“How’s my main man?”
“Outstanding, Michael. How about you?”
“I’m doing well.”
Brannigan spends so much time traveling he’s been experimenting with a new business model. The biggest change involves GRE’s management structure. He delegated major responsibilities to the superstars in his New York office. Morale has never been higher. His top female exec thanked him with a dozen white roses. Decentralizing the company has produced an unintended benefit. It allows him to do more of what he enjoys most, project management and front-line engineering.
Rocky’s face is beaming. “Welcome back.”
“The dam is beginning to feel like home.”
“Pretty soon you’ll be able to vote.”
“I’d rather count the ballots.”
“That only happens before the election.”
He can’t figure out why Rocky is so upbeat. “Your smile is way too bright. Did you win a fishing trip to Kashmir?”
Rocky shakes his head.
“A new girlfriend?”
“The current one is a keeper.”
“How about a hint?”
“Did you see the new helicopter?”
“Not a chance,” Brannigan says.
“We needed to expand our fleet.”
“Candy-apple red?”
Rocky is standing next to a Five-star flag.
“Party loyalty.”
The Bell 429 has a full tank. It’s ready to go. Rocky is in the left seat. Entering from the other side, Brannigan asks, “What sold you on this beauty?”
“The Pratt & Whitneys are primo. Textron has also upgraded the FADEC and hydraulics. This baby pretty much flies itself.” Brannigan checks out the Integrated Instrument Display System. Rocky explains how it works. “The IIDS answers your questions before you ask them. If there’s a mechanical fault, the computer identifies the cause and how to correct it.”
Brannigan is trying to compare the 429 to what he remembers about earlier Bell models. “I can’t put my finger on it. What’s different about the new instrument panel?”
“They moved the dash three inches lower to improve visibility.” Rocky slides his fingers across the pedestal as he’s talking. “No changes above. But Bell modified the ‘T’ and front mounting. Relocating a few gauges makes the glare shield less distracting.”
“What are the other upgrades?”
“It has high-end sensors and mapping capability. Copilot collaboration is easier, and the EFIS is a major plus during monsoon season. The color displays pop up automatically if you lose visibility.”
Brannigan strokes the collective and presses down on the pedals. “Now for my most important question. When can I—”
“Do you know how much this costs?”
“No. But if I wreck it, I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“Have you flown a Bell before?”
“I trained on a 407.”
“How did that go?”
“No stalls, no hits, no errors.”
“All right. I’ll let you take over—”
“You’re my favorite commie.”
“—When we reach cruising altitude.”
Brannigan gawks at a Russian-built military helicopter. The Mi-171E just took off. “I’d give anything to fly that monster.”
“You have a better chance of being shot down by one.”
Rocky steers around the airport traffic. When he’s clear, Brannigan asks, “What’s new on the labor front?”
“We’re back to full strength—and without replacement workers. The company sent in negotiators and made concessions. Both sides agreed to a cooling-off period.”
“Meaningful agreements or just putting off the war?”
“The workers got guaranteed wage increases for the next three years. They’ll also get more breaks, sick leave, and vacation time.”
“What did you get?”
“The right to work crazy hours, live at the dam, and be on call 24/7. All for my base salary and a small discretionary bonus.”
“What if Global offered you a vice presidency?”
“I’d be deeply honored.”
“Would you say yes?”
“I’d have to respectfully decline. This is where I belong.”
“I’m not giving up.”
“You’ll have to battle my grandson.”
“Bring him along.”
“That won’t help. He wants me to retire.”
“You’d go nuts.”
“Probably.”
“We’ll both die with our boots on.”
Rocky turns over the controls. “It’s all yours, Michael. If at all possible, don’t fly into the towers or power lines.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” Brannigan gains elevation. “You’re right about the handling. It’s much smoother.”
“Remember to input pressure, not movement. Otherwise you’ll overcorrect.”
Brannigan feathers the stick. “I see what you mean.”
“Same with the collective.”
“Got it. What’s going on today?”
“Routine stuff.”
“How about I hang with you?”
“I have a meeting with my boss.”
“Can I come along?”
“Not this time. It’s an all-Chinese thing.”
“In that case, I’ll go to the gym.”
“I almost forgot. We hired new seismologists.”
“The president told me. Thanks for getting that done.”
“Can you meet with them this afternoon?”
“Might as well. What time?”
“How about five o’clock?”
“I should still be awake.”
“My secretary reserved you a conference room.” Rocky closes his log and puts it in his flight bag. “What did you and the president discuss?”
“He wants to keep the electrons flowing.”
“I’ll hear more of the same.”
“How did you finesse the new seismos?”
“It wasn’t easy. The president offended some influential people. The guy we canned has an uncle in the Politburo.”
“When will the new people start?”
“They already have.”
“That was fast.”
“The old firm didn’t have LIDAR-equipped planes. I needed those anyway, so I fast-tracked the entire project.”
“How far along are they?”
