The loud, incessant pounding of water against roofs and gutters and roads kept valley residents home on date night. Bored children moped about weekend activities that would have to be postponed. Their parents wondered whether what they’d been planting, or weeding, or harvesting would survive the onslaught.
The answer was making itself known in the encroaching darkness. Groves of towering walnut and almond trees maintained their staunch, but weakening grip in increasingly sodden ground while across the valley, orchards full of softer fruit barely tolerated the torrents. Branches laden with peaches, plums, and half-grown apricots bent toward the earth as the rain pummeled their fruit and suffused their wood with too much of a good thing. Beneath acres of cherry trees, the earth was awash with muddy blossoms.
Field after field of cotton plants sagged, then toppled to the ground. Tens of thousands of acres of young and maturing food plants—corn, tomatoes, lettuce, melons, strawberries—that had been carefully nurtured for weeks, that had been teased up to the edge of fecundity by sunlight and chemicals and irrigation, began to list sideways in the fields. Well before the farmers and the field hands turned in for the night, their crops lay flat in the mud, turning to pulp under still-heavy skies, a bumper crop of wasted money and wasted time.
Roads between fields became wide ribbons of mud. Equipment was mired where it had been left. Along the miles of paved highways connecting the small towns that dotted the valley, first the low spots, then the flat stretches became too dangerous to cross. Creeks began to overflow their banks. The soil had been so dry for so long that it couldn’t absorb the rushing water fast enough; and so it just dissolved and was swept away. Across hundreds and hundreds of square miles, people slept fitfully or not at all, knowing their homes, their livelihoods, and their futures could be sucked into the mud or washed away by the very water for which they’d been praying so hard.
The rain became heavier.
Livestock grew restive and even a little panicked by the constant thunderous tattoo on their enormous barns’ metal roofs and the foul, muddy water rushing along the floors, swirling around their hooves. In the colonias, the shantytowns that sprouted every growing and harvest season at the edges of fields, soaked residents huddled, tightly packed, in trucks, trailers, and more flimsy shelters. In the small towns, residents fared little better. Aging, poorly built homes and apartments, crammed beyond capacity with tenants, revealed their flaws as the deluge seeped through ceilings and the cracks around windows. Water heavy with silt and soil began to flow under doors and lap against foundations. Even in the better areas, second floors became the only viable escape routes as roads turned treacherous or simply disappeared from view.
One after another, small canals, catchment pools, and drainage ponds all over the valley overflowed their banks and barriers, sending floods rushing wherever gravity beckoned, washing away whatever was left in the fields—along with any hope of economic or crop recovery. The big river and its tributaries at first absorbed the heavy volume of water crashing along their courses, but at last, they, too, began to rise beyond their boundaries.
Well before dawn, the airwaves were full of dire reports of flood stages and crests, talk of sandbags and levees. Flash floods, disaster kits, and evacuations. Damage estimates were already in the hundreds of millions and still rising.
Downstream, secretly delighted communities braced themselves for the unexpected bonanza of so much needed water.
CHAPTER 22
“Fucking hell.” Nik stared at the screen, believing and not believing what he’d just discovered. “Hey, Tess,” he said, then looked down the table to where she was sitting. Or had been. She was slumped over, forehead on the table, sound asleep.
He stood up and stretched, not bothering to be quiet. Not waking her up wasn’t an option. He couldn’t leave her here, and he wanted to knock off for the night. But first he had to deliver the latest blow.
Walking to where she sat, he shook her shoulder gently. They’d been working in virtual silence since they’d argued about shutting down the arrays, so he had no idea how long she’d been like that. But, judging by the lack of response, she’d been out for a while.
“Hey, Tess. Wake up.”
She moaned a little but didn’t give any other indication of re-entering a conscious state.
Too damned bad, darling, this won’t wait.
He carefully shut down her computer and slipped it into its case. Resisting the temptation to snoop was easy. Not only would it not have been right, it would have been traceable. And he didn’t need any more trouble in paradise right now.
“Tess, come on, hon. You gotta wake up and get out of here.”
She murmured something he couldn’t make out. He shook her again, lightly.
“Tess.”
Her head came up slightly, her face tilted to his. Her eyes were still closed. Her mouth was … beautiful. She was beautiful.
No, she’s irresistible.
Not bothering to fight a smile, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her. Softly. Nicely. Conservatively. On the mouth.
Tess became conscious slowly, but not so slowly that Nik could pull back in time to avoid the half-slap, half-shove that she gave his face. He landed on his ass and was still clearing his head by the time she was standing over him, not entirely steady as she slipped her feet into her shoes. While glaring at him.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. Her eyes were burning with annoyance.
“Clearly, I was being a jerk,” he began, getting to his feet as far from her as he could manage. It wasn’t much, given the size of the conference room and the length of her reach. “No harm intended. I couldn’t wake you up, so I—”
“So you thought it would be a good idea to kiss me?” she hissed. “What are you, some sort of arrested adolescent?”
He winced. “Apparently.”
