Beth announced, “I’m talking with Arnold Pulaski, the weekend shift supervisor at McKeachern. He has no idea who the customers are. He called someone from the main office who’s on the way in.”
Pappas’s voice abruptly carried across the room. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it’s Saturday, lady. This is a matter of life and death. We’re trying to find a kidnapped woman, so get off your ass and dig me up a geologist.”
“Dig me up a geologist?” Jack repeated, mouthing the words to him.
Pappas shrugged and continued with his conversation. “No, I’m not being funny. This is on the level. A woman’s about to die, and . . . yeah, I’ll hold.”
He gave Jack a thumbs up. Nearly four excruciating minutes crawled by before someone came back on the line.
Pappas listened for a moment and then said, “Hold on, Dr. Maynard. I’m gonna put you on speaker.” The detective pointed to Jack and nodded.
“Dr. Maynard, this is Jack Kale at the Atlanta crime lab. Are you up to speed on what we’re dealing with?”
“Yes. Something about a kidnapped woman. I’m at home at the moment. How can I help you?”
“I assume you have a computer in your house and a monitor with good quality resolution.”
“Of course.”
“If you’ll give me your e-mail address, I’ll have Ben Furman send you a photo of some evidence we found at the crime scene. I’m hoping you can help identify where it came from.”
“Certainly,” Maynard said. “I’ll do my best.”
Two more minutes passed as they fidgeted and waited for the transmission to complete. Still on the line, Maynard confirmed he’d opened the file and was examining the photo. He asked, “Was there any salinity in the sample?”
“Salinity?” Pappas said.
“Salt.”
“None,” Furman answered. “I noted that in my report.”
“Good,” Maynard said. “That eliminates beach and ocean environments. From the color and coarseness of the sand, I’d say this comes from a river someplace. It’s the bits of shell that are confusing me. I can give Cheryl Angstrom with our zoology department a call and run this by her. If we pin down the type of shell, we can match the precise location.”
“Wonderful,” Jack said. “Please try to get a hold of her.”
As they disconnected, Beth looked at Jack and shook her head as if to say, How do you know this stuff?
He smiled at her, turned to Furman, and asked if he had a map of the state of Georgia and the Southeast. One was found and placed on a whiteboard that took up nearly one whole side of the room. While Jack was in the process of studying it, the phone rang again. Beth Sturgis answered and had a rapid conversation with a harried supervisor from McKeachern Manufacturing.
“No, sir, we don’t need a search warrant for this information. We’re asking for your cooperation to save a young woman’s life.”
She hit the speaker button so they all could hear.
“I’m sympathetic, of course,” the supervisor said. “But I’m afraid it would be against company policy. Here at McKeachern, we value our customers’ privacy and do our best to protect it.”
“Protect this,” Beth said, the color in her face rising. “If that woman dies because you sit on your ass and insist on following company policy, I’ll make sure every freakin’ newspaper, television, and radio station in the country knows you and your company are responsible. You’ll be lucky to find a job shoveling dog shit.”
“I, uh—”
“We’re talking about water pumps and pipes,” Beth snapped, “not goddamn state secrets.”
Pappas, who was standing near Jack, inched a little closer and whispered sotto voce, “Got a full head of steam goin’.”
“Scary,” Jack whispered back.
There was a pause on the phone as the supervisor digested this.
“Well, I suppose, given the emergency, I could make an exception, if you’ll agree not to publically disclose our customers’ names. We don’t wish to appear uncooperative.”
“Agreed,” Beth said. “Thank you very much.”
“Do you have an e-mail address?”
Within thirty seconds, the e-mail arrived. The list contained six names.
“I’ll take the first three,” Beth said. “Dan, you take the second three.”
“Not necessary. It’s this one,” Jack said, pointing to the fifth name.
“How do you know?” Beth asked.
“According to the ‘Sold To’ column, the first four are new pipes purchased by Buckner, Elsworth, and Fannin Counties for different school and park projects. The sixth is replacement piping for the Department of Transportation,” Jack said, reading the invoice. “None of these have anything even remotely connected to a river or a lake. The fifth does.”
“That leaves the Army Corps of Engineers,” Beth said.
Jack asked, “Is your man still on the line?”
“Sir, are you still there?” Beth said to the speakerphone.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ask him what a Model 250FCG is,” Jack said.
“I heard the gentleman,” the supervisor said. “Tell him it’s a flood control gate. The Corps of Engineers bought it to replace an older model about three years ago.”
“How big is it?” Jack asked.
“Huge. They use it to adjust a river’s water level.”
“Adjust the water level,” Jack reiterated half to himself. He was staring at the state map on the opposite side of the room.
Why change how much water is flowing? Navigation was possible, but that didn’t apply to the Chattahoochee River. It wasn’t a navigable river. That leaves industry. Better still, it fit.
“Buford Dam!” Jack said. “It releases water from Lake Lanier.”
“So what?” Furman said.
Jack crossed the room to the map and used his finger to trace the course of the Chattahoochee River. It followed the state line between Georgia and Alabama, eventually emptying into the gulf.
