Overload (89 page)

fast decision, yet taking time to think deliberately, carefully,

assessing possibilities.

Somewhere underneath where he was standing, Archambault was swimming,

undoubtedly with a bomb or bombs. Where would he direct the bombing?

There were two possible targets. One was the pumps, another the

condensers further into the plant.

Blowing up the pumps would be damaging enough; it could put all of La

Mission's generators out of use for months. But a bomb in the condensers

would be far, far worse. Rebuilding them might take a year.

Bob Ostrander knew about explosives. He had studied them at engineering

school and since. A five-pound dynamite bomb, no larger than a loaf of

bread, could pass through the pumps and enter the condensers. Perhaps

Archambault had released such a bomb, or was about to. All that he needed

to do was set the timing mechanism and drop it: it would find its way

through the pumps to the condensers.

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The condensers had to be protected. To do so meant shutting down the entire

plant. Now.

There was a wall telephone in the pump house. Bob Ostrander went to it and

dialed ii for the main control room.

A ringing tone and a click. "Chief operator."

"This is Ostrander. I want you to hit the trips on all units and stop the

circulating water."

Reaction was instant as the operator protested, "You'll blow the rupture

discs. Besides, we should warn Energy Control . . ."

"Goddammit! Don't give me an argument!" Ostrander gripped the phone and

shouted, knowing at any moment an explosion might rip apart the pump house

or the condensers. "I know what I'm doing. Hit those tripsi Hit them now!"

Georgos knew nothing of what was going on above him. He only knew, as the

wire mesh cylinder continued to revolve, that his escape route was cut off.

Not that he had really expected to escape; he had known from the beginning

of this mission that his likelihood of surviving it was slight. But he

didn't want to die in here. Not this way. Trapped . . .

He thought, with mounting panic: Maybe the mesh cylinder would stop. Then

he could cut two more holes. He turned sharply to inspect it.

At that same instant while turning, his wire cutters, fastened to his wrist

by the looped cord, broke loose. The knot had opened . . .

The cutters were yellow, intended for easy visibility. He could see them

falling . . .

Instinctively, Georgos rolled over, kicked bard and dived, following the

glimpse of yellow. His band was outstretched. He almost had them.

Then he felt a sudden rush of water and realized he had gone too deep and

was being sucked into a pump. He attempted to turn back. Too latel The

water engulfed and held him.

He let his mouthpiece and air tube go and tried to scream. Water filled his

lungs. Then the pump impeller blades, seven feet across, seized him and

chopped him into little pieces.

The air tank was chopped up too; the bombs, unfused and harmless, passed

through the pumps.

Only seconds later, all pumps slowed and stopped.

In the main control room, the chief operator, who bad just punched four red

trip buttons one after the other on separate consoles, was glad the

responsibility wasn't his. Young Ostrander had better have a damn good

explanation for taking La Mission 1, 2, 3 and 4-Producing three

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million two hundred thousand kilowatts-off the line without warning. To say

nothing of blowing all the turbine rupture discs, which would take eight

hours to repair.

As he logged the time-3:02 P.m.-the direct line phone from Energy Control

Center began ringing. When the chief operator picked it up, a voice

demanded, "What the hell's going on? You've put the system into blackout."

Bob Ostrander bad no doubt that his decision to shut down all generators

had been the right one. He foresaw no problem in defending it.

Blowing the turbine rupture discs-a safety feature anyway-was a small price

to pay for saving the condensers.

Immediately after giving the shutdown order, Ostrander and the watch

foreman had inspected the condensers, leaving the pump house to do so.

Almost at once they saw a series of metal objects-the cylindrical bombs.

Not knowing if they were dangerous or barmless, the two men gathered them

up and ran to the river, where they flung them in.

Now, having returned to the condensers, and taking a second look around,

Ostrander had time to reflect that nothing yet had happened in the pump

house. Presumably Archambault was still down there and capable of doing

damage, though it was possible the revolving wire mesh cylinder bad

diverted him. Ostrander decided: he would get back to the pump house and

figure what should be done next.

About to leave, he noticed some small pieces of debris which appeared to

have come through the pumps and had collected on a condenser. He was

looking at one of the pieces and reached out to pick it up, then stopped.

Bob Ostrander swallowed and felt sick. It was a human hand, peculiarly

stained.

18

Goodness!-bow quickly the time bad gone. Karen was shocked to realize it was

well past 2 P.m.

