with a gardener and a pool boy and a five-car garage.
But as he tried to imagine it, he knew it could never have happened. That was not him. The guy who came down the stairs of the mansion in a white bathrobe, and coolly ordered the maid to squeeze him a glass of orange juice, had someone else’s face. Priest could never live in the square world. He had always had a problem with rules: he could never obey other people’s. That was why he had to live here.
Flower told him her fingers hurt.
“Then it’s time to stop,” Priest said. “If you like, I’ll teach you another song tomorrow.”
“Does it hurt you?”
“No, but that’s only because I’m used to it. When you’ve practiced the guitar a little, your fingertips get hard pads on them, like the skin on your heel.”
“Does Noel Gallagher have hard pads?”
“If Noel Gallagher is a pop guitarist …”
“Of course! He’s in Oasis!”
“Well, then he has hard pads. Do you think you might like to be a musician?”
“No.”
“That was pretty definite. You have some other ideas?”
She looked guilty, as if she knew he was going to disapprove, but she screwed up her courage and said: “I want to be a writer.”
He was not sure how he felt about that.
“For a magazine. Like
“Why?”
“You get to meet stars and interview them, and write about fashions and makeup.”
Priest gritted his teeth and tried not to let his revulsion show. “Well, I like the idea that you might be a writer, anyway. If you wrote poetry and stories, instead of magazine articles, you could still live here in Silver River Valley.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said doubtfully.
He could see that she was not planning to spend her life here. But she was too young to understand. By the time she was old enough to decide for herself, she would have a different view.
Star came over. “Time for Truth,” she said.
Priest took the guitar from Flower. “Go and get ready for bed, now,” he said.
He and Star headed for the parking circle, dropping off the guitar at Song’s cabin on the way. They found Melanie already there, sitting in the backseat of the ’Cuda, listening to the radio. She had put on a bright yellow T- shirt and blue jeans from the free shop. Both were too big for her, and she had tucked in the T-shirt and pulled the jeans tight with a belt, showing off her tiny waist. She still looked like sex on a stick.
John Truth had a flat nasal twang that could become hypnotic. His specialty was saying aloud the things his listeners believed in their hearts but were ashamed to admit to. It was mostly standard fascist-pig stuff: AIDS was a punishment for sin, intelligence was racially inherited, what the world needed was stricter discipline, all politicians were stupid and corrupt, and like that. Priest imagined that his audience was mostly the kind of fat white men who learned everything they knew in bars. “This guy,” Star said. “He’s everything I hate about America: prejudiced, sanctimonious, hypocritical, self-righteous, and really fucking stupid.”
“That’s a fact,” Priest said. “Listen up.”
Truth was saying: “I’m going to read once more that statement made by the governor’s cabinet secretary, Mr. Honeymoon.”
Priest’s hackles rose, and Star said: “That son of a bitch!” Honeymoon was the man behind the scheme to flood Silver River Valley, and they hated him.
John Truth went on, speaking slowly and ponderously, as if every syllable was significant. “Listen to this. ‘The FBI has investigated the threat which appeared on an Internet bulletin board on the first of May. That investigation has determined that there is no substance to the threat.’ ”
Priest’s heart sank. This was what he had expected, but all the same he was dismayed. He had hoped for at least some slight hint of appeasement. But Honeymoon sounded completely intractable.
Truth carried on reading. “ ‘Governor Mike Robson, following the FBI’s recommendation, has decided to take no further action.’ That, my friends, is the statement
Priest said: “That means we have to do it.”
Melanie said: “Well, I never expected the governor to cave in without a demonstration.”
“Nor did I, I guess.” He frowned. “The statement mentioned the FBI twice. It sounds to me like Mike Robson is getting ready to blame the feds if things go wrong. And that makes me wonder if in his heart he’s not so sure.”
“So if we give him proof that we really can cause an earthquake …”
“Maybe he’ll think again.”
Star looked downcast. “Shit,” she said. “I guess I’ve been hoping we wouldn’t have to do this.”
Priest was alarmed. He did not want Star to get cold feet at this point. Her support was necessary to carry the rest of the Rice Eaters. “We can do this without hurting anyone,” he said. “Melanie has picked the perfect location.” He turned to the backseat. “Tell Star what we talked about.”
Melanie leaned forward and unfolded a map so that Star and Priest could see it. She did not know that Priest could not read maps. “Here’s the Owens Valley fault,” she said, pointing to a red streak. “There were major earthquakes in 1790 and 1872, so another one is overdue.”
Star said: “Surely earthquakes don’t happen according to a regular timetable?”
“No. But the history of the fault shows that enough pressure for an earthquake builds up over about a century. Which means we can cause one now if we give a nudge in the right place.”
“Which is where?” Star said.
Melanie pointed to a spot on the map. “Round about here.”
“You can’t be exact?”
“Not until I get there. Michael’s data gives us the location within about a mile. When I look at the landscape I should be able to pinpoint the spot.”
“How?”
“Evidence of earlier earthquakes.”
“Okay.”
“Now, the best time, according to Michael’s seismic window, will be between one-thirty and two- twenty.”
“How can you be sure no one will get hurt?”
“Look at the map. Owens Valley is thinly populated, just a few small towns strung along a dried-up riverbed. The point I’ve chosen is miles from any human habitation.”
Priest added: “We can be sure the earthquake will be minor. The effects will hardly be felt in the nearest town.” He knew this was not certain, and so did Melanie; but he gave her a hard stare, and she did not contradict him.
Star said: “If the effects are hardly felt, no one’s going to give a shit, so why do it?”
She was being contrary, but that was just a sign of how tense she was. Priest said: “We said we would cause an earthquake tomorrow. As soon as we’ve done it, we’ll call John Truth on Melanie’s mobile phone and tell him we kept our promise.”
“Will he believe us?”
Melanie said: “He’ll have to, when he checks the seismograph.”
Priest said: “Imagine how Governor Robson and his people will feel.” He could hear the exultation in his own
