dozen tables surrounded by chairs filled the space. It was lit up brightly. A far wall had refrigerators and sinks stacked against it.
“Congratulations,” Kurt said. “We’ve found the mess hall.”
“And I’m finally not hungry,” Joe said.
Groups of men sat at three of the tables. Strangely, they looked nothing like Jinn’s men.
“All kinds of people here,” Kurt whispered. “We better keep going.”
They moved on, following the pipes and conduits until they reached a glass wall. It looked down into a cavernous space. The lighting was low, but from what they could see it looked like an Olympic-sized pool sat down below. A large shape took up the middle.
“What is this, a health spa?” Joe whispered.
“It won’t be if we get discovered.”
“That’s a big tank,” Joe said. “Reminds me of our simulation tank back in D.C.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Kurt said, quoting Alice from the Lewis Carroll classic. “These guys must be modeling something. Currents or waves or something.”
“What’s with the setup in the middle?”
“No idea,” Kurt said. “But let’s get a closer look.”
They found a door and slipped through it. Stairs led down to a locker room of sorts. White hazmat-style uniforms hung in stalls.
“Time for a wardrobe change,” Kurt said.
“You think these are necessary?”
“For camouflage,” Kurt said. “And if there are any of those microbots down here, it might be good to have a protective layer on.”
In a minute, Kurt and Joe had each donned hazmat suits, pulling them on over the uniforms they’d stolen from the guards.
They moved out onto the pool deck and stood at the surface level. Kurt noticed the object in the center was not a model ship or even the depiction of some coastline but a wide curving object wedged between the two sides. The water level was high on one side of it but far lower on the other side and constricted to a narrow, irregular channel.
He and Joe descended one more flight of stairs and opened a door. They now stood below the water level, looking into the tank and the cross section of the obstruction through the tank’s clear acrylic side.
“I’ve seen this before,” Kurt said. “It’s an embankment dam. The top layer is crushed rock and sand. The gray core in the center is most likely waterproof clay. The bottom liner is known as a cutoff curtain. It’s usually made of concrete, designed to keep the water from seeping under the dam.”
He pointed to the high water behind the dam. “They’re even filling the high side like it’s a reservoir.”
“Why would these guys be modeling a dam?” Joe asked.
“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling we’re not going to like the answer.”
The sound of a generator starting up caught their attention. A moment later the main overhead lights came on and the room brightened. Through the water Kurt saw the distorted shapes of other men in white hazmat suits on the far side of the pool.
“We better look busy,” Kurt said.
Joe grinned. “I’m pretty sure there’s an exit sign I need to inspect.”
“That sounds like a job for two.”
They climbed back up the stairs and slipped out of the observation dugout. Back on the pool deck, they waved to the men across from them in identical suits, received a wave in return and then entered the locker room once again.
“What now?” Joe asked.
Through a window Kurt saw another group entering the room. These men were dressed sharply in fine Arab clothing. Another man dressed in white was pointing out this and that to them. A bearded man in a plain gray caftan trailed behind them.
“That’s Jinn,” Kurt said, basing his guess on a surveillance photo he’d seen.
“Who are these other guys?” Joe asked.
“They look like dignitaries on a tour,” Kurt said.
Jinn led the Arab men around the pool and over to the very stairway Kurt and Joe had just ascended. They went down to the underwater viewing area.
“They’re here for a demonstration of some kind,” Kurt whispered.
“I hate to sound like the reasonable one,” Joe began, “but maybe we should beat a hasty retreat while they’re otherwise occupied.”
Kurt shook his head. “Sage advice, my friend. Except we now have a front-row seat, and they’re about to show us what they’re planning. I think it behooves us to stick around, keep the suits on and try to blend in.”
“
“It was the word of the day on my calendar last week. Never thought I’d get a chance to use it.”
“Glad to hear you’re expanding your vocabulary. But what if something behooves one of them to ask us what we’re doing here? Or to perform some task we don’t know how to do, like turn some big machine on?”
“We’ll just press a lot of buttons, throw some switches, and pretend we’re incompetent,” Kurt said.
“Go with our strengths, then.”
“Exactly.”
Kurt would have tried to reassure Joe further, but additional machinery starting up dragged his attention back to the window.
He saw Jinn gesturing and speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words through the glass.
“This is like watching TV with the mute button on,” Joe said.
At the far end of the pool, a large yellow drum was being secured to a hoist and lifted by an overhead crane. By the caution they showed, and the fact that only the white-suited men got anywhere near it, Kurt figured he knew what was in that drum.
“Sound or no sound,” he said, “I think we’re about to see a show.”
CHAPTER 22
IN THE CAVERNOUS BAY SURROUNDING THE TANK, JINN’S words to Mustafa of Pakistan and Alhrama of Saudi Arabia echoed with a strange dissonance. He’d managed to be gracious and munificent—at least in his own mind—despite wanting to choke them with his bare hands. But he was ready to send them a message. In fact, he’d decided to send two.
Sabah leaned closer. “Separate them,” he whispered and then stepped back, remaining behind Jinn and out of sight.
Jinn did not react to the words. He had agreed to this show on Sabah’s request. But he would decide what must occur now.
“You see in the tank before you a mock-up of the Aswan High Dam,” he said. “It will soon be the focal point in a demonstration of my powers.”
“I don’t understand,” Alhrama said.
“General Aziz has emboldened you with his refusal to pay what he promised. He has his reasons, but prime among them is the dam. As long as it exists, Egypt has a five-year supply of water stored up. But Aziz has little understanding of either my power or my wrath.”
Jinn lifted a radio to his mouth and pressed the talk switch. “Begin.”
The machinery spooled up again. The crane shifted and moved the barrel out over the water and into its final position. A cable attached to the bottom half of the yellow drum was reeled in and the drum began to tip.
The silver sand began to pour out; millions upon millions of Jinn’s microbots, pouring into the tank and dispersing like sugar in tea. The water began turning murky and gray.
“Give the command,” Jinn said.
