The Floodgates BY
Ed Hanson
THE BARCLAY FAMILY ADVENTURES Series 1
Series 2
Amazon Adventure
African Safari
Dang...
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The Floodgates BY
Ed Hanson
THE BARCLAY FAMILY ADVENTURES Series 1
Series 2
Amazon Adventure
African Safari
Danger at 20 Fathoms
Disaster in Oceania
Desert Ordeal
Falsely Accused
Forest Fire
The Floodgates
Hostages
Free Fall
Lost at Sea
Hurricane
Mountain Blizzard
Iron Mountain
The Pass
Mystery at Bear Lake
The Swamp
Ransom
Tornado
Sunken Treasure
Development and Production: Laurel Associates, Inc. Cover and Interior Art: Black Eagle Productions
Three Watson Irvine, CA 92618-2767 Website: www.sdlback.com Copyright © 2005 by Saddleback Educational Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
ISBN 1-56254-803-4 Printed in the United States of America 10 09 08 07 06 05 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS CHAPTER
PAGE
1 Henry Buckingham . . . . . . . . . 5 2 Mysterious Visitor . . . . . . . . . . 11 3 A Dying Request . . . . . . . . . . . 15 4 Arrival in Mexico . . . . . . . . . . . 20 5 Assassin’s Bullets . . . . . . . . . . . 25 6 An Angry Father . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 7 The Flood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 8 A Crumbling Empire . . . . . . . . 44 9 Alvarez’s Revenge . . . . . . . . . . . 50 10 A Shootout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 11 A New Project . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
MEET THE BARCLAYS
~
Paul Barclay A fun-loving father of three who includes his kids in his adventures whenever he can.
Ann Barclay The devoted mother who manages the homefront during Paul’s many absences as an on-site construction engineer.
~
Jim Barclay The eldest child, Jim is a talented athlete in his third year of college on a football scholarship.
Aaron Barclay A high school senior, Aaron is inquisitive, daring, and an absolute whiz in science class.
~
~
~
Pam Barclay Adopted from Korea as a baby, Pam is a spunky high school freshman who more than holds her own with her lively older brothers.
CHAPTER 1
Henry Buckingham Henry Buckingham sighed as he lay on his bed staring overhead. The ceiling fan made a soft clicking sound as it slowly rotated. He was a deeply troubled man. It wasn’t that the doctor had told him he didn’t have long to live. No, it wasn’t that. Now 87, Henry had lived a full and active life. He wasn’t afraid to die. In fact, he’d made peace with death as his health had failed in recent years. Something else was eating at him. Henry’s thoughts were interrupted when Dr. Patterson walked into the room. “How’s my patient today?” the doctor asked cheerfully. “About the same as any 87-year-old
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dying man,” Henry answered sarcastically. “Come on, Henry, that’s not the spirit I want to see in you. What’s going on? You’re not the kind of guy who wallows in self-pity.” “You’re right, Doc. I’m sorry. It’s just that something is weighing on my mind— something I still have to do.” “Well, I don’t know exactly what you’re talking about, Henry. But my advice is to get it done soon. Your heart is getting weaker every day. Since you’ve refused artificial life support, all I can do is keep you comfortable.” Henry frowned. “How much longer do you think I have?” he asked. “I can’t say for sure, my friend—but I’d guess maybe a week.” Henry smiled at the doctor. “Well, thanks for being honest with me,” he said as he closed his eyes. When Dr. Patterson left, Henry placed a telephone call to Lee Oakman. He asked
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Chapter • 1
his old friend to visit him the next day— and to bring a tape recorder along with him. Happy to oblige, Lee promised to be there about noon. It had been several weeks since Lee had visited his friend. He was shocked at the change in the old man. Henry had lost even more weight. His face lacked color, and his sunken eyes and wrinkled skin hinted that the end was very near. And yet Henry’s mind was still sharp, and he seemed to be in good spirits. Henry reached out to grasp Lee’s hand. “Thanks for coming, my friend,” he said. “It’s good to see you.” “Hey, no problem, Henry. In fact, I was planning to drop in today or tomorrow anyway.” “Did you bring the tape recorder?” Henry asked anxiously. “I sure did,” Lee replied as he passed the tape recorder over to his friend. “I have a big favor to ask of you, Lee.
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Something that’s very important to me.” Lee nodded. “Just name it, Henry,” he said. “If it’s humanly possible, you can consider it done.” “Oh it’s possible, all right—but it may take a little time. I’m going to make a tape that I want you to deliver to someone. The message is for his ears only! Upon my death, an envelope will be waiting for you. Besides the tape, the envelope will contain the man’s name and the last address I have for him.” “Is the address still current?” Lee asked. “I have no idea. It’s been more than 20 years since I’ve talked with him.” Lee looked worried. Twenty years? Finding this guy might be a problem, he thought to himself. “There will be another envelope for you, too,” Henry went on. “It will contain $5,000 in cash. That should cover all your expenses and leave something left over for your trouble.”
