by Ken Follett
He was speaking in the ponderously dramatic manner he used to suggest that what he had to say was world-shakingly important. "The California State seismologist has now confirmed that there was an earthquake today--the very day the Hammer of Eden promised it. It took place at twenty minutes after two P.M. in Owens Valley, just as the Hammer of Eden said when they called this show a few minutes ago."
My God--they did it.
Judy was electrified. She forgot her frustration, and her depression vanished. She felt alive again.
John Truth was saying: "But the same state seismologist denied that this or any other earthquake could have been caused by a terrorist group."
Was that true? Judy had to know. What did other seismologists think? She needed to make some calls. Then she heard John Truth say: "In a moment we will play you a recording of the message left by the Hammer of Eden."
They're on tape!
That could be a crucial mistake by the terrorists. They would not know it, but a voice on tape would provide a mass of information when analyzed by Simon Sparrow.
Truth went on: "Meanwhile, what do you think? Do you believe the state seismologist? Or do you think he's whistling past the graveyard? Maybe you are a seismologist and you have an opinion on the technical possibilities here. Or maybe you're just a concerned citizen and you think the authorities ought to be as worried as you are. Call John Truth Live on this number now to tell the world what you think."
A commercial for a furniture warehouse came on, and Judy muted the volume. "Are you still there, Bo?"
"Sure."
"They did it, didn't they?"
"Sure looks like it."
She wondered whether he was genuinely uncertain or just being cautious. "What does your instinct say?"
He gave her another ambiguous answer. "That these people are very dangerous."
Judy tried to calm her racing heart and turn her mind to what she should do next. "I'd better call Brian Kincaid--"
"What are you going to tell him?"
"The news ... Wait a minute." Bo was making a point. "You don't think I should call him."
"I think you should call your boss when you can give him something he can't get from the radio."
"You're right." Judy began to feel calmer as she ran over the possibilities. "I guess I'm going back to work." She made a right turn.
"Okay. I'll be home in an hour or so. Call me if you want supper."
She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. "Thanks, Bo. You're a great daddy."
He laughed. "You're a great kid, too. Later."
"Later." She touched the button that terminated the call, then she turned up the volume on the radio.
She heard a low, sexy voice saying: "This is the Hammer of Eden with a message for Governor Mike Robson."
The picture that came into her mind was of a mature woman with large breasts and a wide smile, likable but kind of off-the-wall.
That's my enemy?
The tone changed, and the woman muttered: "Shit, I didn't expect to be talking to a tape recorder."
She's not the organizational brain behind all this. She's too ditzy. She's taking instructions from someone else.
The woman resumed her formal voice and continued: "Like we promised, we caused an earthquake today, four weeks after our last message. It happened in Owens Valley a little after two o'clock, you can check it out."
A faint background noise caused her to hesitate.
What was that?
Simon will find out.
A second later she carried on. "We do not recognize the jurisdiction of the United States government. Now that you know we can do what we say, you'd better think again about our demand. Announce a freeze on construction of new power plants in California. You have seven days to make up your mind."
Seven days! Last time they gave us four weeks.
"After that we will trigger another earthquake. But the next one won't be out in the middle of nowhere. If you force us, we'll do real damage."
A carefully calculated escalation of the threat. Jesus, these people scare me.
"We don't like it, but it's the only way. Please do as we say so that this nightmare can end."
John Truth came on. "There it is, the voice of the Hammer of Eden, the group that claims to have triggered the earthquake that shook Owens Valley today."
Judy had to have that tape. She turned down the volume again and dialed Raja's home number. He was single, he could give up his Friday evening.
When he answered she said: "Hi, this is Judy."
He said immediately: "I can't, I have tickets for the opera!"
She hesitated, then decided to play along. "What's on?"
"Uh ... Macbeth's Wedding."
She suppressed a laugh. "By Ludwig Sebastian Wagner?"
"Right."
"No such opera, no such composer. You're working tonight."
"Shit."
"Why didn't you invent a rock group? I would have believed you."
"I keep forgetting how old you are."
She laughed. Raja was twenty-six, Judy was thirty-six. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"What's the assignment?" He did not sound too reluctant.
Judy became serious again. "Okay, here it is. There was an earthquake in the eastern part of the state this afternoon, and the Hammer of Eden claim they triggered it."
"Wow! Maybe these people are for real after all!" He sounded pleased rather than scared. He was young and keen, and he had not thought through the implications.
"John Truth just played a recorded message from the perpetrators. I need you to go to the radio station and get the tape."
"I'm on my way."
"Make sure you get the original, not a copy. If they give you a hard time, tell them we can get a court order in an hour."
"Nobody gives me a hard time. This is Raja, remember?"
It was true. He was a charmer. "Take the tape to Simon Sparrow and tell him I need something in the morning."
"You got it."
She broke the connection and turned John Truth up again. He was saying: "... a minor earthquake, by the way, magnitude five to six."
How the hell did they do it?
"No one injured, no damage to buildings or other property, but a tremor that was quite definitely felt by the residents of Bishop, Bigpine, Independence, and Lone Pine."
