Portent (39 page)

    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 reflected 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.

    Diane went over to Josh and Rivers noticed her face was a little flushed. He returned his attention to the Research Director, his eyes narrowed with puzzlement.

    'All right, I may as well tell you now,' Sheridan said. 'I gave Hugo permission to approach you for help. He wouldn't say why it was you in particular he needed, but I have enough respect for the man-and his work-to know he had good reason.'

    Rivers was stunned. 'You insisted I take a week's leave…'

    'Yes, so you could help him. Let's face it, Jim, you weren't being much help around here at the time.'

    'I don't get it, Charles.'

    Sheridan waved his hands helplessly in the air. 'I couldn't involve myself officially. I'm the Meteorological Office's Research Director, for God's sake. Can you imagine how I'd look if it got out that I was lending one of my own people for an investigation that had more to do with metaphysics than scientific enquiry? I'd be a laughing stock! But frankly, not one of my departments was producing sound results, and I was prepared to try anything.'

    'You knew about this?' Rivers' question was directed at Diane.

    Her eyes were downcast, but now she looked up at him. 'I'm sorry, Jim.'

    'Don't blame her,' Sheridan cut in. 'It was one of my conditions that you shouldn't be told of my connection. I wanted you to go into this without being influenced by the fact that your own boss might believe there was some kind of mystical reason for so many things going wrong with the planet. Hugo and Diane had to agree to that before I gave my consent.' He leaned back in the chair, his hands flat on the desktop. 'Do you really think I would send my best man, no matter how worn out he'd become, on a week's holiday at a time like this? I thought it would be the best way to use you, given the circumstances.'

    While the truth sank in, Rivers continued to stare at Diane. Then he shook his head and gave them both a weary smile. 'I suppose it makes what I'm going to tell you a little easier,' he said to Sheridan. 'At least you're prepared for something that might not sound too rational.'

    'I'm not sure of that,' Sheridan replied bluntly. 'Hugo never fully explained his reasons for seeking your help and I certainly didn't press him. The truth is I've had problems with some of Hugo's more fanciful theories in the past, but in this instance his great knowledge might have proved useful.' He glanced at his watch and groaned. He tapped a number on the desktop videophone. Because he was using the internal non-visual circuit he announced himself to the receptionist when she answered. 'Have my car outside with the engine running in four minutes.' He broke the connection by touching another button and said to Rivers, 'Okay, you know how long you've got.'

    'There's no way-'

    'Just get on with it.'

    Rivers ran both hands down his stubbled jaw as if composing himself, then swiftly let them drop away. 'You're not giving me enough time to explain everything, but no doubt you're aware of Hugo Poggs' theory that the Earth is a living organism that adapts itself solely for the purpose of sustaining human life.'

    'Sure, and I'm aware it's severely damaged Hugo's reputation