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Lee started to protest. “Oh, please, Henry! You don’t have to pay me—” Henry put up his hand and stopped Lee in mid-sentence. “Lee, this matter is extremely important to me. Believe me, it’s well worth the $5,000.” Five days later, Henry Buckingham passed away in his sleep. When young, he’d been a robust man, almost six feet tall. He’d weighed 190 pounds, and his frame had been muscular. At his death, he weighed half of that. A few days after the funeral, Lee received a telephone call. “Mr. Oakman, I’m Edward Walters, Henry Buckingham’s attorney. I have a package and an envelope here for you. Mr. Buckingham directed me to give them to you after his death.” “Yes, I know about it,” Lee replied. “He mentioned it to me a few days ago. It was my last visit with him.” “Good, good,” Walters replied. “When can you stop by and pick them up?”
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“How about this afternoon?” Lee asked. “Will you be in your office?” “I will indeed, Mr. Oakman,” Walters said. “I’ll be expecting you later today.” **** After picking up the material from the lawyer’s office, Lee headed back to his car. But before he started the engine, his curiosity got the better of him. He studied the envelope. The mysterious man to whom he was to deliver the tape was named Paul Barclay.
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CHAPTER 2
Mysterious Visitor Lee had no idea who Paul Barclay was. He’d never heard Henry mention the name. The address shown was in Rockdale, Massachusetts. True to his word, Lee was on the first flight he could get to Boston. There, he rented a car and immediately started off on the two-hour drive to Rockdale. About 30 miles down the Massachusetts Turnpike, Lee pulled into a rest area and phoned the Barclay home. Ann was playing with their yellow Lab, Charlie, when the phone rang. “Hello?” “I’m trying to reach Paul Barclay, ma’am. Do I have the correct number?” “Yes, you do, but he isn’t here at the moment,” Ann answered. 11
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“Is this Mrs. Barclay?” “Yes, it is,” Ann replied pleasantly. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” Lee said. “I’ve just flown up from Florida to deliver a package from a man who died last week. His final wish was that I get this material to your husband. Right now, I’m on the turnpike about an hour and a half from Rockdale. Is there a chance that your husband will be home if I continue on?” “Yes, I expect Paul to be back in less than an hour.” “That’s great, Mrs. Barclay. Can you give me directions to your house?” When Paul came home, Ann told him about the strange call. Paul had no idea who it could be, but he figured he’d find out soon enough. A half-hour later the doorbell rang. Charlie barked and ran to the door. First, Charlie gave the stranger a couple of sniffs. Once he was sure that the visitor presented no threat, the dog plopped down on the
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Chapter • 2
floor under the dining room table. “Mr. Barclay, this is as strange for me as it must be for you,” Lee Oakman began. “Before Henry Buckingham died, he made a tape and asked me to deliver it to you.” “Henry Buckingham—” Paul said with a questioning look on his face. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.” Lee Oakman held out the envelope bearing Paul’s name and address. “I expect it will come back to you when you play this tape,” Lee said. “You must have known him—because he certainly never forgot you! And Mr. Barclay—you should also know that absolutely no one else has heard this tape.” Paul’s eyes brightened with interest. “You make it all sound so mysterious,” he remarked with a smile. “Well, sir, I’ve done my job. I think I’ll head back to the airport.” “Would you care to stay for supper?” Ann asked.
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“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Barclay,” Lee replied. “But I think I should get going. With any luck I can catch an evening flight out of Boston and sleep in my own bed tonight.” “I understand,” Ann replied. Paul and Ann walked Lee Oakman to his car. As he was leaving he handed Paul his business card. “I am as curious as you must be about the tape, Mr. Barclay. If you find it appropriate, I’d love to know what’s on it.” After shaking Paul’s hand, he pulled out of the driveway and drove off. Paul and Ann walked back to the house. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “A stranger appears at our door with a tape that a dying man made especially for you. What’s going on, Paul? Have you been living a secret life that I don’t know about?” Paul smiled. “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” he said with a wink. “Let’s go in and play the tape.”
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CHAPTER 3
A Dying Request Paul took the tape from the box and placed it in the tape player. When he and Ann were comfortably seated on the sofa, he hit PLAY. “Hello, Paul, this is Henry Buckingham speaking. You may not remember me. After all, it’s been more than 25 years! Like you, I was a design and structural engineer. Over the years, I worked on many projects both in the United States and abroad. That’s how we met. Some 28 years ago, you were a young engineer assigned to one of my bridge-building projects. It was the Las Bonitas Bridge in Venezuela. “During the 18 months we worked together, I became quite impressed with
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your engineering talent. In some ways, you reminded me of myself as a young man. I saw that you were truly gifted, Paul. Your abilities were far in advance of your years. But what impressed me even more was your honesty and integrity. “It may surprise you to know that ever since then I’ve followed your career with great interest. I’m familiar with most of your major projects and some of the awards that you’ve won. I hope it won’t embarrass you to hear that I’ve thought of you as the son I never had. “After the Las Bonitas Bridge, I had just one more important job. It was the San Padro Dam on a tributary of the Rio Grande in central Mexico. Of course, the project wasn’t huge—not like the Hoover or Grand Cooley dams. But it was still a significant structure. Just below the dam was about 100 miles of parched, arid wasteland. The Mexican government wanted to convert it into rich farmland.
