“Time to wake the neighbors,” he said.
CHAPTER 53
JOE ZAVALA WAS RUNNING FOR HIS LIFE. BAD ANKLE AND all, he was charging diagonally across the wet slope of the Aswan Dam in search of higher and safer ground. The major lagged behind, seemingly still awed by what was going on.
“I wouldn’t keep looking back if I were you.”
The major got the message and pressed forward, catching up with Joe.
Joe’s plan was to get to the top, away from the widening breach, and survey the damage.
Upon reaching the crest, Joe stood on the road that crossed the dam. A thirty-foot-deep V had already been gouged out. Water from Lake Nasser was pouring through it and down over the side.
In the garish illumination of the floodlights, Joe could see water scouring away the rocks and sand like a flash flood shooting through a narrow mountain canyon.
As this effect took hold, the damage spread sideways in both directions, and the V widened toward each side of the dam.
As the flood removed the aggregate underneath it, the asphalt of the road held out for a moment, forming a jetty of sorts over the rushing water. But the supporting ground washed away quickly and large chunks of the blacktop collapsed and went tumbling over the side.
Looking back to the lake, Joe noticed something. “The water’s so high.”
“The highest it’s ever been,” the major admitted. “Two years of record storms.”
Joe knew nothing about General Aziz and his dealings with Jinn, but it was these record rains that made Aziz bold enough to break his contract. These same rains would now devastate his country.
“Where’s the control room?” Joe shouted.
The major pointed to the east side of the dam and a new building that sat near the dead center, about even with the peninsula. “The new control room is by the power plant.”
“Let’s go.”
Joe took off running once again and this time the major kept up with him. Behind them, the breach in the top of the dam continued widening by a foot or more every fifteen seconds.
Reaching the control room, the major threw open the door and he and Joe rushed inside. They found the command center in utter chaos. Half the posts were empty. The brave men and women who remained were trying to get a handle on what was happening.
A supervisor spotted the major. “Have we been attacked?” he asked. “We saw no explosions.”
“You have to open all the floodgates,” Joe shouted, not waiting for the major to reply. “Even the emergency spillways.”
“Who are you?” the man asked. There was no real malice in the man’s words, just shock that the scruffy-looking man with the major was giving orders.
“I’m an American engineer. I’ve worked on levees and river projects once or twice in my life and I’m telling you open all your spillways if you want one chance in ten of surviving this.”
“But—”
“There’s a thirty-foot break in the top of the dam,” Joe said, cutting the supervisor off. “It’s just below water level, halfway between here and the west bank. If you get the level down below this break, you might survive. If you don’t, the whole dam will wash away.”
The supervisor stared at Joe for a moment and then at the major, who nodded and shouted, “Trust him!”
Done wondering, the supervisor turned and shouted across the room. “Open all the spillways! Open all gates to full!”
The workers began throwing switches and levers.
“Floodgates opening!” one of them replied. “Blocks One and Two filling. Blocks Three and Four also responding.”
On a wall-sized display known as a mimic board, the indicators turned from red to
green. Twelve blue channels in the display represented the twelve generator channels beneath the dam.