Matt was downing his third cup of coffee when he hung up the phone with Walt Jackson. Nick was barely keeping his eyes open, so Matt told him to take a ten minute cat nap on the couch. He’d let Nick go twenty since he was snoring in less than two minutes. Now, he went over and gave him a gentle kick.
Nick woke startled. His head jerked up, immediately grabbed his shoulder and winced from the unexpected jolt.
“Sorry,” Matt said. “We have less than an hour.”
Nick got up and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Matt heard the water running. A minute later, Nick returned with his hair sopping wet while rubbing it with a cloth towel.
“Where were we?” Nick asked with a yawn.
Matt was already on a knee organizing his duffle bag with the gear he needed. “I just got off the phone with Walt,” Matt said. “One of Ken’s goons just did a number on Semir and got him to admit their plan involved a giant flood.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Matt got up and pretended he was about to slap Nick’s face. “Wake up. I just got off the phone with Walt ten seconds before I kicked you. There’s a helicopter waiting for us at the hospital to take us to Hoover Dam. We can still make it before Merrick’s speech.”
Nick threw his towel onto the couch, grabbed his cell phone from his desk and said, “Let’s go.”
As they made it out the front door, a Salt River Project truck was idling next to the sheriff’s car, side-by-side, the driver’s side doors lining up. The SRP worker was leaning out his window and talking to Stevie Gilpin who was already behind the driver’s seat of the sheriff’s car with a giant box next to him in the passenger seat.
Matt opened the back door to the sheriff’s car for Nick to get in.
Nick went up to the SRP driver and said over the noise of the loud diesel engine, “You’re a little late for the party. We’ve already got things figured out. There may be a terrorist trying to bomb Hoover Dam. You might want to warn any employees up there to stay above the water line.”
The man said nothing. He did nothing. He simply rubbed his bald head and stared, like he was in deep thought.
Nick was almost in the car when he turned back and saw the man remaining still.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Nick asked.
The man shut off his engine and the world became quiet.
“Are you telling me there’s a nuclear weapon near Hoover Dam?” the man said.
“No, it’s not nuclear.”
The man nodded, but stayed completely unfazed.
“What’s wrong?” Nick said.
“I’m the head engineer at SRP. And pardon my frankness, Sheriff, but I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
That’s when Nick’s expression changed, like a hunting dog with his ears perked up. Matt had only seen the expression a couple of times in his career. He’d never questioned its genesis, but he knew enough to let it play out. He slammed the back door shut and joined Nick between the two vehicles.
Nick cocked his head. “What do you know about Hoover Dam?”
“A lot,” the man said. “I know more about Arizona’s dams than anyone in the country.”
“Nick, we’ve got to go,” Stevie said, urgently.
Nick waved him off. “Go ahead and go,” he said. “I’m staying here.”
Stevie looked at Matt and saw him nod his approval.
“All right, guys,” Stevie said. “I’ll keep you posted.”
The car spit up gravel as it took off for the hospital.
The man got out of his car and shook hands with both agents. He was trim and clean-cut, with jeans and blue collared shirt. “Chase Benton,” he said.
“Nick Bracco.”
“Matt McColm.”
“Now,” Nick said, “tell me why I don’t know what I’m talking about when I say Hoover Dam is about to be bombed.”
“Well, it’s just that Hoover Dam is over six-hundred feet thick. Made of the most durable concrete ever produced. What type of material do you suspect this terrorist is using?”
“Semtex.”
Benton shook his head. “There isn’t enough Semtex in the world capable of taking down Hoover Dam.”
“How can you be so sure?” Matt asked.
“Because,” Benton smiled broadly, “I did a thesis on the possibility of such an attack in grad school. It was right after September 11th and the next terrorist target was on everyone’s mind back then. My theory concluded that nothing less than a nuclear weapon could cause it to crack.”
The man’s demeanor oozed experience. He spoke as if he were a professor addressing his students.
Matt felt a sense of anticipation building. He looked down at his cell phone. There was less than thirty minutes before the President’s speech and Barzani’s direct response.
Nick took the lead. “We found samples in the shoes of some of these terrorists which were compatible with water found around dammed water. Chlorine and a certain type of moisture which gave us the conclusion it was Hoover Dam.”
Benton nodded. “That sounds plausible, but you may have the wrong dam.”
“Here’s the thing,” Matt said. “We know this terrorist very well. Temir Barzani. He’s not exactly going to bring down a dam just to cause long term hardship on a community or even a state. Now, we did some research on this, and Hoover Dam would cause more destruction and loss of life than any other target. It’s not even close.”
