Belcher’s incompetence had resulted in interest from other, deliberately uninformed, factions of the FBI. Questions, quiet and discreet, were being asked of certain people in the Pentagon. They, in turn, were asking questions of their own. It was building ominously. As long as Belcher continued to refuse to communicate, there would be few problems, but Graves was by no means sure of anything the man might do. Belcher would have to be enlightened as to the consequences of further indiscretions.
He had been Shubert’s choice. And a bad one.
Shubert … another fool. But a necessary one. And irreplaceable at this late date.
And then there was the curiosity of a reporter in Washington, a Chinese, who’d stood up in a Pentagon press office and announced that “Operation Move” was simply a way to get some critical defense contractors out of Los Angeles before a big earthquake struck. Why had she taken such an unwarranted risk? Certainly, not without the full knowledge and consent of her employers. And where had they obtained their information? What did they really know? The newspaper wasn’t saying. Neither were they publishing the story. It appeared to be a trial balloon, but what had triggered the interest?
Michael Davis had made one phone call while on the loose at the hospital. But that call had been to his wife. And she had run to a lawyer. The lawyer, in turn, had come to the hospital, but that entire situation had been well handled. Davis was now ensconced in a more secure hospital. His wife had been interviewed but had made no mention of any contact to the newspaper. So where had the interest come from?
He shook his head. Graves knew that some of the defense contractors had been contacted by the newspaper, but nothing had been revealed that wasn’t part of the plan. Even now, trucks were moving men and equipment along the freeways, the very beginning of an operation that would take three weeks to complete.
The insurance companies had acted in a way that had been fully anticipated. After all, it was their money that had financed the very research that had resulted in their knowing about the quake. Certainly, the research had been classified immediately and steps taken to prevent the information being circulated to those who’d paid for it. But Graves had assumed all along that the companies would somehow find a way to gain access to the data and indeed, they had. The insurance companies had quickly taken steps to cut their losses and for that, no one could blame them. Their actions were further proof that Robert Graves was indeed a genius. He’d anticipated their every move. And prepared for it.
The entire project had been meticulously planned down to the last detail … but … there were tiny cracks now appearing in the very foundation of the plan. Too many things were going wrong too quickly. While he’d expected some of them, he hadn’t foreseen all of them. And he was supposed to. That’s what he was paid to do. There was more at stake here than the lives of millions of people.
There was the reputation of Robert Graves.
He put the glasses back on and looked over the papers on his desk. Something had to be done. He could almost visualize the domino effect taking hold.
It was time to implement a contingency plan. Now.
It was time to use his ace in the hole.
He’d wanted to reserve that for later, when the real crunch came. But things were moving too fast. Much too fast. And they still didn’t know if the test had been successful. If it wasn’t, that would change everything. Still another plan would have to be implemented.
But for now …
He picked up the phone.
First he called Shubert in Nevada. Then he called a Washington number. To the person who answered, he said, “This is Robert Graves. I wish to speak to Jack Murphy.”
Nineteen
* * *
A very tired Rusty Coleman plopped himself down in an old wooden chair and rested his head in his hands. As usual, his boss, Bill Price, was on the telephone.
Saturday was normally a day off for both of them, but today was the exception. An army of reporters had been covering the strange movements of several truck convoys ever since the first ones had been spotted at four in the morning, tooling quickly along the relatively traffic-free highways, headed east. They had made it out of the city before the morning crush began. Even on Saturday, it was formidable.
So far, the group of reporters covering the operation had tracked seven convoys, each made up of a number of Army green eighteen-wheelers escorted front and back by trucks carrying armed troops. Army helicopters hovered over the convoys as they made their way through the heavily populated areas, then into the high desert and, finally, out of California, into Arizona and Utah. They were still moving toward their assigned destinations when those following the convoys had been stopped. A series of roadblocks had been set up and all reporters had been told that, in the interests of national security, they were to stop following the convoys.
It was completely unconstitutional and everyone knew it. By the time the legalities were attended to and the roadblocks torn down, the convoys were nowhere to be found. It was as though they had disappeared into thin air. The Globe had leased a light airplane in an effort to pick up the trail, but had drawn a blank. The beginnings of what seemed like an exodus had gone off with uncommon precision, which only served to heighten the suspicions of Bill Price.
And now, he slammed the telephone down and cursed. Then, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth.
“Uh-uh,” Rusty said. “Better not light that.”
“Screw it,” Price said as he placed a lighted match to the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply. “Damn it! I can’t function like this! If this newspaper wants me to work here, they’re gonna have to give me my own office. Then, I can smoke when the hell I want to. I can’t keep running downstairs all the damn time.”
“Why don’t you quit smoking?”
The look in his boss’s eyes told Rusty Coleman to drop the subject. Fast.
“Well? What have you found out?”
