Angus MacGyver, kneeling beside an open junction box, didn’t look up. He was threading copper wire through the spring of an old clothespin. “Actually, Jack, Armillaria ostoyae is a fungus. It covers nearly four square miles in Oregon. Kessler’s just made it... hungrier.”
The underground pumping station was a cathedral of concrete and rust. Kessler had two guards with P90s and a sealed lead-lined canister. Mac and Jack entered via a maintenance shaft—Jack taking point, Mac carrying his makeshift device: a miniaturized thermal lance powered by a nine-volt battery and the duct-taped clothespin as a pressure switch.
Mac struck the magnesium. A blinding flare erupted—not an explosion, but a 4,000-degree Celsius flash of white light. Kessler screamed, dropping the wheel, clutching his eyes. Temporary blindness.
Kessler turned the wheel a third time. A hiss of gas escaped.