Ким Робинсон - Pacific Edge

Nadezhda nodded. “We have this tradition in my country too. There was a plan to turn the Volga River right around, the whole thing, and send it south for irrigation purposes. Only when it seemed that world weather patterns might be shifted was the plan abandoned.” She smiled. “Or maybe it was just lack of funds. Anyway, in your situation, where water will soon be plentiful again, what did that item on last night’s agenda mean?”

“I’m not sure, but there were two parts I found interesting. One, the inquiry to Los Angeles’s Metropolitan Water District, which supplies most of our town’s water from their Colorado River pipeline. Second, the nominations for the watermaster. On the one hand, it looks like an attempt to bring more water to El Modena; on the other, an attempt to control its use when it arrives. You see?”

His guests nodded. “And what about this offer from Los Angeles?” Nadezhda said.

A ghost of a smile crossed Oscar’s face. “When the federal courts made the original apportionment of the Colorado River’s water to the states bordering it, they accidentally used a flood year’s estimate of the river’s annual flow. Every year after that they came up short, and the states fought like dogs over what water there was. To solve the problem the court cut all the states’ shares proportionally. But California—the MWD, to be precise—recently won back the rights to their original allotment.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, first, because they had been using their rights the longest, and most fully, and that solidifies their claim. And secondly, it’s felt that the Columbia pipeline will solve the competing states’ problems, so they won’t need the Colorado’s water. So, the MWD has more water than they have had for years, and since these rights are made more secure by usage, they’re anxious to have their new water bought up and used as quickly as possible. All of their clients in southern California are being offered more water. Most are refusing it, and so MWD is getting anxious.”

“Why are most refusing it?”

“They have what they need. It’s a method of growth control. If they don’t have the water, they can’t expand without special action. The Santa Barbara strategy, it’s called.”

“But your mayor wants this water.”

“Apparently so.”

“But why? ” Kevin said.

Oscar pursed his lips. “Well, you know what I heard.”

Suddenly he jerked to left and right, peering about in a gross caricature of a check for spies. Low conspirator’s voice: “I was dining at Le Boulangerie soon after my arrival in town, when I heard voices from the next booth—”

“Eavesdropping!” Doris exclaimed.

“Yes.” Oscar grimaced horribly at her. “I can’t help myself. Forgive me. Please.”

Doris made a face.

Oscar went on: “Later I discovered the voices were those of your mayor, and someone named Ed. They were discussing a new complex, one which would combine labs with offices and shops. Novagene and Heartech were mentioned as potential tenants.”

“Alfredo and Ed Macey run Heartech,” Doris told him.

“Ah. Well.”

“Did they say where they wanted to build?” Kevin asked.

“No, they didn’t mention location—although Mr. Blair did say ‘They want that view.’ Perhaps that means in the hills somewhere. But if one were contemplating a new development of any size in El Modena, it would be necessary to have more water. And so last night when I saw item twenty-seven, I wondered if this might not be a small first step.”

“The underhanded weasel!” Doris said.

“It all seemed fairly public to me,” Oscar pointed out.

Doris glared at him. “I suppose you’re going to claim a lawyerly neutrality in all this?”

Kevin winced. The truth was, Doris has a prejudice against lawyers. We’re suffocating in lawyers, she would say, they’re doing nothing but creating more excuses for themselves. We should make all of them train as ecologists before they’re let into law school, give them some decent values.

They do take courses in ecology, Hank would tell her. It’s part of their training.

Well they aren’t learning it, Doris would say. Damned parasites!

Now, in Oscar’s presence, she was icily discreet; she only used the adjective “lawyerly” with a little twist to it, and left it at that.

Though he certainly heard the inflection, Oscar eyed her impassively. “I am not a neutral man,” he said, “in any sense of the word.”

“Do you want to see this development stopped?”

“It is still only a matter of conjecture that one is proposed. I’d like to find out more about it.”

“But if there is a large development, planned for the hills?”

“It depends—”

“It depends!”

“Yes. It depends on where it is. I wouldn’t like to see any empty hilltops razed and built on. There are few of those left.”

“Hardly any,” Kevin said. “Really, to get a view over the plain in El Modena, there’s only Rattlesnake Hill….”

He and Doris stared at each other.

Oscar served them a sumptuous breakfast of French toast and sausages, but Kevin had little appetite for it. His hill, his sandstone refuge…

When they were done Nadezhda said, “Assuming that Rattlesnake Hill is Alfredo’s target, what can you do to stop him?”

Oscar rose from his chair. “The law lies in our hands like a blackjack!” He took a few vicious swings at the air. “If we choose to use it.”

“Champion shadow boxer, I see,” Doris muttered.

Kevin said, “You bet we choose to use it!”

“The water problem has potential,” Oscar said. “I’m no expert in it, but I do know California water law is a swamp. We could be the creature from the black lagoon.” He limped around the kitchen to illustrate this strategy. “And I have a friend in Bishop we should talk to, her name’s Sally Tallhawk and she teaches at the law school. She was on the State Water Resources Control Board until recently, and she knows more than anyone about the current state of water law. I’m going there soon—we could talk to her about it.”

Nadezhda said, “We need to know more of the mayor’s plans.”

“I don’t know how we’ll get them.”

“I do,” Kevin said. “I’m just going to go up to Alfredo’s place and ask him!”

“Direct,” Oscar noted.

Doris said, “Alternatively, we could crawl under his windows and eavesdrop until we learn what we want to know.”

Oscar blinked. “Nothing like a little confrontation,” he said to Kevin.

“Doesn’t Thomas Barnard live in this area?” Nadezhda asked.

“That’s my grandfather,” Kevin said, surprised. “He lives up in the hills.”

“Perhaps he can help.”

“Well, maybe. I mean, true, but…”

Kevin’s grandfather had had an active career in law and politics, and had been a prominent figure in the economic reforms of the twenties and thirties.

“He was a good lawyer,” Nadezhda said. “Powerful. He knew how to get things done.”

“You’re right.” Kevin nodded. “It’s a good idea, really. It’s just that he’s a sort of hermit, now. I haven’t seen him myself in a long time.”

Nadezhda shrugged. “We all get strange. I would like to see him anyway.”

“You know him?”

“We met once, long ago.”

So Kevin agreed, a bit apprehensively, to take her up to see him.

Before they left Oscar showed them his library, contained in scores of cardboard boxes; one whole room was full of them. Kevin glanced in a box and saw a biography of Lou Gehrig. “Hey Oscar, you ought to join our softball team!”

“No thank you. I detest softball.”