Ten minutes later, Richard was running along the gangplank on to the wide, sheltered walkway between two of the bollards to which Sulu Queen was secured. He ran back along the great ship’s length and out into the stormy afternoon, slowing beneath the shelter of the port-bridge wing to watch as the dirigible’s pilot brought the massive silver craft to rest on the top of the dockside. Guerrero’s team exploring the warehouses crowded the door, looking on. Massive though she was, Dragon Dream sat sedately outside the hangar-sized warehouses, sheltered from the worst of the wind if not the rain. With hardly a pause, Richard was running forward again through the downpour and across the dock towards the beautiful craft. Stooping beneath its overhanging side, he carried on in until he reached the low-hanging cabin which housed the two pilots. Richard opened the door in the side of the cabin and stepped into the future. The cabin was small but roomy enough for the three people occupying it. There were windows all round it, giving a clear view of the four big motors — two in front and two behind — that gave Dragon Dream her vertical take-off capacity. Above the forward-facing windows a bank of instruments led round to a big screen in the centre of the pilot’s view. Below the windows there were square touch screens for both pilot and co-pilot, who occupied two big seats that could have come from a jet fighter. Between them there were more instruments and controls convenient to the pilot’s right hand.
The pilot stood up and turned towards him, a tall, slim, dynamic-looking man with short, greying hair and rimless glasses. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘You must be Captain Mariner. I’m the guy you just talked to — Erwin Creech. This is Gene Rogers. How can we help?’ he asked as the co-pilot also stood.
They shook hands. ‘I’ll know more about that when I’ve had a quick look over your dirigible,’ answered Richard.
‘We can do that from here,’ said Creech. ‘All the main areas aboard have cameras fitted.’ He crossed to the big screen. ‘Video feeds show up here. You’ll be most interested in the cargo bays, I guess. The plan is to put passenger facilities in some of the bigger craft that are in production now. But we just have the basics.’ As he spoke he tapped the screen, which was showing a video of large, empty spaces that looked like the insides of Boeing C17 transport aircraft. ‘Of course, people can go in there in emergencies,’ Creech continued. ‘It just won’t be so comfortable. But I guess you could easily get a hundred people in there.’
Richard opened his mouth to answer but he was interrupted by the walkie-talkie. ‘Excuse me a second,’ he said and put it to his lips. ‘Mariner?’
‘This is Biddy. As you have your heavy lifter in place now, Nic wants me to hop him and Liberty up to Dahlia Blanca for a quick look-see. Won’t be long.’
‘OK,’ said Richard. ‘Take care. And get ready to see a grown man cry.’
Richard, Gene Rogers and Erwin Creech were still discussing how Dragon Dream could be of best use when the Bell lifted off the helipad behind Sulu Queen’s bridge and powered away through the storm. ‘I can place her with absolute precision and hold her absolutely still,’ Creech explained. ‘That’s part of how we got here. The weathermen at Durango warned us the really big winds were up at the tops of the sierras, so we followed the river valleys up one side then down the other. Stayed a couple of metres above the flow. We had lots of protection from the valley sides — interlocking spurs and what have you. Even this side, where the bad floods are. You’d be surprised.’
‘The only bad moments we had were up at the watershed,’ added Gene Rogers. ‘But once we managed to squeeze over we just sat on top of the Rio Cortez and down we came.’
‘She’s what, fifty feet high? Maybe sixty counting the turbofans?’
‘Fifty’s nearer the mark,’ said Creech. ‘What have you in mind?’
‘Still follow the river. She could fit beneath the bridge. Maybe even hover over Sulu Queen’s foredeck and load or unload directly from there.’
‘We could certainly try,’ nodded Creech. ‘She’d fit under the centre of the arch above the water easily. It must be more than a hundred feet high. It’s certainly more than ninety-five feet wide — and Dragon Dream’s ninety-three, including the propellers. We’ve — what — five hundred metres to play with? It’d be easy as long as there’s no very gusty winds under there.’
And that was as far as discussions had reached before Biddy was back on the walkie-talkie. ‘Richard, we’re at Dahlia Blanca and you got bad, bad trouble.’
THIRTY-NINE
Miguel-Angel arrived with a harassed-looking young doctor just as the Bell clattered overhead. The medic pulled Señor Guerrero’s bedding back impatiently and reached for the hem of his gown. Robin turned away and went to the window, watching the helicopter soaring up the drenched hillside. She could think of only one reason for the flight: Nic was going to look at his beautiful estate. She shook her head, empathizing with the shock and sadness he would feel. To have lost Katapult8, to have all but destroyed Maxima, and now this. Talk about a bad day, she thought. On the other hand, he still had a daughter snatched from the jaws of death — almost literally. So there was a silver lining even to these black clouds. Idly, she watched the chopper as it slowed, hovering above the long white wall that was currently acting as a kind of dam at the edge of the flooded garden.
As she watched with growing horror and incredulity, the overstressed structure finally yielded to the relentless pressures of holding back all that water. As though Biddy and the Bell were somehow members of Guy Gibson’s Dambuster squadron, the wall immediately beneath them abruptly sagged forward, hundreds of gallons of water spilling over its lip. Robin watched, frozen; scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. In an instant, the whole wall was gone and the hundreds of gallons were thousands. Hundreds of thousands. And the hospital was standing directly in their path.
Robin pulled out the walkie-talkie and pressed transmit. But she couldn’t connect to Richard. Someone else was talking to him, she realized. With any luck it would be Biddy. Her mind raced. There were streets and houses — hopefully empty — upslope from the hospital. Then the car park that Biddy used as a landing field. Would all this be enough to turn the tide? Probably not, she thought. And now that the wall was gone and what looked like an entire lake was on its way down, she reckoned that there would soon be more than water. Mudslides. That was what they had been worried about in those suburbs of Los Angeles, she remembered numbly. Glendora, Azusa. Oso in Washington state, where between forty and ninety people had died. And the one in Collbran, Colorado. How many had that killed back in May 2014?
Suddenly the line to Richard was open. ‘Richard—’ she said.
‘I know,’ he interrupted. ‘You’ll be hit by water. Then probably mud. Are the lifts working?’
‘Just about—’
‘Get everyone you can up on the roof.’
‘Is that the best plan? Most are on the ground floor already. There’s a car park. Biddy can land there. She’s used it already.’
‘The water will be moving at more than fifty miles an hour. Mud the same. The car park will be underwater in a couple of minutes and buried soon after. Get them up on the roof and pray the mudslide’s not strong enough to make the place collapse. It’s their only chance. And for God’s sake, get up there yourself.’