The Hammer of Eden

She doesn’t want Granger to hear her. That’s good — it may be a sign that they’re beginning to disagree.

“Okay, okay,” Michael said.

“You’re going to stay there with Dusty, right?”

“No,” Michael said. “I’m going into the city.”

“What? For God’s sake, Michael, it’s dangerous!”

“Is that where the earthquake will be — in San Francisco?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Will it be on the peninsula?”

“Yes, on the peninsula, so keep Dusty away!”

Judy’s cell phone beeped. Keeping the mouthpiece of the bedroom phone tightly covered, she put the cell phone to her other ear and said: “Yeah.”

It was Raja. “She’s calling on her mobile. It’s in downtown San Francisco. They can’t do better than that for a digital phone.”

“Get some people out in the streets looking for that pickup!”

“You got it.”

Judy broke the connection.

Michael was saying: “If you’re so worried, why don’t you just tell me where the seismic vibrator is?”

“I can’t do that!” Melanie hissed. “You’re out of your mind!”

“Come on. I’m out of my mind? You’re the one who’s causing earthquakes!”

“I can’t talk anymore.” There was a click.

Judy replaced the handset on the bedside phone and rolled over onto her back, her mind racing. Melanie had given away a great deal of information. She was somewhere in downtown San Francisco, and although that did not make her easy to find, it was a smaller haystack than the whole of California. She had said the earthquake would be triggered somewhere on the San Francisco peninsula, the broad neck of land between the Pacific Ocean and the San Francisco Bay. The seismic vibrator had to be somewhere in that area. But most intriguing, to Judy, had been the hint of some division between Melanie and Granger. She had obviously been making the call without telling him, and she had seemed to be afraid he might overhear. That was hopeful. There might be a way Judy could take advantage of a split.

She closed her eyes, concentrating. Melanie was worried about Dusty. That was her weakness. How could it be used against her?

She heard footsteps and opened her eyes. Michael came into the room. He gave her a strange look.

“What?” she said.

“This may seem inappropriate, but you look great lying on a bed.”

She remembered she was in his parents’ house. She stood up.

He wrapped his arms around her. It felt good. “How’s your face?” he said.

She looked up at him. “If you’re very gentle …”

He kissed her lips softly.

If he wants to kiss me when I look this bad, he must really like me.

“Mm,” she said. “When this is all over …”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she started thinking about Melanie again.

“Michael …”

“Still here.”

She detached herself from his embrace. “Melanie is worried that Dusty might be in the earthquake zone.”

“He’s going to be here.”

“But you didn’t confirm that. She asked you, but you said if she was worried, she should tell you where the seismic vibrator is, and you never answered her question properly.”

“Still, the implication … I mean, why would I take him into danger?”

“I’m just saying, she may have a nagging doubt. And, wherever she is, there’s a TV.”

“She leaves the news on all day sometimes — it relaxes her.”

Judy felt a stab of jealousy. He knows her so well. “What if we had a reporter interview you, at the emergency operations center in San Francisco, about what you’re doing to help the Bureau … and Dusty was, like, just in the background somewhere?”

“Then she’d know he was in San Francisco.”

“And what would she do?”

“Call me and scream at me, I guess.”

“And if she couldn’t reach you …”

“She’d be real scared.”

“But would she stop Granger from operating the seismic vibrator?”

“Maybe. If she could.”

“Is it worth a try?”

“Is there another choice?”

* * *

Priest had a do-or-die feeling. Maybe the governor and the president would not give in to him, even after Felicitas. But tonight there would be a third earthquake. Then he would call John Truth and say: “I’ll do it again! Next time it could be Los Angeles, or San Bernardino, or San Jose. I can do this as often as I like. I’m going to keep on until you give in. The choice is yours!”

Downtown San Francisco was a ghost town. Few people wanted to shop or sightsee, though plenty were going to church. The restaurant was half-empty. Priest ordered eggs and drank three Bloody Marys. Melanie was subdued, worrying about Dusty. Priest thought the kid would be fine, he was with his father.

“Did I ever tell you why I’m called Granger?” he said to Melanie.

“It’s not your parents’ name?”

“My mother called herself Veronica Nightingale. She told me my father’s name was Stewart Granger. He had gone on a long trip, she said, but one day he would come back, in a big limousine loaded with presents — perfume and chocolates for her, and a bicycle for me. On rainy days, when I couldn’t play in the streets, I used to sit at the window watching for him, hour after hour.”

For a moment Melanie seemed to forget her own problems. “Poor kid,” she said.

“I was about twelve when I realized that Stewart Granger was a big movie star. He played Allan Quatermain in King Solomon’s Mines just about the time I was born. I guess he was my mother’s fantasy. Broke my heart, I can tell you. All those hours looking out the damn window.” Priest smiled, but the memory hurt.

“Who knows?” Melanie said. “Maybe he was your father. Movie stars go to hookers.”

“I guess I should ask him.”

“He’s dead.”

“Is he? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, I read it in People magazine, a few years ago.”

Priest felt a pang of loss. Stewart Granger was the nearest thing to a father he had ever had. “Well, now I’ll never know.” He shrugged and called for the bill.

When they left the restaurant, Priest did not want to return to the warehouse. He could easily sit doing nothing when he was at the commune, but in a dingy room in an industrial wasteland he would get cabin fever. Twenty-five years of living in Silver River Valley had spoiled him for the city. So he and Melanie walked around Fisherman’s Wharf, making like tourists, enjoying the salty breeze off the bay.

They had altered their appearance, as a precaution. She had put up her distinctive long red hair and concealed it under a hat, and she wore sunglasses. Priest had greased his dark hair and plastered it to his head, and he had three days’ growth of dark stubble on his cheeks, giving him a Latin lover air that was quite different