal ash—massive quantities of carcinogens and heavy metals that still linger in the riverbeds today.
The water might look clean now, but beneath it lies a thick layer of toxic sludge.

They were currently in the town of Blue Springs, just under ten miles from Cleo—where the Hammond brothers had dropped off the 200+ stolen tablets at the local elementary school.

This town was rundown too, but slightly more alive than others they’d passed. At least here, a few shops were still open.

They soon found the agricultural supply store where Wyatt worked. The owner, a brown-haired white woman in her early forties, looked unwell but was still outside lifting bags of fertilizer.

After explaining their reason for coming, Jack got straight to the point. “Ms. Barron, would Wyatt have been able to obtain the two chemicals I’m about to mention through your procurement channels?”

“Of course. He’s the only help I can afford now—not that there’s much work left anyway.”

Her tone was a bit sharp, and Jack could tell from the shop’s condition that business wasn’t good.

“You really think he’s making bombs? Wyatt and his brother Greg are the most decent men I’ve met around here. They don’t smoke weed, don’t drink, and they sure as hell don’t hit women.”

The angry “nice guy” is often the most dangerous, Jack thought grimly.

“Based on current evidence, it’s possible. We know emotions have been running high around here because of Griffin Coal Power. Do you think Wyatt ever mentioned anything about revenge to anyone?”

“Not to me. But that wouldn’t surprise me,” she said, setting down the bag of fertilizer and leaning against a pillar to catch her breath.

Seeing the agents watching her closely, she elaborated. “I mean—he lost his niece and his parents. Of course he’s angry. But who around here isn’t? Everyone in this town is furious.”

“How bad is the coal ash pollution here?” Clay asked. The lush scenery they’d seen on the way in made him wonder.

Ms. Barron clearly noticed their confusion. “They didn’t just secretly bury coal ash near the water supply. They’d also shut off the filters under the excuse of ‘maintenance’ and release it straight into the air.

It went on for nearly twenty years. If the plant hadn’t gone bankrupt, you’d still be smelling that hellish stench right now.”

She gestured for them to follow her, then walked to the side of the store. A large wooden board was nailed to the wall, covered with old hats and stuffed animals.

She picked up a worn baseball cap with a bull logo and the words “Hackett Barron Farm” embroidered on it. Her eyes filled with wistful sorrow.

“My father used to have a farm nearby. Then all the cattle died. He hung his cap here. He passed away six months later.”