Chapter Thirty-Two
The porta-pac contained two small tanks, like dive-tanks, one red for acetylene and the other green for oxygen. The unit fit nicely in her trunk and Zachery used a wrench to attach the hoses. A cutting torch hung from the other end. “Use eye protection,” he warned, handing her the flint striker.
She nodded. “Thank you; I will have it back to you by day’s end.”
At the first curve out by the Peak, Taz slowed, braked to a stop opposite the log in the ditch, and backed the car around. Looking over a shoulder, she reversed between the trees until her back bumper was across from the chain that blocked the end of the access road to the Monastery. She opened the trunk and lifting the torch, turned the valve for the acetylene. She clicked the flint striker. When a smoky orange