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Chapter • 3
“Not long after the bridge was finished, I’m afraid that I made some very bad decisions. Unfortunately, I’d fallen into considerable debt. I won’t bother to explain just how I got into that situation. That’s not important now. “At any rate, shortly after the dam project got started, I was approached by a major materials supplier. He suggested that his company substitute inferior materials for those called for in the design. Millions of dollars could be saved—some of which would end up in my pocket. “Let me make a long story short. Onehalf-inch reinforcing rods were used instead of the one-inch rods called for in the plans. Steel I-beams that should have been 14 inches shrank to 10 inches. Even the concrete wasn’t up to code. I could go on and on, Paul—but I think you get the picture. I’m ashamed to say that I was paid 500,000 American dollars for closing my eyes to these substitutions. Of course, the
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supply company made much more. They probably pocketed 10 to 12 million dollars in illegal profits. “This transgression has eaten away at me for years. At first, it didn’t seem too important. I told myself that the only thing below the dam was barren desert. But then a town was built 20 miles below the dam. That would guarantee a disaster if the dam were to fail! Several thousand people could be killed. I’m afraid that’s an accident just waiting to happen. “Now I want to tell you the real reason for this tape. I know that I should have contacted the authorities long ago. But I was afraid to face the consequences of my actions. And now I’m afraid the authorities would take my story as just the ramblings of a crazy old man. So I’d like you to go down to the San Padro Dam and inspect it thoroughly. Look for cracks or fissures in the cement. Take core samples to test the integrity of the structure. If, in your
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Chapter • 3
opinion, the dam will last another 100 years or more, then that’s the end of it. But of course, lives are more important than the good name of a very foolish old man. So if you find any problems, you must do your best to convince the Mexican authorities to make all the necessary repairs. “There’s just one more thing, Paul. The supplier of the inferior materials was a large company in Mexico City. Its name was National Construction Materials of Mexico City. Obviously, they won’t be happy about one of their projects being opened up for investigation. If I were you, I’d be very careful in my dealings with those people.” As the tape ended, Paul and Ann stared at each other in silence for a moment. Both were stunned.
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CHAPTER 4
Arrival in Mexico Paul frowned as he rewound the tape. Over the hum of the machine, Ann said, “Gosh, Paul, what are you going to do?” “At the moment, I’m not sure,” Paul said thoughtfully. “What do you think I should do?” Ann took Paul’s hand in hers. “I don’t see that you have much choice. If you do nothing and the dam fails, hundreds, if not thousands, of people could die. You’d never forgive yourself, Paul.” “Yes, you’re right about that,” Paul answered glumly. Several days later, Paul flew to Washington, D.C., to consult with the Mexican Consulate. Visiting Mexico was
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Chapter • 4
no problem. But conducting a detailed inspection of one of their dams would require the government’s cooperation. And Henry had been right. The authorities were not particularly impressed by the confessions of an old man 25 years after the crime. It took two days and more meetings than Paul could count to make his case. Finally, the Mexican authorities approved the inspection. A young engineer from Chihuahua, Mexico, was assigned to assist Paul. Manuel Sanchez was one of the country’s bright, young stars. At just 28 years old, he was already building a reputation as a brilliant engineer. Manuel Sanchez was waiting as Paul deplaned at the Chihuahua airport. “Señor Barclay!” he shouted as Paul entered the small terminal. “Bienvenido a México!” The two men shook hands warmly. After claiming Paul’s luggage, they walked out to the parking lot.
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“The dam is about 200 miles from here,” Manuel explained as they climbed into the van. “Were you able to get hold of all the equipment I requested?” Paul asked. “Yes, Mr. Barclay. That’s why I rented this van. I couldn’t get everything into my small car.” “That’s great, Manuel. We’re all set then. And please—call me Paul.” For a while, they drove through the countryside in comfortable silence. Then Manuel said, “I know we’re inspecting the San Padro Dam, Paul. But why? After all, it’s only 25 years old.” Paul wanted to be honest with his young assistant. But he was reluctant to mention Henry Buckingham’s name, so he chose his words carefully. “New information suggests that the dam may be unsafe,” Paul began. “It’s possible that inferior materials may have been used in the construction. Our job is
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Chapter • 4
to determine if any of this is true.” Manuel’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I see,” he said thoughtfully. **** The main headquarters of the largest building supply company in Mexico, Materiales de Construccion Nacional, was located in Mexico City. There, in a plush office, three men were talking. They were worried about the inspection of the San Padro Dam. Heading the meeting was a portly, graying man named Hector Alvarez. He’d been running the company for 30 years. That was when his father, the company’s founder, had retired. The company had grown under the son’s leadership. But much of its profits were due to illegal practices. Hector’s two sons, Luis and Felipe, were with him in the office. The old man was pounding his fist on the table. “A detailed report on this dam must never be made public!” he sputtered.
