Then the truck was alongside her. All firing stopped: the agents were fearful of hitting one another.
The chopper was lifting out of the way--but then Judy saw, to her horror, that the pilot had been a split second too slow. The roof of the truck's cab clipped the undercarriage of the helicopter. The aircraft tilted suddenly.
The truck charged on, unaffected. The brown 'Cuda raced by, close behind the truck.
Judy fired wildly at the retreating vehicles.
We let them get by!
The helicopter seemed to wobble in midair as the pilot tried to correct its lurch. Then a rotor blade touched the ground.
"Oh, no!" Judy cried. "Please, no!"
The tail of the machine swung around and up. Judy could see the frightened expression of the pilot as he fought the controls. Then, suddenly, the helicopter nose-dived into the middle of the road. There was a heavy crump! of deforming metal and, immediately afterward, the musical crash of shattering glass. For a moment the chopper stood on its nose. Then it began to fall slowly sideways.
The pursuing police cruiser, traveling at maybe a hundred miles an hour, braked desperately, skidded, and smashed into the crashed helicopter.
There was a deafening bang, and both vehicles burst into flame.
*
Priest saw the crash in his side mirrors and let out a victory whoop. Now the FBI looked stuck: no helicopter, no cars. For the next few minutes they would be trying desperately to rescue the cops and the pilot from the wreckage in case they were still alive. By the time one of them thought of commandeering a car from a nearby house, Priest would be miles away.
He pushed out the frosted glass of his shot-up windshield without slowing the truck.
My God, I think we made it!
Behind him, the 'Cuda was swaying in a peculiar way. After a minute he figured it must have a flat. It was still traveling, so the flat must be a rear tire. Oaktree could keep going for a mile or two like that.
They reached the crossroads. Three cars had piled up at the junction: a Toyota minivan with a baby seat in the back, a battered Dodge pickup, and an old white Cadillac Coupe de Ville. Priest looked hard at them. None was badly damaged, and the minivan's engine was still running. He could not see the drivers anywhere. They must have gone looking for a phone.
He steered around the pileup and turned right, away from the town. He pulled up around the first bend. They were now more than a mile from the FBI team and well out of sight. He thought he was safe for a minute or two. He jumped out of the truck.
The 'Cuda pulled up behind, and Oaktree jumped out. He was grinning broadly. "Mission successfully completed, General!" he said. "I never saw anything like that in the goddamn military!"
Priest gave him a high five. "But we need to get away from the battlefield, and fast," he said.
Star and Melanie got out of the car. Melanie's cheeks were pink with exhilaration, almost as if she were sexually aroused. "My God, we did it, we did it!" she said.
Star bent over and threw up at the roadside.
*
Charlie Marsh was talking into a mobile phone. "The pilot is dead, and so are two local cops. There's a hell of a pileup on Route 101, which needs to be closed. Here in Felicitas we have car wrecks, fires, flooding, a busted gas pipeline, and a train wreck. You'll need to call in the Governor's Office of Emergency Management, no question."
Judy motioned for him to give her the phone.
He nodded to her and said into the mouthpiece: "Put one of Judy's people on the line." He handed her the phone.
"This is Judy, who's that?" she said rapidly.
"Carl. How the hell are you?"
"Okay, but mad at myself for losing the suspects. Put out a call for two vehicles. One is a truck painted with red and yellow dragons, looks like a carnival ride. The other is a brown Plymouth 'Cuda twenty-five or thirty years old. Also, send out another chopper to look for the vehicles on the roads leading from Felicitas." She looked up into the sky. "It's almost too dark already, but do it anyway. Any vehicle of either description should be stopped and the occupants questioned."
"And if one of them could conceivably fit the description of Granger ...?"
"Bring him in and nail him to the floor until I get there."
"What are you going to do?"
"I guess we'll commandeer some cars and come back to the office. Somehow ..." She stopped and fought off a wave of exhaustion and despair. "Somehow, we've got to stop this from happening again."
*
"It's not over yet," Priest said. "In an hour or so, every cop in California will be looking for a carnival ride called 'The Dragon's Mouth.' " He turned to Oaktree. "How fast could we get these panels off?"
"In a few minutes, with a couple of good hammers."
"The truck has a tool kit."
Working fast, the two of them took the carnival panels off the truck and tossed them over a wire fence into a field. With luck, in the confusion following the earthquake, it would be a day or two before anyone took a close look at them.
"What the hell you going to tell Bones?" Oaktree said as they worked.
"I'll think of something."
Melanie helped, but Star stood with her back to them, leaning against the trunk of the 'Cuda. She was crying. She was going to make trouble, Priest knew, but there was no time to gentle her now.
When they had finished with the truck, they stood back, panting with the effort. Oaktree said worriedly: "Now the damn thing looks like a seismic vibrator again."
"I know," Priest said. "Nothing I can do about that. It's getting dark, I don't have far to go, and every cop within fifty miles is going to be conscripted into rescue work. I'm just hoping to be lucky. Now get out of here. Take Star."
"First I need to change a wheel--I have a flat."
"Don't bother," Priest said. "We gotta ditch the 'Cuda anyway. The FBI saw it, they'll be looking for it." He pointed back toward the crossroads. "I saw three vehicles back there. Grab yourself a new ride."
Oaktree hurried off.
