Portent

  Bibby had grasped the cloth of his shirtsleeve. 'Do you think we should let the hospital know how she is?' she whispered.

  He shook his head and kept his own voice low. 'They said to ring if she seemed to be acting strangely, or if she suffered a relapse. The mood she's in at present isn't at all strange for Eva-we've seen both her and Josh like this on other occasions, haven't we? And she doesn't appear to be sleepy, just very subdued, I'd say. Tell you what, old thing, let me see to the food and you go back and sit with her. If she's out of your sight, even for a moment, you'll only worry all the more.'

  Bibby smiled at her husband, this big, bluff, kind man, who was lost so often in a world of science and geology, yet who cared so much not just for his loved ones but for his fellow-man also. Perhaps it was tiredness compounded by the anxiety over the last forty-eight hours that caused a wave of deep sadness to sweep through her; she laid her head against her husband's broad chest for a moment. He patted her back as though she were a melancholy child and allowed her to rest against him until the mood passed. She listened to the wheeziness of his lungs and was quickly reminded that Hugo was not a fit man despite his superficially robust appearance. Bibby straightened up immediately and gave him a smile that belied her concerns.

  'You go ahead then,' she said, 'while I stay with our little dryad.'

  'Good girl,' he said, not in the least fooled by her change in manner. Their years together had instilled a natural instinct for each other's feelings and in this circumstance they both shared a sense of foreboding. 'I'll do us a sandwich as well, shall I?' he said, patting her ample bottom as she turned towards Eva again.

  'I'm not hungry,' Bibby insisted.

  'Neither am I, but I'll make us something anyway.'

  He left the room and Bibby heard his heavy footsteps fading down the stairs. She leaned over her granddaughter to brush tousled hair from her forehead and glanced at the picture Eva was drawing at the same time.

  It was the usual one. The green lawns filled with playing children. And of course, the pillars they played amongst, just two straight lines with no top.

  Wind shook the bedroom window and Bibby noticed rain had begun to fall.

  Poggs was at the bottom of the stairs and passing the front door when he heard a noise from the other side. He stopped to listen, holding his wheezy breath in check for a moment so that he could hear better. It sounded as if a vehicle had drawn into the courtyard.

  He went to the window in the sitting room and pulled the halfdrawn curtain back. 'Good Lord,' he said under his breath when he saw what was outside.

  A large, grey Grenada was parked out there and three men were climbing out. They were all black, although one, the most smartly dressed of them, had a lighter skin tone. This one opened the rear door on his side and out stepped the largest and blackest woman that Hugo Poggs had ever seen.

  He jerked back as a gust of wind rattled the window in its frame and shuddered when he remembered the freak wind of a few nights before that had shrieked through the house as if seeking out those inside.

  He leaned forward again and saw that Mack was approaching the group.

  ***

  It was a relief to be out of Gatwick and heading north towards London, for the airport had been chaotic. The information boards were announcing more delays than arrivals and departures and frustrated would-be travellers milled around beneath them, complaining to airline staff and anyone who would listen. From brief snippets of conversation Rivers managed to catch as he and Diane hurried Josh across the concourse, the problems appeared to be with other airports around the world rather than Gatwick itself.

  The brown-tinted Surrey fields and woodlands spread into the distance on either side of the motorway and to the west black clouds rolled across the horizon. Insects the size of small stones-and some considerably larger-splattered against the windscreen of Diane's car and she had to use the wipers and water jets frequently to clear the glass. Although still subdued, Josh wanted to know if they were going back to Hazelrod.

  Aware that Josh was concerned for his sister, Diane reassured him that Eva was okay now and safely at home with Grandma and Grandad. His silence told her he was still troubled.

  'What is it, Josh?' she asked him. 'Why are you worried so?' She shifted in her seat to see him in the rear-view mirror. He was looking down into his lap.

  'I don't know, Mama,' was all he would say.

  Rivers reached round and jiggled the boy's knee. 'We'll be back at Hazelrod soon, Josh. Just some business to take care of first, okay?'

