Chapter Thirty-Three

The telephone rang, jarring Frank Holmes out of his sleep. Yes, he said in a calm voice as his eyes read the green numbers on his alarm clock. It was 11.35.

From his left, Frank's wife pulled the duvet over her head.

"We have a problem," said the man on the line."

"How bad is it, Terry?"

"The spillway is falling apart."

"That's impossible. It's three-feet thick concrete slabs."

"Boss, the impossible is happening. Harry and I watched one of those slabs lift in the air and wash away as if it were a sheet of cardboard. If any more go, this dam is compromised."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. In the meantime, close the spillway."

"Boss, this weather pattern has been around for almost a week, and it's still raining. If I close the spillway, the water level will rise fast until it tops the main dam."

"Do it. I'll decide the best course of action when I arrive."

***

It was almost midnight when Frank, followed by Terry, made their way across wet, rough ground. Ten minutes later, they reached the spillway.

"What are we looking for," asked Terry.

"Depends," Frank shone his torch on the damaged area. "Jesus Christ. "That's out of use forever. Those slabs are supposed to be on solid rock, but whoever built it placed them on clay," he muttered as his beam of light shifted from one destroyed place to another.

"I'm sure the construction was correct at the time. This dam is over a hundred years old," said Terry. "What now?"

"We check the water level in the reservoir."

"I can tell you it's risen half a metre since we shut off the spillway," said Terry.

Frank wiped the rain from his face. "You're joking."

"Do you see me smiling, boss? We have one hell of a problem on our hands."

"If the water starts to wash over, it could wash away the downstream side of the dam and cause it to collapse. What we need is time, or we will have to open the spillway and pray. You don't have to tell me," said Frank.

With a shake of the head, Frank said, "Follow me." With care, he clambered to the walkway on the top of the dam and peered at the water level.

"It's up a metre," said Terry. "At this rate, it will be over the top in an hour or so, and it's still pissing down."

"Let's get in out of this weather," said Frank.

Two minutes later, both men entered the control room. "Don't remove your waterproofs. If my memory works, there's an answer to our problem. Harry fetch me the construction plans."

Twenty minutes later, Harry returned with rolls of plans in his arms. "Bloody typical, these were in the bottom drawer, and of course, I checked that last."

"Doesn't matter," said Frank. "Look for detailed plans of the dam foundations."

"What are we looking for?" asked Terry.

"A manual drain system. Built before the new spillway, engineers would drain a reservoir to clean the bottom. As you know, today we vacuum the crap out."

"That's news to me," said Harry, "and I've been the attendant here for ten years."

One by one, the brown-coloured plans dropped to the floor. "Is this what we're looking for?" said Terry.

Frank grabbed the large roll of thin paper. "Bingo. "Look at this." He placed his finger on the dotted line of the drain. Direct line to the harbour and into the sea."

Terry and Harry shrugged as they glanced at each other.

"All well and good, but where are the controls?" asked Harry.

"There aren't any. You open the sluice valves by hand," said Frank as he scanned more of the faded sheets. "Here we are. There's a hatch that leads from the control room."

"No, there isn't," said Terry. "Look around. Do you see anything that looks like a hatch?"

Frank stared at the wooden floorboards. "When did they lay this floor?"

"No idea," said Terry. "As far as I can remember, it's always been like this."

Frank stopped studying the plan in front of him. "This shows a hatch in the centre of the room. Have we any tools in the store to lift these boards?"

"I'll go and see," said Terry.

Frank watched him leave and began stamping on the boards. "There something here. It sounds hollow."

Terry returned with two crowbars. "These should do the job."

Harry grabbed one and drove the pointed end into a board, splitting the wood.

Terry forced his bar into the crack and heaved, lifting the board until it broke. The three men peered at a steel hatch.

In two minutes, enough planks littered the control room for them to prise open the hatch cover.

"It's a long way to the bottom," said Terry as he stared into the dark void.

"Have we any wheel spanners," asked Frank.

"There's a couple of dozen in the store. Never used them since we automated everything," said Terry.

"I have a feeling we'll need them. Go, get. Give me a torch." Frank directed the beam into the trunk, placed both feet on the ladder's rusty first rung, and started his descent.

Harry disappeared while Terry watched Frank.

"Here grab this," said Harry, "And don't drop it on Frank."

Terry smiled. "If I did, I wouldn't get my bonus this year."

Harry grimaced. "Very droll. Get going, and I'll follow with another torch."

The two men found Frank in a square-shaped concrete screeded room, attempting to open a steel door. "It's rusted solid."

"Brute force and ignorance works," said Terry as he used his wheel spanner to batter the two hinges.

Rust flakes covered the floor.

Harry grabbed the handle while Terry hammered.

With a groan, the hinges surrendered, and it moved. Terry and Harry joined forces, and the door opened.

Frank shone his torch into the space. "There you are, four sluice valves."

"They are huge," said Terry. "I wonder who was the last person who operated them?"

Harry smiled. "Whoever it was lathered the spindles with grease. Pity, it's now solid."

"At least it's not rust. Give me a spanner." Locating the hooked spanner onto the valve wheel, Frank heaved.

Terry copied him and added his muscle to the task.

"It's moving."

Fifteen minutes of effort opened the sluice valve.

"We've wasted our time," said Frank.

"I suggest we open all four. You never know one might be ok."

Frank glanced at the time. "Harry, go and open the spillway. If one of these valves work, we can always close it again."

They waited for Harry to leave and then started on the next valve. Again, it took time to open.

"My best guess is the inlets are full of silt," said Frank.

"We can't give up now. Two more."

"What have we got to lose?" said Frank.

Sweat soaked their shirts as they opened the third and started on the fourth valve.

Finished, they stood and listened. Nothing disturbed the silence.

"Well, at least we tried. Better go up and check the spillway. I imagine a few more slabs will have lifted, and it's in pretty bad shape."

"It should never have happened. Maintenance of those valves would have solved the problem. Now those who don't know a sluice valve from a screw-down glockenspiel will be asking the wrong questions at the court of enquiry," said Frank.

"It's not your fault, boss."

"I'm the regional engineer. Who else will they blame?"

Terry grabbed a valve wheel. "What the fuck is that?"

The floor shook, and the door rattled on its hinges.

Frank laughed. "It's water and a ton of rubbish racing into the drain. We did it. Now, let's go and check if the water level is rising or falling."

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