“Depends on how you want to get there.”
“I thought we were driving.”
“That’s one possibility.”
Brannigan points at a banner promoting the Beijing Marathon. “What about a footrace? The distance is about the same.”
“That would be faster than our freeway.” A flight attendant pats Rocky’s backside as they go by. Brannigan pretends not to notice.
“What are the other choices?”
“My helicopter will get us there in twenty minutes.”
Brannigan perks up. “What are you flying?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. Just curious.”
“A Robinson 44.”
“Raven II?”
“With air-conditioning and leather seats.”
“Let’s take your Robbie.”
Brannigan enters the R44 after a bathroom stop.
He gives the cockpit a cursory once-over.
“This is your big chance, Rock.”
“To do what?”
“Make me happy.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Let me fly this thing.”
“That’s against the rules.”
“But this is such a hang-loose country.”
“You’re right. We encourage people to do as they please.”
Brannigan responds in Mandarin. “It sounds like you’re saying yes.”
“Pardon me for asking. Have you ever flown a helicopter?”
“I watched Black Hawk Down and Zero Dark Thirty. How hard can it be?”
“What the heck,” Rocky says. “Let’s see how you do.”
Rocky hadn’t told him about the labor unrest.
There’s no hiding it when they arrive at the dam. Striking workers are out in force. They’re blocking access to the front gate and shouting antigovernment slogans. A laborer baits Brannigan in English. “That’s close enough, scab!”
Brannigan can’t think of a good reason to disclose his Mandarin skills. He nods at his escort and responds in his native tongue. “I’m not a worker.”
Rocky goes nose to nose with the striker—“Let him pass. He’s with me”—and signals a pair of soldiers to come over. The privates, both from coastal provinces, forge an opening in the picket line. A striker tries to knock Brannigan down. He stays on his feet but loses contact with Rocky and the troops.
Near the end of the gauntlet a placard comes crashing down on Brannigan’s just-healed shoulder. The impact knocks him to the pavement, where he has a ringside view of the aftermath. One of the soldiers pins the assailant’s hands behind his back. The other jams the stock of his rifle into the man’s face.
Rocky helps Brannigan to his feet. “Are you okay, Michael?”
“I’m doing a lot better than that poor bastard. It was only a wooden sign. Did they have to break his jaw?”
Brannigan follows Rocky into his office.
A female kitchen worker is already there. She filled the top shelf of her cart with food, bottled water, and utensils. Alcoholic beverages are underneath. She clears a week’s worth of newspapers off the largest table and wipes it with a moist cloth. The woman departs empty-handed and closes the door behind her.
The engineers sit down and open the food cartons. Rocky lays a fork on the table. Brannigan pushes it aside and uses his chop-sticks. He serves himself without moving the bottom prong. “Very good, Michael.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
“Would you like some baijiu?”
Brannigan changes languages and responds in Mandarin. “No, thanks. That stuff is too strong for me.”
“I wanted to practice my English.”
“It’s already too good. People will become suspicious.”
“What would you like to drink?”
“How about a Tsingtao?”
“Coming right up.”
They continue speaking Mandarin.
Rocky is a widower with a daughter and grandson in Shanghai. He visits them at least twice a month. Brannigan isn’t surprised to learn Rocky is a bodybuilder. His loose-fitting shirt showcases rather than hides his chiseled physique. Brannigan redirects the conversation before Rocky asks about his family.
“Tell me about the work stoppage.”
“The laborers’ sick-outs escalated into wildcat strikes. It’s America’s fault. My men want what your workers have. Including the impossible. Unions.”
“How long have they been dissatisfied?”
“From the beginning. We paid them the equivalent of two dollars a day to build the dam. They slept in shared shanties with no toilets or running water. Conditions have improved, but even today they’re underpaid.”
“Have any skilled workers walked off?”
“Not yet. If that happens, we’ll really be in trouble.”
“Someday your labor problems will explode.”
Rocky digs into his braised pork and hot-dry noodles.
“It won’t be my problem. I’m a short-timer.”
It’s gotten late. Brannigan has just finished his fourth beer and has difficulty keeping his eyes open. His proficiency in Mandarin has dropped off. He switches back to English.
“Time for bed. I’m whipped.”
Rocky reaches across his desk and hands Brannigan a receipt.
“We reserved a hotel room for you.”
Brannigan yawns, “Can you put me up here? All I need is a bed.”
Rocky unlocks a file cabinet and unhooks a key. He swings it by the chain as he leads Brannigan to the dam’s sleeping deck. They keep walking until they reach the far end of the corridor. Rocky opens the door and flips on the light.
“This is one of our deluxe suites.”
“I love the caveman décor.”
“You’ll be better off in a hotel room.”
“Not if I have to commute. Let’s give this a try.”
“Your call.” Rocky hands him the key and shows him the kitchenette. “The fridge has sodas and bottled water. The fixings for coffee and tea are on the counter.”
“Thanks for letting me overnight.”
“See you tomorrow at seven.”