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“Why is that?” Luis asked. “Because most of the material used to build that dam came from this company! We made a fortune selling them cheap materials. If that information comes to light now, we’ll be in terrible trouble.” Felipe looked nervous. “What do you want us to do?” he asked. The old man looked at his son in disgust. “Do I have to spell out everything for you?” he hissed. “Get up to the dam and meet with this North American engineer. Convince him that a positive report on the dam is in his best interest. Try to bribe him, of course! And if that fails, get rid of him!” Hours later, Luis and Felipe drove out of Mexico City toward the San Padro Dam. If they drove all night, they would reach the dam site by early the next morning.
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CHAPTER 5
Assassin’s Bullets The San Padro Dam was located in a rural part of the country. The nearest small town was Ebano, just a few kilometers away. The only businesses there were a couple of restaurants, a motel, and a handful of small stores. The movie theater had closed years ago. Paul and Manuel had spent the night in the motel. After an early breakfast, they headed for the dam. Since the Mexican authorities had already cleared their plans, there was no “red tape” to delay them. The dam was designed as a horizontal arch made of concrete and reinforced steel. The big lake behind the dam had taken more than a year to fill. It was now
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two miles long and a half-mile wide. Huge valves controlled gates that released water to the land below. Over the years the steady stream of irrigation water had transformed the arid soil into productive farmland. A gigantic orange grove there was producing fruit that was shipped all over the country. By 11:00 A.M., Paul and Manuel had completed a visual inspection. Even at this beginning stage of their work, Paul was shocked. They’d seen cracks that appeared to be getting longer by the day. The concrete was chipping badly. To Paul, this suggested that a crucial ingredient had been left out of the concrete mix. Paul looked at Manuel and shook his head. “We’ll know more after we drill some core samples, Manuel. But so far it looks like this dam is a mess.” Manuel nodded sadly. “I have to agree, amigo. I’m afraid that somebody made some dirty money on this job.”
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Chapter • 5
**** The Alvarez brothers didn’t arrive at the dam as early as they’d planned. Swerving to avoid a goat in the road, their car had gone into a ditch. After the car was towed to a garage, the front axle was scheduled for repair. It was late morning before they rented a car to continue their journey. So it was mid-afternoon when they finally reached the small town of Ebano. After checking into the motel, the brothers waited for Paul Barclay to return. Felipe tipped the desk clerk 100 pesos and asked him to call when the American engineer arrived. It was a little after 5:00 P.M. when Felipe’s phone rang. The message was very short. “Señor,” the clerk said, “the Norte Americano has just come in the door.” Felipe Alvarez looked at his brother. “Luis, let me go and talk to him first,” he said. “With any luck, I can convince the gringo to see things our way. Maybe a few
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thousand dollars will help. If that fails, then he’s all yours.” Paul opened his door to loud knocking. “Señor Barclay,” a young man on the doorstep said in English. “Please excuse the interruption. But I wish to speak with you about a matter of great importance.” Paul was surprised to have a visitor. Other than Manuel, he didn’t know anyone in Mexico. “Do I know you?” Paul asked politely. “No, señor. But I think you’ll be most interested in what I have to say.” In only a few minutes, Paul realized that he was being offered a bribe. If he falsified his report on the dam, he could be a rich man. There was also a veiled threat of bodily harm if he chose to do otherwise. The longer Felipe talked, the angrier Paul became. He was tempted to grab Felipe and physically throw him out. Controlling his anger, Paul opened the
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door and nudged Felipe toward it. “You can tell whoever sent you,” he said in a quiet but firm voice, “that the answer is no. I intend to write an honest report on the condition of that dam. And the report will be in the hands of authorities by the end of the week.” Paul nudged Felipe the rest of the way through the door. “Now get out and stay out!” he yelled at the young Mexican man. After slamming the door, Paul phoned Manuel’s room. “You’ll never believe what just happened,” he said. “Come to my room, and I’ll tell you about it.” Manuel sat on the edge of the bed, listening in amazement to Paul’s story. By the time Paul finished, Manuel was looking deeply concerned. “You must be very careful, mi amigo,” Manuel said. “Your report could put the materials supplier out of business—maybe even in prison! And that company has a reputation for playing very rough.”
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“I’m sure it does,” Paul said, shaking his head. “But there’s not much we can do about it right this moment. Besides, I’m getting hungry. Why don’t we talk about it over dinner?” Meanwhile, Felipe had gone back to his motel room. “There’s no reasoning with that fool!” he said to his brother. “So, it’s your turn, Luis. I did my best, but he’s all yours now. I’ll have the car ready. Once you’ve taken care of this business, we’ll get out of here pronto.” Manuel had just left Paul’s room when Luis stepped from behind a parked car. Mistaking Manuel for Paul Barclay, he quickly fired four shots. Manuel fell back into the doorway, clutching his chest. Luis Alvarez ran to the waiting car, yelling, “Vamos!” to his brother Felipe. In the next instant, the car was speeding away in a cloud of dust. Paul rushed to help his young
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colleague. He checked Manuel’s pulse and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a weak beat. But Manuel was obviously seriously injured. As Paul tried to stem the flow of blood, a terrible thought flashed in his mind: Those bullets were meant for me!