“Well, don’t try it again,” she snapped, then paused. “We’re in enough trouble down here without—” She let out a long breath that seemed to carry her anger with it. “We’re in enough trouble without adding any more complications to the mix,” she finished more calmly.
“Got it. Sorry.”
“Okay. So what time is it?”
“About midnight.”
“Great,” she muttered, and looked down at her clothes. “If anyone is out there roaming the halls, this isn’t going to look good. I look like I slept in these.”
“You did,” Nik said with a repentant smile. “That’s better than the alternative, isn’t it? That you were in the conference room with me but not in your clothes?”
Tess flicked her eyes to him. “Thanks. I’ll point that out to anyone who asks.”
He took a deep breath and absently rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Listen, Tess, I’ve got some news. You’d better sit down.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You are,” he replied slowly, watching her face. “About an hour ago, I went back into this morning’s monitoring logs to see if I could find a smoking gun.”
“I thought Ron had someone do that already.”
“He did, Tom did it before noon. But either he didn’t go back far enough, or he didn’t see what I just saw.”
She let out an annoyed breath. “Knock off the suspense, Nik. What was it? A logic bomb?”
“Oh, yeah.” He met her eyes. “Named Tess Beauchamp.”
Tess blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You’re it. When you logged into the system, a small series of executables triggered, sending a bunch of drone codes into every system.”
Tess stared at him, feeling the blood drain from her face and her knees start to shimmy. She lowered herself into the nearest chair. “I did this?” she whispered, her voice shaky.
He gave her a minute to absorb it, then nodded. “Clearly, Greg had the code in the system in advance. I don’t know how far in advance. Could be weeks or months. I didn’t look that far back. But, early yesterday before y
ou arrived, there was a very small burst of activity done under an override. Logged by Greg. He uploaded a very small piece of code. It’s encrypted so I can’t see it, but I imagine it was the instruction to deploy when you logged on.”
Tess stared at him in silence.
“He didn’t hide that he did something, but he was careful to make sure we couldn’t see exactly what he did,” Nik continued.
“Because if we could, we’d be able to undo it,” she said softly.
“Precisely.”
“Oh my God.” Tess fell rather than leaned against the back of the chair. “What a … there isn’t a word for someone like him.”
Nik shrugged. “That’s all I have for you at the moment. I suggest that we keep this to ourselves. Telling the others wouldn’t help anything, and might just create more tension, which is the last thing we need.”
She nodded and rose to her feet, steadying herself against the table. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile onto her face. “On that happy note, I think I’ll turn in.”
She didn’t make any move to leave the room though, and they studied each other for a moment. Then Nik shrugged. “Your room is next to mine. Mind if I walk with you?”
She hesitated for a split second, then shook her head. “Not if you don’t mind escorting a mass murderer down the hall,” she said lightly.
“Don’t say things like that, Tess. You’re one of the good guys, regardless of how Greg manipulates you.” Moving past her cautiously, Nik picked up her laptop and handed it to her, then pulled open the door. He motioned for her to precede him into the deserted sandbox, and then the corridor. The door quietly slid closed behind them.
* * *
Tess began walking down the hallway. The lights had dimmed as Nik had told her they would, and the space was lit only by the soft glow of night-lights that punctuated the darkness every few yards. Shadows clung to the curved walls in odd patterns. The entire floor was absolutely silent and slightly eerie, and Tess was glad for Nik’s company. It only took a few minutes to reach their rooms.
As they stood outside their twin doors, Nik gave her a tired, friendly grin and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, welcome again to Paradise South.” He paused. “It’s been a hell of a first day for you, Tess.”
“Feels like it’s been more than just one,” she muttered. “What I wouldn’t give for a martini right now.”
“I don’t have any gin, but I do happen to have a bottle of good brandy that’s begging to be opened.”
“You have booze?” Tess whispered, feeling her eyes widen. “I thought this place was as dry as Meridian, Mississippi, on a Sunday morning.”
“Well, it is. But, just like Meridian, it’s only dry if you don’t know where to look.” He swiped his smart card through the reader outside his door. The lock clicked and he pushed open the door, allowing her to enter the room first.
Tess was pleasantly surprised by Nik’s room. It wasn’t any bigger than hers, but it had personality. Dark blue walls were studded with framed art, mostly photographs of cloud, snow, and ice formations. There were several photographs of people she didn’t recognize. The bed was a double and sat high, with drawers beneath it, just like the one in her room. A night table and a small table and two padded chairs completed the furnishings. It was comfortable and almost cozy.
“Very nice. Are all the rooms like this?”
He nodded as music she didn’t recognize filled the room with soft, low instrumentals. “Personal quarters are the only private space we have, so Flint did them up pretty well, catering to our individual taste as much as possible.” He flipped on a small table lamp, turned off the overhead light, then opened a narrow pocket door that slid silently into the wall to reveal a small closet. “Have a seat.”
Sitting at the table would have required her to duck beneath his arms as he reached into the closet, so Tess gingerly seated herself on the edge of the bed. Nik set a wooden box on the table; it contained a pristine bottle of French brandy. He reached up again and produced a pair of crystal snifters in a padded box.
