The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 70

                 

Worm.

Or, as the oil rig's tool pusher, Taw, says, "another shit worm."

Worm is the term for a new guy on the rig. Can't pass myself off as anything else. Never worked a rig.

Especially when I have to ask what a "tool pusher" does. Taw laughs. Slaps a beefy hand on my back. It hurts. It's supposed to hurt. I don't show it.

"Means I push you around, tool," Taw says.

He could do it, too. As solid and tall as the rig itself. Gnarled and meaty as a big toe. An infected toe. Reeks.

I tell Taw I'm here to replace Lou's tour. I'm the sub for a lot of Lou did, I emphasize. Hope that's enough of a hint for the dope, but not the prostitution.

"Tour" is another rig term. I say it like "tower." Les told me about that. Sounds more legit. Not sure if it even made a difference just now.

Taw is full-time, unlike the workers cycling in and out. Stays at the rig. Works 12 hours at a time. There's a square building on skids next to the rig. Taw lives there, but we all use the changing room inside. There's an office, electricity and water there, too.

I use the changing room to slip on coveralls. Try not to let the dope in my jeans pocket slip out. But not the revolver.

Sam's back at the Lou's RV. Parked next to the other trucks by the rig. Told her to stay still. That maybe this will all blow over. She downed a couple pills. Slipped back to bed. Tucked the gun under a pillow.

Good thing, too. Taw's got a certain vibe about him. Something in the way he walks. Keeps checking the horizon. Talks too fast. Like he's trying to trip me up on something.

Taw asks me where I'm from. If I brought a lunch. Whether I've filed my paperwork.

I lie about the paperwork. But I take the chance to ask about fracking. Been meaning to get a proper rundown anyway.

"You know how high the Sears Tower is?" Taw says.

It's not called that anymore, but I don't correct him.

"I guess so. Really high, right?" I say.

"Right. If you took five of those, that's how deep down the oil shale is. 'Bout one and a half miles," Taw says.

The bore hole is lined in a steel casing. Turns horizontal once it hits the shale. To appease "the hippies," as Taw says, they add extra cement to keep out the ground water.

Then they shock the shale. Forms cracks in it called "fissures."

A proppant, water and chemical mix is pumped into the fissures. This makes the cracks open up more. 

Proppant is a special kind of silica sand. Or a resin-coated type of sand. Sometimes it's man-made ceramics.

"What kind of chemicals they use?" I say.

"Barely any. Only one percent of the mix. Ninety-nine percent is sand and water," Taw says.

"No. I mean what are the chemicals?" I say.

Taw continues. Pretends I didn't ask the question.

The mixture is pumped out. Some stays behind. They keep the fissures open.

Oil and natural gas flow out the fissures. It's pumped into big reservoir tanks. Trucks are constantly filling up at them.

That's the thing about the rig. I thought it'd be just the platform and pipes. But it's a bunch of things.

There are the natural gas reservoirs. The sand reservoirs. The water tanks. Storage for the recovered proppant, water and chemical mix. The housing unit. And all the trucks that go with it. The traffic is constant.

From there, it's as simple as making a billion dollars.

Taw says there's enough natural gas on the Bakken Formation for 100 years. Maybe more. It'll cut oil imports. Make the country energy independent. Right here in North Dakota.

"Those camel jockeys overseas, they don't like what I do. That's why I do it," Taw says.

"So what do I do?" I say.

Taw points at the pipes on the rig. Explains how Lou used to help the roughnecks "trip" pipes. This involves putting in or taking out sections of piping at the well. All 1.5 miles of it.

"I'll be tripping pipe?" I say. Think back to that injured worker. His shredded arm.

I'm relieved when Taw says no.

"Worms don't trip pipe. You're on clean up," Taw says.

Clean up doesn't sound so bad. A quick job.

"OK. What am I cleaning?" I say.

Taw scrapes the grime from his boots.

"Mud," he says.

I take another gander at the rig. It looks gray at first. But I see it now. The gray is from a sheet of mud. It's from the mix. The pipes bring it up. Slop it around.

Guess it won't be quick after all.

"Any other questions?" Taw says. "I got to get this crew going."

"Yeah. You the only full-time guy on the rig?"

"This is my rig. That answer your question?" Taw says.

"Yeah, I'm good," I say.

The place is full of potential buyers. If the workers are getting cycled in and out, they'll want to go as hard as possible in the shortest amount of time. Bingo.

Taw's probably more inclined to sex. I'll watch him for that. Keep him away from the RV.

"Good. You're ready to start," Taw says. "Oh, I almost forgot. One more thing you should know, shit worm."

"What's that?" I say.

Taw slaps me on the back. Even harder than before.

"Everything here can kill you," he says.

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