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CHAPTER 6
An Angry Father The sounds of gunfire brought people running from every direction. The desk clerk was the first to arrive. He gasped when he saw Manuel slumped in the doorway of Paul’s room. Turning toward the clerk, Paul shouted, “Get a doctor right away! And get the police here, too.” Paul cradled Manuel’s limp form in his arms. He’d known the young man for less than 48 hours. But at that moment he felt as if he was about to lose a close friend. Realizing that he had been the intended target made Paul feel somewhat responsible. The doctor finally arrived. Paul
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watched as he quickly examined Manuel. “How is he?” Paul asked. “Very bad, señor,” the doctor replied. “I’ll do what I can for him. But we’d better hope the ambulance gets here soon.” While waiting for the authorities, Paul kept thinking about everything that had happened. He hadn’t actually seen the shooting—so he couldn’t be sure who’d pulled the trigger. And he had no idea who had tried to bribe him. Of course, he suspected that the fellow must somehow be connected with the supply company in Mexico City. But the man had never actually said that. The more Paul thought about it, the more discouraged he became. The truth was that he had very little hard information to give the police. **** Hours later, after driving some 150 miles, the Alvarez brothers stopped for gas. Luis called their father to report in. “The Americano wouldn’t listen to
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reason. But you don’t have anything to worry about,” he said proudly. “I took care of it. He’ll never file a report on the dam.” “How can you be so sure, Luis?” “Because dead men can’t file reports,” Luis answered in a boastful voice. Hector Alvarez remained silent for a moment. He’d hoped that it wouldn’t come to that. Finally, he asked, “Did anyone see you? Can anyone connect you or your brother to this company?” “Don’t worry, father,” Luis answered. “The only person who saw either of us is dead.” For the moment, he’d forgotten all about the desk clerk. Being a very cautious man, Hector was still concerned. But he decided that perhaps he could trust his son’s judgment. “Very well then, Luis. I’ll see you and your brother back here in the morning,” he said as he hung up the phone. ****
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It was almost 10:00 P.M. when the police finished questioning Paul. They were clearly disappointed that he wasn’t able to provide them with more detailed information. Paul was exhausted with worry about Manuel’s condition. But he was more determined than ever to finish the inspection. He resolved to write his report quickly and leave this place as soon as possible. Paul called the hospital to check on Manuel. The nurse reported that he was in critical but stable condition. Paul then turned in for a night of restless sleep. **** Most days Hector Alvarez was an early riser. The morning following the murder was no exception. He was watching the early news on TV when a report about the shooting in Ebano aired. The announcer’s voice was serious as he read the news report. “Yesterday afternoon in Ebano, an unknown gunman
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shot and seriously wounded a young Mexican engineer named Manuel Sanchez. Authorities believe that the intended victim may have been a North American engineer named Paul Barclay. As yet, however, investigators have no clues as to who the assailant may have been.” Alvarez threw his coffee cup across the room in a fit of rage. “Those stupid sons of mine shot the wrong man!” he bellowed. “What did I ever do to deserve such idiots?” He started to pace the room and was talking to himself when Luis and Felipe walked through the door. Hector sneered at the two young men. “Do you two morons realize that you shot the wrong man?” he shouted scornfully. Felipe was stunned. “What? That can’t be true!” he protested. Then Luis sputtered, “But the man I shot was coming out of Barclay’s room!” “So what?” Hector hissed. “The man
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you shot was another engineer working with Barclay. Paul Barclay is still alive!” Alvarez looked away while he thought of what to do next. “Now, you two get in the car and head back up there,” Hector ordered. “This time get rid of Paul Barclay. And don’t come back here until you do!” **** That same morning, Paul had reached the dam at first light. If core samples verified his suspicions, he could complete his report by this evening. Now that he was working alone, the work went a little slower. But by noon Paul had all the evidence he needed. The few samples he’d drilled indicated that the reinforcing rods were indeed only one-half inch. And the concrete used had indeed been an inferior mix with very little crushed stone. It looked as if everything Henry Buckingham had said was true. Paul was gathering his equipment
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when he heard strange sounds. There was a commotion of some kind on top of the dam. He hurried to the scene to see what was happening. A crew of workers was shouting and pointing toward the top of the dam. As Paul turned to look, he immediately understood the reason for the excitement. A crack—nearly eight feet long—had opened up near the top of the dam. At the moment, the crack was barely an inch wide. But the water pressure behind the dam was tremendous. It was already forcing a 25-foot spray of water into the air. Paul knew that something had to be done right away. If the crack continued to expand, the entire dam could be lost.
