“All right.” Dubious, Roddy had seen enough of Mercer to go along with him.
“How would he do it?”
“Oh, God, I’ve never really thought about it before. The obvious thing is going after the locks, but they’re so massive that anything short of a nuclear strike can be repaired in a couple of months.”
“Too short of a time frame,” Harry interjected. “And not very covert either.”
“The Gatun Dam on the Atlantic coast is what holds back all the water ships use to transit the canal. It’s vulnerable. During World War Two there were antitorpedo nets strung in front of it and antiaircraft artillery emplacements around it. Boats today are kept away by law and buoys.”
“Is there any way to damage it?”
“Oh, sure, ram a ship into the spillway. Problem is that such a breach would likely drain a few million acre-feet of Lake Gatun, the canal’s reservoir.”
“Overkill,” Mercer thought aloud.
“Overkill,” Roddy agreed. “It would take many years for natural rainfall to refill the lake to the point ships could cross the isthmus again.”
“So what does that leave us?”
“That leaves the Gaillard Cut, the canal’s narrowest point.” With a pencil Roddy sketched out the shape of Lake Gatun and the canal. Like a twisting tentacle growing from the body of an amoeba, the main part of the waterway stretched from the lake and wended between the continental divide on its way to the Pacific Ocean. Where the canal was its narrowest, between two mountains he labeled Contractor’s and Gold, he wrote in its width: 624 feet. “It looks like a big number,” the pilot added, “but it really isn’t when you consider a lot of the ships we move through there are a third longer than the cut is wide. Those mountains loom over even the tallest vessel and it’s like an oven in there during the summer with heat radiating down into the cut. Even with the widening, it’s too tight to allow the big PANAMAX ships cross-directional passage.”
“I’ve seen the cut,” Lauren said as she looked at the rough drawing. “It would take a hell of an explosion to blow enough rubble into the water to block it. During the widening project completed in 2001 the final blast used something like sixty thousand pounds of explosives.”
“You forget it was spread over a few hundred yards of the canal,” Roddy countered. “A concentrated shot could do enough damage to at least partially fill the canal.”
“Let us say for the sake of your argument”—Foch looked at the others as he spoke—“that Liu wants to shut down the canal for a couple years while it is redredged. We still don’t know why he would do such a thing. Why jeopardize his legitimate gains in Panama with a subversive act of terrorism? What does he gain?”
“He controls the oil pipeline and railroad,” Harry replied. “With the canal out of action he’d be the only game in town. Be a hell of a business.”
“Ah, yes.” The Frenchman nodded. “He’d be able to double or even triple his freight charges. Shippers would have no choice but to pay if they wanted to avoid the extra fourteen-thousand-kilometer trip around South America.”
Mercer had already considered and rejected that motivation. “Rail tariffs represent about half as much money as Liu would give in gold subsidies to keep Panama afloat until the canal opened again. That’s not the reason, although moving freight on the trans-isthmus line could help defray some of the costs of his operation and maintain an international shipping presence here.” He turned to Lauren, who looked exhausted. “You were the first to think about Liu exchanging the Twice-Stolen Treasure in return for being allowed to knock out the canal. Any ideas?”
She stifled a yawn and shook her head. “For now I think we should worry about the how of this thing rather than the why. Liu’s strategy will reveal itself once we learn his tactics.”
Mercer smiled. “First law of combat?”
“Nope. Second law. The first is that bullets always have the right-of-way.”
This got a chuckle all around and the intensity seemed to drain from the discussion. It was nearing two in the morning, time to call it a night. Most of them had been awake for thirty hours or more.
Lieutenant Foch declined Roddy’s offer for he and his men to spend the night. The Legionnaires had to return to their safe house and face whatever punishment Bruneseau had for their disobeying orders.
“Will you still be able to help us?” If he was going to stop Liu, Mercer desperately needed the Legion’s help. It showed in his voice.
“I do not know. Until a few weeks ago Bruneseau was a stranger to us.”
“You will tell him what we’ve learned?” Lauren asked in a tone as desperate as Mercer’s.
“I will tell him. It may do no good. I get the feeling that he is more interested in his career than, ah, what is your saying, sticking out his neck.” Then he added soberly, “I do not concern myself with legalities in this matter. I don’t need enough evidence to convince a court of law that Liu is dangerous. However we have yet to gather enough proof to convince anybody of anything. This is all speculation on our part. Captain Vanik, would you be comfortable bringing this to your superiors?”
She was embarrassed to admit that she wouldn’t.
“You understand my difficulty as well. Bruneseau’s only concern was the missing nuclear waste. I do not believe we will be able to change his mind about leaving.”
“Could you talk to your superiors in the Legion?” Mercer asked.
“I am but a lieutenant,” he said, meaning any report he wrote would be filed and forgotten.
“What if we can get more proof? Something definitive?”
“I don’t know what you could find, Mercer,” the Frenchman answered honestly. “Because nothing has happened yet, there is no ... smoking gun.” Foch looked pleased at his use of the American idiom.
Mercer swore at his own weakness. He was too tired to draw a conclusion from everything they’d discussed, even though he felt it was tantalizingly close. He closed his eyes, trying to get his mind around the solution he knew was there. His expression darkened and Lauren placed a concerned hand on his arm.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, damnit!” He paused. “Sorry.”
No matter who he paid off, Liu couldn’t lace the Gaillard Cut with explosives and expect investigators to believe it was anything other than an act of terrorism. The U.S. government would come down here like the hounds of hell. How else could he do it? Come on, Mercer, come on. Think. Oh, sure. Ram a ship into the spillway. Roddy explaining how to breach the Gatun Dam. The last shot used sixty thousand pounds of explosives. Lauren talking about the canal widening. The ore carrier I was piloting suddenly veered into the oncoming lane. Roddy again, back in Harry’s hotel room, describing the suspicious accident that cost him his job.
Three disparate threads and only one logical conclusion. Mercer looked first at Lauren and then at Foch. “Do you or one of your men have scuba diving experience?”
“I have some,” the Frenchman replied at once, overriding his confusion at the odd question. “Corporal Tomanovic has more. He dives all the time.”
“Can you spare him for twenty-four hours?”