Michael Crichton - State Of Fear

"But Sarah would be"

"Evans, what part of this do you not understand? You're going to San Francisco and you are taking Bradley with you. Period."

Evans sighed. "Where is he?"

"He's in Sequoia. You have to stop and get him."

"Sequoia?"

"National Park. It's on the way."

"But"

"Bradley's already been notified. My secretary will give you the number for the San Francisco morgue. Good-bye, Evans. Don't screw up."

Click.

Jennifer said, "Problem?"

"No. But I have to go to San Francisco."

"I'll come with you," she said. "Who is Sarah?"

"Morton's personal secretary. His old assistant."

"I've seen pictures of her," Jennifer said. "She doesn't look very old."

"Where did you see pictures?"

"In a magazine. They were at a tennis tournament. She's a championship tennis player, something like that?"

"I guess."

"I would have thought that since you spent so much time with Morton, you'd know her well."

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "I mean, we've spent a little time in the last few days."

"Uh-huh." She looked at him, amused. "Peter," she said. "I don't care. She's very pretty. It's only natural."

"No, no," he said, reaching for the phone. "It's nothing like that." Desperate to put an end to this conversation, he dialed the Beverly Hills police and asked for Detective Perry. The detective was not yet back from court. Evans left a message and hung up. He turned to Jennifer. "How does it work if they issue a warrant for your arrest?"

"Criminal," she said. "Not my area. Sorry."

"Me neither."

"Somebody going to arrest you?"

"I hope not."

Then Lisa, Herb Lowenstein's chatty assistant, called. "Hi, Peter. I have the numbers for Mr. Bradley and for the San Francisco morgue. They close at eight. Can you make it by then? Herb wants to know. He's very upset."

"About what?"

"I've never seen him this way. I mean, not for a few weeks."

"What's the matter?"

"I think he's upset about George. Such a shock. And then Drake is giving him fits. He must have called five times today. And I think they were discussing you."

"Me?"

"Yes." Lisa lowered her voice, taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Herb had his door closed while he was talking, but I, uh, I heard a few things."

"Like what?" Evans said.

"Don't say anything."

"I won't."

"I mean I wasn'tI just thought that you would want to know."

"I do."

"Because there's a lot of talk here," she said, dropping her voice even lower, "about whether you have to leave."

"Leave the firm?"

"Be, uh, let go. I thought you would want to know."

"I do. Thanks. Who's talking?"

"Well, Herb. And Don Blandings, and a couple of other senior partners. Bob and Louise. Because for some reason Nick Drake is furious with you. And somebody you are spending time with, a person named Kanner or Connor?"

"I see."

"Mr. Drake is very upset about Mr. Connor."

"Why is that?"

"He says he is a spy. For industry. For polluters."

"I see."

"Anyway, the feeling is Mr. Drake is an important client and you've pissed him off. Even so, they would never dare fire you if Morton were alive. But he's not, anymore. And you're gone all the time. And the police are calling here for you, which I have to tell you is not good. It makes everybody nervous. And then theywhat are you doing with this Mr. Connor, anyway?"

"It's a long story."

"Peter. I told you." She sounded sulky. He knew he would have to trade information.

"Okay," he said, trying to sound reluctant. "I'm carrying out an assignment that Morton gave me, before he died."

"Really? What is it?"

"It's a secret, I can't tell you yet."

"George Morton gave you an assignment?"

"In writing," he said. Thinking: That will cool their jets.

"Wow. Really. They don't dare fire you if you're on the business of the firm."

"Lisa, I have to go."

"And if they did, you would have such a wrongful termination action."

"Lisa amp;"

"Okay, okay. I know you can't talk. But just amp;good luck!"

He hung up. Jennifer was smiling. "That was very skillfully done," she said.

"Thank you."

But he wasn't smiling back. As far as he was concerned, the world was closing in around him. It didn't feel good. And he was still very, very tired.

He called Sarah to arrange for the plane, but got her voice mail. He called the pilot and was told that he was in the air.

"What do you mean?"

"He's flying, right now."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you that, sir. Would you like his voice mail?"

"No," Evans said. "I need to charter a plane."

"When would you like it?"

"In half an hour. To go to San Francisco, with a stop at whatever the airport is nearest Sequoia. Returning tonight."

"I'll see what I can do."

And then fatigue overcame him. He pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car.

Jennifer said, "What's the matter?"

"You know the way to Van Nuys?"

"Sure."

"Then you drive."

He dropped into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. He watched her pull into traffic, and then closed his eyes and slept.

The forest floor was dark and cool. Shafts of sunlight filtered down from the magnificent trees rising all around them. The air smelled of pine. The ground was soft underfoot.

It was a pleasant spot, with sunlight dappling the forest floor, but even so the television cameras had to turn on their lights to film the third-grade schoolchildren who sat in concentric circles around the famous actor and activist Ted Bradley. Bradley was wearing a black T-shirt that set off his makeup and his dark good looks.

"These glorious trees are your birthright," he said, gesturing all around him. "They have been standing here for centuries. Long before you were born, before your parents or your grandparents or your great-grandparents were born. Some of them, before Columbus came to America! Before the Indians came! Before anything! These trees are the oldest living things on the planet; they are the guardians of the Earth; they are wise; and they have a message for us: Leave the planet alone. Don't mess with it, or with us. And we must listen to them."

The kids stared open-mouthed, transfixed. The cameras were trained on Bradley.

"But now these magnificent treeshaving survived the threat of fire, the threat of logging, the threat of soil erosion, the threat of acid rainnow face their greatest threat ever. Global warming. You kids know what global warming is, don't you?"

Hands went up all around the circle. "I know, I know!"

"I'm glad you do," Bradley said, gesturing for the kids to put their hands down. The only person talking today would be Ted Bradley. "But you may not know that global warming is going to cause a very sudden change in our climate. Maybe just a few months or years, and it will suddenly be much hotter or much colder. And there will be hordes of insects and diseases that will take down these wonderful trees."

"What kind of insects?" one kid asked.

"Bad ones," Bradley said. "The ones that eat trees, that worm inside them and chew them up." He wiggled his hands, suggesting the worming in progress.

"It would take an insect a long time to eat a whole tree," a girl offered.

"No, it wouldn't!" Bradley said. "That's the trouble. Because global warming means lots and lots of insects will comea plague of insectsand they'll eat the trees fast!"

Standing to one side, Jennifer leaned close to Evans. "Do you believe this shit?"

Evans yawned. He had slept on the flight up, and had dozed off again in the ride from the airport to this grove in Sequoia National Park. He felt groggy now, looking at Bradley. Groggy and bored.