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The Flood Fearing for their lives, several workers began running to the safety of solid ground. “Stop!” Paul yelled. “We’ll need every one of you to save this dam!” The foreman and several others stopped the fleeing workers. Then the foreman spoke to Paul in English. “Señor, we need to work fast. You’re the engineer. Where do you think we should start?” “We have to relieve the water pressure,” Paul said. “That means opening the floodgates to the maximum.” “But, señor—those pipes are ten feet in diameter. If we open them all the way, thousand of gallons of water will pour into the valley. We’ll create a flood! Think of the nearby homes, the orange grove, and 39
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the roads—they’ll all be destroyed!” “That may be true,” Paul answered patiently. “But if the gates are not opened, the entire dam may collapse. If that happens the flood will be far worse. We could have a true disaster on our hands.” The foreman knew Paul was right. He turned to two of his men. “Get those floodgates open—all the way!” he ordered. “Pronto!” “Next,” Paul went on, “get some of your men on the phones and in their cars. They need to warn people. Everyone who lives below the dam has to evacuate before the water builds up. “And the authorities need to get a portable cofferdam flown out here. Until then, we can try to rig something up to cover that crack. Hopefully, that will slow down its expansion.” The valves that operated the two floodgates had never been opened all the way. Now, as the gates slowly opened wider and wider, two torrents of water 40
Chapter • 7
came roaring through the gates. Thousands of gallons of water poured into the slow-moving river below. The foreman stood on the top of the dam. He watched the river begin to fill and move faster. Soon it would be tearing through the valley. I hope we are doing the right thing, he thought to himself. **** Luis and Felipe were both dead tired. In the past 48 hours, they’d only had quick naps in the car while the other was driving. Now they were short-tempered and snapping at each other. Felipe was asleep when Luis took a wrong turn. They were surprised to end up on a rugged road in the valley below the dam. Neither man knew what had happened. Luis bounced along the rugged road, unaware of the danger ahead. The jolting ride woke Felipe. He sat up with a start and looked around. “Luis!” he shouted. “You’re about to break my tailbone. Where are we?” 41
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“I’m not sure, Felipe,” Luis responded. “I think I might have taken a wrong turn.” “Oh, no!” Felipe cried out. “Well, let’s get turned around and—” Felipe never finished his sentence. At that moment, the ground gave way under their car. The rushing water had undermined the road. In seconds, the two young brothers were washed away. How strange that they drowned in the flood created by the man they’d been sent to kill! **** For hours the huge gates had been releasing water from the lake behind the dam. The water level had dropped a bit. But it had to drop even farther to get below the bottom of the crack. Paul and several workers had scrounged enough leftover materials to make a patch. Under Paul’s direction, they’d lowered the patch on heavy ropes until it covered the damaged area. Water
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pressure held the patch tightly in place. Paul sighed with satisfaction as he monitored the result. The stream of water gushing from the crack had gradually slowed to a trickle. For the next several hours Paul kept a close watch on the patch. Finally, he heard a whoop, whoop sound. Looking up, he saw a steel cofferdam suspended below a huge helicopter. As the cofferdam was lowered into place, Paul gave a great sigh of relief. I think we’ll be all right now, he said to himself.
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CHAPTER 8
A Crumbling Empire With the cofferdam in place and the water pressure lowered, the San Padro Dam was secure—at least temporarily. Now that the gates were closed, the floodwaters in the valley had slowly begun to recede. Considerable damage had been done in the first five miles below the dam. But a much greater disaster had been avoided. If the entire dam had collapsed, the whole valley would have flooded. Loss of life would have been staggering. And the damaged area might have extended for 25 or 30 miles. Now Paul’s task was to advise the
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Mexican government. He had to convince them that major repairs were absolutely necessary. If not repaired, the dam wouldn’t remain standing for long. For most of the next day, Paul presented all the evidence to government officials. His inspection had verified Buckingham’s claim. Faulty materials had indeed been used. It was a serious crime that had nearly cost many lives. Henry Buckingham’s accusation against National Construction Materials was good enough for Paul. But he knew a court of law would need proof. The building materials fraud had occurred more than 20 years ago. Naturally, Hector Alvarez would deny everything. He’d claim that his company had shipped the exact materials requested. Since his accuser was now dead, there was no one to directly disprove his claim. The government officials finally agreed that the dam needed to be reinforced—
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THE FLOODGATES
and quickly. When that decision was made, Paul felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He’d done more than honor a dying man’s request. He’d very likely prevented a full-scale disaster. Paul’s session with the government officials concluded late in the afternoon. It was then that several police officers showed up to see him. “Señor Barclay, we need your help. Here are some photographs we’d like you to review,” one of the officers said politely. “Please tell us if you recognize either of these men.” Paul gazed at the two pictures. In both pictures, two men were lying on the ground with their eyes shut. Their wet, shriveled faces were eerie and pale. It was obvious that both men were dead. “Yes, I do recognize one of these men,” Paul declared. “This is the man who tried to bribe me.” He pointed to the man lying on the left.
