The Disruption of Thomas Page 6

makers at head offices.'

  Gunther's crew might indeed be keeping Thomas busy as agents often do, usually in an effort to keep a visitor's nose out of their comfy domains.

  About an hour later they were on the edge of a village in the desert some distance from the mountains. They arrived at a business compound surrounded by a twelve-foot concrete block wall. The terrain was flat of sand and stone with rare widely dispersed short deciduous trees. Nearby, a half dozen dispersed camels fed on the leaves.

  Rajeev pushed open a thick wood door. They entered the compound where a muscular more than six foot monolith of a man silently greeted them in a civil and grave manner like an undertaker's usher.

  'I will be polite to him.'

  The compound comprised buildings used as offices workshops and warehouses as well as living quarters and a large yard; all looked empty.

  They were led to the nearest building, a ten-foot high four-hundred square foot storage structure. The space was empty and clean. The entrance had no door; the single window opening had shutters but no glass. Thomas imagined they could quickly convert the space into a roomy cell with all the latest local comforts.

  'The place gives me the creeps.'

  Thomas focused on the reason for the visit to keep his imagination under control.

  A slight Pilipino man sat on his heels in a far corner with elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. This was Mr. Rodrigo.

  When he saw Rajeev he displayed a smile at once welcoming grateful and desperate. He remained where he was and didn't get up.

  'Wow; this is the project manager?'

  The scene offered a glimpse into the reality of Mr. Rodrigo's situation; one could easily imagine all sorts of uncertainties the man faced.

  A brief talk with him confirmed what Rajeev had already said but revealed nothing new. Thomas assured Mr. Rodrigo they would go to the site the next day to see if they could fix whatever was wrong with the equipment.

  They arrived back in Abha after sunset. In the distance the mountain glowed in a dazzling deep green from the street lighting up the helical road.

  'Hence the green mountain I guess; nothing to do with gardens.'

  He enjoyed seeing new sights. He became nostalgic reminiscing of trips he made when he started the company. Thomas wondered what lighting technology resulted in the brilliant colour and spectacular effect. An engineer's quirk no doubt. Who else would bother. The bright green was too uniform to be achieved with coloured tube covers or diffusers.

  'Maybe they've come up with a lighting system that uses LEDs or something. Those would be powerful LEDs.'

  Thomas's engineering niche over time had become power not lighting. Not knowing how they got the green street lighting would peeve him until he could look it up when he got back to the shop. He certainly wouldn't ask anyone.

  The desk clerk at hotel Mountain Vista found their reservations and checked them in. Their rooms were on the third floor. The single elevator shuttled up and down as floor numbers flashed on the display. Thomas doubted it would return to the lobby anytime soon. He lost patience. Tomorrow would be another tough day. In the morning he had to make an unscheduled side trip to a substation construction site in the desert. Heaven knew how long they'd be there or if that would be their only visit of the day.

  He grabbed his suit case and walked towards the stairs. He glanced back; Rajeev looked surprised and didn't follow. Thomas suspected climbing the stairs carrying his own suitcase must breach decorum or something. He climbed the first flight quickly. He slowed for the next: He wasn't old but he was no longer young. He found his room and sat down to relax with his current book before going to bed.

  Now that he stopped accumulated fatigue caught up with him. He felt terrible. He couldn't catch his breath comfortably; his chest felt tight. He lay down to let the discomfort pass but the tightness continued. He began to wonder if he was having a heart attack. From what he'd heard this is how an attack must feel.

  Here would be among the worst places to have one. As he lay he thought of what he would do if he didn't feel better soon. As thoughts passed through his mind he remembered what Rajeev said earlier, "Somebody said because of the less oxygen at this altitude."

  He felt foolish but relieved. Low air density must be the cause of his shortness of breath. His malaise began to subside in a short time as he continued to relax.

  'Of all the lame brain things to do; no wonder Rajeev didn't follow.'

  Reassured he continued to lie still to let the malaise pass completely. He turned his mind to the next day's programme. They had to leave early to do what they promised.

