The Colonel pointed farther north. “The bridge is washed out over there. I don’t know how we’ll get to the Gleno.”
“Did you see the bodies?” Angelo asked.
The Colonel’s face was twisted. “I’ve lost most of my men up there. Some electrocuted by the very lines they were trying to protect.”
“Down there,” the assessor interrupted. “Look. Someone’s still alive.”
Stefano grabbed the camera from the shaken man and pointed it to where the risk assessor had been looking. A unit of soldiers was making their way down into the valley, but then Angelo saw what the assessor had. Three people were slogging through the water and mud, without a stitch of clothing on them, and this in December. They were sifting through the piles of debris. He heard the sound of the camera again and again, and then the Colonel’s voice.
“Does that man of yours have to take so many photos? What on earth does he hope to get from this perspective?”
Angelo itched to tackle his father off the road and feed him to the black snake below. “Goddammit, Colonel, he’s documenting our wake-up call.”
***
“T hree hundred and fifty-six deaths, that we know of,” Angelo said to Pietro. He lowered the report.
“It’s good that we’re meeting at your office,” Pietro said. “We must keep things official, not personal.”
“I’ve ordered a full evaluation of all dam designs for projects in progress,” Angelo said. “And, Pietro, we’re doing it my way. I won’t take any more orders from the consortium or any private companies until we’ve had a chance to assess all of this. I want a full overhaul of our risk assessment departments. I warned you, years ago, about the reports coming in, about the sloppy work, and it just slipped out of control as soon as we allowed the Gleno to go private.”
Pietro sighed and shifted in his seat. “On some points I agree with you, Angelo. Money had a lot to do with it too.”
“Money? Let’s start with the bureaucracy. For Christ’s sake, Pietro, it took us how long to get the damned second permit? They changed the whole structure before they even had it. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.”
The phone rang, and Angelo lifted the receiver. “Is he here?”
“Yes, Minister.”
“Send him in.”
Pietro stood up and turned towards the door. The Colonel came in, looking ready to do battle, white gloves in hand, but Pietro took a step forward and gave him a careful embrace.
“Nicolo, we’re all here as concerned citizens, and as family. Let’s remember that.”
Angelo stepped from behind his desk and gave the Colonel a brisk handshake. When they were all sitting, he corrected Pietro. “Today’s meeting is strictly a department matter. You’re here to consult. And you”—he eyed the Colonel—“are here to get a summary of our findings.”
The Colonel whipped his gloves against his thigh once, then stuffed them out of sight.
“I have the watchman’s report here,” Angelo said.
“That he survived,” the Colonel said, “is a miracle.”
“It was luck. He was at the other end of the dam. We already had concerns about the water levels, as you know, at the opening. Especially after all the rains. On November thirtieth, he called my risk assessor, but my man assured him there was nothing to worry about yet.”
“Thirty-eight metres,” his father said.
“Correct. The dam broke the next day at seven oh five in the morning. About fifty minutes later, the last wave was reported in Darfo, at the end of the valley. According to the watchman, the buttress collapsed very fast—he guessed thirty seconds—and in three stages. The eleventh spur fell first along with the two arches resting on it, followed by spurs eight to twelve and then four to seven. Overall, a breach of about eighty metres.”
He handed copies of the report to each man, summarizing the rest. “Subsequent technical examinations have proven that the collapse was triggered by water seepage at the interface between the masonry base and the overlying structure. Your structure, Colonel, for which we never issued permits.
“Many aspects have contributed to the failure of the multiple-arch dam, but ultimately the blame lies on poor workmanship. The concrete arches were reinforced with anti-grenade scrap netting.” He waited until the Colonel looked up from his copy. “Anti-grenade scrap netting? I find that to be rather remarkable considering that you complained about those materials when we were on the battlefield.”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “The worst of it was that the dam was poorly joined at its foundations, and evidence of poor masonry was also found. This along with those accumulated rains created perfect conditions for the disaster.” He paused, certain to have the Colonel’s attention. “We also heard from people who worked under Barbarasso. They claim that he fired anyone who complained about poor construction techniques. Secondly, my men were eventually on your payroll, lining their pockets with your bribes.”
The Colonel remained unusually silent.
“What findings does Grimani Electrical have at hand?” Pietro asked.
His father grimaced. “If we have to pay for all the damages alone, the company will be insolvent.”
Angelo steepled his hands. His father was not going to get out of this that easily, but there would be no more dams for Grimani Electrical for quite some time. He would get concrete numbers later.
“I am going to make changes to how we do things.” He opened a folder and placed two documents before Pietro and the Colonel. The men leaned forward to read them. “One report is from the Geological Society in Munich, from a Richard von Klebesberg. He conducted the original geological tests and soil samples of the Reschen Lake decades ago. Then again about three months ago.”
The Colonel looked up, and Angelo flashed him a warning look to let him finish.
“The report reiterates von Klebesberg’s original findings. The soil is
