Jones shrugged lightly, then started to work. The scanner slammed slightly, emitting a bluish beam of light that penetrated the inside of the car, feeling everything that lay there. I watched it with bated breath, not even knowing if I would prefer the policewoman to find something, or if it turns out that I’m making a jerk of myself. I shouted when the rays suddenly turned red and the scanner started making high-pitched sounds. Jones stepped back automatically.
“It’s probably syntexol. Yamato, call for the sappers,” she said. “Terry, get out of vehicle! Let no one touch what we brought!”
Syntexol is ‘uranium for the poor’ in police jargon – not because it’s somehow radioactive, but because of its cumulative properties. Produced in the form of a suspension, it begins working only after t