  There was little response and Rivers faced the front again.

  'Do we need to stay long at Pilgrim Hall?' Diane asked as she pulled out into the fast lane to pass a heavy arc that was hogging the centre stretch.

  'No,' Rivers promised. 'I'm not sure how I'm going to tell Sheridan, but it'll be brief.'

  'What if he needs you to stay there?'

  'There'd be no point. There's not a thing any of us can do.'

  'But if he insists.'

  'I've been looking forward to a career change for some time now.'

  She took a quick look at him. 'You don't mean that.'

  He sighed. 'Maybe not.' He touched her hand on the steering wheel. 'While I'm talking to Sheridan try and get through to Hugo again.'

  Before she could reply she felt a vibration running through the car and, when Rivers' hand dropped away, she could see her knuckles juddering on the steering wheel. 'Not again,' she began to say, 'not here…'

  They had passed the long lorry and on their left, less than a hundred yards away from the motorway, they saw a steep, grassy knoll. Small clumps of earth were breaking away from it and as they drew closer they noticed deep cracks appearing on its slopes.

  The whole car was shaking now and traffic ahead was slowing down as if the drivers thought the problem was with their own vehicles.

  'Keep going, Diane,' Rivers urged. 'Keep in the fast lane and don't stop.'

  They were almost level with the small hillock when small clods of earth started to erupt from its top. Other vehicles were pulling over on to the hard shoulder as the road itself began to quiver visibly.

  'Don't stop,' he said again, his voice low and urgent, as he felt their own speed reduce.

  She overtook the Volvo in front on the inside as it slowed down almost to walking pace. Control was awkward and her hands were rigid on the wheel, but she managed to swing back into the fast lane once past the Volvo.

  The hillock exploded with the sharp cracking sound of prolonged thunder and steaming water jetted from it in a fountain of raw, pressurized energy. Earth and stones were expelled hundreds of feet into the air.

  'Move!' Rivers yelled and Diane slammed her foot down in a reflex action. The car shot forward as sizzling droplets of water cascaded down on to its roof and bonnet. She kept going, not daring to look back, avoiding cars, lorries and coaches that were screeching to a halt ahead of her.

  'What the hell is it?' she shouted over the gushing roar.

  'It's impossible,' was all Rivers could reply. He craned his neck and watched the great gusher scream towards the sky, a hundred feet, 200, rising and rising. 'Jesus…' he said in an exhalation of breath.

  Much of the traffic behind them had stopped and the more foolish drivers and passengers were leaving their vehicles for a better view of the phenomenon. He watched them stagger and try to cover their heads with their hands as scalding water rained down on them; those who could frantically clambered back into their vehicles, while others ran through the lines of stalled traffic and across the motorway in pain-stricken panic. He closed his eyes as several of them were struck and flung into the air by oncoming cars, their limbs loose and lifeless before they even smashed back on to the concrete.

  The terrible and wholly bizarre scene was quickly left behind as their car sped onwards, although the great waterspout itself, with its blustery clouds of steam spread by the wind, could still be seen rising higher into the air. At least, Rivers reflect
ed grimly, the sight would serve as an ominous warning beacon to other approaching traffic on the motorway. He felt their own speed beginning to slow again.

  'Keep going, Diane,' he snapped. 'There's nothing we can do here.'

  Diane accelerated once more, but kept glancing into the rearview mirror. She noticed that Josh was paying no heed at all to the spectacle: he leaned against the side of the car, his eyes on nothing in particular. Her attention was drawn back to the jet of steaming water.

  'That can't be a natural geyser,' she said to Rivers.

  'It isn't a broken pipeline, I can tell you that. Ordinary pressure could never push it that high-it must be 300 feet or more. Besides, it's coming from a high rise and no fractured pipe could cause water to burst through like that from such a deep level.' He paused for a moment, studying the diminishing scene behind them. 'Wait a minute. D'you remember that piece in this morning's paper about the water geyser that had erupted in the middle of a city in India? And what about those things that looked like waterspouts we saw from the plane when we passed over the east coast floodlands?'