Benton rubbed the back of his neck and looked up into the twilight. The sun was going down, both literally and figuratively.
“Let me ask you a question,” Benton said. “Did you find any traces of copper in those shoe samples?”
Nick and Matt both looked at each other with wide eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Benton said.
“We didn’t know what it meant,” Nick said. “You do?”
The engineer grinned. “I have an idea. There’s an active copper mine about forty miles from here and the water runoff tracks right by Roosevelt Dam. If someone were to walk anywhere near there, they would certainly pickup copper on their shoes.”
Matt nodded. “But we looked at that and Roosevelt Dam didn’t carry enough water to do enough damage.”
“Yes, but what you didn’t look at was what’s below the dam. If that dam were to be compromised, it would create an overflow of water too great for the next dam in Apache Lake to hold, so that dam would also be compromised and so on. Like dominos they would go down one by one.”
“And?” Nick asked.
“And a cascade of water would rush down the Salt River with the force of a giant tsunami.” Benton looked at both of the agents. “Are either of you familiar with Phoenix and its topography?”
Matt looked at Nick who gave him a sheepish shrug.
“Well, it’s called the Valley of the Sun for a reason. It’s a valley. We’ve done studies on this exact scenario. If Roosevelt Dam were ever ruptured, within four hours Phoenix would be under sixteen feet of water. We’ve estimated the loss of life to exceed three hundred thousand people. And that was a couple of years back when the population wasn’t as large.”
Nick looked at Matt. “Do we have anyone down there?”
“We sent everyone up north.”
“Shit,” Nick muttered. He pulled the hair on the back of his head. “We’re screwed. We’ll never get there in time.”
“What if we get the helicopter to bring down some agents from up north?” Matt asked.
“What’s the problem?” Benton asked.
Matt glanced at his cell phone. “The problem is we’re on a time crunch. When the President announces he has no intention of removing troops from Kurdistan, our terrorist friend is going to detonate a bomb somewhere in the state. If it’s Roosevelt Dam, that’s almost an hour’s drive. Nick’s right. We’re screwed.”
“What time is the speech?” Benton asked.
“Less than twenty-five minutes,” Matt said.
“Well,” Benton said, pointing to the woods behind the office. “I know a back road which could get us to the dam in less than twenty minutes from this very spot.”
Nick ran into the office without saying a word, then came out a moment later holding up a set of keys and pointing to a dark green sheriff SUV.
“We’re taking the beast.” Nick handed the keys to Benton and said, “They’ll be no speeding tickets today, so get us there as fast as possible.”
President Merrick sat in a barber’s chair with a cloth sheet tucked into his collar to protect his suit jacket. He stared into a large mirror while his makeup artist, Camille, dabbed his face with cotton balls. The room was empty but for Camille and Samuel Fisk. It was a small side room, well lit and just steps away from the podium where he was about to address the American people. Fisk sat cross-legged in a barber’s chair next to him.
“Eight minutes,” Fisk said.
“Any news?” Merrick asked for the third time already.
Fisk sighed. He looked down at his phone and scrolled his thumb across the screen. “Yes,” Fisk said, staring at his phone. “Good news. Barzani decided to give himself up. It seems he’s afraid Santa won’t give him any presents this year.” Fisk looked up at Merrick. “Well, that’s a good break, huh?”
Merrick made eye contact with Camille through the mirror. “See what I have to deal with all day?”
Camille smiled and kept busy wiping gauze across Merrick’s forehead to even out the powder. “Yes, Mr. President.”
Merrick ran situations through his mind like a chess player considering his next twelve moves and his opponent’s reaction.
“Hey, Sam,” Merrick said. “What if I announce a troop withdrawal from Turkey, but never actually act on it? I could buy Nick another twenty-four, maybe forty-eight hours.”
Sam’s face went sour with disgust. “The next time you begin a sentence with, ‘What if,’ I’m moving to Moscow.”
“I’m just suggesting alternatives to our dilemma. There’s no reason to get condescending with me.”
“Yes there is. You’re quite eager to sell your integrity. I thought that was the one thing you’d always leave intact no matter how broken our system had become.”
“Yes, but is that any different than saying I won’t cut taxes, then cutting taxes once the budget is presented?”
“No, that’s why you haven’t done that either.”
Merrick tugged on his cloth sheet and ripped it from his collar. He quickly stood up, leaving Camille with a handful of brown cotton and a shocked expression.
