Chapter 185: Equipment
Fiona and the others, being white, couldn't truly understand the experiences of Black people, nor could they impart this knowledge to Liam.
Liam, living in a white family, might inadvertently adopt a white perspective on the world, potentially leading to unfortunate situations that no one wanted.
Frank was deeply concerned about Liam's future, hoping that when Liam grew up, Veronica could teach him the skills necessary for navigating life as a Black person.
Besides the kids, there was someone else Frank needed to check on and understand better.
Talking with Walter, Frank's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, getting more tangled by the minute.
Taking a drag of his cigarette, Frank exhaled a cloud of smoke, feeling a pang of homesickness and longing to see his kids, a strong urge to return home.
"Frank, Mr. White, it's time!" Pinkman called from inside the RV, interrupting Frank's thoughts.
Back inside, they found that the liquid in the tray had solidified into a clear, clean slab, resembling a sheet of ice. They broke it into uneven chunks of crystal—this was the final product.
"Look at this beauty! This is crystal-grade, ultra-pure ice. It's a masterpiece! Mr. White, you're the king of this stuff. Junkies everywhere will go crazy for this purity!" Pinkman exclaimed, holding a crystal up to the light with tweezers.
"It's impressive," Frank agreed, picking up a piece.
Although Frank had watched the entire process, he found it hard to believe that such a perfect product could be made in such a rudimentary setting.
"Walter, you're a damn genius," Frank complimented sincerely.
"It's just basic chemistry," Walter modestly replied.
Compared to Nobel-level research, this was indeed elementary.
Frank and the others collected the crystals into a bag, which weighed over a pound when put on the scale.
If they sold it all, they'd make around $40,000 to $50,000.
It only took an afternoon, less than two hours, and the cost was under a few hundred dollars. The profit was staggering, quicker than any heist.
"It's getting late, let's call it a day," Frank suggested, noting the evening sky.
"I'll be done with chemo by the morning, and I'll have time in the afternoon. If we start early, we could make two batches," Walter proposed.
"No need to come tomorrow," Frank interjected before Walter could finish.
"Why not?" Walter asked, surprised.
"We need to test the waters with this batch first. You're just starting treatment; you can't keep disappearing. Focus on your health, and I'll call you when it's time to work," Frank advised.
"Okay," Walter agreed, despite needing the money urgently. He didn't want a repeat of the previous disaster.
He still had nightmares about those two bodies.
"By the way, where did you get this equipment?" Frank asked while helping tidy up the lab gear.
Frank recalled Walter excitedly explaining how rare and valuable each piece was.
"I got it from the school," Walter answered.
"What!?" Frank froze, turning to Walter, his voice rising an octave.
"You said you bought this equipment, right?" Frank asked, seeking confirmation.
"No, I took it from the school. It didn't cost a thing," Walter explained.
"You took all this from your workplace?" Frank couldn't believe it.
"Yeah, some beakers are impossible to find elsewhere. Only the school has them," Walter said, unaware of the implications.
"You... you really..." Frank was at a loss for words.
Despite his caution, he hadn't noticed this glaring flaw.
"What's wrong?" Pinkman sensed the tense atmosphere and asked.
"Hold on, Walter, does the school have an inventory list for the equipment?" Frank asked seriously.
"Of course, it's posted on the classroom wall," Walter replied.
"When you took these from the school's storeroom, did you mark them off the list?" Frank asked.
"Of course not. Removing so many items at once would draw attention," Walter said, suddenly realizing the oversight.
"Does anyone inspect the school's storeroom regularly?" Frank inquired.
"I've always been responsible for it. As the chemistry teacher, these are my lab's supplies, under my management," Walter explained hurriedly.
Walter had overlooked the issue. These supplies were under his control, and he had unconsciously treated them as his own. When he needed equipment for cooking, he simply took them from the school, not seeing any problem.
He hadn't considered what would happen if someone noticed the discrepancies between the storeroom contents and the inventory list.
"It's good no one noticed yet. Since you're in charge of the chemistry storeroom, return the equipment unnoticed," Frank suggested.
"But if we return them, we can't cook," Walter pointed out.
"Sort out which items can be bought and which can't. Return the ones like gas masks that are available on the market."
"For items we can't buy, keep them. You'll need to find a way to mark them off the inventory list at school to avoid discovery," Frank advised.
"But marking them off requires a reason," Walter hesitated.
"That's easy. Say they broke when dropped, got damaged while cleaning, or exploded during an experiment. There are plenty of excuses."
"There aren't many items, and the school knows you're ill. Use that as an excuse, and no one will blame you."
"Regardless, you must ensure the storeroom contents match the inventory," Frank insisted.
"I understand," Walter nodded.
With that, Walter led the effort to separate the gear they could buy from what they couldn't, loading the returnable items into Walter's car.
(End of Chapter)