Ken Follett - The Hammer of Eden

“They want to make a deal,” he had said to Melanie. “That’s it — we’ve won!”

While Melanie drove around downtown, surrounded by hundreds of cars and thousands of people, Priest made the call from her mobile phone. Even if the FBI was tracing the call, he figured, they would not be able to pick one car out of the traffic.

His heart was in his mouth as he listened to the ringing tone. I won the lottery and I’m here to pick up my check .

The call was answered by a woman. “Hello?” She sounded guarded. Maybe she had received a lot of crank calls in response to the radio spot.

“This is Peter Shoebury from Eisenhower Junior High.”

The response was instant. “I’m going to connect you with Al Honeymoon, the governor’s cabinet secretary.”

Yes!

“I just need to verify your identity first.”

It’s a trick . “How do you propose to do that?”

“Would you mind giving me the name of the student reporter who was with you a week ago?”

Priest remembered Flower saying, “I’ll never forgive you for calling me Florence.”

Warily he said: “It was Florence.”

“Connecting you now.”

No trick — just a precaution .

Priest scanned the streets anxiously, alert for a police car or a bunch of FBI men bearing down on his car. He saw nothing but shoppers and tourists. A moment later the deep voice of Honeymoon said: “Mr. Granger?”

Priest got right to the point. “Are you ready to do the sensible thing?”

“We’re ready to talk.”

“What does that mean?”

“The governor wants to meet with you today, with the object of negotiating a resolution to this crisis.”

Priest said: “Is the governor willing to announce the freeze we want?”

Honeymoon hesitated. “Yes,” he said reluctantly. “But there must be conditions.”

“What kind?”

“When you and I spoke in my car, and I told you that the governor could not give in to blackmail, you mentioned spin doctors.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a sophisticated individual, you understand that the governor’s political future is at risk here. The announcement of this freeze will have to be handled very delicately.”

Honeymoon had changed his tune, Priest thought with satisfaction. The arrogance was gone. He had developed respect for his opponent. That was gratifying. “In other words, the governor has to cover his ass and he wants to make sure I won’t blow it for him.”

“You might look at it that way.”

“Where do we meet?”

“In the governor’s office here at the Capitol Building.”

You’re out of your frigging mind .

Honeymoon went on: “No police, no FBI. You would be guaranteed freedom to leave the meeting without hindrance, regardless of the outcome.”

Yeah, right .

Priest said: “Do you believe in fairies?”

“What?”

“You know, little flying people that can do magic? You believe they exist?”

“No, I guess I don’t.”

“Me either. So I’m not going to fall into your trap.”

“I give you my word—”

“Forget it. Just forget it, okay?”

There was silence at the other end.

Melanie turned a corner, and they drove past the grand classical facade of the Capitol Building. Honeymoon was in there somewhere, talking on the phone, surrounded by FBI men. Looking at the white columns and the dome, Priest said: “I’ll tell you where we’ll meet, and you’d better make notes. Are you ready?”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking notes.”

“Set up a little round table and a couple of garden chairs in front of the Capitol Building, on the lawn there, right in the middle. It’ll be like a photo opportunity. Have the governor sitting there at three o’clock.”

“Out in the open?”

“Hey, if I was going to shoot him, I could do it easier than this.”

“I guess so.…”

“In his pocket the governor must have a signed letter guaranteeing me immunity from prosecution.”

“I can’t agree to all this—”

“Talk to your boss. He’ll agree.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Have a photographer there with one of them instant cameras. I want a picture of him handing me the letter of immunity, for proof. Got that?”

“Got it.”

“You better play this straight. No tricks. My seismic vibrator is already in place, ready to trigger another earthquake. This one will strike a major city. I’m not saying which one, but I’m talking thousands of deaths.”

“I understand.”

“If the governor doesn’t appear today at three o’clock … bang.”

He broke the connection.

“Wow,” said Melanie. “A meeting with the governor. Do you think it’s a trap?”

Priest frowned. “It might be,” he said. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Judy could not fault the setup. Charlie Marsh had worked on it with the Sacramento FBI. There were at least thirty agents within sight of the white garden table with the umbrella that sat prettily on the lawn, but she could not see any of them. Some stood behind the windows of the surrounding government offices, others crouched in cars and vans on the street and in the parking lot, more lurked in the pillared cupola of the Capitol Building. All were heavily armed.

Judy herself was playing the part of the photographer, with cameras and lenses around her neck. Her gun was in a camera bag slung from her shoulder. While she waited for the governor to appear, she looked through her viewfinder at the table and chairs, pretending to frame a shot.

In the hopes Granger wouldn’t recognize her, she wore a blond wig. It was one she kept permanently in her car. She used it a lot on surveillance work, especially if she spent several days following the same targets, to reduce the risk that she might be noticed and recognized. She had to put up with a certain amount of teasing when she wore it. Hey, Maddox, send the cute blonde over to my car, but you can stay where you are .

Granger was watching, she knew. No one had spotted him, but he had called, an hour ago, to protest against the erection of crowd barriers around the block. He wanted the public using the street, and visitors touring the building, just as normal.

The barriers had been taken away.

There was no other fence around the grounds, so tourists were wandering freely across the lawns, and tour parties were following their prescribed routes around the Capitol, its gardens, and the elegant government buildings on adjacent streets. Judy surreptitiously studied everyone through her lens. She ignored superficial appearances and concentrated on features that could not easily be disguised. She scrutinized every tall, thin man of middle age, regardless of hair, face, or dress.

At one minute to three she still had not seen Ricky Granger.

Michael Quercus, who had met Granger face-to-face, was also watching. He was in a surveillance van with blacked-out windows parked around the corner. He had to stay out of sight, for fear Granger would recognize him and be spooked.

Judy spoke into a little microphone under her shirt, clipped to her bra. “My guess is that Granger won’t show until after the governor appears.”

A tiny speaker behind her ear crackled, and she heard Charlie Marsh reply. “We were just saying the same thing. I wish we could have got this done without exposing the governor.”

They had talked about using a body double, but Governor Robson himself had nixed that plan, saying he would not allow someone else to risk dying in his place.

Now Judy said: “But if we can’t …”

“So be it,” said Charlie.

A moment later the governor emerged from the grand front entrance of the building.