“The mussel beds,” Jack said. “They’re a large industry in Alabama. That’s what those bits and pieces of shell are, mussel shells. Our killer left a puzzle for us to solve. If Sandra Goldner’s alive, that’s where we’ll find her.” He turned to Ben Furman. “Ben, get on the horn with the Army and find out where the control gate is located at the dam.”
Beth and Pappas were already in motion, heading for the door. Jack started to follow when Wiggins’s voice stopped him.
“Where are you going, Professor?”
“With them. I may be able to help—”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’re a civilian.” He turned to Pappas and said, “Go.”
“But—”
“Go,” Wiggins repeated. “I’m sorry, Dr. Kale. We need to finish our talk.”
Beth and Pappas threw apologetic looks at Jack and disappeared through the crime lab door.
Chapter 19
Jack watched them leave. When he turned back, his eye fell on the poster again. “Protect and Serve,” he whispered to himself. Captain Kostner put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Jack. Burt’s right. If we let you go and you get hurt or that girl gets hurt, the city’s ass would be in a sling. There’s no choice.”
“Actually, there is,” Burt Wiggins said. “That’s why we’re here. Both the deputy chief and Public Safety Director Cartwright would like you to consult on the case with us. We’re prepared to pay you four hundred dollars a day, plus expenses.”
“A consultant,” Jack said.
“Exactly.”
“It won’t cure the problem. I’d still be a civilian.” Jack turned to Kostner. “You can’t run this investigation from behind a desk, Art. You know that.”
“I do,” the captain said. “You’d be assigned to Robbery-Homicide with a temporary rank of detective lieutenant. That way it’s all nice and legal.”
Furman interrupted their conversation to say, “I’ve got Lieutenant Sh
affer with the Corps of Engineers on the phone.”
Jack motioned for Furman to put the call on speaker.
“This is Jack Kale, Lieutenant. I’m, ah . . . consulting with the Atlanta Police Department. Has Ben told you what’s going on?”
“He has.”
“Three years ago, the Corps bought a hydraulic control system from McKeachern Manufacturing in Cleveland.”
“Before my time,” Shaffer said. “But it sounds right. We’ve been replacing the old units on dams throughout the Southeast.”
“Would Buford Dam and Lake Lanier be on that list?”
“Those records are kept in South Carolina, Mr. Kale. I can check for you.”
“That’s not important right now. Am I correct in assuming the unit controls water flowing out of Lake Lanier for users downstream?”
“You are.”
“As far as the mussel beds in Mobile, Alabama?”
“That’s where the river empties.”
“Can you describe what your system looks like?”
“Basically, it consists of two portal doors and a motorized assembly to move them. They’re quite large, as you can imagine. Once they’re opened, water enters the spillway—”
“At the base of the dam?”
“Right. The water flows along the spillway and into the Chattahoochee River via a culvert.”
Jack asked, “Do you plan any releases over the next few days?”
“Just a moment.”
He waited while Shaffer flipped through some papers in the background.
“As a matter of fact, we have a twenty-six-minute pour scheduled for one o’clock today.”
“I need you to stop it,” Jack said. It was 12:18.
“That would be a little hard,” Shaffer said. “The entire operation’s governed by computer. Water levels are constantly monitored. If we have a weather event, such as too much rainfall, two engineers are dispatched to confirm it and override the system. My nearest crew’s three hours away.”
Jack fought down a rising sense of urgency and forced himself to speak calmly. “Pull the plug. There has to be an emergency cutoff switch.”
“We have safeguards, of course,” Shaffer said, “but they’re operated locally. If you’re suggesting someone has tampered with—”
“I’m saying there’s a good chance a woman is about to die if that flood gate opens. You’ve got to stop it.”
“Mr. Kale, I understand your concern, but I can’t change the laws of physics. I assure you the facility’s secure. A person can’t just waltz in there.”
“I don’t know what kind of security you have,” Jack said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Two detectives are en route right now. I need to know exactly where that control gate is and how they get to it.”
There was a pause on the phone as the lieutenant considered his options. “Let me see if I can get hold of Colonel Zucker. I’m gonna need his authorization.”
It was at that point that Captain Kostner got on the phone and identified himself. “Lieutenant, I appreciate the position you’re in. But you just heard Dr. Kale tell you we’ll have two people on site in about thirty minutes. That means that three lives are now at risk. We don’t have time to go up the chain of command. This one’s on you, son. We need that info ten minutes ago.”
“Shit,” Shaffer said. There was another pause. “I’m scrambling our Emergency Response Team. This is what your officers need to look for.”
*
12:44
Sandra Goldner couldn’t shout anymore. Her voice was gone. Her lips were cracked and dry. She’d lost all feeling in her hands and arms. She thought about the two little finches she owned. They needed food and fresh water. So did she.
To distract herself, Sandra tried thinking about the upcoming bank audit next week and what she needed to do to get ready for it. But no matter how hard she concentrated, her mind always came back to the terrible room. No one had come.
Earlier, exhausted and weak, she’d fallen into a fitful sleep. The short rest was welcome, but even that didn’t last as a series of noises pulled her awake. At first it sounded like someone was moving heavy deadbolts. Then it happened again—metal sliding against metal. Finally, a heavy thunk came from the door in front of her. She knew it. They were coming. Maybe she’d get her finches that new bird cage she’d been looking at in Petco.
