The Big One

by Harrison Arnston

  For a moment, nothing was said. Then Ted, his eyes displaying his weariness, said, “All right. I’m going out to make a phone call. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “You can use my mobile phone,” Dr. Wickshire said.

  “No. Those things can be monitored. I’d rather not take the chance.”

  He left the motor home and walked the short distance to a pay phone that stood outside the drug store. He punched the “O” button and when the operator came on the line, gave her his credit card number and said, “I’d like to speak, person to person, to a Mr. Webster at the Rest Awhile Inn in Santa Barbara,” he said.

  “One moment, sir.”

  In moments, Frank Leach was on the line. He sounded very depressed. “Mornin’, babe,” he said, almost sadly. “You watch the news last night?”

  “Yeah, I did, Frank.”

  “You see what those sonsabitches are doing to us?”

  “It’s clear as a bell, Frank. Did anyone from the association talk to you?”

  There was a grunt. “Are you shittin’ me? I’m sittin’ here with the executive director himself. He was supposed to testify, which he had no intention of doin’, at that hearing in Sacramento tomorrow, but they’ve changed the whole schedule. Now it looks like he won’t be on ’til Thursday at the earliest. Jesus! He was refusing to testify because this whole thing is unconstitutional, but now … They’re gonna crucify us, the bastards! How can he stay silent in the face of this?

  “When the association heard what was comin’ down, they were all over me! They knew, since I’d been nosing around, that I was on to something! They wanted to know what it was.”

  “And what did you tell them?”

  “I told them I knew all about it and had a man already placed on the inside. Now don’t get upset. These people can be trusted.”

  Ted laughed out loud. It was typical Frank Leach. The man was a legend.

  “So,” Ted said, still laughing, “you told them that, did you?”

  “Listen, babe, you gotta help us here. We’re about to get our asses fried. What the hell is going on, anyway?”

  Ted took a deep breath and said, “It’s a really long story, Frank. How’s the association figure in all of this?”

  “That’s a long story too, babe. Better leave that until we get together.”

  Ted hesitated for a moment. Then he asked, “How much money does the association have in the slush fund for special projects?”

  “What’ve you got in mind?”

  “Something that’s going to take a lot of people and a lot of money.”

  “Listen, babe. That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. Hank and I have been talkin’ this thing over and we’ve got the green light. We’ll spend whatever it takes. And if you bust this thing open you’ll have your own set of keys to the vault. I kid you not. The sky’s the limit.”

  “Good,” Ted said.

  “Where are you?”

  Ted ran a hand through his hair. “First things first,” he said. “Are you sure you weren’t followed?”

  There was a snort and then, “Listen to me! You think you’re talkin’ to some kid? Where the hell are you?”

  Ted laughed out loud again. Frank Leach was an ex-cop who prided himself on his abundant skills. “I’m in Hollister, Frank. That’s a town up north. South of San Jose. Now, before we get together, I need some things.”

  “Lay it on me, babe.”

  Ted took a deep breath and said, “Jack Scott is one of our sales agents. He and I served together in Vietnam. He wrote up policies on about seventy guys we both served with in Vietnam who now live in the L.A. area. I want you to contact Jack and every one of those people he wrote up. Tell them I have a very serious problem that needs their expertise. Tell them they’ll be paid well. Tell them it will be dangerous. Tell them it’s local. No Central American stuff. Aside from that, tell them nothing else. And tell them to keep their mouths shut. I figure you can get about half of them.”

  Frank whistled, then said, “I like the sound of that! What have you got in mind?”

  “Later, Frank.”

  “OK. I can do that. Where do I tell them to go?”

  “In a minute,” Ted said. “I also want you to get your hands on every insurance investigator you think will come in on some real action. That should net you about another hundred or so guys.”

  There was silence at the other end for a moment, and then Frank asked, “What else?”

  “Tell all of these people to meet in Vegas. Book a block of rooms at one of the hotels so all of them can stay in the same place. Tell them to make it look like they’re on a toot. Book a meeting room for tomorrow night at the same hotel. Figure on 150 or so. Say eight o’clock. I’ll meet you there to make the pitch.”

  “OK, I guess. What pitch?”

  “Later.”

  “OK. Anything else?”

  Ted said, “We’ll need some weapons. Real ones and fake ones. Talk to Gerry Givens at National Studios in L.A. I handled a claim for him about four weeks ago. They have enough stuff to outfit a small army. Tell him you’re filming a documentary for the industry and you want to rent or buy what you need, but it has to be a secret. He may balk. If he does, throw money at him. That’ll take care of any problems.

  “We need fatigues, weapons, and a lot of fake bombs. You know, pyrotechnic stuff that makes a lot of noise but doesn’t do a lot of damage. Lots of fake mortars. We want it to look like a full-scale terrorist attack. We’ll also need stun guns, about a dozen jeeps, a bunch of trucks, communications … the works. You’re an Army vet, just like me, so you know what we need. Think of this as a real exercise, Frank. Except we don’t want anybody to get hurt unless it’s absolutely necessary. You can figure out the rest of the things we’ll have to have.”

  “Yes … I can do that. But …?”

