Chapter 73: The Substation Explosion
In the frozen wilderness, a motorhome was parked behind a snow-covered rock outcrop.
Unless one looked very carefully, it was almost impossible to spot.
From time to time, thick smoke drifted up from the roof of the vehicle.
Inside the motorhome, Svetlana was sweating—despite the bitter winter cold.
The reason was simple.
She had just watched the man in front of her mix explosives with his bare hands.
Right before her eyes, William had produced an ammonium nitrate–urea explosive mixture—
a modified form of ANFO.
Urea and ammonium nitrate, mixed in precise proportions, heated until molten, then cooled and recrystallized into high-purity ammonium nitrate.
The infamous "fertilizer bomb."
Was this something a normal arms dealer was supposed to know how to make?
Or was this man a terrorist?
Svetlana's mind had completely short-circuited.
Just who was this mysterious boss?
He could casually sell U.S. military-grade weapons.
And now he could manufacture explosives from scratch.
CIA?
FBI?
Some other country's intelligence service?
She didn't dare think any further.
Knowing too much was how people got killed.
William examined the finished explosives and roughly calculated their yield.
More than enough to cripple a power substation.
That left only one problem—
How to get the explosives inside the substation.
Fortunately, he had already planned that part.
And the key to the plan was sitting right in front of him.
"Svetlana."
"Yes, boss."
Her heart skipped the moment he called her name.
After calmly explaining exactly what she needed to do, William instructed her to drive the motorhome toward the substation.
He himself got off along the way—right as they passed the Illinois Institute of Technology.
Before stepping down, he patted her shoulder, told her to watch carefully, and quietly placed a mental imprint on her.
IIT was located in northern Chicago, so the route passed right by.
After getting off, William didn't head straight to campus.
Instead, he went to a nearby rental agency and picked up a Honda.
Once he parked the car on campus, he returned to his dorm and waited.
Waiting for midnight.
At this hour, there might still be people inside the lab buildings.
Late night—approaching dawn—was the perfect window.
As William mulled over the timing, his phone suddenly vibrated.
Buzz. Buzz.
He picked it up.
It was the real estate agent—the one who had helped him buy property earlier.
After answering, the agent explained the reason for the call.
"You're saying the house at 2119 is up for sale?" William repeated.
"And only sixty thousand dollars?"
"Because the owner needs cash immediately?"
William felt a strange sense of irony.
Who would've thought that after all the twists and turns, Frank selling the house would still end up circling back to him?
"Wait," William said into the phone.
"Who commissioned you to sell the house? Was it someone named Frank Gallagher?"
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"Uh… yes," the realtor replied.
"How did you know that, Mr. Blake?"
"That's not something you need to know," William said calmly.
"But I am curious—does Frank know you contacted me about buying his house?"
William rubbed his chin, already fairly certain Frank had no idea.
"He doesn't," the agent answered.
"We're just reaching out to clients who've shown interest in South Side properties."
William didn't doubt him.
"Alright," he said after a moment.
"I'll buy the house—but I have one condition."
"What condition?" the agent asked quickly.
"As long as it's not unreasonable, I'm sure the owner will agree. He's desperate to sell."
William chuckled softly.
Being hunted by someone like T-Bag would do that to a man.
Frank was probably planning to dump the house, grab the cash, and disappear to lay low somewhere else.
He'd likely already tried every possible sucker—Tony included.
Unfortunately for Frank, no one with real money wanted to live on the South Side.
Tony certainly didn't have the cash to take over 2119.
So in the end, Frank's last hope had been the realtor.
"My condition is simple," William said.
"Frank must not know that I bought the house."
"That's not a problem on our end," the agent replied.
"Though during the transfer, Mr. Blake, you'll still need to appear in person."
William shook his head.
"I don't plan to hold the property under my own name.
Once the deal is finalized, I'll arrange for someone else to handle the transfer."
"In that case, there's no issue," the agent said.
"Oh—one more thing. Mr. Gallagher insists the payment be made in cash. Is that acceptable?"
That suited William just fine.
In fact, if it wasn't cash, he'd be annoyed.
"No problem at all."
With the terms settled, William hung up.
---
"Frank, you piece of shit," he muttered to himself.
"Looks like you really couldn't find anyone willing to pay full price for 2119."
Serves him right.
With that thought, William returned to waiting in his dorm room.
Time slipped by quickly.
1:00 a.m.
Perfect.
William picked up his phone and dialed.
"Svetlana," he said.
"Execute the plan."
Then he hung up.
---
Not far from the power substation, a motorhome sat parked along the road.
Svetlana hated every second of being inside it.
No one enjoyed sitting next to a rolling bomb.
The past six or seven hours had been pure torture.
She didn't dare run.
Didn't dare resist.
On the surface, William seemed calm—even polite.
But when she thought about the things he'd done…
A shiver ran through her.
She didn't want to imagine what would happen if she betrayed him.
Taking a deep breath, she put her phone away.
She started the engine and slowly drove toward the substation gate.
One advantage of committing crimes in America—small government.
Public infrastructure security was laughably thin.
This substation powered most of the North Side, yet it had only a handful of guards.
Fewer than IIT's campus security.
Aligning the front of the motorhome with the facility, Svetlana followed William's instructions and activated the delayed detonation system in the back.
Once everything was set, she returned to the driver's seat.
She opened the door and stepped out.
On the floor by the pedals sat a large stone—one she'd picked up earlier in the wilderness.
After checking the alignment one last time, she shoved the rock forward, pinning down the accelerator.
The motorhome began to roll.
Slowly at first.
Then faster—straight toward the substation.
Svetlana turned and ran.
She sprinted into the wilderness in the opposite direction, praying silently as she fled.
---
Elsewhere, William stood outside the laboratory building.
Dressed entirely in black.
Mask on his face.
Baseball cap pulled low.
Black gloves covering his hands.
One step forward would put him squarely in the surveillance zone.
Then—
A faint tremor rippled through the ground.
The laboratory lights flickered—
And went out.
Not just the lab.
The entire campus plunged into darkness.
William smiled faintly.
"Looks like Svetlana succeeded," he murmured.
"Now the only question is…"
"…did she survive?"