Coleman groaned and said, “Boss, I’ve been on the road all day. You’ve had me running all over town trying to find a couple of thousand drill sites that don’t exist. I told you it’s too expensive!”
“And I told you they’ve got to be there,” Price replied. “You just aren’t looking hard enough! What the hell kind of reporter do you call yourself, anyway?”
For a moment, Coleman opened his mouth, as though to respond in kind. But he held his tongue. Bill Price had been on a tear for over a day. The man was in a foul humor, unusual for him. And everyone knew why. It wasn’t the first time the man had had an idea that hadn’t panned out. It wouldn’t be the last. But in between the failures, there’d been some spectacular successes. Ideas originally hatched from vague hunches had developed into big stories as a result of hard work and knowing where to look.
The man had hundreds of contacts. Normally, they’d provide little bits of information that were like pieces in some jigsaw puzzle. Price and his crew of reporters would keep finding a piece here, a piece there … until the picture was complete.
Another exclusive for the Globe.
But this time was different.
Aside from what had been revealed by the Pentagon, there was practically nothing.
Through the wire services, they’d learned that several defense contractors located in other parts of the country had begun to act out their roles in this crazy relocation, bearing out what Jack Murphy had said.
Murphy. He was a puzzle. He’d reacted as expected in one sense, lifting the credentials of Darlene, but in another sense, he’d surprised Price by telling her to go ahead and print the story. He was acting in a manner that was unfamiliar to Price, who’d known the man for years. Usually, Murphy was defensive, especially off the record, where he would pour out his guts, knowing that none of what he said would ever see the light of day. But with Darlene, he’d been anything but defensive. He’d been laconic and arrogant. Sure of himself. Refusing to utter another word, either on or off the rec
ord.
It was unaccustomed behavior for Murphy and somewhat baffling to Price. Even more baffling was the lack of interest being shown by other media in the movement of billions of dollars worth of equipment all over the country in an exercise that could only be termed as suspect.
Retired high-ranking military personnel had been interviewed at some length. Those that would talk had said they didn’t understand “Operation Move,” but some of them thought it wasn’t that bad an idea.
And then there was the subject of earthquakes.
Aside from the two discredited scientists who insisted earthquake prediction was a reality, his reporters had talked to nine other experts in the field of earthquakes. All of them were respected. And all of them were adamant. They were convinced that there was no way on earth anyone could know a great earthquake was imminent. According to them, small successes notwithstanding, the field of earthquake prediction was not nearly far enough advanced for anyone to make such a claim. Even the retired military people had backed them up. They bore out Murphy’s claim that defense contractors used buildings that were considered earthquake-proof. So what would be the point?
Already, the rival newspaper had printed the story of Darlene’s outburst and subsequent blacklisting. They’d interviewed some of the same experts and concluded that Price and the Globe were simply trying to manufacture a story to sell newspapers. They were gloating. The fact that the story had yet to run in the Globe made them gloat even more. In fact, an editorial in the morning edition had been so condescending it had made Bill lose his appetite.
“We don’t often talk about our competition,” it had read, “but today we feel compelled to tip our hat to the fine people at the Globe for allowing reason to temper their normal penchant for sensationalism.
“Yesterday, one of their reporters made an intemperate outburst at a Pentagon press conference called to discuss an exercise now under way, an exercise called ‘Operation Move.’ The exercise is reported elsewhere in this paper, so we won’t delve into it here. But the reporter for the Globe, in what can only be called a fishing expedition, practically accused the Pentagon of carrying out this exercise for one reason and one reason only. According to the reporter, who will, mercifully, be unnamed here, a major earthquake was about to hit Los Angeles, hence the need to remove the defense contractors.
“We’ve talked to several eminent seismologists and geologists, all of whom are united in the view that earthquakes are unpredictable. That’s one thing. But the damning thing here is that a reporter would think that the only concern of the government would be defense contractors and military personnel. The question posed by the reporter indicated that the Globe thinks no efforts would be made to evacuate the citizens of this city, should such a fanciful idea be actually true.
“Perhaps the reporter’s judgment was clouded by a report that was circulated some years back in which it was stated that evacuation of a major city was not feasible. That report was studied and subsequently discounted by civil defense authorities. As everyone knows, there are many agencies hard at work on perfecting evacuation plans, should they ever be necessary for whatever reason.
“It’s bad enough when people in public service do keep important facts from us. But it’s totally unfair to accuse them of such actions when there is no proof whatsoever.
“We tip our hat to the Globe because, in spite of the intemperance of one of their reporters, they have not printed a story that holds no water. They’ve refrained from backing a reporter who was obviously out of line and for that we applaud them.”
Price leaned back in his chair and sucked on the cigarette. Already, several of the staff were casting stiff looks in his direction. For sure, another memo would be written and Bill would be called in and told that the rule was for everyone. No smoking in the open office area.
