Next I phoned Elaine. "Don't use the tap for drinking," I said. "I'm closing the distribution connection. I'll explain when I get home."
Then I checked the shutoff procedure, verified which valve isolated the affected network, and made the decision I would be defending for the next two weeks. The tower held roughly sixty thousand gallons at full capacity. With the supply isolated and the distribution system taking its remaining pressure, households would soon begin losing service. Some would have enough for a flush or two. Others near higher elevations would feel the loss sooner. None should use suspect water for consumption until testing and corrective work established it was safe.
I knew there were babies in Cedar Hollow. I knew elderly residents lived alone. I knew people who depended on water for home medical equipment or personal care. I also knew that continuing to pressurize a contaminated network could expose every one of them. Shutting a system down is not a way to win a quarrel. It is the first hard step in preventing a much worse emergency.
At 5:40 I gripped the main valve wheel with both hands and turned. Metal moved against metal with the familiar resistance of a mechanism that had been maintained but never spoiled. I counted the rotations and watched the indicators change. The pump and storage equipment remained protected; the affected distribution line was isolated. Somewhere beyond the fence, kitchen taps would sputter as available pressure declined.
I had barely finished documenting the closure when I heard tires on gravel.
Diane's SUV came around the bend so fast it threw stones against the base of the fence. She parked at an angle that blocked half my driveway. The driver's door opened and she stepped out with her telephone already raised. Behind her came a gray pickup with two board members, and behind that a resident in slippers who had apparently followed the commotion from the gate.
"You turn that back on," she said before I could greet her.
"We have a suspected contamination."
"You have an unpaid invoice. Don't insult me."
"I'm telling you the water may be unsafe."
She looked up at the tank, then at the valve behind me. "A hundred and eighty-six families are going to be without water because you can't accept a business decision. You don't get to hold this neighborhood hostage."
"I tested the residual. It was zero."
"Those words don't mean anything to these families."
"They ought to."
Her face changed, only for a second. She was not used to somebody refusing to follow the path she'd laid out in advance. Then she tapped her screen and held the telephone near her mouth.
"Yes, I need officers at Cedar Hollow Estates. A man is interfering with essential community utilities and refusing to restore service. He's become confrontational, and we need him removed."