The liquor is processed again and slowly poured onto a large covered table to be dried. It’s now much, much lighter in color.
What used to take months with heat lamps or centrifuges are blasted with lasers in a matter of seconds.
The finished product is this yellow cakey-like substance (Yellowcake).
I’m shocked as to how all of this sophisticated and heavy equipment could be smuggled into the Unites States of America.
As I continue on, the finished uranium looks bright yellowish and powdery in texture and is 75% pure uranium. Jennifer explained to me later that this uranium 235 is now used in the nuclear reactor power plant deep in the mountain.
I felt like I was in a dream.
This can’t be happening in the United States of America!
Anyway Jen said, the uranium 235 is then converted into weapons grade plutonium 239 after it is forced through fuel rods in the nuke reactor.
We found out later what was being created here by a new and more efficient process was Supergrade plutonium (99% Pu-239).
The reason for the supergrade was due to the close, nearly sealed quarters everyone was working in here, the Russians didn’t want their employees to have any more radiation exposure than absolutely necessary.
How thoughtful! I said to myself.
No one notices, as the workers all have their backs to me.
As I make my way back to The Factory walkway I have to stop and catch my breath.
The toxins in the yellowcake room alone probably just took a year off my life.
To my lungs it doesn’t feel like this area is safe at all.
So I try to get out as fast as possible.
I make it past two Russian GRU guards, speaking English.
They carry on a conversation about those beautiful women they were ordered not to touch.
As I walk into The Factory room I notice a large presence of scientists all in NBC suits.
You don’t wear this type of suit unless serious nuclear, biological, or chemicals are present. They are scurrying around the work floor all in a big hurry.
It looks like they are trying to fill a whole bunch of suitcases with “aluminum parts.”
They are working fast!
I head down the hall where I left Jennifer.
As I enter the warehouse room where I left her, I notice the barrels have been moved.
I panic as Jennifer is not there.
So I start frantically searching through the entire warehouse thinking maybe she’s hiding somewhere else in the room but Jennifer is nowhere to be found.
Then I remember, I also left the suitcase with a million dollars right by her. Maybe she left with it to Bora Bora, I joke with myself.
Myself didn’t “lol.”
However, myself did shout at me saying:
LOL? I HATE THAT!
Stop it, JD. Pay attention.
The backdoor ventilation system Al showed me into this place is locked and, without a key,
I’m stumped as I stand for a minute thinking,
She better not have been caught.
I double check the ventilation grate we came into this room with Al but with heavy steel bars there is no way to pry this open.
I head for the warehouse door I just came in and peer out.
Seeing no one, I exit.
As I sneak down the hall I stop, as I near The Factory room again.
Just as I’m about to cross the 2nd story walkway a gun is pushed into my shoulder blades.
I slowly raise my hands.
It’s a GRU Special Forces guy with a bandage on his nose.
Uh ok, I think this was the guy I punched in the nose earlier!
… I’m not asking him!
“Walk,” said the Russian in broken English.
So I slowly walk.
Once again, I notice there is much activity on the reactor floor as they pack up about fifty of those large, black suitcases.
I also notice one of those beautiful Russian women in an evening gown, full makeup and hair flowing walk sexily toward me.
I’ve seen this routine before.
As she nears me, she stops and speaks in Russian to the soldier.
The soldier looks just for a second at what this drop dead gorgeous woman is pointing to when she clocks him in the face with the bottom of her clenched palm and grabs his gun.
Confused, looking at her saying,
“Jennifer?”
“Call me Jen. My hobbies are piano, water polo and driving submarines. Let’s go!”
All that comes out of my open mouth is:
“Jen?”
I’ve turned into a big hunk of yellowcake.
“Men! So stupid!” she says as she’s already heading to the main floor by way of an elevator. She has to stop and bring me back to reality.
“C’mon!”
I come to my senses and follow her just staring at her high heels like dog being led by a master.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth, big boy.”
She then smiles, “So you like the look?”
“I, I, I, do,” was all I could form in words.
She puts her finger over my lips and looks to be in a perfume commercial so she plays it for all it’s worth.
Jen, whispers, saying, “Shhh! Don’t say anything.”
The elevator door opens and we walk a few feet into the control room.
The room is filled with no less than 20 huge, flat, touch screen monitors.
She carefully looks over everything then goes to a computer terminal and begins typing.
“Good! Someone didn’t log off.”
No one can see them, as the room has no windows. Only many, many, flat screen monitors cover all the walls.