“Listen,” Merrick said, coming around his chair now and facing Fisk head on. “I’m looking at this thing from every angle, okay? Occasionally I need to verbalize it and hear the words coming from my mouth before I decide what action to take. And when I do that, sometimes I just need you to listen.”
Fisk sat perfectly still with no expression.
“Can you do that for me, Sam?”
Fisk said nothing.
Merrick turned to look in the mirror and twisted his head from side to side. “I think we’re done here,” he said.
No one spoke as he headed out the door.
They were rushing down the dirt road way too fast. Benton seemed to know the way and several times made quick, hairpin turns to avoid smacking into trees. The SUV bounced and skidded while branches kept slapping the windshield so hard, Matt actually flinched a couple of times from the passenger seat. Nick was on the phone in the back seat, trying to find the closest available backup.
When Nick got off his cell, Matt looked over his shoulder at him. “How long?”
“Thirty minutes is the best they can do.”
“We’re only five minutes from the east entrance,” Benton said, keeping his eyes peeled to the narrow strip of dirt, while yanking the steering wheel back and forth.
Matt turned on the radio and found the all-news channel. They were discussing the President’s speech, making wild assumptions which were sure to boost the ratings. The announcer gave vivid descriptions of who was in attendance and estimated the President’s arrival to be less than three minutes.
“All right,” Matt said to Benton. “Tell us everything you know about this dam and where we might be able to spot Barzani.”
“Well,” Benton said, his eyes shifting ahead of him, “it was finished in 1911 and in 1996 we raised its height by seventy feet. In order to add to the original construction, a series of tunnels were built to give the workers access to the interior of the original design.”
At the word ‘tunnels’ both Matt and Nick perked up.
“Those tunnels are still intact,” Benson continued. “The main opening begins behind a maintenance door tucked behind a cascade of oleanders. You’d have to be pretty well-informed to even know about the tunnels or their entrance. But if you knew what you were doing, there are a couple of spots where the old and the new parts of the dam converge … and …” Benton glanced over at Matt seemingly measuring whether Roosevelt Dam might truly be in danger of a terrorist attack.
“Go ahead.” Matt nodded, not wanting the engineer to lose his train of thought by bogging him down with a heavy dose of Barzani’s skills with explosives.
“Well, if someone knew what they were doing, that’s where the dam would be the most vulnerable.”
“Okay,” Matt said, “you take us straight there.”
“That’ll be easy. This road ends directly in front of those oleanders.” Benton fished out a set of keys from his pocket while handling the steering wheel with one hand. He handed the keys to Matt, holding one key in particular between his thumb and index finger. “Here’s the key to get in that maintenance door. Take the tunnel straight for about fifty feet, then veer left when you come to a fork.”
Matt took the keys. He looked back at Nick and saw him texting on his phone.
“Anything?” Matt asked.
Nick shrugged.
While looking back, Matt spotted something out the back window which caused him to glower. In the distance, a tiny puff of dirt seemed to drift up between the trees behind them. The wisp of dirt seemed to move with a consistent motion. It only took a few moments for Matt to realize what was happening.
“We have company,” Matt said, nodding out the back window.
Nick struggled to turn freely with his shoulder wrapped. “Shit,” he said.
The cloud of dirt came from a set of tires charging up the road behind them. The vehicle was probably less than a half a mile away. Maybe forty seconds on the winding path they were traveling on.
“Could it be one of ours?” Matt asked.
“No,” Nick said. “The helicopter was going to be the quickest to arrive.”
Benton glanced at his rear view mirror. “It could be hunters,” he said. “They’re about the only ones who use this road anymore.”
Matt and Nick both knew it wasn’t any hunter. They also knew it wasn’t Barzani either. The terrorist was ahead waiting for them. So that left one obvious answer to the question.
“Here’s what we do,” Matt said, unfastening his seat belt and pulling the Glock from his holster. “Slow down enough for me to jump out into the trees and I’ll take care of this.”
“No,” Nick said. “Too dangerous. He’s a pro.”
“Who’s a pro?” Benton asked.
“How close are we?” Matt asked.
“It’s just around this next turn, maybe a hundred yards,” Benton said. “Who’s a pro?” he repeated.
Those were the last words spoken before the explosion lifted the speeding SUV and drove them into the trees. The velocity of the vehicle and the power of the bomb combined to lift the car into a rolling mass of dead weight. Like a meteor breaking through the atmosphere, momentum and gravity both conspired to stop its flight with a deafening collision.