“You would do this
“You bet I would. And—”
Truth tried to interrupt him. “How can you claim—”
Priest overrode him. “—the next earthquake will be worse than this one.”
“Where will it strike?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can you say when?”
“Oh, sure. Unless the governor changes his mind, another earthquake will take place in two days’ time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Exactly,” he added.
He hung up.
“Now, Mister Governor,” he said aloud. “Tell the people not to panic.”
PART THREE
Forty-eight Hours
18
Judy and Michael got back to the emergency operations center a few minutes before midnight.
She had been awake for forty hours, but she did not feel sleepy. The horror of the earthquake was still with her. Every few seconds she would see, in her mind’s eye, one of the nightmare pictures of those few seconds: the train wreck, the screaming people, the helicopter bursting into flames, or the old Chevy tumbling over and over in the air. She was spooked and jittery as she walked into the old officers’ club.
But Michael’s revelation had given her new hope. It was a shock to learn that his wife was one of the terrorists, but it was also the most promising lead yet. If Judy could find Melanie, she could find the Hammer of Eden.
And if she could do it in two days, she could prevent another earthquake.
She went into the old ballroom that had become the command post. Stuart Cleever, the big shot from Washington who had taken control, stood at the head shed. He was a neat, orderly guy, immaculately dressed in a gray suit with a white shirt and a striped tie.
Beside him stood Brian Kincaid.
Brian was ready for her. “What the hell went wrong?” he said as soon as he saw her.
“We were too late, by a few seconds,” she said wearily.
“You told us you had all the sites under surveillance,” he snapped.
“We had the likeliest. But they knew that. So they picked a secondary site. It was a risk for them — more chance of failure — but their gamble paid off.”
Kincaid turned to Cleever with a shrug, as if to say,
Cleever said to Judy: “As soon as you’ve made a full report, I want you to go home and get some rest. Brian will take charge of your team.”
Judy said: “I’d like a break, but not just yet. I believe I will have the terrorists under arrest within twelve hours.”
Brian let out an exclamation of surprise.
Cleever said: “How?”
“I’ve just developed a new lead. I know who their seismologist is.”
“Who?”
“Her name is Melanie Quercus. She’s the estranged wife of Michael, who’s been helping us. She got the information about where the fault is under tension from her husband — stole it off his computer. And I suspect she also stole the list of sites we had under surveillance.”
Kincaid said: “Quercus should be a suspect, too! He could be in cahoots with her!”
Judy had anticipated this. “I’m sure he’s not,” she said. “But he’s taking a lie detector test right now, just to make sure.”
“Good enough,” Cleever said. “Can you find the wife?”
“She told Michael she was living in a commune in Humboldt County. My team are already searching our databases for communes there. We have a two-man resident agency in that neighborhood, in a town called Eureka, and I’ve asked them to contact the local police.”
Cleever nodded. He gave Judy an appraising look. “What do you want to do?”
“I’d like to drive up there now. I’ll sleep on the way. By the time I get there the local guys will have the addresses of all communes in the area. I’d like to raid them all at dawn.”
Brian said: “You don’t have enough evidence for search warrants.”
He was right. The mere fact that Melanie had said she was living in a commune in Del Norte County did not constitute probable cause. But Judy knew the law better than Brian. “After two earthquakes, I think we have exigent circumstances, don’t you?” That meant that people’s lives were in danger.
Brian looked baffled, but Cleever understood. “The legal desk can solve that problem, it’s what they’re here for.” He paused. “I like this plan,” he said. “I think we should do it. Brian, do you have any other comment?”
Kincaid looked sulky. “She better be right, that’s all.”
Judy rode north in a car driven by a woman agent she did not know, one of several dozen drafted in from FBI offices in Sacramento and Los Angeles to help in the crisis.
Michael sat beside Judy in the back. He had begged to come. He was worried sick about Dusty. If Melanie was part of a terrorist group causing earthquakes, what kind of danger might their son be in? Judy had got Cleever’s agreement by arguing that someone had to take care of the boy after Melanie was arrested.
Shortly after they crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, Judy took a call from Carl Theobald. Michael had told them which of the five hundred or so American cell-phone companies Melanie used, and Carl had got hold of her call records. The phone company had been able to identify the general area from which each call had been made, because of roaming charges.
Judy was hoping most of them had been made from Del Norte County, but she was disappointed.
“There’s really no pattern at all,” Carl said wearily. “She made calls from the Owens Valley area, from San Francisco, from Felicitas, and from various places in between; but all that tells us is that she’s been traveling all over the state, and we knew that already. There are no calls from the part of the state you’re headed for.”
“That suggests she has a regular phone there.”
“Or she’s cautious.”
“Thanks, Carl. It was worth a try. Now get some sleep.”
“You mean this isn’t a dream? Shit.”
Judy laughed and hung up.
The driver tuned the car radio to an easy-listening station, and Nat Cole sang “Let There Be Love” as they sped through the night. Judy and Michael could talk without being overheard.
“The terrible thing about it is that I’m not surprised,” Michael said after a thoughtful silence. “I guess I sort of always knew Melanie was crazy. I should never have let her take him away — but she’s his mother, you know?”
Judy reached for his hand in the dark. “You did your best, I guess,” she said.