It was so stupid. He was an experienced editor with a string of awards. His people, most of them, anyway, liked and admired him. But this was a new age. An age when smoking was out. An age when a cub reporter could actually have an editor dismissed because he insisted on breaking the rules. And the newspaper, ever devoted to the bottom line, would rather lose a good editor than provide him with a closed-in place where he could indulge his addiction.
Crazy!
He could almost see it coming.
He stubbed out the cigarette in the ash tray secreted in his desk drawer and slammed the drawer shut.
“Rusty,” he said, his voice almost a snarl, “we have to break something loose on this. I’m being laughed at and I really don’t like that a whole lot. I know I’ve been wrong once or twice in the past, but this time … damn it! I’m right! I know it! I can feel it in my gut.”
“Boss …”
“Don’t ‘boss’ me. I know! You think I’m off my rocker. Well, I’m not. I’m …”
He was interrupted by a copy boy who dropped three pages torn from the wire service teletype on his desk. He glared at the back of the “boy,” a man of sixty, and pointed a finger at Rusty. He was about to say something when his eyes were drawn to the wire service report. Actually, it was one word in the report. The word “earthquake” in the lead.
He started to read.
The further he progressed, the more excited he became. When he’d finished, he let out a yell and handed it to Rusty. “Read this!” he chortled.
Rusty looked at the report. It read: “JUSTICE DEPARTMENT TO INVESTIGATE INSURANCE ASSOCIATION RE EARTHQUAKE FLAP.
“Washington: May 8. The Justice Department today announced a full-scale investigation into activities of the American Association of Insurance Specialties (AAIS) after complaints were received from a group of California legislators scheduled to begin hearings next week. The hearings were originally called to look into the earthquake insurance situation as it exists in California today, but according to Senator Jake Simpson, chairman of the committee, information has been received that ‘requires a complete and extensive investigation by the Justice Department.’
“Senator Simpson went on to say that, ‘We have reason to believe that the AAIS has financed a ten-year study of earthquakes. A study that concluded the chances of a major earthquake in California in the next twenty years are remote, an estimate that is not supported by the established scientific community, and that they sought to suppress the report, even to the point of possible homicide.’
“Although the senator would not give further details of the possible homicide, informed sources indicated that the Justice Department will be asked to look into the circumstances surrounding the death of Thomas A. Wilson, a seismologist, who died in a one-car auto accident last week. Wilson is believed to be the author of the report mentioned.
“The senator went on to say that full details would be revealed when the committee opens its hearings on Monday. In the meantime, a spokesman for AAIS said that they were completely unaware of either the report or the pending investigation, and would have no comment until they could study the matter further.
“In recent years, the cost of earthquake insurance has risen dramatically, with the deductible percentage rising as well. In actual fact, very few new policies have been issued in the last two months while policies already in force have been either cancelled or renewals denied in many cases. It is believed that the Justice Department will be asked to investigate whether or not AAIS sought to start a rumor indicating that a major earthquake in the Los Angeles area was imminent, when they were in possession of a report that indicated otherwise. Speculation centers on the theory that the association sought to create an atmosphere that would justify the actions of several of their members. Informed sources say that AAIS even went so far as to alert the Pentagon, this action precipitating ‘Operation Move’ now under way.
“Informed sources say that the drastic actions taken by the insurance companies were the opening gambit in a plan that would eventually see earthquake insurance policies being issued, but at much higher rates and with even higher deductible percentages, some rumored
to be as high as 25%. It is believed that the plan was conceived to produce enormous revenues that are to be used as a buffer against losses from an earthquake that the report indicates is expected to strike California sometime between the years 2010 and 2020. Other sources have speculated that the plan was designed to exert pressure on federal authorities who have balked at classifying earthquake insurance in the same manner as flood insurance, which would allow for federal assistance.”
There was more, much more, but it was enough for Rusty Coleman.
He put the report back on the desk and said, “Well, you were right. There was something fishy about ‘Operation Move.’ It just wasn’t what you thought.”
“Is that how you see it?” Price asked.
“Don’t you?”
Price slammed his hand on the desk. “Think! Think!”
Rusty looked hurt. Price didn’t wait. He pressed on with his thoughts.
“What is it that insurance companies do?” he asked.
“Boss … I’m not a kid, for Christ’s sake.”
“Then stop acting like one!”
“Boss!”
“Listen,” Price went on, “insurance companies are in business to make money. They’ve got thousands of guys who figure the odds, just like the bookmakers in Vegas. They’ve got this down to a science. They know how long the average guy will live; how many accidents there’ll be in an average day; what percentage of people will develop cancer in the next two years … all of it.
“They issue policies based on the odds. That includes earthquake insurance. In the first place, you were the one who told me that you can’t predict earthquakes. So how come they have the results of a ten-year study that says the chances of one within the next twenty years are remote? How can they stick their necks out like that? Does that sound kosher?”
The Big One Page 19