  'Natural hot water geysers?'

  'In unnatural places.'

  From her work with Hugo Poggs over the years Diane had a good idea of the areas in the world where such breakthroughs could occur, these mainly in volcanic regions, particularly along the edges of continents. Neither India nor England were contenders for such activity.

  'This isn't possible,' she said. 'Most of the world's geysers and hot springs are in places like New Zealand, Italy and Japan. Scientists here have been trying to tap this country's geothermal energy potential for years, but with very limited success. Even that's confined to a few areas in the south-west and northern regions where granite formations are suitable for the dry rock development.'

  'You're right-this is impossible. But look behind you and tell me it isn't happening.'

  With that, both of them lapsed into silence, their own thoughts a turmoil of possibilities. Rivers broke that silence only when he had to give Diane fresh directions to Pilgrim Hall.

  They left the M23 to join the M25, soon leaving it at the first ramp and taking a circuitous route that led them across a bridge back over the motorway. They followed the narrow, winding lane through thick woodland which led to the long ridgeway that looked over both northern and southern counties. However, he told her to stop the car before they reached the top and the road to Pilgrim Hall.

  'Look,' he said, pointing at a break in the woodland that had been cleared for the fine views it offered. From that point they could see straight across the counties as far as the South Downs, beyond which was the sea.

  Diane stiffened at the sight below them.

  She only saw three of the white towers of water at first, their spray caught by the increasing winds, their height impossible to judge from that distance; then she became aware of others further away, tiny columns that gleamed white against the landscape. There were six at least that they could see, but even as they watched another broke through somewhere near a town that must have been Westerham.

  They left the car to see more clearly and, as they walked further into the clearing, Rivers realized there was something odd about the woods around them. He had often strolled through this area during his lunch-break, for it offered a tranquil respite from the general bustle of the research centre, and he had always enjoyed the sounds of the forest, the singing of birds and the sudden rustle of hidden animals. Now the woods were silent.

  He saw no point in mentioning this to Diane, but instead nodded towards the vista below, part of which was once renowned as the Garden of England. 'Don't you see what they look like?' he said in a low voice.

  She turned to him, puzzled for the moment.

  'Don't you see?' he insisted. 'Those white columns among the fields and woodlands, don't they remind you of something?'

  She understood and turned her gaze back to the land below them. 'The pillars in Josh and Eva's gardens,' she said almost to herself. 'This is what they were drawing all along.'

  Now they both looked back at Josh's pale face pressed against the car window.

  'Where's Sheridan?'

  Yet again the secretary who doubled as receptionist at Pilgrim Hall was surprised to see James Rivers standing in her doorway. 'I thought you were…' she began to say.

  'Yeah, I am on leave,' he interrupted impatiently. 'Just tell me where he is, Margaret.'

  She looked past Rivers at the attractive dark-haired woman standing behind him and was further surprised to see a little boy with the most incredibly blue eyes clinging to her skirt.

  'Margaret!'

  She jumped at Rivers' fierce tone. 'I think Mr. Sheridan is just about to leave, but he's with Mr. Marley at the moment.' She pushed back her large-framed glasses to the bridge of her nose.

  'Is he in Marley's office?'

  'I'm not sure.'

  Rivers wheeled away and took Diane by the elbow, leading her down the corridor. She gripped Josh's hand tightly and he trotted to keep up with the two adults.

  A door opened ahead of them and a short, tubby man dressed in baggy cords and a short sleeved shirt stepped out. 'Jim.' He sounded both pleased and startled to see the climatologist.

  'Jonesy,' Rivers greeted.

  'You've come at the right time, boy.' The Welsh lilt was slight, but the excitement in his voice was extreme. 'All hell seems to be breaking loose.'

  'I know.' Rivers indicated a room further along the corridor to Diane. 'Use the phone in my office. Dial nine for an outside line.'