Star looked at Priest with accusing eyes. "I can't believe we did this," she said. "How many people have we killed?"
"We had no choice," he said angrily. "You told me you'd do anything to save the commune--don't you remember?"
"But you're so calm about it. All these people killed, more injured, families who have lost their homes--aren't you heartsick?"
"Sure."
"And her." She nodded at Melanie. "Look at her face. She's so up. My God, I think she likes all this."
"Star, we'll talk later, okay?"
She shook her head as if amazed. "I spent twenty-five years with you and never really knew you."
Oaktree came back driving the Toyota. "Nothing wrong with this but dents," he said.
Priest said to Star: "Go with him."
She hesitated for a long moment, then she got in the car.
Oaktree pulled away and disappeared fast.
"Get in the truck," Priest said to Melanie. He got behind the wheel and reversed the seismic vibrator to the crossroads. They both jumped out and looked at the remaining two cars. Priest liked the look of the Cadillac. Its trunk was smashed in, but the front end was undamaged, and the keys were in the ignition. "Follow me in the Caddy," he said to Melanie.
She got in the car and turned the key. It started right away. She said: "Where are we headed?"
"Perpetua Diaries warehouse."
"Okay."
"Give me your phone."
"Who are you going to call? Not the FBI."
"No, just the radio station."
She handed over her phone.
As they were about to leave, there was a huge explosion in the distance. Priest looked back toward Felicitas and saw a jet of flame shoot high in the sky.
Melanie said: "Wow, what's that?"
The flame receded and became a bright glow in the evening sky.
"I guess the gas pipeline just caught on fire," Priest said. "Now, that's what I call fi
reworks."
*
Michael Quercus was sitting on a patch of grass at the side of the road, looking shocked and helpless.
Judy went over to him. "Get up," she said. "Pull yourself together. People die every day."
"I know," he said. "It's not the killings--although they're enough. It's something else."
"What?"
"Did you see who was in the car?"
"The 'Cuda? There was a black guy driving it."
"But in the back?"
"I didn't notice anyone else."
"I did. A woman."
"Did you recognize her?"
"I sure did," he said. "It was my wife."
*
It took twenty minutes of redialing on Melanie's cell phone before Priest got through to the John Truth show. By the time he heard the ringing tone, he was on the outskirts of San Francisco.
The show was still on the air. Priest said he was from the Hammer of Eden and got connected right away.
"You have done a terrible thing," Truth said. He was using his most portentous voice, but Priest could tell that underneath the solemn tone the man was exultant. The earthquake had practically happened on his show. This would make him the most famous radio personality in America. Move over, Howard Stern.
"You're wrong," Priest told him. "The people who are turning California into a poison wasteland have done a terrible thing. I'm just trying to stop them."
"By killing innocent people?"
"Pollution kills innocent people. Automobiles kill innocent people. Call that Lexus dealer that advertises on your show and tell him he did a terrible thing selling five cars today."
There was a moment's silence. Priest grinned. Truth was not sure how to answer him. He could not start discussing the ethics of his sponsors. He quickly changed the subject. "I appeal to you to turn yourself in, right now."
"I have one thing to say to you and the people of California," Priest said. "Governor Robson must announce a statewide freeze on power plant building--otherwise there will be another earthquake."
"You would do this again?" Truth sounded genuinely shocked.
"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.
The bastard has wormed his way back onto the case. He wants to impress the guy from Washington.
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, "Believe that and you'll believe anything."
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."
I knew it. Kincaid has poisoned Cleever against me.
Time to go for broke.
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.
He squeezed her hand gratefully. "I just hope he's okay now."
"Yeah."
Drifting off to sleep, Judy kept hold of his hand.
*
They all met up at five A.M. in the Eureka office of the FBI. As well as the local resident agents, there were representatives from the town's police department and the county sheriff's office. The FBI always liked to involve local law enforcement personnel in a raid--it was a way of maintaining good relations with people whose help they often needed.
There were four residential communes in Humboldt County listed in Communities Directory: A Guide to Cooperative Living. The FBI database had revealed a fifth, and local knowledge had added two more.
One of the local FBI agents pointed out that the commune known as Phoenix Village was only eight miles from the site of a proposed nuclear power plant. Judy's pulse accelerated when she heard that, and she led the group that raided Phoenix.
As she approached the location, in a Humboldt County sheriff's cruiser at the head of a convoy of four cars, her tiredness fell away. She felt keen and energetic again. She had failed to prevent the Felicitas earthquake, but she could make sure there was not another.
The entrance to Phoenix was a side turning off a country road, marked by a neat painted sign showing a bird rising from flames. There was no gate or guard. The cars roared into the settlement on a well-made road and pulled up around a traffic circle. The agents leaped out of the cars and fanned out through the houses. Each had a copy of the picture of Melanie and Dusty that Michael kept on his desk.
She's here, somewhere, probably in bed with Ricky Granger, sleeping after the exertions of yesterday. I hope they're having bad dreams.
The village looked peaceful in the early light. There were several barnlike buildings plus a geodesic dome. The agents covered front and back entrances before knocking on the doors. Near the traffic circle, Judy found a map of the village painted on a board, listing the houses and other buildings. There was a shop, a massage center, a mailroom, and an auto repair shop. As well as fifteen houses, the map showed pasture, orchards, playgrounds, and a sports field.