Some of those people must have seen the perpetrators within the last few hours, Judy realized. She had to get over there and start interviewing them as soon as possible.
Where exactly was the earthquake? She needed to talk to an expert.
The obvious choice was the state seismologist. However, he seemed to have a closed mind. He had already ruled out the possibility of a human-made earthquake. That bothered her. She wanted someone who was willing to entertain all possibilities. She thought of Michael Quercus. He could be a pain in the ass, but he was not afraid to speculate. Plus he was just across the bay in Berkeley, whereas the state seismologist was in Sacramento.
If she showed up without an appointment, he would refuse to see her. She sighed and dialed his number.
For a while there was no answer, and she thought he must be out. He picked up after six rings. "Quercus." He sounded annoyed at the interruption.
"This is Judy Maddox from the FBI. I need to talk to you. It's urgent, and I'd like to come to your place right away."
"It's out of the question. I'm with someone."
I might have known you'd be difficult. "Maybe after your meeting is over?"
"It's not a meeting, and it won't be over till Sunday."
Yeah, right.
He had a woman there, Judy guessed. But he had told her at the first meeting that he was not seeing anyone. For some reason she remembered his exact words: "I'm separated from my wife, and I don't have a girlfriend." Perhaps he had lied. Or perhaps this was someone new. It did not sound like a new relationship, if he was expecting her to stay the weekend. On the other hand, he was arrogant enough
to assume that a girl would go to bed with him on the first date, and attractive enough that lots of girls probably would.
I don't know why I'm so interested in his love life.
"Have you been listening to the radio?" she asked him. "There's been an earthquake, and the terrorist group we talked about claims to have triggered it."
"Is that so?" He sounded intrigued despite himself. "Are they telling the truth?"
"That's what I need to discuss with you."
"I see."
Come on, you stubborn son of a gun--give in, for once in your life.
"This is really important, Professor."
"I'd like to help you ... but it's really not possible tonight.... No, wait." His voice became muffled as he covered the mouthpiece with his hand, but she could still distinguish his words. "Hey, have you ever met a reallive FBI agent?" She could not hear the reply, but after a moment he said to her: "Okay, my guest would like to meet you. Come on over."
She did not like the idea of being paraded like some kind of circus freak, but at this point she was not going to say so. "Thanks, I'll be there in twenty minutes." She broke the connection.
As she drove over the bridge, she reflected that neither Raja nor Michael had seemed scared. Raja was excited, Michael intrigued. She, too, was electrified by the sudden reanimation of the case; but when she remembered the earthquake of 1989, and the television pictures of rescue workers bringing corpses out of the collapsed double-deck Nimitz Freeway right here in Oakland, and she contemplated the possibility of a terrorist group having the power to do that, her heart felt cold and heavy with foreboding.
To clear her mind she tried to guess what Michael Quercus's girlfriend would be like. She had seen a picture of his wife, a striking redhead with a supermodel figure and a sulky pout. He seems to like the exotic. But they had broken up, so perhaps she was not really his type. Judy could see him with a woman professor, in fashionable thin-framed spectacles, with well-cut short hair but no makeup. On the other hand, that type of woman would not cross the street to meet an FBI agent. Most likely he had picked up a sexy airhead who was easily impressed. Judy visualized a girl in tight clothes, smoking and chewing gum at the same time, looking around his apartment and saying: "Have you read all these books?"
I don't know why I'm obsessing about his girlfriend when I've got so much else to worry about.
She found Euclid Street and parked under the same magnolia tree as last time. She rang his bell, and he buzzed her into the building. He came to the apartment door barefoot, looking pleasantly weekendish in blue jeans and a white T-shirt. A girl could have fun spending the weekend fooling around with him. She followed him into his office-cum-living room.
There, to her astonishment, she saw a little boy of about five, with freckles and fair hair, dressed in pajamas with dinosaurs all over them. After a moment she recognized him as the child in the photograph on the desk. Michael's son. This was his weekend guest. She felt embarrassed about the dumb blonde she had imagined. I was a little unfair to you, Professor.
Michael said: "Dusty, meet Special Agent Judy Maddox."
The boy shook hands politely and said: "Are you really in the FBI?"
"Yes, I am."
"Wow."
"Want to see my badge?" She took her shield from her shoulder bag and gave it to him. He held it reverently.
Michael said: "Dusty likes to watch The X-Files."
Judy smiled. "I don't work in the Alien Spacecraft Department, I just catch regular earth criminals."
Dusty said: "Can I see your gun?"
Judy hesitated. She knew that boys were fascinated by weapons, but she did not like to encourage such an interest. She glanced at Michael, who shrugged. She unbuttoned her jacket and took the weapon out of its shoulder holster.
As she did so, she caught Michael looking at her breasts, and she felt a sudden sexual frisson. Now that he was not being curmudgeonly, he was kind of appealing, with his bare feet and his T-shirt untucked.
She said: "Guns are pretty dangerous, Dusty, so I'm going to hold it, but you can look."
Dusty's face as he stared at the pistol wore the same expression as Michael's when she opened her jacket. The thought made her grin.
After a minute she holstered the gun.
