Twenty minutes later, a double strand of durasteel cable stretched across the three-hundred-foot wide current, suspended between the raised crane towers of four of the mammoth crane carriers and passing twenty feet above the churn of the bore hole. Hall and a half dozen of his section chiefs stood at the base of one of the makeshift towers. The chief hydraulic engineer had a headset clamped on for contact with all the working units. He turned to one of the men standing by. "Get me a pressure reading on that hole," he ordered. "I want to know how much weight it's going to take to get down through that mess." "Why not just shut the other three down while we go down into the hole?" the assistant asked. "Calculated risk," Hall said. "If she's going to blow, it isn't going to make any difference if the others are shut down or not. And, if we can keep pumping while we're working, we're staying ahead of the flow from the reservoir. Get me that reading." The pressure report was back in minutes. "It'll take at least a four-ton mass to get down there fast and keep from being bucked around." Hall looked around, "What have we got that's small enough and has that weight or better?" "How about a van tractor?" one of the supervisors suggested. "They weigh closer to six tons but they're pretty compact." "Fine," Hall snapped. "Rig it." The bulky, almost square, tractor was rolled up and the rigging crews were swarming over it, clamping suspension cables from the running pulley that would ride the cable across the current. "What's the radiation report?" Hall asked monitoring. "Still building," came the reply. "But we've got a leak somewhere, Mr. Hall. We're getting readings from the water down there. Not too much yet, but it may change our time factor. I'd either get on it fast, chief, or let's get outta here. That thing can go any minute now." The tractor was rigged. Hall turned and bawled, "Where are those divers?" Alec Patterson and Troy Braden stepped out of a nearby van, dressed in pressure suits and tanks, their helmet flaps open. Alec had a heavy belt of ultra-high explosive plastic lashed around his midsection. Troy carried a rack of small clamps strung across his shoulders. "Where do you think you two are going?" Hall roared. "Get those suits off and get outta here." "Shut up and listen," Alec snarled. "I started this. I'll finish it. This idiot partner of mine hasn't got any better sense than to go along. We haven't time to argue, so just listen. "Both of us have been trained in hydrology and have made many dives before. We've both used this plastic and we've both handled hot stuff, probably more than any of your people. Your man has checked us out on the pump assembly and we know just what we're looking for. Let's go." Hall glared at the pair for a second and then whirled to the rigged tractor. "Get that canopy off that thing," he ordered. "They can ride it down in the seat."