  “It’s an assault on a fixed position with two diversionary actions. One military and one civilian.”

  “Civilian?”

  “Yes. We’ll need about two thousand college kids to make a protest at the Nevada Nuclear Test Site. You know, flag burning, chanting … all the usual stuff. Have someone go to one of the campuses and organize a protest against nuclear testing. Keep it a separate operation. Don’t tell anyone the real reason. Hell, there are several groups that do this on a regular basis anyway. If we give each kid a couple of hundred bucks, it should be a cinch.

  “Arrange buses to take them out to the desert. Figure on both operations taking place at 0200 on the thirteenth. That should give us time enough. Have the kids gather in the desert about thirty miles west of Vegas for a briefing at say 2300 on the twelfth. Got that?”

  “I got it.”

  “OK … Now, the most important thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “You have to find someone, possibly retired … someone you can trust … maybe through some of your political contacts … who can give us an accurate map of the inside layout at the Nevada Nuclear Test Site.”

  He could hear the sharp intake of breath. Then, in a voice that seemed choked, Frank asked, “You’re going to attack the site?”

  “You got it, Frank.”

  “Jesus Christ! What in God’s name for? What’s it got to do with anything?”

  “Never mind. Just get the stuff. I’ll call you in about six hours and see how you’ve done. Maybe you can get some of those investigators to help you. Now that the Justice Department is coming out of the closet, I don’t think they’ll be that concerned with your activities, but just to be safe, be very careful.”

  “I will, babe. You won’t tell me why this war is being declared?”

  “I’ll be happy to, Frank. Tommy Wilson, the man the Justice Department is accusing the association of having killed, is alive and well. He’s stashed at the site. If I can get him out, I can save the association’s ass, for one thing. But that’s really the least of our problems at this point. If we screw this up, we may be responsible for the lives of a few million other people.�
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  There was a pause and then, “Ted … for God’s sake. What are you talking about?”

  Ted grunted and said, “I don’t have time to tell you everything, but I will tell you this: The biggest snow job in the country’s history is taking place right now. I’m not sure how deep it goes, but it involves one hell of a lot of people.

  “You were right about the earthquake, Frank. It’s a monster. And it’s going to hit L.A. in a little less than three weeks. We just had one here in Hollister this morning. It was a quake that we knew was coming. And so did NADAT. So, for that matter, did AAIS. It’s a real quagmire, Frank.”

  Frank was starting to get the full picture. “Jesus, babe. Are you saying … the big one is coming … and you know when and where? Is that what this is all about?”

  “You’ve got it, Frank. It’s the big one. The monster. And it’s coming sure as hell. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. Take my word for it. We’ve got exactly eighteen days to get everybody out of Los Angeles.”

  “Sweet Jesus! Are you sure?”

  “Positive!”

  He heard a string of curses. Then, he heard Frank speaking to the man sharing his room. In a few moments, Frank was back on the line asking a series of questions without waiting for the answers.

  “Frank!”

  It took a few moments before the man quieted down.

  “OK,” Ted said. “That’s better. Now … there’s a chance we can stop this quake from happening and before you start asking a lot of questions about that, take my word for it again. I know it sounds crazy, but there is a chance. We have to do this just right. Who’ve you got who can get next to one of those guys on the inquiry committee?”

  “Well … there’s me, for one. And Hank too,” Frank said. “Senator Ballard is on the committee. He’s an old friend with an open mind. Not like the rest of those creeps. He’d listen to either one of us. He’s the one who told us the schedule had been changed. He’s as confused as we are about this whole thing.”

  “Great! Don’t contact him yet. Just make sure you know where you can reach him at any given moment. OK?”

  “OK.”

  “Is he state or federal?”

  “State.”

  “Who do you know who has access to the president?”

  “Of the United States?”

  “Yes.”

  Again, Ted could hear Frank talking to the other man in the room. When he returned to the phone, he said, “Hank has a friend who can make the connection. But …”

  “Not now,” Ted said. “Just make sure we have access when the time comes. Timing is the key, Frank.”

  There was a pause. Then, “Listen, babe … If Wilson is alive, we should let Ballard know. It would really make a difference.”

  “No!” Ted shouted. “You tip anyone off and Wilson could end up dead! You’ve got to keep quiet until we have him in our hands. If we fail, we’ll go to plan B, whatever that is.”

  “OK, babe. Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “When are we going to get together?”

  “We may not until we all gather in Vegas. As I said before, I’ll call you in about six hours and you can let me know where this meeting is going to be.”

  “OK, babe. I’ll get to work. You take care, hear?”

  “I will, Frank. I will.”

  They said their goodbyes and then Ted headed back to the motor home. When he entered and took his seat, both women looked at him with questions in their eyes. Dr. Wickshire spoke first. “Whatever it is that you’re planning, young man, I want you to know that I intend to be a part of it.”

  Terry said, “Me too.”

  He smiled at them both and said, “Before you make the final decision, you better hear what I have in mind.”

  Then he told them.

  When he was finished, they still wanted in.

  They were as crazy as he was.

