Because of the manner of Danieli's death, Ostrander nursed a burning anger about terrorists in general and especially the misnamed Friends of Freedom.
Consequently, when a teletype message arrived in the early afternoon of Tuesday, warning that Georgos Archambault, the Friends of Freedom leader and prime suspect in last year's Big Lil bombing, might make a new attack on GSP & L property, Bob Ostrander put himself and all his staff on full alert.
On his instructions, the entire La Mission plant was searched immediately for possible intruders. When none were found, attention was directed outward to the plant perimeter. A pair of two-man patrols, which Ostrander organized, was ordered to make continuous rounds of the perimeter fence and report by walkie-talkie any unusual activity or sign of break-in. Guards at the main gate were told: No one, other than company employees, was to be admitted without permission from the superintendent. Bob Ostrander also telephoned the county sheriff and learned that the sheriff's department, too, had received information about Georgos Archambault and a Volkswagen van he reportedly was driving.
At Ostrander's urging, the sheriff diverted two of his patrol cars to search roads in the area of the La Mission plant for any sign of a VW van such as described. Less than thirty minutes after Bob Ostrander's call-at 2:35 pm. the sheriff reported back that a VW van, positively identified as Archambault's, had been found abandoned by the Coyote River, a half-mile upstream of the plant.
Not far from it were a pump and a package which apparently had contained an inflatable rubber dinghy. An intensive search for Archambault by sheriff's deputies was now in progress. One deputy sheriff would shortly be on the river in his own motorboat. Ostrander at once removed several staff members from other duties and sent them to patrol the river side of the plant, their instructions to sound an alarm at the sight of any boat.
The superintendent remained at his desk, which had become a communications center. About ten minutes later the sheriff phoned again. He had just received a radio report that a rubber dinghy, with no one in it, had been discovered in a cove they both knew, around a headland from the plant. "It looks as if the guy has come ashore and figures to get in through your fence," the sheriff said. "Every man I have on duty is over your way, searching, and I'm coming myself. Don't worry! We've got him bottled up."
As be hung up the telephone, Bob Ostrander was less confident than the sheriff. On previous occasions, he remembered, the Friends of Freedom leader had shown himself to be devious and resourceful. Coming through the fence, especially in daylight, did not make sense. Suddenly, as realization dawned, Ostrander said aloud, "Scuba gear! That's why he needed a dinghy. The son-of-a-bitch is coming underwater. The pump house!"
He left his office on the run.
A watch foreman was among those patrolling on the river side of the plant. Ostrander, arriving hurriedly, asked him, "Have you seen anything?"
"Not a thing."
"Come with me." they strode toward the pump house. On the way Ostrander explained his theory about an underwater attack. At the forward extremity of the pump house, where it projected into the river, was an open walkway. The plant superintendent led the way onto it. Midpoint on the walkway was a metal inspection hatch directly above the wire mesh cylinder through which water passed into the pump bay; the two men opened the hatch, then leaned over, looking down. The top of the wire mesh cylinder was visible below them. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
Ostrander told the foreman, "Go inside and turn the cylinder slowly."
There was an electric mechanism to do so, operable both from the pump house and the main control room.
Moments later the wire cylinder began to revolve. Almost at once Ostrander could see the first large hole which had been cut. He remained where he was, watching as the cylinder continued turning. When he saw the second hole his fears were confirmed. Running into the pump house, he shouted, "He got inside! Keep the screen going!”
At least, he thought, he would block Archambault's way out.
His engineer's mind was icy cool. He stopped, aware of the need for a 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. 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 2 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 trips! 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 late! 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 had 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 3million 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.