The Hammer of Eden (38 page)

While she was toweling herself dry, Priest said: “Let’s go get a newspaper. I want to know if Governor Robson said anything last night.”

They got dressed and drove to a gas station. Priest filled the tank of the ’Cuda while Star got the
San Francisco Chronicle
.

She came back white-faced. “Look,” she said, showing him the front page.

There was a picture of a young girl who looked familiar. After a moment he realized with horror that it was Flower.

Stunned, he picked up the newspaper.

Beside the picture of Flower was one of himself.

Both were computer-generated images. The one of Priest was based on his appearance at the FBI press conference, when he had been disguised as Peter Shoebury, with his hair pulled back and wearing large glasses. He did not think anyone would recognize him from that.

Flower had not been in disguise. Her computer picture was like a poorly drawn portrait—not
her
, but
like
her. Priest felt cold. He was not used to fear. He was a daredevil who enjoyed risk. But this was not about him. He had put his daughter in danger.

Star said angrily: “Why the hell did you have to go to that press conference?”

“I had to know what they were thinking.”

“It was so dumb!”

“I’ve always been rash.”

“I know.” Her voice softened, and she touched his cheek. “If you were timid, you wouldn’t be the man I love.”

A month ago it would not have mattered: no one outside the commune knew Flower, and no one inside read newspapers. But she had been going secretly to Silver City to meet boys; she had stolen a poster from a store; she had been arrested; and she had spent a night
in custody. Would the people she had met remember her? And if so, would they recognize the picture? The probation officer might remember her, but luckily he was still on vacation in the Bahamas, where he was unlikely to see the
San Francisco Chronicle
. But what about the woman who had guarded her overnight? A schoolteacher who was also the sheriff’s sister, Priest recalled. Her name came back: Miss Waterlow. She saw hundreds of little girls presumably, but she might remember their faces. Maybe she had a bad memory. Maybe she had gone on vacation, too. Maybe she had not read today’s
Chronicle
.

And maybe Priest was finished.

There was nothing he could do about it. If the schoolteacher saw the picture and recognized Flower and called the FBI, a hundred agents would descend on the commune and it would be all over.

He stared at the paper while Star read the text. “If you didn’t know her, would you recognize her?”

Star shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t either. But I wish I were sure.”

“I didn’t think the feds were this goddamn smart,” Star said.

“Some are, some aren’t. It’s this Asian girl that worries me. Judy Maddox.” Priest recalled the TV pictures of her, so slender and graceful, pushing through a hostile crowd with a look of bulldog determination on her delicate features. “I got a bad feeling about her,” he said. “A real bad feeling. She keeps coming up with leads—first the seismic vibrator, then the picture of me in Shiloh, now Flower. Maybe that’s why Governor Robson hasn’t said anything. She’s got him hoping we’ll be caught. Is there a statement from the governor in the paper?”

“No. According to this report, a lot of people are saying Robson should give in and negotiate with the Hammer of Eden, but he refuses to comment.”

“This is no good,” he said. “I’ve got to find a way to talk to him.”

*  *  *

When Judy woke up she could not remember why she felt so bad. Then the whole ghastly scene came back in a dreadful rush.

Last night she had been paralyzed with embarrassment. She had mumbled an apology to Michael and run out of the building, burning with shame. But this morning her mortification had been replaced by a different feeling. Now she just felt sad. She had thought Michael might become part of her life. She had been looking forward to getting to know him, growing more fond of him, making love to him. She had imagined that he cared for her. But the relationship had crashed and burned in no time.

She sat up in bed and looked at the collection of Vietnamese water puppets she had inherited from her mother, arranged on a shelf above the chest of drawers. She had never seen a puppet show—had never been to Vietnam—but her mother had told her how the puppeteers stood waist deep in a pond, behind a backdrop, and used the surface of the water as their stage. For hundreds of years such painted wooden toys had been used to tell wise and funny tales. They always reminded Judy of her mother’s tranquility. What would she say now? Judy could hear her voice, low and calm. “A mistake is a mistake. Another mistake is normal. Only the same mistake twice makes you a fool.”