It scarcely seemed any time at all since she had promised Nimrod she would

go to Redwood Grove Hospital, yet several hours bad gone by. Of course, the

shopping bad taken longer than expected-didn't it always?-but she had

bought a pretty dress at a bargain price, a pair of shoes, various items of

stationery she needed, and a necklace of crystal

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beads which caught her eye. Ile necklace, which fortunately was inex-

pensive, would be just right for her sister; she would give it to Cynthia

on her birtliday, which was coming soon. Then Josic had a list of drug-

store items they needed and that consumed still more time. But it had all

been successful and Karen really enjoyed the shopping, which they did in

a big, colorful mall only two blocks from the apartment building. Another

good feature of the shopping mall was that Karen could go there directly

in her wheelchair, controlling it herself, which she preferred to do.

One thing they did not need to do today was buy food because Karen would

be at Redwood Grove during the electric power cuts. It looked as if these

were going to be frequent until the OPEC oil mess was cleared up, which

she hoped to goodness would be soon.

She hadn't let herself think too much about all that time she would have

to spend at the hospital, but knew she would miss greatly being at home

in her apartment. Ile hospital was reassuring, especially now, with its

reliable supply of electricity. just the same, it was an institution,

fairly spartan, and as for the food tbere-yechl

Tle hospital food was another reason they were running late.

Josie had suggested, and Karen agreed, that it would be more pleasant if

they bad lunch at the apartment before leaving and, in any case, lunch

at Redwood Grove would probably be over by the time they got there. So,

when they came back from shopping, Josie prepared a mcal for them both

while Karen continued writing a new poem she intended to send to Nimrod.

Now, with lunch over, Josic was busy putting into a suitcase the things

Karen would need at the hospital.

With a sudden surge of affection, Karen said, "Josie, what a dear, dear

person you are! You do so much, never complain, and give me far more than

I can ever give to you."

"You give me enough, just being with you," Josie said, without looking

up as she continued to pack the suitcase. Karen knew that open displays

of affection embarrassed her housekeeper-aide, but would not be put off.

"Josie, stop that and come here. I want to kiss you."

With a shy smile, Josie came.

"Put your arms around me," Karen told her. When she did, Karen kissed her

and said, "Darling Josie, I love you very much "

"And I love you," Josie said, then broke loose and went back to her

packing.

As she finished, she announced, "We're all set. I'll go down now and

bring Humperdinck around. Will you be okay if I leave you?"

"Of course. While you're gone I'll make a phone call."

Josie put the telephone headband onto Karen. Then a minute or two later,

as Josie left, Karen heard the apartment door close,

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Karen touched the telephone microswitch with her head. In her earpiece

she heard a ringing tone, followed by a voice. "Operator. May I help

you?"

"I have manual service, Operator. Will you dial for me, please?" Karen

gave the number of her telephone, then the number she was calling-ber

parents' house.

"One moment." There was a series of clicks, then a ringing tone. Karen

waited for the call to be answered-as it usually was on the second or

third ring-but to her surprise the ringing continued. Karen had talked

with her mother early this morning and knew that Henrietta Sloan was

feeling unwell and did not intend to go to work today, nor did she plan

to go out.

Karen thought: the operator had probably dialed a wrong number.

She broke the connection by moving her head against the microswitch and

tried again. Again a continuous ring. Again no answer.

Karen tried another number-Cyntbia's. Again, a continuous ringing tone,

but no reply.

Unusually, Karen felt a vague unease. She was rarely alone in the

apartment ~nd, on the few occasions when she was, liked to be in toucb.

with someone by telephone.

When she had told josic she could go, she did so without thinking about

it. Now she wished she hadn't.

At that precise moment several lights in the apartment went out, the

window air-conditioner stopped, and Karen felt a slight break in rbythm

as her respirator switched over from the building's supply to battery.

With a start, Karen remembered something which both she and josie had

overlooked. The battery on the wheelchair, which had been drawn on

considerably during her shopping )aunt, ought to have been replaced

immediately after she came in. Instead, josie had plugged in the chair

to the building supply and switched the chair battery to "charge."

However, the battery would need at least six hours of charging to recoup

what it had lost this morning; it had had barely one, and now, with

external power off, the charging would have stopped.

There was a spare, fully charged battery to the right of Karen's chair,

ready to be installed before leaving for the hospital. Karen could see

it. But there was no way she could connect it herself.

She hoped the power would come back on in a few minutes. And, more than

ever, she hoped josie would return quickly.

Karen decided to telephone Nimrod. It seemed likely that the nonscheduled

power cut he bad said was "possible" and "a long shot" had actually

happened.

But when she pressed the phone microswitch with her bead, all she got was

a recorded announcement. "All circuits are busy. Please hang up and place

your call later."

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She tried again. "This is a recorded .