Judy realized, it was not feminine company she wanted. It would be nice to lie on the beach beside something with hairy legs and a deep voice. It was a year since she had split up with Don: this was the longest time she had been without a lover since her teens. At college she had been a little wild, almost promiscuous; working at Mutual American Insurance, she had had an affair with her boss; then she had lived with Steve Dolen for seven years and almost married him. She often thought about Steve. He was attractive and smart and kind — too kind, maybe, for in the end she came to think of him as weak. Maybe she asked the impossible. Perhaps all considerate, attentive men were weak, and all the strong ones, like Don Riley, ended up shtupping their secretaries.
Her car phone rang. She did not need to pick up the handset: after two rings it connected automatically in hands-free mode. “Hello,” she said. “This is Judy Maddox.”
“This is your father.”
“Hi, Bo. Will you be home for supper? We could have—”
He interrupted her. “Turn on your car radio, quick,” he said. “Tune to John Truth.”
He was speaking in the ponderously dramatic manner he used to suggest that what he had to say was world-shakingly important. “The California State seismologist has now confirmed that there was an earthquake today — the very day the Hammer of Eden promised it. It took place at twenty minutes after two P.M. in Owens Valley, just as the Hammer of Eden said when they called this show a few minutes ago.”
Judy was electrified. She forgot her frustration, and her depression vanished. She felt alive again.
John Truth was saying: “But the same state seismologist denied that this or any other earthquake could have been caused by a terrorist group.”
Was that true? Judy had to know. What did other seismologists think? She needed to make some calls. Then she heard John Truth say: “In a moment we will play you a recording of the message left by the Hammer of Eden.”
That could be a crucial mistake by the terrorists. They would not know it, but a voice on tape would provide a mass of information when analyzed by Simon Sparrow.
Truth went on: “Meanwhile, what do
A commercial for a furniture warehouse came on, and Judy muted the volume. “Are you still there, Bo?”
“Sure.”
“They did it, didn’t they?”
“Sure looks like it.”
She wondered whether he was genuinely uncertain or just being cautious. “What does your instinct say?”
He gave her another ambiguous answer. “That these people are very dangerous.”
Judy tried to calm her racing heart and turn her mind to what she should do next. “I’d better call Brian Kincaid—”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“The news … Wait a minute.” Bo was making a point. “You don’t think I should call him.”
“I think you should call your boss when you can give him something he can’t get from the radio.”
“You’re right.” Judy began to feel calmer as she ran over the possibilities. “I guess I’m going back to work.” She made a right turn.
“Okay. I’ll be home in an hour or so. Call me if you want supper.”
She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. “Thanks, Bo. You’re a great daddy.”
He laughed. “You’re a great kid, too. Later.”
“Later.” She touched the button that terminated the call, then she turned up the volume on the radio.
She heard a low, sexy voice saying: “This is the Hammer of Eden with a message for Governor Mike Robson.”
The picture that came into her mind was of a mature woman with large breasts and a wide smile, likable but kind of off-the-wall.
The tone changed, and the woman muttered: “Shit, I didn’t expect to be talking to a tape recorder.”
The woman resumed her formal voice and continued: “Like we promised, we caused an earthquake today, four weeks after our last message. It happened in Owens Valley a little after two o’clock, you can check it out.”
A faint background noise caused her to hesitate.
A second later she carried on. “We do not recognize the jurisdiction of the United States government. Now that you know we can do what we say, you’d better think again about our demand. Announce a freeze on construction of new power plants in California. You have seven days to make up your mind.”
“After that we will trigger another earthquake. But the next one won’t be out in the middle of nowhere. If you force us, we’ll do real damage.”
“We don’t like it, but it’s the only way. Please do as we say so that this nightmare can end.”
John Truth came on. “There it is, the voice of the Hammer of Eden, the group that claims to have triggered the earthquake that shook Owens Valley today.”
Judy had to have that tape. She turned down the volume again and dialed Raja’s home number. He was single, he could give up his Friday evening.
When he answered she said: “Hi, this is Judy.”
He said immediately: “I can’t, I have tickets for the opera!”
She hesitated, then decided to play along. “What’s on?”
“Uh …
She suppressed a laugh. “By Ludwig Sebastian Wagner?”
“Right.”
“No such opera, no such composer. You’re working tonight.”
“Shit.”
“Why didn’t you invent a rock group? I would have believed you.”
“I keep forgetting how old you are.”
She laughed. Raja was twenty-six, Judy was thirty-six. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“What’s the assignment?” He did not sound too reluctant.
Judy became serious again. “Okay, here it is. There was an earthquake in the eastern part of the state this afternoon, and the Hammer of Eden claim they triggered it.”
“Wow! Maybe these people are for real after all!” He sounded pleased rather than scared. He was young and keen, and he had not thought through the implications.
“John Truth just played a recorded message from the perpetrators. I need you to go to the radio station and get the tape.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Make sure you get the original, not a copy. If they give you a hard time, tell them we can get a court order in an hour.”