Last night had just been a mistake. Michael had been a mistake. She had to put all that behind her. She had two days to prevent an earthquake. That was
really
important.

On the TV news, people were arguing about whether the Hammer of Eden might really be able to trigger an earthquake. The believers had formed a pressure group to urge Governor Robson to give in. But, as she got dressed, Judy’s mind kept returning to Michael. She wished she could speak to her mother about it. She could hear Bo stirring, but this was not the kind of thing to tell your father about. Instead of making breakfast she called her friend Virginia. “I need someone to talk to,” she told her. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

They met at a coffee shop near the Presidio. Ginny was a petite blonde, funny and honest. She would always tell Judy exactly what she thought. Judy ordered two chocolate croissants to make herself feel better, then related what had happened last night.

When she came to the part where she burst in with her gun in her
hand and found them screwing, Ginny practically fell down laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said, and got a piece of toast stuck in her throat.

“I guess it is kind of funny,” Judy said, smiling. “But it didn’t seem that way last night, I can tell you.”

Ginny coughed and swallowed. “I don’t mean to be cruel,” she said when she had recovered. “I can see it wasn’t too hilarious at the time. What he did was really sleazy, dating you and sleeping with his wife.”

“To me, it shows that he’s not over her,” Judy said. “So he’s not ready for a new relationship.”

Ginny made a doubtful face. “I don’t necessarily buy that.”

“You think it was like a good-bye, one last embrace for old times’ sake?”

“Maybe even simpler. You know, men almost never say no to a fuck if it’s offered to them. It sounds as if he’s been living the life of a monk since she left him. His hormones are probably giving him hell. She’s attractive, you say?”

“Very sexy looking.”

“So if she walked in wearing a tight sweater and started making moves on him, he probably couldn’t help getting a hard-on. And once that happens, a man’s brain cuts out and the autopilot in his dick takes control.”

“You think so?”

“Listen, I’ve never met Michael, but I’ve known some men, good and bad, and that’s my take on the scenario.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d talk to him. Ask him why he did it. See what he says. See if I believed him. If he gave me a line of bullshit, I’d forget him. But if he seemed honest, I’d try to make some kind of sense of the whole incident.”

“I have to call him anyway,” Judy said. “He still hasn’t sent me that list.”

“So call. Get the list. Then ask him what he thinks he’s doing. You’re feeling embarrassed, but he has something to apologize for, too.”

“I guess you’re right.”

It was not yet eight o’clock, but they were both in a hurry to get to
work. Judy paid the check, and they went out to their cars. “Boy,” Judy said, “I’m beginning to feel better about this. Thank you.”

Ginny shrugged. “What are girlfriends for? Let me know what he says.”

Judy got into her car and dialed Michael’s number. She was afraid he might be asleep and she would find herself talking to him while he was in bed with his wife. However, his voice sounded alert, as if he had been up for a while. “I’m sorry about your door,” she said.

“Why did you do it?” He sounded more curious than angry.

“I couldn’t understand why you didn’t answer. Then I heard a scream. I thought you must be in some kind of trouble.”

“What brought you here so late?”

“You didn’t send me that list of earthquake sites.”

“Oh, that’s right! It’s on my desk. I just forgot. I’ll fax it now.”

“Thanks.” She gave him the fax number of the new emergency operations center. “Michael, there’s something I have to ask you.” She took a deep breath. Asking this question was harder than she had anticipated. She was no shrinking violet, but she was not as brash as Ginny. She swallowed and said: “You gave me the impression you were growing fond of me. Why did you sleep with your wife?” There. It was out.

At the other end of the line there was a long silence. Then he said: “This is not a good time.”

“Okay.” She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“I’ll send that list right away.”

“Thanks.”

She hung up and started the engine. Ginny’s idea had not been so great after all. It took two to talk, and Michael was not willing.

