Ken Follett - The Hammer of Eden

“And if one of them could conceivably fit the description of Granger …?”

“Bring him in and nail him to the floor until I get there.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I guess we’ll commandeer some cars and come back to the office. Somehow …” She stopped and fought off a wave of exhaustion and despair. “Somehow, we’ve got to stop this from happening again.”

“It’s not over yet,” Priest said. “In an hour or so, every cop in California will be looking for a carnival ride called ‘The Dragon’s Mouth.’ ” He turned to Oaktree. “How fast could we get these panels off?”

“In a few minutes, with a couple of good hammers.”

“The truck has a tool kit.”

Working fast, the two of them took the carnival panels off the truck and tossed them over a wire fence into a field. With luck, in the confusion following the earthquake, it would be a day or two before anyone took a close look at them.

“What the hell you going to tell Bones?” Oaktree said as they worked.

“I’ll think of something.”

Melanie helped, but Star stood with her back to them, leaning against the trunk of the ’Cuda. She was crying. She was going to make trouble, Priest knew, but there was no time to gentle her now.

When they had finished with the truck, they stood back, panting with the effort. Oaktree said worriedly: “Now the damn thing looks like a seismic vibrator again.”

“I know,” Priest said. “Nothing I can do about that. It’s getting dark, I don’t have far to go, and every cop within fifty miles is going to be conscripted into rescue work. I’m just hoping to be lucky. Now get out of here. Take Star.”

“First I need to change a wheel — I have a flat.”

“Don’t bother,” Priest said. “We gotta ditch the ’Cuda anyway. The FBI saw it, they’ll be looking for it.” He pointed back toward the crossroads. “I saw three vehicles back there. Grab yourself a new ride.”

Oaktree hurried off.

Star looked at Priest with accusing eyes. “I can’t believe we did this,” she said. “How many people have we killed?”

“We had no choice,” he said angrily. “You told me you’d do anything to save the commune — don’t you remember?”

“But you’re so calm about it. All these people killed, more injured, families who have lost their homes — aren’t you heartsick?”

“Sure.”

“And her.” She nodded at Melanie. “Look at her face. She’s so up. My God, I think she likes all this.”

“Star, we’ll talk later, okay?”

She shook her head as if amazed. “I spent twenty-five years with you and never really knew you.”

Oaktree came back driving the Toyota. “Nothing wrong with this but dents,” he said.

Priest said to Star: “Go with him.”

She hesitated for a long moment, then she got in the car.

Oaktree pulled away and disappeared fast.

“Get in the truck,” Priest said to Melanie. He got behind the wheel and reversed the seismic vibrator to the crossroads. They both jumped out and looked at the remaining two cars. Priest liked the look of the Cadillac. Its trunk was smashed in, but the front end was undamaged, and the keys were in the ignition. “Follow me in the Caddy,” he said to Melanie.

She got in the car and turned the key. It started right away. She said: “Where are we headed?”

“Perpetua Diaries warehouse.”

“Okay.”

“Give me your phone.”

“Who are you going to call? Not the FBI.”

“No, just the radio station.”

She handed over her phone.

As they were about to leave, there was a huge explosion in the distance. Priest looked back toward Felicitas and saw a jet of flame shoot high in the sky.

Melanie said: “Wow, what’s that?”

The flame receded and became a bright glow in the evening sky.

“I guess the gas pipeline just caught on fire,” Priest said. “Now, that’s what I call fireworks.”

Michael Quercus was sitting on a patch of grass at the side of the road, looking shocked and helpless.

Judy went over to him. “Get up,” she said. “Pull yourself together. People die every day.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s not the killings — although they’re enough. It’s something else.”

“What?”

“Did you see who was in the car?”

“The ’Cuda? There was a black guy driving it.”

“But in the back?”

“I didn’t notice anyone else.”

“I did. A woman.”

“Did you recognize her?”

“I sure did,” he said. “It was my wife.”

It took twenty minutes of redialing on Melanie’s cell phone before Priest got through to the John Truth show. By the time he heard the ringing tone, he was on the outskirts of San Francisco.

The show was still on the air. Priest said he was from the Hammer of Eden and got connected right away.

“You have done a terrible thing,” Truth said. He was using his most portentous voice, but Priest could tell that underneath the solemn tone the man was exultant. The earthquake had practically happened on his show. This would make him the most famous radio personality in America. Move over, Howard Stern.

“You’re wrong,” Priest told him. “The people who are turning California into a poison wasteland have done a terrible thing. I’m just trying to stop them.”

“By killing innocent people?”

“Pollution kills innocent people. Automobiles kill innocent people. Call that Lexus dealer that advertises on your show and tell him he did a terrible thing selling five cars today.”

There was a moment’s silence. Priest grinned. Truth was not sure how to answer him. He could not start discussing the ethics of his sponsors. He quickly changed the subject. “I appeal to you to turn yourself in, right now.”

“I have one thing to say to you and the people of California,” Priest said. “Governor Robson must announce a statewide freeze on power plant building — otherwise there will be another earthquake.”

“You would do this again?” Truth sounded genuinely shocked.

“You bet I would. And—”

Truth tried to interrupt him. “How can you claim—”

Priest overrode him. “—the next earthquake will be worse than this one.”

“Where will it strike?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Can you say when?”

“Oh, sure. Unless the governor changes his mind, another earthquake will take place in two days’ time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Exactly,” he added.

He hung up.

“Now, Mister Governor,” he said aloud. “Tell the people not to panic.”

Judy and Michael got back to the emergency operations center a few minutes before midnight.

She had been awake for forty hours, but she did not feel sleepy. The horror of the earthquake was still with her. Every few seconds she would see, in her mind’s eye, one of the nightmare pictures of those few seconds: the train wreck, the screaming people, the helicopter bursting into flames, or the old Chevy tumbling over and over in the air. She was spooked and jittery as she walked into the old officers’ club.

But Michael’s revelation had given her new hope. It was a shock to learn that his wife was one of the terrorists, but it was also the most promising lead yet. If Judy could find Melanie, she could find the Hammer of Eden.

And if she could do it in two days, she could prevent another earthquake.

She went into the old ballroom that had become the command post. Stuart Cleever, the big shot from Washington who had taken control, stood at the head shed. He was a neat, orderly guy, immaculately dressed in a gray suit with a white shirt and a striped tie.