“They’ve done quite a bit. You’ll be impressed.”
“What about the concrete engineers?”
“Their super is here. His grunts are coming next week.”
“Is Larry still running the show?”
“Yeah. Bonneville let us borrow him.”
“What time can we get together?”
“Early morning works best for him.”
“Me, too. Let’s meet for breakfast.”
“You’re on your own tomorrow. I’ll be in Shanghai.”
“Visiting your daughter?”
“Yeah. It’s my grandson’s birthday.”
“I’ll brief you on Monday.”
As they’re talking, Brannigan notices a fixed wing approaching from the opposite direction. The single-engine plane is on their left. It’s occupying the same airspace.
The turboprop isn’t dangerously close, but it’s angling toward them. He banks the Bell to the right, initiates a series of rocking maneuvers, and descends. The plane mimics the Bell’s movements— fluttering its wings and making the same adjustments. The Cessna is on a collision course with the Bell until it breaks off the engagement and turns toward Yichang Airport.
“Goddamn cowboy,” Brannigan grouses.
Rocky waves as the plane flashes past.
“Why the hell are you smiling?”
“Relax, Michael. It was just a seismologist saying hello.”
CHAPTER 38
BRANNIGAN IS DECKED out in his Waikiki ensemble.
Huaraches, khaki shorts, and a retina-singeing Hawaiian shirt.
There was no reason to dress up for the seismologists. Brannigan recalls the last one he consulted. That swotter was smart as a whip but had no social skills. He arrived at the Waldorf for a formal dinner wearing torn jeans, mismatched socks, and filthy sneakers. His leaky pens were clipped to a stained pocket protector.
The new guys are an hour late. He wonders if they’re any different than the last bunch. The downtime hasn’t set him back. He’s been sitting at the conference room table reviewing the new concrete data. The test engineers’ findings are worse than he expected. He’ll counter-check their numbers by plugging normative assumptions into a series of formulas. After reconciling his analysis and the empirical data, he’ll advise the president about the dam’s residual strength.
Brannigan begins the process, but has trouble focusing and decides to finish his calculations tomorrow. He tears off two sheets of paper and lays them next to each other. He doodles on the first, nothing artistic, mostly squiggles and interconnecting circles. He runs out of space, wads the page into a ball, and tosses it into the wastebasket.
He centers the clean sheet. It’s directly in front of him when his off-duty mind turns to its usual subject. The words come easily and his pen appears to write on its own. It produces four lines, a single stanza. After the ink stops flowing, he recites the words. Amateurish, he admits, but more lyrical than most of his efforts.
He tucks his poem into a manila folder, stands up, and stretches his lower body. His left knee is bothering him. It’s ached since he flew over the Pacific. Favoring that side, he walks across the room to perform his quad-strengthening exercise. It’s the best way to tighten his cranky joint and relieve the pain.
Brannigan rests his back against the wall and lowers his hips. He holds the position for several seconds before moving lower. The compression tightens the muscles above his knees. Initially it feels good. By the time his thighs are parallel with the floor, the pleasurable sensation is long gone and his quadriceps are screaming. His legs are beginning to shake when he hears the door squeak.
Grumbling, “It’s about time,” he watches it open. He was expecting a group of seismologists. But only one has come. She’s smartly dressed in dark slacks and a lime blouse. The blonde saunters into the room. Her entrance sucks the oxygen out of his lungs. He remembers the night they met—her dress, how excited he was, his inability to put a sentence together.
Brannigan stares at the jade necklace he bought her. She seems to detect his interest and massages the beads between her thumb and index finger. She continues walking toward him. He’s struggling to get out of his crouch. He isn’t fully upright until they’re close enough to touch.
She ratchets up her accent. “That looks rather unpleasant.”
“Knee isometrics. I was in a train wreck.”
“No kidding. So was I.”
Kylie drapes her arms around his neck. Her hair electrifies his cheek. Whispering, “My savior,” she dazzles him with her eyes. Front lit by the overmatched sun, her greens are brighter than a Tipperary spring. He slides his arms around her waist. Her blouse is ultra sheer. He’s about to lose control when she steps back and frees herself.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Her comment hangs in the air as he covers his mouth and tries to slow his breathing. “You didn’t. I brought other work.”
“Rocky knew I was running late. Hopefully he told you.”
“He mentioned you were busy.” Brannigan isn’t sure any of this is real. She’s even more beautiful than he remembered.
“How’ve you been, Michael?”
“Fine. You’re looking better.”
He can’t believe he said it. Before he has a chance to explain— and make things worse—Kylie laughs it off. “When you saw me, I looked positively frightful. I made my mother burn the hospital pictures.”
“How is your mom?”
“Very happy.”
“When did she go back to Berlin?”
“She hasn’t. We’re next-door neighbors.”
“Permanently?”
“That’s the plan. This time everything is hunky-dory.”
“Sounds like she made a smooth adjustment.”