“Before you go—”
“You want me to tuck you in.”
“That would be nice. But I’d prefer a bedtime story.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“The one explaining why I’m here.”
“We’ll cover that tomorrow.”
“Why not tell me now?”
“It won’t sound as bad in the morning.”
Brannigan is lying in bed. He stacks a second pillow under his head, raises his knees, and opens an old volume of National Geographic. It’s dedicated to Three Gorges Dam and the river it tamed. Still fully clothed, he props the magazine against his lap and reads the introduction to his new home away from home.
The Yangzi River is the third longest waterway in the world. It drains 20 percent of China’s total land. Over 4,000 miles in length, the river flows generally west to east and empties into the East China Sea at Shanghai. One-third of China’s 1.3 billion people live in the Yangzi Delta. They are responsible for 20 percent of the country’s national GDP.
Sun Yat-sen, the father of the Chinese Republic, dreamed about building a giant dam across the Yangzi. That was a hundred years ago. Because of its cost and complexity, the Chinese didn’t break ground on Three Gorges Dam until 1994. It took until 2006 to complete the concrete wall. Installation of its turbine generators was largely complete and the dam went online in 2009. It wasn’t until 2012 that it became fully functional.
More than 600 feet high, the wall stretches 1.3 miles from one side of the river to the other. The solid-core gravity dam consumed 16 million tons of concrete and 450,000 tons of steel. The reservoir behind the dam is 575 feet deep and extends 370 miles west, almost to Chongqing. Three Gorges Dam supplies Shanghai with 40 percent of its electricity. The dam’s hydroelectric plant generates 10 percent of China’s total electrical output
.
Clean electricity is only one of the dam’s benefits. It also controls the water level. During the monsoon season, it prevents flooding downriver. The dam is just as important at the other end of the rainfall spectrum. It guarantees that farms and industries along the Yangzi have adequate water during the dry season. The reservoir has significantly improved navigation. By eliminating the upriver shallows, the dam allows ocean-going vessels to travel from the East China Sea to Chongqing.
His mental processes are becoming looser and more disorganized. The reference to Chongqing conjures up images of its bang-bang men—bent over and sagging—climbing steep hills with furniture on their backs.
Those are his last conscious thoughts of the evening. He falls asleep with the magazine draped across his chest.
CHAPTER 26
BRANNIGAN WAKES UP early.
He had a fitful night. The cool side of the pillow doesn’t help. He tosses and turns but can’t go back to sleep. He turns off his alarm and gets out of bed. The lights are already on. He can’t figure out why until he sees the magazine on his blanket.
He stands over the toilet and empties his bladder. Last night’s beer filled it to capacity. He raids the fridge before sitting at the desk. He sips a cola and waits for his computer to warm up. The first things he checks are the ball scores. The Journal and Times headlines are next. Today’s news doesn’t impact Global. He stops reading and closes both sites.
His stomach feels empty. He returns to the kitchen and opens a bag of Chinese potato chips. After putting a few in his mouth, he lays the bag on the coffee table and sits at the end of the couch. He swings his legs across the cushions until they stretch across the entire sofa. He hooks a loose pillow with his foot and uses it as a platform for his computer. His inbox is loaded. The one at the top is about a state trooper citing one of his Houston engineers for speeding. The radar gun clocked his senior manager at 123 mph.
He skips down to a memo from Global’s HR director. It discusses a much older transgression. The company’s former controller—fired for moonlighting as a hard-money lender—is defending a nasty lawsuit. Last week’s testimony all but guaranteed he’ll be hit with an eight-figure verdict. The rest of the correspondence appears to be mundane and he defers reading it.
Confident the caffeine will keep him awake, he replays the question Rocky wouldn’t answer. Why is he here? Nothing would shock him. One of the world’s most secretive countries built a mega dam without independent oversight. He considers the possibilities. The spillway is his number one suspect. Overflow channels are high-exposure items in all gravity dams. This facility is no exception. Organic material from both sides of the gorge is constantly sloughing into the reservoir and migrating to the back of the wall. Outgoing water sucks debris through the sluice barrels and tunnels. The resulting fatigue has probably worn down the gate linings.
There could be other contributors to the degradation. The spill-way may have been poorly designed. An alternate explanation is placement of inferior flashboards at the top of the gates. Contractors and bureaucrats probably hid the dam’s flaws by paying off inspectors and pocketing the savings. He senses the dam has an additional problem. Something serious. Otherwise the Reds wouldn’t have generated this level of intrigue.
The cola underperformed and he dozes off.
A teeth-grinding nightmare doubles as his backup alarm. He jumps off the sofa convinced the dam is breaking apart. Rushing to the window, he stares at the enormous wall. He’s surprised it’s still standing.
The time on the wall clock is 6:53. That gives him seven minutes to get ready for his meeting. He’s hustling to the bathroom when he sees a binder on his coffee table. He picks it up and reads the attached note.
Michael
Give this back to me before you return to New York.