Seconds after the last thunk had died away, it was replaced by another sound. At first Sandra couldn’t identify the source. It seemed to be coming from all around her. Then the enormous door in front of her began to move. Little by little, it slid along a track until it disappeared into a wall.
Sandra squinted against the bright sunlight pouring into the room. As her eyes adjusted, she found herself looking at an odd cement street with high slanted walls on both sides. It reminded her of the bayous in Houston her sister had pointed out when she visited.
What in God’s name is this place?
She glanced behind her at the other door. It was still locked in place. More creaks and groans reached her ears as if something was pressing on it. For the first time she noticed water trickling in from beneath the door.
Chapter 20
12:55
Beth’s cruiser fishtailed as she shot around a corner and onto the gravel access road that led to Buford Dam. Beth tore up the highway doing more than a hundred miles an hour, horn blasting and weaving in and out of traffic like a madwoman. Every few seconds her eyes flicked to the dashboard clock.
Please, God, let us be in time. She wanted to scream at the clock to tell it to stop. Just a couple minutes more. That’s all we need.
Pappas eyed the speedometer and gripped the hand rest a little tighter. He’d been speaking with Jack on his cell phone.
“You still there?” Jack asked.
“Yeah,” Pappas said. “Danica Patrick here just took a turn at a hundred and eighty. The dam’s right in front of us. How do we find her?”
“There’ll be a security gate in about a half mile. It’s nothing more than a chain link fence, but it’s locked. Beyond that, the road continues to the top of the dam and then across to the opposite side.”
“I see it,” Beth said.
“Holy shit,” Pappas said.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“The gate ain’t locked anymore,” Pappas told him. “What happens when we reach the top?”
“Look for a staircase where the road meets the dam. You should see it at the extreme right corner. That leads down to the spill control gates and the culvert.”
“Gotcha,” Pappas said. “We’re almost there.”
“The spill control is nothing more than a couple of big doors at the bottom.”
“Okay,” Pappas said. “We’re out of the car. I see the staircase. Starting down now. Christ, this dam is huge.”
“Listen close, Dan. You’ve got about two minutes before the water’s released. The whole thing’s controlled by a computer. Before that happens, a siren’ll sound three blasts. There’ll be a thirty-second gap before the final siren starts. You’ll recognize it by the one-second intervals. If that happens, get your asses out of there.”
“Got it.”
*
12:58
Beth sprinted ahead of the big detective, who was talking on the phone as he ran. Drawing her gun, she started down the metal stairs. Far below her, the cement spillway stretched stark and white against the landscape. Beyond that in the distance, the Chattahoochee River flowed through the green countryside. Halfway down the stairs, the sound of three siren blasts split the air. Pappas came close behind her, breathing heavily.
“That’s the one-minute warning,” he said. “After that, some gate opens and water comes pouring out, and it’s gonna be coming hard. Jack says we don’t enter the gate system or the culvert once the final siren starts.”
Beth nodded and started forward once more. At the bottom of the stairs, she came to a second chain link fence with an access door secured by a s
izable padlock. Leveling her gun, she fired two shots into it, blowing the lock apart, then kicked the door open. Jack’ll have a fit, she thought. After another step, she froze.
“Listen!” Beth shouted.
A banging sound was coming from inside the room behind the spillway door.
“Sandra! Sandra Goldner, are you there?” Beth yelled. “This is the police. We’re coming to get you out.”
More banging.
“Hang on, lady,” Pappas yelled. “We’ll be—”
The rest of the detective’s words were lost as the last siren went off. Above the gaping doorway, a red light began to flash. With a vast roar, water came rushing out of the opening. Pappas grabbed for Beth.
“No!” she screamed.
Pappas tightened his grip as she fought to break free. In seconds, water pouring from Lake Lanier flooded the culvert, moving higher and higher at an incredible speed toward a pipe at the opposite end. The two detectives stood there watching helplessly. Pappas finally released her, sick to his stomach. Twenty-six minutes later, the red light stopped flashing and the siren ceased its relentless blasts. The only sound now came from the wind and water moving beneath them.
Chapter 21
Jack Kale realized he was holding his breath. He slowly let it out. He’d been gripping the phone so tightly, his hand hurt. When the siren finally went off, no one in the room spoke. Burt Wiggins slumped into a chair, shaking his head. Jack felt like all the energy had been drained from his body.
Captain Kostner was the first to recover and took the phone from him. “Dan, you still there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Pappas said. “Still here.”
“Any chance Ms. Goldner—”
“None. I saw her when the door opened. Bastard had her chained to a pipe.”
“What about Detective Sturgis?”
“She’s fine.”
“I’ll call the ME and get him rolling,” Kostner said. “Will you need forensics?”
“There won’t be anything left,” Pappas informed him. “That water came out of that hole like a freakin’ rocket.”
Kostner’s face lost a good deal of its color. He turned to Jack. “You agree?”
Once Shadows Fall Page 8
