Trigger Point

Chapter 4

2

2Xinjiang autonomous region of China,

30 June 2014

The surface of the reservoir was placid, an expansive black mirror, reflecting the inverted bowl of a moonless night sky.

A solitary boat glided on the water, barely leaving a wake. The boat’s transom held an outboard motor, but it remained retracted and unused. After several failed attempts to jury-rig a muffler that would suppress the antique motor’s cough and sputter, the boatmen had decided in favour of tradition: muscle-numbing rowing.

To the four saboteurs, stealth, instead of speed, was paramount to the success of the mission.

With insufficient coal reserves to meet its mushrooming power needs, hydroelectric power represents China’s largest renewable energy source and quickest path to energy independence. The country has the largest number of dams and the largest dam in the world — the Three Gorges Dam, holds enough water mass to slow the earth’s rotation by a few thousandths of a second! Yet for all this, China has little to show in terms of energy efficiency. Its hydroelectric stations operate at a fraction of their capacity, the environment has been negatively impacted, and reservoirs have flooded villages and towns, displacing hundreds of people, depriving them of their livelihood.

The Hŭpò hú — Amber Lake — reservoir in the mountainous northwest autonomous region of Xinjiang, was the result of an arch dam on the perennial river, another milestone in China’s ambitious hydroelectric program p********a.

The saboteurs bitterly recalled a morning, two years ago, when their peaceful village routine was interrupted by the arrival of helicopters: a military escort and a smaller executive craft.

The helicopters descended without regard to the livestock, and several herders spent the rest of the morning persuading frightened sheep and goats to return to their pens.

The executive helicopter landed, and a sharply dressed individual stepped out, buttoning a jacket. He had a male and female attendant for acolytes. The trio ducked beneath the spinning rotors as if the good engineers at AgustaWestland had intended to decapitate every passenger. The Boss Man took a few steps to acclimatise himself making clear that walking on the unpaved ground was an alien experience for him. The military transport was landing a little distance away — it needed more space to park. A contingent of armed soldiers was disgorged from its belly and they assembled before their commander, a major.

The major regarded the village as a wolf regards a chicken coop. The Wolf snapped his fingers and the sight of assault rifle-wielding soldiers fanning out was incongruous against the tranquil backdrop of the lush valley.

The Boss Man and his acolytes confronted the villagers and his male acolyte demanded to speak to the elders. When they made themselves known, the female acolyte stepped in. Her voice was mellifluous and reminded the villagers of the river song. But the message conveyed by her deceptively disarming tone was more akin to the clarion call of a barbaric horde amassing on the mountains, ominously harking devastation about to befall the helpless village.

She painted a canvas of cities and factories, hundreds of kilometres eastward and southward, flourishing on electricity, of state coffers growing fat on the revenue. By the end of the week, she crooned, work would begin on an arch dam at the mouth of the valley. The villagers would be compensated. Also, they could work at the construction site and earn a wage. Within two years, the Amber dam would be commissioned, and the villagers could boast their contribution toward China’s greatness.

The self-sufficient villagers had never needed money before, so recompense did not lure them. However, illiterate as they were, the villagers were quite certain they would be losing more than they gained.

An elder protested; the Wolf, who had sidled up to the Boss Man, vehemently struck the bold fellow to the ground and bared his fangs daring anybody to challenge progress.

The saboteur in the prow, clutching a worn AK47 to his chest, still relived the pain of witnessing his grandfather collapse under the Wolf’s blow.

In the background, the Wolf’s soldiers tensed, bringing their guns to bear, fingers on triggers. The acolytes cowered; the Boss Man watched without batting an eyelid. He had not deigned to speak and put out a hand into which his female acolyte placed an A4-sized typed-up contract — a far cry from a real legal contract. Even if the villagers could read, the simple message couldn’t be clearer: Get out before the weekend.

realNon-negotiable.

Or, stay and drown. Either way, the Boss Man did not care so long as he left the valley with three consents. Yes, three. He had two more villages to clear that morning before he could return to the comfort of his luxury apartment in Beijing.

And so, it came to pass that the fate of the village was sealed.

True to the river song message, a squadron of Russian Mil Mi-26 heavy-lift helicopters appeared over the ridgeline that Saturday and barges laden with heavy, earth-moving machinery and construction material sailed up the river and docked at the mouth of the valley.

Some families uprooted themselves and made for the nearest towns; others accepted employment on the dam. Out of hope and stubborn pride, the remainder attempted to ignore the furious activity around them.

In vain.

