Chapter 56 - Julian’s Final Bid
The heavy blast hatch swung upward on counterweighted pneumatic arms with a shudder that vibrated through my chest. Below us opened a narrow concrete shaft, illuminated by the dim orange glow of ancient, emergency-powered bulkheads. The air rising from the shaft was hot and suffocating, reeking of sulfur and superheated steam.
"Arthur! Son!" Thomas’s voice crackled through the tactical radio on my belt. "Hurry! Julian doubled back! He took the maintenance access road along the high ridge! He’s trying to cut the high-voltage lines to the sluice motors! If the motors lose power before the bypass opens, the hydraulic hammer will tear the whole foundation apart!"
"We're going down," I shouted into the mic.
Dad and I descended the wet iron rungs into the depths of Chamber Nine. The heat increased with every foot. Below us, suspended on massive shock-absorbing steel springs, was a cavernous subterranean vault carved directly into the dark granite. In the center stood the monstrous bypass valve—a ten-foot-wide cast-iron wheel connected to a network of massive pressure manifolds.
Above the roaring hiss of escaping gas, a sharp metallic click echoed from the catwalk above us.
"Step away from the wheel, Arthur," Julian Vance’s voice cut through the dark.
He stood on the upper landing, his clothes soaked, holding a heavy tire iron from his truck, his eyes burning with the rabid madness of a man whose empire was dissolving before his eyes.
"Julian," Dad said, not turning around, his hand already resting on the cold iron of the valve wheel. "Look around you. The water is rising. If you stop us, you die down here with us."
"You Miller peasants were never supposed to own that mountain!" Julian screamed, stepping onto the metal stairs. "My grandfather owned every acre from here to the Virginia line! Your mother stole the land with her righteous little federal contracts! I will not let a dirt farmer and a forged ledger ruin three generations of Vance legacy!"
Julian lunged down the stairs, raising the iron bar with both hands.
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I didn't think. I tackled him across the narrow catwalk. We collided against the steel railing, the heavy bar clattering off into the boiling black water churning fifty feet below. Julian swung a frantic, wild fist, striking me across the jaw, but I twisted his collar, slamming his back against the vibrating concrete wall until the air rushed out of his lungs.
"It’s over, Julian!" I snarled, holding him pinned against the damp rock. "Your grandfather built a lie, and you drowned in it!"
