Ken Follett - The Hammer of Eden

Beside him stood Brian Kincaid.

The bastard has wormed his way back onto the case. He wants to impress the guy from Washington .

Brian was ready for her. “What the hell went wrong?” he said as soon as he saw her.

“We were too late, by a few seconds,” she said wearily.

“You told us you had all the sites under surveillance,” he snapped.

“We had the likeliest. But they knew that. So they picked a secondary site. It was a risk for them — more chance of failure — but their gamble paid off.”

Kincaid turned to Cleever with a shrug, as if to say, “Believe that and you’ll believe anything.”

Cleever said to Judy: “As soon as you’ve made a full report, I want you to go home and get some rest. Brian will take charge of your team.”

I knew it. Kincaid has poisoned Cleever against me .

Time to go for broke .

Judy said: “I’d like a break, but not just yet. I believe I will have the terrorists under arrest within twelve hours.”

Brian let out an exclamation of surprise.

Cleever said: “How?”

“I’ve just developed a new lead. I know who their seismologist is.”

“Who?”

“Her name is Melanie Quercus. She’s the estranged wife of Michael, who’s been helping us. She got the information about where the fault is under tension from her husband — stole it off his computer. And I suspect she also stole the list of sites we had under surveillance.”

Kincaid said: “Quercus should be a suspect, too! He could be in cahoots with her!”

Judy had anticipated this. “I’m sure he’s not,” she said. “But he’s taking a lie detector test right now, just to make sure.”

“Good enough,” Cleever said. “Can you find the wife?”

“She told Michael she was living in a commune in Humboldt County. My team are already searching our databases for communes there. We have a two-man resident agency in that neighborhood, in a town called Eureka, and I’ve asked them to contact the local police.”

Cleever nodded. He gave Judy an appraising look. “What do you want to do?”

“I’d like to drive up there now. I’ll sleep on the way. By the time I get there the local guys will have the addresses of all communes in the area. I’d like to raid them all at dawn.”

Brian said: “You don’t have enough evidence for search warrants.”

He was right. The mere fact that Melanie had said she was living in a commune in Del Norte County did not constitute probable cause. But Judy knew the law better than Brian. “After two earthquakes, I think we have exigent circumstances, don’t you?” That meant that people’s lives were in danger.

Brian looked baffled, but Cleever understood. “The legal desk can solve that problem, it’s what they’re here for.” He paused. “I like this plan,” he said. “I think we should do it. Brian, do you have any other comment?”

Kincaid looked sulky. “She better be right, that’s all.”

Judy rode north in a car driven by a woman agent she did not know, one of several dozen drafted in from FBI offices in Sacramento and Los Angeles to help in the crisis.

Michael sat beside Judy in the back. He had begged to come. He was worried sick about Dusty. If Melanie was part of a terrorist group causing earthquakes, what kind of danger might their son be in? Judy had got Cleever’s agreement by arguing that someone had to take care of the boy after Melanie was arrested.

Shortly after they crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, Judy took a call from Carl Theobald. Michael had told them which of the five hundred or so American cell-phone companies Melanie used, and Carl had got hold of her call records. The phone company had been able to identify the general area from which each call had been made, because of roaming charges.

Judy was hoping most of them had been made from Del Norte County, but she was disappointed.

“There’s really no pattern at all,” Carl said wearily. “She made calls from the Owens Valley area, from San Francisco, from Felicitas, and from various places in between; but all that tells us is that she’s been traveling all over the state, and we knew that already. There are no calls from the part of the state you’re headed for.”

“That suggests she has a regular phone there.”

“Or she’s cautious.”

“Thanks, Carl. It was worth a try. Now get some sleep.”

“You mean this isn’t a dream? Shit.”

Judy laughed and hung up.

The driver tuned the car radio to an easy-listening station, and Nat Cole sang “Let There Be Love” as they sped through the night. Judy and Michael could talk without being overheard.

“The terrible thing about it is that I’m not surprised,” Michael said after a thoughtful silence. “I guess I sort of always knew Melanie was crazy. I should never have let her take him away — but she’s his mother, you know?”

Judy reached for his hand in the dark. “You did your best, I guess,” she said.

He squeezed her hand gratefully. “I just hope he’s okay now.”

“Yeah.”

Drifting off to sleep, Judy kept hold of his hand.

They all met up at five A.M. in the Eureka office of the FBI. As well as the local resident agents, there were representatives from the town’s police department and the county sheriff’s office. The FBI always liked to involve local law enforcement personnel in a raid — it was a way of maintaining good relations with people whose help they often needed.

There were four residential communes in Humboldt County listed in Communities Directory: A Guide to Cooperative Living . The FBI database had revealed a fifth, and local knowledge had added two more.

One of the local FBI agents pointed out that the commune known as Phoenix Village was only eight miles from the site of a proposed nuclear power plant. Judy’s pulse accelerated when she heard that, and she led the group that raided Phoenix.

As she approached the location, in a Humboldt County sheriff’s cruiser at the head of a convoy of four cars, her tiredness fell away. She felt keen and energetic again. She had failed to prevent the Felicitas earthquake, but she could make sure there was not another.

The entrance to Phoenix was a side turning off a country road, marked by a neat painted sign showing a bird rising from flames. There was no gate or guard. The cars roared into the settlement on a well-made road and pulled up around a traffic circle. The agents leaped out of the cars and fanned out through the houses. Each had a copy of the picture of Melanie and Dusty that Michael kept on his desk.

She’s here, somewhere, probably in bed with Ricky Granger, sleeping after the exertions of yesterday. I hope they’re having bad dreams .

The village looked peaceful in the early light. There were several barnlike buildings plus a geodesic dome. The agents covered front and back entrances before knocking on the doors. Near the traffic circle, Judy found a map of the village painted on a board, listing the houses and other buildings. There was a shop, a massage center, a mailroom, and an auto repair shop. As well as fifteen houses, the map showed pasture, orchards, playgrounds, and a sports field.

It was cool in the morning this far north, and Judy shivered, wishing she had worn something heavier than her linen pantsuit.

She waited for the shout of triumph that would tell her an agent had identified Melanie. Michael paced around the traffic circle, his whole body stiff with tension. What a shock, to learn that your wife has become a terrorist, the kind of person a cop would shoot and everyone would cheer. No wonder he’s tense. It’s a miracle he isn’t banging his head against the wall .