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One of the inspectors smiled. “I thought that might be the case,” he said. “Who are these people, and what happened to them?” Paul asked curiously. “They were employees of Materiales de Construccion Nacional. But they weren’t just any employees, Señor. They were the president’s sons, Luis and Felipe Alvarez. We found their bodies just hours ago. It seems they drowned in their car just a few miles below the dam.” One government official seemed especially interested in the conversation. “This may be the evidence we’ve needed to prove that Nacional is guilty of fraud,” he said. “Think about it. Why would the president’s son urge you to change your report? He wouldn’t do that unless the company had something to hide.” “And it may solve the shooting of Manuel Sanchez,” a police officer chimed in. “Both of the Alvarez brothers were carrying handguns. I’ll bet my life that
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THE FLOODGATES
ballistics tests will show that one of those guns fired the shots at Sanchez.” **** Back in Mexico City Hector Alvarez was hearing the worst news of his life. Over the years, he’d paid informants thousands upon thousands of pesos for confidential information. Now he was getting his money’s worth. Today’s news included the deaths of his two sons, the connection of the bribe attempt to his company, and the tie-in to the Sanchez shooting. Even worse, he was told that an arrest warrant was about to be issued for him. Hector couldn’t bear it. Paul Barclay was destroying his life. His hatred of the man was growing by the minute. Revenge blotted out all other thoughts. Emptying his office safe of cash, Alvarez took a Colt revolver from his desk drawer. He placed it in his coat pocket before he headed down to the garage. Then he sped off in his big silver limo. His two sons were dead. His company 48
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was about to be destroyed. He could do nothing about those things. But before he was arrested, Hector was determined to get the American responsible for it all.
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CHAPTER 9
Alvarez’s Revenge Paul’s work in Mexico was finished. He was eager to get back home. He booked a return flight for 10 o’clock the next morning. The airport closest to the dam was in Chihuahua. So he was scheduled to leave from there. Meanwhile, Hector Alvarez’s paid informants had notified him of Barclay’s plans. He knew the name of Paul’s airline, his flight number, and his departure time. The next morning, Hector Alvarez drove toward the airport. His only goal now was to punish the American who had brought such chaos into his life. He was very careful to observe the speed limit. Getting stopped by the police now
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would ruin everything, he thought to himself. Alvarez did have one major problem, though—he’d never met Paul Barclay. He had no idea what the man looked like. How would he recognize him? He considered this dilemma as he drove. Paul arrived at the airport three hours before his flight time. After checking his luggage, he headed to the restaurant for some breakfast. But Paul was staying alert. He couldn’t help but notice the two men eyeing him at the luggage check-in counter. Big men in their mid-thirties, they both wore dark business suits. Paul was alarmed when he saw the same two men a bit later. Now they were sipping coffee in a booth on the other side of the restaurant. Maybe it’s just my imagination, Paul thought, but these two guys sure seem to be following me. Paul hadn’t forgotten about the attempt on his life back in Ebano. Now he began to wonder if these were hired
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goons who’d been sent to finish the job. He took his time eating as he figured out how to elude the two strangers. When he was paying his bill, he glanced over at their table. The two men were also finishing up and heading for the cash register. There was no doubt about it now—they definitely were following him. Paul hurried out of the restaurant and slipped into a small shop next door. From behind a magazine rack, he watched the two men hurry past. Having lost sight of him, they were now actually running across the terminal. Paul rushed out of the shop and headed in the opposite direction. He turned right onto the “B” concourse. Then he ducked into a nearby men’s room and hid in a stall. His plane wasn’t due to leave for another hour and a half. **** Hector Alvarez parked his car in the airport garage. Then he checked his
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Colt .45 to make sure it was loaded. Satisfied that it was, he locked the car and headed into the airport terminal. After much thought, he’d come up with a plan to draw Paul Barclay to him. Alvarez approached the information desk in the center of the main terminal. There he flashed a fake ID that showed him to be a police official. Money buys everything, Alvarez thought to himself. Aloud he said, “Please page Señor Paul Barclay. It’s most important that I speak with him immediately.” He tried to make his voice sound very serious and official. Moments later, the announcement came over the loudspeaker: “Will Señor Paul Barclay please report to the information desk? A very important message is waiting for him there.” Paul heard the announcement from the stall in the men’s room, but he didn’t move. His first thought was that the two thugs were trying to lure him into the
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THE FLOODGATES
open. He looked at his watch. It was almost 9 o’clock. He had to think about getting to his gate, which was in “A” concourse at the other end of the airport. The men who were trailing Paul heard the announcement at the same time. Somewhat puzzled, they looked at each other before heading for the main terminal. Paul cracked opened the men’s room door and looked out. He noticed that the airport was busier now. That made him feel more secure. The more people in the crowd, the harder it would be to pick out one individual, he thought. Seeing no sign of his two pursuers, Paul joined other travelers heading toward the “A” concourse. Along the way, he looked over at the information booth in the center of the large room. Two clerks were working the desk there, answering travelers’ questions. But there was no sign of the men who’d been following him.
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Surrounded by a crowd, Paul began to slowly inch his way across the room while staying close to the wall. He’d gone only a few yards when a voice behind him whispered hoarsely, “Don’t move, Señor Barclay!” In spite of the warning, Paul turned. He found himself face to face with one of the men in dark suits. Inside the man’s unbuttoned jacket, Paul could see a shoulder holster and the butt end of an automatic pistol.