  She hurried Josh away and Jonesy took a moment to watch her go, an appreciative grin on his broad-cheeked face. 'Very nice,' he said to Rivers.

  'I need to see Sheridan.'

  'He's pretty involved right now. We've got reports of cyclones, flooding, earthquakes and any other God-awful disaster you'd care to mention coming in from all over. It's as if the bloody world's gone crazy.'

  Not quite that, Rivers thought. The room beyond Jonesy was a hive of activity, figures moving about without their usual passive efficiency, voices raised as new pieces of information came in, telephones ringing, computer keyboards tapping. Celia appeared in the open doorway just in time to see Diane and Josh disappearing into Rivers' office. Her expression was quizzical, but before she could even speak, Rivers had brushed past her into the room.

  He had caught sight of Sheridan and Marley standing in front of a bank of television screens whose visual images appeared to be plagued with interference. He stopped only to ask Celia what the problem was.

  'Atmospherics,' she told him, still wondering why he had returned to the centre and who the woman and child were. 'We've been having problems with our satellite signals for most of the day.' She had no chance to question him, for he was already making for Sheridan across the other side of the room.

  Marley saw him first and muttered something to Sheridan. The Research Director, who was in shirtsleeves and anxiously scribbling notes on to a clipboard, turned to meet Rivers.

  'Didn't expect you back this soon, Jim,' he said, slipping his pen into a sheath attached to the clipboard's side. 'But you've arrived at the right time-we need all the help we can get. There's one hell of a mess going on out there and unfortunately some of our communications systems are proving less than reliable.'

  'I'm not staying here, Charles. I just need to talk to you.'

  Sheridan consulted his wristwatch. 'I'm afraid I don't have time. I've a briefing with the Minister and the Chief Executive in less than forty-five minutes, then we're off to Downing Street for a meeting with the PM. I'm running late as it is.'

  'This is important.'

  'No can do, Jim. You heard my schedule.'

  'Just give me Jive bloody minutes!'

  Marley looked shocked and others in the data room looked up from their computer screens and monitors, or broke off from telephone conversations to see what the extra commotion was about. Sheridan, however, looked no more harassed than he had a moment before.


  His voice was calm, but had a curt edge to it. 'I've spent all night and most of the morning at the Met Office, assimilating information and dealing with frantic phone calls from ministers and various government officials. I then rushed here to gather up as much first-hand predictive intelligence before my first appointment this afternoon. Bluntly, I'm in no mood to waste time, so if you've anything to tell me you'd better make it quick.'

  'In my office.'

  'I don't have time…' The words were emphasised individually.

  'It has to be in private.'

  Sheridan brusquely handed the clipboard to Marley. 'Finish up here. Get any information down as it comes in, then bring it along to Rivers' office. Just short, concise notes-the Minister doesn't want anything fancy. I'll read everything myself on the way over to him.' He reached for his light cotton jacket hanging over the back of a chair. 'Okay, Jim, let's get on with it.'

  They went to the door together and Jonesy and Celia, who had been watching the whole exchange with bated breath, hastily stepped aside to let them through.

  'Do you need us?' Celia asked Rivers as they went out into the corridor.

  'No.' The answer was short and the girl flinched. Rivers paused and said more softly, 'There isn't a thing you can do, Celia.'

  She nodded without understanding and watched the two men stride down the corridor to Rivers' office.

  'Did you notice,' she said to Jonesy when the door had closed behind Rivers and the Research Director, 'that he isn't limping any more?'

  The Welshman drew his chin into his plump neck and his eyebrows, arched. 'I'll be buggered,' he said.

  Diane had just switched off the videotape when Rivers and Sheridan entered the room. Josh was sitting quietly in a chair by a filing cabinet.

  'Diane,' the Research Director said and, to Rivers' astonishment, walked round the desk to plant a kiss on her cheek.

  'You know each other?' Rivers asked.

  'Hugo Poggs and I have been friends for many years,' said Sheridan, sitting in the chair behind Rivers' desk.