“It couldn’t have gone any better.”
“Is she working?”
“She has a great job—and a devoted boyfriend.”
“That guy hit the jackpot.”
“So have I. I’d be lost without her.”
“I’m surprised you came back.”
“My mother said I shouldn’t.”
He recalls his promise. “Tell her it wasn’t my doing.”
“I already did.”
“You’re perfect for this job. But what if—”
“I won’t let ‘buts’ and ‘what ifs’ dictate my life.”
“That didn’t come out right. Can I try again?”
“You don’t have to. I’ve asked myself the same question.”
“What I meant to say—Is this the right time?”
“I still have issues to resolve—”
“You might heal faster—”
“Sitting at home isn’t the answer.”
“HR will accommodate you.”
“Don’t coddle me, Michael.”
“I’ve never been accused of that.”
“All I want is a fair go.”
“You’re way past that stage. Rocky’s singing your praises.”
She lowers her eyes. “You’re both very kind.”
Kylie walks toward the window. He knows what that means. She’s finished discussing her health. He joins her at the sill. She’s tapping her fingers as she looks at the dam. There are so many questions he wants to ask, but he realizes now isn’t the right time. She seems intent on earning his professional respect. He shifts the conversation to their work. “How far along is your mapping?”
“My lead crew has been working west of the wall. We still have some follow-up work, but the scenic part is in the can. Tomorrow that crew will be going east along the river. The rest of my team is expanding our perimeter north and south. We’re adding seismic stations during our spare time.”
“What are your impressions?”
“The thrifty version?”
“That would be refreshing.”
“They shouldn’t have built a dam here.”
“How bad is the geology?”
“It couldn’t be much worse.”
“Which faults are active?”
“Obviously the one that just went off. The earthquake was its coming-out party. Farther west, three large faults intersect. Each has an ongoing seismic history. Our ultraviolets also identified a spider-web of smaller cracks directly under the reservoir. They haven’t ruptured yet. Eventually some will.”
Kylie turns around and walks toward the table. Her document bag—he doesn’t recall her bringing one—is lying next to his. She pulls out two sets of files, drops one on the table, and hands him the other. She keeps talking as Brannigan flips through her materials. “These are your copies of everything we’ve generated.”
He stops to review an illustration. She tells him what he’s looking at. “The new technology is phenomenal. LIDAR is a range finder on steroids. Once it located the cracks, its software created that point cloud.”
“Those red marks can’t all be fault lines.”
She points to the color index. “It’s a disturbing picture. Especially with mountains sitting on top of them.”
They return to the table and sit down. Brannigan can’t believe that he’s doing it again. This time he doesn’t learn anything. Her matrimonial and middle digits are wrapped together with flesh-colored tape. She notices him staring. “I was working out with my techs. The medicine ball did a number on me.”
She turns to another color-coded sheet and discusses its significance. “Your earthquake had multiple enhancers. The Richter value was high. The direction, depth, and duration are even more worrisome.”
“How bad was the directional data?”
/>
“It was in the danger zone. The predominant direction in most earthquakes is horizontal. Dams respond reasonably well to that motion. Vertical waves are something else entirely. They’re big trouble for most tall structures. The median ratio for earthquakes is one to two, vertical to horizontal. Yours was three to two—sixty percent vertical waves. That proportion of upward thrust greatly increased the impact.”
“It felt like the foundation was breaking loose.”
“That’s consistent with the data. The anchors took a substantial hit.”
“Rocky and I went diving when things quieted down.” He shows Kylie a concrete report prepared after the earthquake. “The seal ruptured in several locations along the base. Reservoir water got underneath the dam and commingled with the river.”
“I’m not surprised.” She directs him to a historical illustration. “This graph ranks earthquakes according to their sustained vertical motion. Your eruption was closer to the top than the bottom.”
“What about the future?”
“The severity level wasn’t an aberration.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“This reservoir will experience other major disturbances. That’s a geologic certainty. It’s just a matter of which faults and when. A vertically biased earthquake could tear away large sections of the foundation. If that happens, Fukushima would look like a walk in the park.”
“Did you calculate the depth?”
“The hypocenter was only twelve kilometers down.” She highlights the locus with a laser pointer. “It didn’t scrub off much energy getting to the surface.”
“How would you grade our future risk?”
“I wouldn’t buy a farm downriver from the dam.”
“What about the people who have?”
“They’ll be in danger if a Richter 7 shakes this area—especially if it has a vertical ratio of seventy percent, lasts ninety seconds, and has a depth of less than sixteen kilometers. You can’t guarantee the dam will survive that strong a jolt.”
“We’ll have a hard time convincing the Chinese.”
His ringtone interrupts their conversation.
“Sorry about that. I thought it was off.”
He identifies the caller and hits the accept button.
“What’s up, Rock?”
“How was your meeting?”
“Still going.”
“Can you finish up Monday?”
Three Gorges Dam Page 24