Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📕

She saw them scattered around, but they talked in hushed voices to people she didn’t recognize. She figured it out. Other members had also been requested to bring along additional experts. The lieutenant governor had wanted extra coverage, but that was before the Oroville Dam made their meeting superfluous.

Brad Marston, Gleason’s chief of staff, disagreed with her assessment. He marched into the unexceptional conference room with three strangers, took a seat in the middle of the long side of the table, and rapped his knuckles on the table.

“Take a seat,” he said without preamble. “We have a lot to cover, and I need to be at the capitol by eight.”

When Ashley started toward the middle of the table, Baldwin grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the end, on the same side as Marston. She was politically savvy enough to know you wanted to be out of a panicked political staffer’s line of sight. She settled into her seat and examined the other people in the room. The nonpermanent members took the chairs lining the wall. Ashley belonged with the other guests, but of course he tried to cozy up to the permanent members. Not wanting to embarrass him further, Baldwin let him sit next to her at the table.

Marston spoke in a clipped, self-important manner. “We’re going to move fast, so pay attention. First, let me introduce my guests. Howard Brady is head engineer for the Department of Water Resources Division of Safety of Dams, and Mr. Marshall and Ms. Wilson are with the US Geological Survey.”

None of the three guests looked comfortable being hauled into this meeting. For some unfathomable reason, Brady and Wilson traded angry glances. Did they know something the members of this committee didn’t? Baldwin would know soon enough.

Marston made a card-dealing motion with his hands, directing Marshall to pass stacks of papers to alternate ends of the table.

Marston continued as people took a handout and passed the stack along. “This commission advises on seismic risks, including the collapse of dams. It should make no difference why a dam fails; the results are the same. Oroville’s already gone. The United States has over fifteen hundred dams rated deficient by the USGS. Unfortunately, three-quarters of all deficient dams reside in California. Washington should have funded more infrastructure repair, but this is no time for recriminations.”

Baldwin thought he had done exactly that. Most of the big dams were owned by the federal Bureau of Reclamation, but many others were owned by the State Water Project, making them California’s responsibility. One of the great political advantages of a federal system is that the states could point their fingers at the feds and vice versa.

Marston cleared his throat and continued. “Most of these dams are small and private, but we have over one thousand major reservoirs.” He tapped a copy of the handout in front of him. “This schedule lists the big dams that are rated deficient. Your job is to prioritize this list according to age, type of construction, level of deficiency, and population in the flood path. Give me solid, workable recommendations on the top five. Exclude Oroville.”

He stood. “Now, I’m afraid you’ll need to excuse us. We must get to a meeting that’s dealing with the Oroville disaster.”

Marston started marching out, with Brady and Marshall in tow.

Baldwin cringed when Ashley interrupted their exit. “Excuse me, may I ask a question?’

Marston’s expression purposely conveyed irritation. “Quickly.”

Baldwin wrote some nonsense on a tablet to appear unconcerned with her colleague’s imprudence. Leave it to Ashley to ignore her advice to remain inconspicuous.

“Ms. Wilson, the USGS website predicts an atmospheric river forming off the coast. Would you agree that this phenomenon presents a greater general risk than another dam bursting?”

Before she could answer, Brady from the Division of Safety of Dams jumped to respond. “I personally do not agree. The Johnstown Dam killed 2,209 people in 1899. The Saint Francis Dam killed 500 in 1928. And in 2005, when Hurricane Katrina broke through the levees, 1,245 died. Those are only a few examples.” He snickered. “I’m afraid history shows that dam disasters kill far more people than rainfall.”

Ashley was not put off. “You are forgetting the rains of 1862, which killed thousands and put a third of this state under water.”

“That was a freak event,” Brady said dismissively.

Before anything more could be said, Marston put his hands on the shoulders of his two companions and literally pushed them out the door. With those three gone, everyone turned to Wilson, the woman from USGS, who had remained behind. Her small, thin frame made her look lost in a grown-up’s chair. Ill-fitting glasses sat crookedly on her face and showed more smudges than a touch screen on an iPad. Her wrinkled blouse could have come from Target, and her mousey brown hair appeared to have been combed with her fingers. Because the mood had changed when Marston’s team entered the room, those remaining assumed she was now in control. Wilson looked around, confused by the attention.

“Don’t you have a chair?” she asked finally.

“The lieutenant governor chairs this commission,” a man answered. “He assigned Mr. Marston in his place. Since they’re both gone,” he threw his hands wide, “I guess that leaves you.”

“Nonsense. Who’s the vice chair?”

“So, you’re playing the role of political officer,” the same man said with a smile that must have won many hearts. “Sitting on the sidelines, ready to tattle if we fail to toe the mark.”

Wilson’s expression turned from bewilderment to anger. The hardscrabble man looked underdressed in a white, form-fitting polo shirt with “ClimbX” embroidered on the left side of the chest. Good-looking and self-confident, he probably went through life using charm to get away with jerkish behavior. Baldwin wished she had begged off this entire enterprise. She barely knew these people and had no idea what alliances might exist. Who was this man? Definitely an outdoors type, ready to scale El Capitan at Yosemite. Definitely outspoken. And definitely a cad.

“Come on, Tom,” an engineering type said