Dusty said with elaborate politeness: "We were just going to have some Cap'n Crunch. Would you care to join us?"
Judy was impatient to question Michael, but she sensed he would be more forthcoming if she was patient and played along. "How nice of you," she said. "I'm real hungry, I'd love some Cap'n Crunch."
"Come into the kitchen."
The three of them sat at a plastic-topped table in the little kitchen and ate breakfast cereal and milk out of bright blue pottery bowls. Judy realized she was hungry: it was past suppertime. "My goodness," she said. "I'd forgotten how good Cap'n Crunch is."
Michael laughed. Judy was amazed at the difference in him. He was relaxed and amiable. He seemed a different person from the grouch who had forced her to drive back to the office and phone him for an appointment. She was beginning to like him.
When supper was eaten, Michael got Dusty ready for bed. Dusty said to his father: "Can Agent Judy tell me a story?"
Judy suppressed her impatience. I've got seven days, I can wait another five minutes. She said: "I think your daddy wants to tell you a story, because he doesn't get to do it as often as he'd like."
"It's okay," Michael said with a smile. "I'll listen in."
They went into the bedroom. "I don't know many stories, but I remember one my mommy used to tell me," Judy said. "It's the legend of the kindly dragon. Would you like to hear it?"
"Yes, please," said Dusty.
"Me too," said Michael.
"Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a kindly dragon who lived in China, where all dragons come from. One day the kindly dragon went wandering. He wandered so far that he left China and got lost in the wilderness.
"After many days he came to another land, far to the south. It was the most beautiful country he had ever seen, with forests and mountains and fertile valleys, and rivers for him to splash about in. There were banana palms and mulberry trees laden with ripe fruit. The weather was always warm with a pleasant breeze.
"But there was one thing wrong. It was an empty land. No one lived there: no people, and no dragons. So although the kindly dragon loved the new land, he was terribly lonely.
"However, he didn't know the way home, so he roamed all around, looking for someone to keep him company. At last, one lucky day, he found the one person who lived there--a fairy princess. She was so beautiful that he fell in love with her at once. Now, the princess was lonely, too, and although the dragon looked fearsome, he had a kind heart, and so she married him.
"The kindly dragon and the fairy princess loved each other, and they had a hundred children. All the children were brave and kindly like their dragon father, and beautiful like their fairy mother.
"The kindly dragon and the fairy princess looked after their children until they were all grown up. Then, suddenly, both parents vanished. They went away to live in love and harmony in the spirit world for all eternity. And their children became the brave, kindly, beautiful people of Vietnam. And that's where my mommy came from."
Dusty was wide-eyed. "Is it true?"
Judy smiled. "I don't know, maybe."
"It's a beautiful story anyway," Michael said. He kissed Dusty good night.
As Judy left the room, she heard Dusty whisper: "She's really nice, isn't she?"
"Yes," Michael replied.
Back in the living room, Michael said: "Thank you for that. You were great with him."
"It wasn't difficult. He's a charmer."
Michael nodded. "Gets it from his mother."
Judy smiled.
Michael grinned and said: "I notice you don't argue with that."
"I've never met your wife. In the picture she looks very beautiful."
"She is. And ... fa
ithless."
That was an unexpected confidence, coming so suddenly from a man she took to be proud. She warmed to him. But she did not know what to say in reply.
They were both silent for a moment. Then Michael said: "You've had enough of the Quercus family. Tell me about the earthquake."
At last. "It took place in Owens Valley this afternoon at twenty minutes past two."
"Let's get the seismograph." Michael sat at his desk and tapped the keys of his computer. She found herself looking at his bare feet. Some men had ugly feet, but his were well shaped and strong looking, with neatly clipped toenails. The skin was white, and there was a small tuft of dark hair on each big toe.
He did not notice her scrutiny. "When your terrorists made their threat four weeks ago, did they specify the location?"
"No."
"Hmm. In the scientific community, we say that a successful earthquake forecast would have to specify date, location, and magnitude. Your people only gave the date. That's not very convincing. There's an earthquake somewhere in California more or less every day. Maybe they just claimed responsibility for something that happened naturally."
"Can you tell me exactly where today's tremor took place?"
"Yes. I can calculate the epicenter by triangulation. Actually, the computer does it automatically. I'll just print out the coordinates." After a moment his printer whirred.
Judy said: "Is there any way of knowing how the earthquake was triggered?"
"You mean, can I tell from the graph whether it was caused by human agency? Yes, I should be able to."
"How?"
He clicked his mouse and turned from the screen to face her. "A normal earthquake is preceded by a gradual buildup of foreshocks, or lesser tremors, which we can see on the seismograph. By contrast, when the earthquake is triggered by an explosion, there is no buildup--the graph begins with a characteristic spike." He turned back to his computer.
He was probably a good teacher, Judy thought. He explained things clearly. But he would be mercilessly intolerant of student foibles. He would give surprise tests and refuse to admit latecomers to his lectures.
"That's odd," he said.
Judy looked over his shoulder at the screen. "What's odd?"
"The seismograph."
"I don't see a spike."
"No. There was no explosion."
Judy did not know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. "So the earthquake happened naturally?"