  After an exhausting day deep sleep would come quickly. He feared he might not wake up in the morning. The hotel offered no wake-up-call service and Rajeev would think it wasn't his place to disturb him. In the end he let fatigue counsel him. He probably would wake-up as he always did. At that point he didn't care if he didn't.

  He got up and opened the window wide. The hotel had no air conditioner because Abha never gets warmer than 30ºC.

  'Surely it must be warmer than 30° now.'

  He set his alarm to 6 o'clock; he might hear it.

  He needn't have worried. Unseen in last night's darkness large public address speakers were mounted on a mosque across the narrow street that passed by the hotel. One pointed directly towards his open window. At dawn the muezin recited Adhan calling the faithful to Fajr loud enough that not a single faithful for kilometers around could believably claim he didn't hear the call to prayer. He swore his room shook.

  He went down to breakfast early ... as the sun peeked tentatively over the horizon. He was the first guest in the dining room. He read and finished a newspaper while he waited for Rajeev. He drummed his fingers on the table as he listened to the background music; he hummed along with the old familiar easy-listening tunes.

  Rajeev was the fourth guest to arrive. He looked refreshed, ready for another long day. For one thing Rajeev was in his mid-twenties. For another his room was on the opposite side of the hotel. ... By chance no doubt.

  They discussed how to approach the problem at the substation while they ate breakfast then left for the day.

  They drove down through the mountains from Abha and continued south-west into the desert towards the Red Sea. The sub-station was in Jizan Region near the small town of Ad Darb south of the Hejaz and a few kilometers from Yemen to the east, and the red sea to the west. A single knitting-needle-straight road passed by the sub-station and continued on to near the coast.

  They arrived mid-morning. The temperature was 55ºC. The substation was much farther into the desert than the compound they visited the previous afternoon. The terrain differed a bit too. Deeper sand covered the rocky base almost completely.

  Thomas stood and looked all around. The only sights were the road disappearing into the western horizon, the supply power line arriving from the North touching base with the sub-station before continuing on its way somewhere to the South, the distribution line out of the substation running along the road to heaven-knew-where to service heaven-knew-what, and sparsely distributed trees like those he saw the day before. The rest was sand as far as he could see. To the East only the peaks of the Sarawat Mountains peeped over the horizon. The place was as desolate as the Canadian North but hotter with deep sand instead of deep snow.

  They found Eng. Sanji the Project Engineer in his trailer office. He was early forties slightly shorter than Thomas, trim neatly dressed correct erect all business and no smile. They informed him of their arrival chatted a few moments and waited for him outside.

  Engineer Sanji soon joined them. Together they walked the remaining several meters to the substation. The building was cooled to 30ºC; for a short while it felt like a butcher's walk-in refrigerator.

  Mister Rodrigo had arrived earlier; he waited inside looking perfectly miserable. He sat on his heels again by a wall next to a row of switchgear cubicle
s his crew installed a few months before. He wished he'd never heard of this job.

  Thomas visually inspected the DC power system. He found everything properly installed.

  'Engineer Sanji, will we cause disturbance to any equipment if we power-up the DC system?'

  'No, the DC back-up is remaining isolated from the substation since the failure. In fact we are starting to be concerned for the health of the battery.'

  Engineer Sanji's concern was technically justified but the risk of damage to the battery in the nearly ideal environment of the substation was low.

  'Ok; ... Rajeev, let's switch-on the power and take a few readings.'

  A loud alarming growl as if the rectifier would fly out of its cabinet and eat everybody confirmed Rajeev's assessment that at least some SCRs were defective. No readings were needed.

  'Quick; cut the power …

  'Change the SCRs then re-apply power.'

  At the end of nearly an hour’s work Rajeev re-applied power.

  Eureka: The equipment sounded normal and the readings under Eng. Sanji’s watchful eye over Rajeev's shoulder showed the equipment functioned normally.

  Rajeev was a sharp competent young Engineer. One day he might achieve great things. At the moment however he had limited field experience. He was about to connect an unfamiliar oscilloscope borrowed from Eng. Sanji's equipment store as he had all previous times to check the newly installed SCRs.

  Tom's blood