  Twenty-two

  * * *

  Robert Graves looked at the computer printout and grimaced. The results of this, the final test, were still inconclusive. There had been significant liquefaction of the rockbed, but the explosion had been so small that the affected area was smaller than anticipated. To increase the size of the explosion in order to increase the heat would entail the risk of precipitating the very earthquake they were so desperately trying to prevent. They had hoped that this would be the right combination. Now, it seemed inadequate. And there was no time to prepare another test. If they were to proceed, they would have to use a device that had not had the opportunity to be fully tested.

  He let the printout slip from his fingers onto the desk and leaned back in the tall, leather-covered chair. He removed his glasses and rubbed his nose, his eyes closed, the beginnings of a serious headache tingling his skull just behind the eyes.

  He squeezed his eyes still tighter. Failure was staring him in the face and he didn’t want to see it. Failure due to incompetence on the part of those around him. Men and women who simply didn’t take their work seriously enough.

  The engineers, the scientists … the men they had brought to the desert against their will, Gifford and Wilson. All of them had been given the chance to effectuate a successful mission and they had failed.

  The FBI had failed as well. With Belcher in the hospital, still not talking, another man had been hastily pressed into service. A man named Merkle. Merkle had been ordered to find Kowalczyk and the woman.

  He hadn’t.

  Merkle had reluctantly reported that he’d lost Kowalczyk and the woman completely. The best efforts of the FBI had turned up nothing. Where Kowalczyk would eventually turn up was anyone’s guess.

  No matter.

  Fortunately, Graves had had the foresight to prepare for such occurrences, but the evidence of such incompetence was most frustrating.

  The earthquake in Hollister had only served to further exemplify and exacerbate the immediate concern. There could no longer be any question that Gifford and Wilson had been correct in predicting the terrible earthquake that would soon hit Los Angeles. “Operation Move,” while progressing on schedule, had triggered some curiosity in the press, but it was doubtful that they would be able to penetrate the walls of disinformation in time to make any difference.

  The real problem was the decision that had to be made within the next hour. Whether or not to pronounce the test a limited success and produce the bombs.

  To declare the test a failure would mean that Los Angeles would be left to suffer the full effects of the quake. Certainly, he would be criticized for being unable to develop the device that might have prevented the quake. But that could be fended off to those who were in charge of actually designing the device. Graves was no nuclear scientist and therefore could not be held responsible for the failures of those who were.

  He could not be criticized for the failure to evacuate the city for the simple reason that the decision to refrain from doing so had been made by others. Granted, they had done so on his recommendation, but his recommendation could be well supported by existing evidence. Totally justified. No … that would not be a problem.

  If, on the other hand, he recommended that the experiment be carried out and it failed, as now seemed more than likely, he would be the one most severely criticized. It would have been his decision. Therefore, despite the fact that the engineers had failed, their failure would be his.

  It was an intolerable situation.

  It was unacceptable.

  He rubbed his temples. It was a decision he was not going to make. He wasn’t going to be the scapegoat for anyone, especially those who occupied temporary positions in government. A new election brought new people, while he, Robert Graves, remained. It had always been that way and would continue to be so. It would be foolhardy for him to make a decision that could cost him dearly when the decision was better entrusted to one who could be expected to move on to other things should the circumstances dictate. For Graves to suffer undue condemnation would mean the coun
try would then be denied the benefits of his experience and talent. A waste. For no good reason.

  No … someone else would have to make the decision.

  He opened his eyes and placed the glasses back on his nose. Just having made the decision seemed to help his mood. He’d done his best. He’d taken it as far as he could. The rest would be up to someone else. He’d give them the unvarnished truth. Complete details unfettered by bias. They would have to decide.

  He picked up the phone and punched some buttons.

  Twenty-three

  * * *

  At exactly 9:34 on an unusually warm Sacramento Monday morning, State Senator Jake Simpson banged his gavel and brought the special inquiry to order. An inquiry originally convened to look into the earthquake insurance business in California, but now much wider in scope, thanks to the pending U.S. Justice Department’s announced investigation of far more serious matters.

  The inquiry was being held in one of the infrequently used chambers designed for just such things. A chamber with high ceilings, walnut-paneled walls and limited seating for spectators.

  “This inquiry is now in session,” the senator boomed, his voice reverberating through the chamber, helped by a newly adjusted sound system.

  Few of these inquiries were held “in camera” and this one was no exception. A trio of pool television cameras had been installed, their electronic images available to a variety of networks and local stations. Permission had been given to allow for the seating of thirty reporters from both the print and electronic media. Aside from the press, the rest of the seats were taken up by interested spectators, some of whom had waited all night to gain entry. It was, as they say, the hottest ticket in town.

  Senator Simpson was fully cognizant of the fact that his chairmanship of this committee could give him national exposure, something he’d craved since his entry into political life some thirty years ago. Now almost sixty-five, he was an impressive figure, with pure white hair topping a ruddy, handsome face. A thespian’s voice gave him an aura of statesmanship. If there was a stumbling block to the fulfillment of his wish to move to Washington, aside from his age, it was the view held by his contemporaries that he was, to put it kindly, a political lightweight. He was not unaware of the tag and hoped that the inquiry would change that perception.