I’ll store it in our vault for safekeeping.
Rocky
The materials weren’t here when he woke up at 4:15. Rocky must have entered the room sometime after he went back to sleep. He was too tired to think of it last night, but there may be other people who can access his lock. From now on he’ll dead bolt his door before going to bed.
He opens the binder and scans the first page. It’s in English. The first paragraph summarizes the problem Rocky wants him to solve. He lays the document next to the sink and scans the other key sections while he shaves. Back in the bedroom, he strips off yesterday’s clothes and replaces them with low-rise briefs, lightweight slacks, and a blue golf shirt. He steps into his tennis shoes and ties the laces. He’s closing his zipper when he hears a knock. Responding, “I’ll be right there,” he extends his other hand and fumbles for the door.
“Did you sleep okay?”
He tells Rocky what he wants to hear. “Like a baby.”
“Let’s get going.”
“I can hardly wait.”
The control room is humming. Rocky introduces him to the dam’s managers and support staff. The people wearing eyeglasses all seem to have the same oversized black frames. Brannigan holds his tongue until they leave the building.
“I was impressed . . .”
“They’re good people.”
“. . . With their specs.”
“Is that why you were smiling?”
“There must’ve been a sale at the people’s commissary.”
“They’re still marked down. Do you want a pair?”
“That design is way too hip for me. Where are yours?”
“Don’t need them. Twenty-twenty.”
“The Reds target guys like you to be fighter pilots.”
“You’re psychic. I spent fifteen years in the PLAAF.”
The humidity is off the charts.
Brannigan is dripping wet by the time they reach Tanzi Ridge. Rocky is almost as sweaty in his cargo pants and work shirt. Brannigan doesn’t have to think very hard about why he’s so uncomfortable. A sickly mist is rising off the river. Low-hanging clouds have trapped the moisture and created a steam bath. He has never worked at another facility where the dome effect is this severe.
They stop at the mobile food counter and load plates, silverware, and pastries onto trays. Rocky adds melon and grapes. Brannigan passes on the fruit and substitutes an energy bar. They walk over to the best viewpoint. A staff member brings towels and a pot of tea. They wipe the dew off their chairs and sit down.
Brannigan starts the conversation. “I looked at your summary.”
“How far did you get?”
“Not very. What tipped you off?”
“Maintenance workers heard the wall rumbling—”
“That’s never good.”
“—I had them lower me over the side—”
“I’m assuming the spillway caused the noise.”
“Correct. There’s no mistaking that sound.”
“How strong was the vibration?”
“Moderate but steady.”
“What caused it?”
“Debris pressing against the tunnels. We installed bigger flash-boards and that problem went away.” Rocky pauses while he sips his tea. “That isn’t why you’re here.”
“You want me to strengthen the wall.”
“And deal with the cracks.”
“How subpar is the concrete?”
“Our core sampling is disturbing.”
“What about the cracking?”
“It’s all over the place.”
“Just the reservoir side?”
“Downriver is just as bad.”
“Surface faults?”
“They’re deeper than that.”
“How many people know?”
The deck is cordoned off. Rocky still looks around and lowers his voice. “My top engineers, the CEO, and President Lao.”
“I can imagine his reaction.”
“Multiply that by ten.”
“Were you involved in constructing the dam?”
Rocky reaches for a napkin and wipes the sweat off his face. “Not directly. But over here
that doesn’t matter. They shoot the messenger.”
“Do you know why Global doesn’t do nuclear?”
“The liability exposure.”
“It’s astronomical. Same here.”
“I wouldn’t blame you for passing.”
“I’ll accept the risk. But only if your CEO is directly involved.”
“He’s a politician, not an engineer.”
“I don’t care if the guy is a circus performer. If you want me to stamp the plans, he’ll have to read my reports and sign off on the fix.”
“He’ll resist being personally responsible.”
Brannigan wags his index finger. “That’s a deal breaker.”
“He’s used to giving the orders.”
“So am I.” A waitress refills their cups. Brannigan pauses until she leaves. “Your boss will play the blame game if something goes wrong. I won’t be his fall guy.”
“I’ll have your back.”
“I appreciate that, Rock. But who has yours?”
“Don’t remind me.”
“All he has to do is initial the front and last pages.”
“I’ll make it happen. What else do you need?”
“World-class imaging. The newest 3D cameras produce great underwater pictures. It’s software you haven’t hijacked yet.”
Rocky grins. “I’m sure we’re trying.”
“Until then, I’ll license the best program.”
“What’s your time line to complete the project?”
“A concrete firm will need at least three months to mobilize. We’ll probably need another two years to map the entire dam and do the repairs.”
“That long?”
“If you want it done right.”
“What can we accomplish in the short term?”
“I’ll send you a list of options.”
“What else do you need?”
“I want to swim in the Yangzi. Like Chairman Mao.”
“You’ll need a tetanus shot.”
“And scuba gear.”
Rocky sends a text. “My equipment manager has what you need. How deep do you want to go?”
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