Cleever said: “I don’t believe he’d fall for it.”
“I don’t know.” Judy frowned. “He’s smart, and any smart person would suspect a trap. But he’s a psychopath, and they just love controlling others, calling attention to themselves and their actions, manipulating people and circumstances. The idea of personally negotiating with the governor of California is going to tempt him mightily.”
Honeymoon said: “I guess I’m the only person here who’s met him.”
“That’s right,” Judy said. “I’ve seen him, and spoken to him on the phone, but you spent several minutes in a car with him. What was your impression?”
“You’ve summed him up about right — a smart psychopath. I believe he was angry with me for not being more impressed by him. Like I should have been, I don’t know, more deferential.”
Judy suppressed a grin. Honeymoon did not defer to many people.
Honeymoon went on: “He understood the political difficulties of what he was asking for. I told him the governor could not give in to blackmail. He’d thought of that already, and he had his answer prepared.”
“What was it?”
“He said we could deny what really happened. Announce a freeze on power plant building and say it had nothing to do with the earthquake threat.”
“Is that a possibility?” Judy said.
“Yes. I wouldn’t recommend it, but if the governor put it to me as a plan, I’d have to say it could be made to work. However, the question is academic. I know Mike Robson, and he won’t do it.”
“But he could pretend,” Judy said.
“What do you mean?”
“We could tell Granger the governor is willing to announce the freeze, but only under the right conditions, as he has to protect his political future. He wants to talk personally with Granger to agree to those conditions.”
Stuart Cleever put in: “The Supreme Court has ruled that law enforcement personnel may use trickery, ruse, and deceit. The only thing we’re not permitted to do is threaten to take away the suspect’s children. And if we promise immunity from prosecution, it sticks — we can’t prosecute. But we can certainly do what Judy suggests without violating any laws.”
“Okay,” Honeymoon said. “I don’t know if this is going to work, but I guess we have to try. Let’s do it.”
Priest and Melanie drove into Sacramento in the dented Cadillac. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and the town was thronged with people.
Listening to the car radio soon after midday, Priest had heard the voice of John Truth, although it was not time for his show. “Here is a special message for Peter Shoebury of Eisenhower Junior High,” Truth had said. Shoebury was the man whose identity Priest had borrowed for the FBI press conference, and Eisenhower was the imaginary school attended by Flower. Priest realized the message was for him. “Would Peter Shoebury please call me at the following number,” Truth had said.
“They want to make a deal,” he had said to Melanie. “That’s it — we’ve won!”
While Melanie drove around downtown, surrounded by hundreds of cars and thousands of people, Priest made the call from her mobile phone. Even if the FBI was tracing the call, he figured, they would not be able to pick one car out of the traffic.
His heart was in his mouth as he listened to the ringing tone.
The call was answered by a woman. “Hello?” She sounded guarded. Maybe she had received a lot of crank calls in response to the radio spot.
“This is Peter Shoebury from Eisenhower Junior High.”
The response was instant. “I’m going to connect you with Al Honeymoon, the governor’s cabinet secretary.”
“I just need to verify your identity first.”
“Would you mind giving me the name of the student reporter who was with you a week ago?”
Priest remembered Flower saying, “I’ll never forgive you for calling me Florence.”
Warily he said: “It was Florence.”
“Connecting you now.”
Priest scanned the streets anxiously, alert for a police car or a bunch of FBI men bearing down on his car. He saw nothing but shoppers and tourists. A moment later the deep voice of Honeymoon said: “Mr. Granger?”
Priest got right to the point. “Are you ready to do the sensible thing?”
“We’re ready to talk.”
“What does that mean?”
“The governor wants to meet with you today, with the object of negotiating a resolution to this crisis.”
Priest said: “Is the governor willing to announce the freeze we want?”
Honeymoon hesitated. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “But there must be conditions.”
“What kind?”
“When you and I spoke in my car, and I told you that the governor could not give in to blackmail, you mentioned spin doctors.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a sophisticated individual, you understand that the governor’s political future is at risk here. The announcement of this freeze will have to be handled very delicately.”
Honeymoon had changed his tune, Priest thought with satisfaction. The arrogance was gone. He had developed respect for his opponent. That was gratifying. “In other words, the governor has to cover his ass and he wants to make sure I won’t blow it for him.”
“You might look at it that way.”
“Where do we meet?”
“In the governor’s office here at the Capitol Building.”
Honeymoon went on: “No police, no FBI. You would be guaranteed freedom to leave the meeting without hindrance, regardless of the outcome.”
Priest said: “Do you believe in fairies?”
“What?”
“You know, little flying people that can do magic? You believe they exist?”
“No, I guess I don’t.”
“Me either. So I’m not going to fall into your trap.”
“I give you my word—”
“Forget it. Just forget it, okay?”
There was silence at the other end.
Melanie turned a corner, and they drove past the grand classical facade of the Capitol Building. Honeymoon was in there somewhere, talking on the phone, surrounded by FBI men. Looking at the white columns and the dome, Priest said: “I’ll tell you where we’ll meet, and you’d better make notes. Are you ready?”
“Don’t worry, I’m taking notes.”
“Set up a little round table and a couple of garden chairs in front of the Capitol Building, on the lawn there, right in the middle. It’ll be like a photo opportunity. Have the governor sitting there at three o’clock.”
“Out in the open?”
“Hey, if I was going to shoot him, I could do it easier than this.”
“I guess so.…”
“In his pocket the governor must have a signed letter guaranteeing me immunity from prosecution.”
“I can’t agree to all this—”
“Talk to your boss. He’ll agree.”
