“It’s okay,” Michael said with a smile. “I’ll listen in.”
They went into the bedroom. “I don’t know many stories, but I remember one my mommy used to tell me,” Judy said. “It’s the legend of the kindly dragon. Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes, please,” said Dusty.
“Me too,” said Michael.
“Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a kindly dragon who lived in China, where all dragons come from. One day the kindly dragon went wandering. He wandered so far that he left China and got lost in the wilderness.
“After many days he came to another land, far to the south. It was the most beautiful country he had ever seen, with forests and mountains and fertile valleys, and rivers for him to splash about in. There were banana palms and mulberry trees laden with ripe fruit. The weather was always warm with a pleasant breeze.
“But there was one thing wrong. It was an empty land. No one lived there: no people, and no dragons. So although the kindly dragon loved the new land, he was terribly lonely.
“However, he didn’t know the way home, so he roamed all around, looking for someone to keep him company. At last, one lucky day, he found the one person who lived there — a fairy princess. She was so beautiful that he fell in love with her at once. Now, the princess was lonely, too, and although the dragon looked fearsome, he had a kind heart, and so she married him.
“The kindly dragon and the fairy princess loved each other, and they had a hundred children. All the children were brave and kindly like their dragon father, and beautiful like their fairy mother.
“The kindly dragon and the fairy princess looked after their children until they were all grown up. Then, suddenly, both parents vanished. They went away to live in love and harmony in the spirit world for all eternity. And their children became the brave, kindly, beautiful people of Vietnam. And that’s where my mommy came from.”
Dusty was wide-eyed. “Is it true?”
Judy smiled. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“It’s a beautiful story anyway,” Michael said. He kissed Dusty good night.
As Judy left the room, she heard Dusty whisper: “She’s really nice, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Michael replied.
Back in the living room, Michael said: “Thank you for that. You were great with him.”
“It wasn’t difficult. He’s a charmer.”
Michael nodded. “Gets it from his mother.”
Judy smiled.
Michael grinned and said: “I notice you don’t argue with that.”
“I’ve never met your wife. In the picture she looks very beautiful.”
“She is. And … faithless.”
That was an unexpected confidence, coming so suddenly from a man she took to be proud. She warmed to him. But she did not know what to say in reply.
They were both silent for a moment. Then Michael said: “You’ve had enough of the Quercus family. Tell me about the earthquake.”
“Let’s get the seismograph.” Michael sat at his desk and tapped the keys of his computer. She found herself looking at his bare feet. Some men had ugly feet, but his were well shaped and strong looking, with neatly clipped toenails. The skin was white, and there was a small tuft of dark hair on each big toe.
He did not notice her scrutiny. “When your terrorists made their threat four weeks ago, did they specify the location?”
“No.”
“Hmm. In the scientific community, we say that a successful earthquake forecast would have to specify date, location, and magnitude. Your people only gave the date. That’s not very convincing. There’s an earthquake
“Can you tell me exactly where today’s tremor took place?”
“Yes. I can calculate the epicenter by triangulation. Actually, the computer does it automatically. I’ll just print out the coordinates.” After a moment his printer whirred.
Judy said: “Is there any way of knowing how the earthquake was triggered?”
“You mean, can I tell from the graph whether it was caused by human agency? Yes, I should be able to.”
“How?”
He clicked his mouse and turned from the screen to face her. “A normal earthquake is preceded by a gradual buildup of foreshocks, or lesser tremors, which we can see on the seismograph. By contrast, when the earthquake is triggered by an explosion, there is no buildup — the graph begins with a characteristic spike.” He turned back to his computer.
He was probably a good teacher, Judy thought. He explained things clearly. But he would be mercilessly intolerant of student foibles. He would give surprise tests and refuse to admit latecomers to his lectures.
“That’s odd,” he said.
Judy looked over his shoulder at the screen. “What’s odd?”
“The seismograph.”
“I don’t see a spike.”
“No. There was no explosion.”
Judy did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “So the earthquake happened naturally?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. There are foreshocks, yes. But I’ve never seen foreshocks like this.”
Judy was frustrated. He had promised to tell her whether the Hammer of Eden’s claim was plausible. Now he was maddeningly uncertain. “What’s peculiar about the foreshocks?” she asked.
“They’re too regular. They look artificial.”
“Artificial?”
He nodded. “I don’t know what caused these vibrations, but they don’t look natural. I believe your terrorists did
“Can you find out?”
“I hope so. I’ll call a few people. Plenty of seismologists will be studying these readings already. Between us we ought to be able to figure out what they mean.”
He didn’t sound too sure, but Judy guessed she would have to be content with that for now. She had got all she could out of Michael tonight. Now she needed to get to the scene of the crime. She picked up the sheet that had emerged from the printer. It showed a series of map references.
“Thanks for seeing me,” she said. “I appreciate it.”
“I enjoyed it.” He smiled at her, a big hundred-watt smile showing two rows of white teeth.
“Have a good weekend with Dusty.”
“Thanks.”
She got in her car and headed back to the city. She would go to the office and look up airline schedules on the Internet, see if there was a flight to somewhere near Owens Valley early tomorrow morning. She would also need to check which FBI field office had jurisdiction over Owens Valley and talk to them about what she was doing. Then she would call the local sheriff and get him on her side.
She reached 450 Golden Gate Avenue, parked in the underground garage, and took the elevator up. As she walked past Brian Kincaid’s office, she heard voices. He must be working late.
This was as good a time as any to bring him up to speed. She entered the anteroom and tapped on the open door to the inner office.
“Come in,” he called.
She stepped inside. Her heart sank when she saw that Kincaid was with Marvin Hayes. She and Marvin