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CHAPTER 10
A Shootout “Relax, Señor Barclay,” the man said quietly. “We’re not here to harm you. We’re police officers. Our assignment is to ensure that you make it safely to your plane. We’ve been following you ever since you left Ebano.” Paul breathed a sigh of relief. Then he said, “Why did you page me?” “We didn’t,” the officer answered. “Look at the information booth. Do you see that rather large, gray-haired man in the leather coat?” Paul looked toward the center of the room. “Yes, I see him,” he said. “That’s the man who paged you. He’s the president of National Construction
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Materials. We were afraid that he’d send someone to make an attempt on your life. But we never dreamed he’d come after you himself.” “Come after me? Why does he hate me so much?” Paul asked. The police officer smiled. “For a start, your report on the San Padro Dam will ruin him. It’s already resulted in an investigation of his company. There’s also a warrant out for his arrest. And that’s not to mention the deaths of his two sons.” “But I had nothing to do with those deaths!” Paul protested. “We know you didn’t, señor. But in Alvarez’s twisted mind, that’s not the case. He blames you for everything.” “Well, why don’t I just go ahead to my gate? What would it hurt if I just left him standing there?” Paul asked. “That won’t work, Señor Barclay. Obviously, he has your itinerary. If you don’t answer that page, he’ll head for your
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gate and look for you there. But don’t worry. My partner and I intend to arrest him before that.” Then the officer left Paul and started walking toward the information desk. Paul noticed that he’d removed the revolver from its holster. Now he was carrying it discreetly under his jacket. Across the room, Paul could see the second officer. He was approaching the information area from the other direction. Alvarez looked nervous and edgy. It had been several minutes now since the page—and there was still no sign of Barclay. He kept his right hand in his coat pocket. His fingers were tightly wrapped around the Colt .45. “Where is the Americano?” Alvarez muttered under his breath. The second officer now stood just 20 feet from Alvarez. He drew his weapon and pointed it at the man’s chest. “Hector Alvarez, this is the police. You are under
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arrest. Put your hands in the air.” Alvarez stared in disbelief at the gun aimed at him. How did the police know he was here? He had told no one. Slowly, he withdrew his right hand from his pocket— but he brought the Colt with it. He fired just once before a police slug tore into his shoulder. Alvarez felt the Colt fall from his hand as he slumped to his knees in pain. The gunshots caused an uproar in the main terminal. Many frightened travelers began rushing for the concourses. Others screamed or gathered up their children and dropped to the floor. The officer who’d been talking with Paul picked up the Colt and put Alvarez in handcuffs. The other officer grabbed the microphone and announced to the crowd that the excitement was over. A few minutes later, the airport was gradually returning to its normal activities. As Alvarez was being escorted to a waiting ambulance, Paul walked over to
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offer his thanks to the officers. “I owe you my life,” he said. “What if you hadn’t been here? I’d have answered that page and walked right up to Alvarez. And to think I was running through the airport trying to hide from you! I feel a little foolish.” The officer smiled at Paul. “No need for that, señor. You’ve done Mexico a great service. You saved an important dam and provided all the evidence we needed to arrest Alvarez.” Paul shook hands with the two officers before walking toward his departure gate. It was late afternoon by the time his 707 circled Logan Airport in Boston in preparation for landing. Ann was waiting for him. As the two of them walked toward the baggage claim area, she had a hundred questions. “How was Mexico? Was the dam really in danger of failing? Did you submit your report to the Mexican
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authorities? And what happened to the company that supplied the inferior materials?” Paul winked at his wife. “Whoa! Let me catch my breath and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Actually, I think this will be one of my better stories.”
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CHAPTER 11
A New Project A few weeks had passed since Paul’s return from Mexico. It was Saturday afternoon, and he was relaxing in the back yard. As he read an article in an engineering magazine, a paw flopped down on the middle of the page. “Charlie!” Paul said with a laugh. “How do you expect me to finish this article with your paw in the way?” In reply, Charlie tilted his head and woofed several times. “Oh, I see now,” Paul said, scratching Charlie’s head. “You think playing ball is a better Saturday afternoon pastime.” “Sorry, Charlie—not this time,” Ann said as she walked out onto the patio.
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“You have a call on your cell phone, Paul.” Paul took the phone and said, “Hello, Paul Barclay speaking.” “Hello, Paul,” a friendly male voice responded. “This is Manuel Sanchez.” “Manuel!” Paul cried out. “How good it is to hear from you! I’ve been checking on your progress every few days.” “I’m doing quite well, Paul,” Manuel said. “So well, in fact, that I’ll soon be starting on my next project. Care to guess what that might be?” “The San Padro Dam,” Paul answered without skipping a beat. “They couldn’t have picked a better man for the job.” “Well,” Manuel replied, “that’s very kind of you. But my thought is that this is a two-man job. Do you know an excellent engineer who might be available?” Paul laughed out loud. “I might at that, Manuel,” he said. “I just very well might.”
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COMPREHENSION QUESTIONS Who and Where? 1. Who alerted Paul Barclay to problems with the dam project? 2. Who delivered Henry Buckingham’s audiotape to Paul? 3. Where was the San Padro Dam located? 4. Who was assigned to help Paul inspect the dam?
Remembering Details 1. What company was owned and operated by Hector Alvarez? 2. How were Luis and Felipe related to Hector Alvarez? 3. Why did Luis shoot Manuel Sanchez? 4. What had to be opened to relieve the water pressure on the cracked dam? 5. What happened to Luis and Felipe Alvarez?
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