When she reached the officers’ club, Michael’s fax was waiting for her. She showed it to Carl Theobald. “We need surveillance teams at each of these locations, watching out for a seismic vibrator,” she said. “I was hoping to use the police, but I don’t think we can. They might talk. And if local people find out that we think they’re a target, they’ll panic. So we have to use FBI personnel.”

“Okay.” Carl frowned at the sheet. “You know, these locations
are awful big. One team can’t really watch an area a mile square. Should we put on multiple teams? Or could your seismologist narrow it down?”

“I’ll ask him.” Judy picked up the phone and dialed Michael again. “Thanks for the fax,” she said. She explained the problem.

“I’d have to visit the sites myself,” he said. “Signs of earlier earthquake activity, such as dried-up streambeds or fault scarp, would give me a more precise fix.”

“Would you do that today?” she said immediately. “I can take you to all the locations in an FBI helicopter.”

“Uh … sure, I guess,” he said. “I mean, of course I will.”

“You could be saving lives.”

“Exactly.”

“Can you find your way to the officers’ club in the Presidio?”

“Sure.”

“By the time you get here, the chopper will be waiting.”

“Okay.”

“I appreciate this, Michael.”

“You’re welcome.”

But I’d still like to know why you slept with your wife
.

She hung up.

*  *  *

It was a long day. Judy, Michael, and Carl Theobald covered a thousand miles in the helicopter. By nightfall they had set up round-the-clock surveillance at the five locations on Michael’s list.

They returned to the Presidio. The helicopter landed on the deserted parade ground. The base was a ghost town, with its moldering office buildings and rows of vacant houses.

Judy had to go into the emergency operations center and report to a big shot from FBI headquarters in Washington who had shown up at nine o’clock that morning with a take-charge air. But first she walked Michael to his car in the darkened parking lot. “What if they slip through the surveillance?” she said.

“I thought your people were good.”

“They’re the best. But what if? Is there some way I can get notified real fast if there’s a tremor anywhere in California?”

“Sure,” he said. “I could set up on-line seismography right here at your command post. I just need a computer and an ISDN phone line.”

“No problem. Would you do it tomorrow?”

“Okay. That way, you’ll know immediately if they start the seismic vibrator someplace that’s not on the list.”

“Is that likely?”

“I don’t think so. If their seismologist is competent, he’ll pick the same places I picked. And if he’s incompetent, they probably won’t be able to trigger an earthquake.”

“Good,” she said. “Good.” She would remember that. She could tell the Washington big shot that she had the crisis under control.

She looked up at Michael’s shadowed face. “Why did you sleep with your wife?”

“I’ve been thinking about that all day.”

“Me, too.”

“I guess I owe you some kind of explanation.”

“I think so.”

“Until yesterday I was sure it was over. Then, last night, she reminded me of the things that had been good about our marriage. She was beautiful, fun, affectionate, and sexy. More important, she made me forget all the things that were bad.”

“Such as?”

He sighed. “I think Melanie is drawn to authority figures. I was her professor. She wants the security of being told what to do. I expected an equal partner, someone who would share decisions and take responsibility. She resented that.”

“I get the picture.”

“And there’s something else. Deep down, she’s mad as hell at the whole world. Most of the time she hides it, but when she’s frustrated she can be violent. She would throw things at me, heavy things, like a casserole dish one time. She never hurt me, she’s just not strong enough, though if there was a gun in the house, I’d be scared. But that level of hostility is hard to live with.”

“And last night …?”

“I forgot all that. She seemed to want to try again, and I thought maybe we should, for Dusty’s sake. Plus …”

She wished she could read his expression, but it was too dark. “What?”

“I want to tell you the truth, Judy, even though you’ll be offended by it. So I have to admit that it wasn’t as rational and decent as I’m pretending. Part of it was that she’s a beautiful woman and I wanted to fuck her. Now I’ve said it.”

She smiled in the dark. Ginny had been half-right, anyway. “I knew that,” she said. “But I’m glad you told me. Good night.” She walked away.

“Good night,” he said, sounding bewildered.

A few moments later he called after her: “Are you angry?”

“No,” she said over her shoulder. “Not anymore.”