Armies of workers arrived, accompanied by more material and machinery. The landscape was irrevocably altered. Rock blasting became a daily life-startling substitute for the crowing of the village c**k. Particulates clogged the air, respiratory afflictions abounded; livestock was stressed and began under-producing or dying. The Wolf arrived one day and left with several sheep and goats to feed his pack.

The ache in his back, the blisters on his hands from the exertions of rowing — all of this was blotted out in the mind of the second saboteur. His determination was fuelled by revenge for the theft of his farm.

One day, the river was temporarily diverted, birthing a swamp which spawned bloodsucking insects and hitherto unseen diseases. Deprivation found those who initially resisted grovelling at the Wolf’s doorstep, indebted to him for permitting them the use of the construction camp’s convenience store and doctors.

Graciously provided by the government.

A grace that could not save the life of the third saboteur’s only child. No father should have to watch his children suffer; no father should bear the burden of surviving his children.

The conquest of the village was complete. So also, the humiliation. The population was whittled down to a few hardy families.

The dam was completed ahead of schedule. Nobody questioned if norms and surveys had been flouted. When the hydroelectric plant was commissioned with great fanfare nobody paid attention to the villagers who cried as they gazed upon the lake that had drowned their village.

With vindictive intent at the fore, but citing security concerns about a possible terrorist target, the Wolf cordoned off the dam, requested Beijing for human and electronic countermeasures. No trespassing signs and a fence blossomed about the perimeter of the lake, effectively severing the last ties the villagers had to the land.

When the fourth saboteur contacted Uighur dissidents further north, he found he was not alone in his frustration. He and his co-conspirators discovered they were amenable to an idea posited by the dissidents: strike at the very object that has cost you so much.

strike at the very object that has cost you so muchAcquiring Semtex and weapons was easy; there were always fighters returning from the jihad in the Levant. A rickety truck deposited them and their boat at the northern tip of the lake. From there, they stole over to the fence, which was once an intimidating obstacle to them.

Not anymore.

It was amazing, how a little indoctrination and an impassioned speech about glorious victory and invincibility could strengthen a person’s gumption. The four converts found it a matter of perseverance to tear a gap in the fence in a secluded corner of the lake, manhandle their boat through the tear, and set it on the lake. In their minds that task marked the start of the enemy’s defeat. They waited an entire day in concealment, guns at the ready, wondering if the trespass had been noticed.

It had not.

Thus emboldened, on a moonless night, the saboteurs rowed into deeper water and set their minds on their suicidal mission. An hour and a half of rowing in turns — a pair at rowing, another as a lookout and the fourth bailing water from the leaky boat — saw nothing threaten them. Eventually, their objective materialised.

The sweeping concave of the arch dam, shrouded in darkness, save for a few floodlights.

The men pulled in their oars. This was their first experience of the dam from the reservoir’s surface. It was imposing, towering thirty feet with a causeway at the top, and dropping six hundred feet on the other side to strangulate the mighty Amber River to a shallow muddy stream.

Momentarily, the saboteurs were silent, appraising their foe, amazed at its solidity. The six packs of Semtex seemed insufficient to breach the monster of concrete that was holding back trillions of tonnes of water.

But they had come so far…

The boat bobbed suddenly as if the river was urging them on, indicating its allegiance to their goal. Set me free, the water seemed to plead. With a shared look, their resolve returned. Pursing their lips, with mounting excitement, they embarked on the final phase of their quest.

Set me freeThey were so preoccupied with reaching the upstream wall they failed to notice their boat had passed over an array of submerged motion sensors, part of the Wolf"s electronic countermeasures.

In a squat bunker at one end of the dam"s causeway, an alarm rang. A computer retrieved the sensors" positional information and relayed it to cameras on the causeway. The cameras swivelled on their mounts and their lens converged on the thermal signatures on the reservoir.

In the bunker, four blobs of false colour — red, from their exertions — contrasted starkly with the cooler hues of the lake. The soldier manning the consoles made an immediate inference: the dam was in danger. He roused the Wolf who made a hasty appearance in the control room and reached the same conclusion as his subordinate.

The Wolf sneered; his chest swelled with premature pride at foiling a terrorist plot. He whistled-up a team. His men were eager to finally swing into action. Arming themselves sufficiently to start a small war, they dashed out the bunker to meet the brazen ducks in the water. One group ran out on the causeway; the other, led by the Wolf, raced down a flight of stairs to the water"s edge, where a Zodiac was moored by a concrete jetty. The Wolf and his men piled in; one soldier pushed the starter button. The outboard misfired, drawing a glare from the Wolf. Mouthing an entreaty to the motor, the soldier tried again, and the motor obliged, coming to life.

The Zodiac slalomed into the reservoir.