“Proper glassware and everything,” she said with a smile. “I’m impressed.”
“I like to do things the right way,” he replied with an answering smile as he cracked the seal on the bottle and poured two short drinks. Handing one to her, he lifted his own. “Santé.”
Tess smiled at him over the rim. “Živeli.”
Nik’s eyebrows shot up as he lowered his glass. “That’s a Serbian toast.”
“I know.”
“I thought you said you could only read it.”
“I don’t recall saying ‘only.’” She lifted the goblet to just below her nose and breathed in the heady fumes. “Oh, Nik, this smells divine.”
“Taste it.”
She took a small sip and closed her eyes, letting the cognac roll and swish gently throughout her mouth before allowing it to slide slowly down her throat. “This is utterly gorgeous.”
He grinned. “I’m glad you like it. Listen, don’t let what I just told you freak you out.”
She gave him a look. “Of course not. Mass destruction is such a trivial thing.”
“I mean it. It’s done. We have to keep moving forward.”
“I know that, but Nik, has it occurred to you that if I tripped the trigger, I could be setting off something every time I log on?”
“Yes, it did, and you’re not. Once I saw that code execute following your log-on, I went back and looked for exactly that sort of thing. I didn’t find anything.”
“I’m not convinced, but thank you for looking for it.” She shook her head. “What a scumbag.”
“Oooh, such strong language,” he said, teasing her. “You called him an oozing wart on Satan’s hairy ass for less than this.”
She smiled, touched that he was trying to cheer her up. “True. Maybe it’s time he graduated.”
“To what?”
“Maybe I should just call him Satan.”
“Seems to fit.”
A comfortable silence grew between them.
“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.
Nik laughed quietly and set his drink on the table, then leaned a shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him. “I know I should be thinking about more heavy issues but, truthfully? I’m wondering why you’re really here. Not in my room, I mean at TESLA.” He shrugged. “I mean, why you? Of all people, why you?”
Tess slipped off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her, leaning on one hand, holding the brandy loosely with the other. “Gianni said I was the logical choice, presumably because of my research. I’ve recently become known as a good storm stopper. The flip side to Greg, I guess. Given what’s going on down here, I’d say that Gianni made a good choice.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Nik’s dark eyes were looking straight into hers and the message in them was unbusinesslike and unmistakable. “You look like you could use a little TLC right now.”
“I could,” she said with a laugh, then looked away. She took a deep breath and another sip of the brandy, then brought her gaze back to his face and his eyes, which had grown warmer and darker. “Getting romantic is a really bad idea, Nik.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he said, pushing away from the wall and taking the few short steps to reach her. He took the snifter out of her hand and set it on the bedside table, then helped her to her feet. “But sometimes you get really good results from bad ideas,” he murmured, his mouth close enough to her ear to send a warm flush through every cell in her body. His arms slowly encircled her. Her own crept around his neck.
“Not going to happen, Nik,” she whispered. Her lips grazed the rough stubble on his chin. Oh my God, he smells good. He feels even better.
“I’m a gambling man, Tess. And I’m willing to bet we’re about to get naked together.”
“You think?” Tess breathed, and would have laughed, but his lips were trailing hot, slow kisses along a dangerous trai
l that led to her mouth, rendering her unable to engage in even the most basic multitasking.
“Think what?”
“That we’re about to get naked,” she said against his lips.
“Of course I do. Don’t you?” His voice was barely audible.
Yes. Yes!
“No, Nik. I don’t,” she said softly, reluctantly. She slipped her arms between them, placed her hands on the front of his shirt, and applied gentle pressure. He released her immediately, but his eyes were still torrid and his smile still dirty.
“Good try, though,” she added with a grin. “Thank you for getting my mind off the other stuff. And by the way, you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Let’s not talk about touch, Tess,” he said with a sigh as he handed her the drink he’d taken from her a moment ago and leaned against the wall once again. “So, how about those Red Sox?”
CHAPTER 23
In Connecticut, Gianni Barone sat in the darkness of his home office, smoking the in-case-of-emergency cigarettes he’d stashed in his desk when he’d given up the habit years ago. The moon was full, sitting in a sky so clear that it looked like it belonged in a movie.
It was almost three in the morning. Nearly twenty-four hours had passed since he’d heard from Tess. Flint’s army of tech support wizards had spent much of that time running test after test, trying to determine what had taken TESLA off line. Battalions of Flint’s weather and terrain analysts—and the security group—had pored over hundreds of new satellite images in an effort to answer the same question. But the answer he was looking for wasn’t forthcoming. No one could offer him any explanation other than whatever the problem was, it lay within TESLA’s security perimeter.
From the minute TESLA had gone off line, Croyden had been breathing fire at him, blaming Gianni for everything from Greg’s attitude shift to the blackout to Medev’s death. The smirking, sneering telephone conversation Croyden had had with Greg hadn’t improved the old man’s mood. At least Greg was halfway back to the States. Gianni had insisted that the U.S.-bound flight take off early in the morning to get Greg stateside as soon as possible.
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