Max stopped to take a long, deep breath. "A couple of years ago, one of the bridge sections popped up and a friend of mine hit it head on. It killed her instantly. If those bridges start twisting…" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "We've got brick buildings with shoddy mortar everywhere, not to mention wooden ones that should have been condemned years ago."
"And four million people?"
"Yes, half of which work downtown. The truth is, Seattle's business district is just a tiny stretch of land with Elliott Bay to the west, Lake Washington to the east and Lake Union's bridge canal to the north. We've got water, tons of it on three sides and if the bridges go, all those people will be stuck downtown. Been through the bus tunnel yet?"
"Not yet."
Max pulled a rubber band out of the back of his blond hair and let it hang loose, "Good, stay out of it. Rumor has it, the sides are starting to bulge."
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was. It runs right under Third Avenue with skyscrapers on each side. You should see the taxes we paid…are still paying to build it. And guess where they put the new stadium?"
Collin raised his eyebrows, "Downtown."
"You got it. Most of our hospitals are on hills. A freeway, complete with overpasses, runs right between downtown and the hospitals. And should we have fires, which we will, the main fire station is downtown too. And we've got rain, man. Every winter more and more houses slide down the hills. Now they're using recycled glass in the foundations of new buildings. You know what recycled glass, mixed with all this soppy land does in an Earthquake?"
"Not a clue."
"Neither do I."
Collin narrowed his eyes and glared at Max, "And you got me to leave Denver for this? I want hazard pay."
"Get in line, pal, get in line." Max playfully socked Collin's shoulder, and then hurried on down the stairs. When he reached the first landing, he opened the door. "Honey, I'm home!"
Collin listened to Max greet his three rambunctious little boys and waited until he heard the door shut. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Finally, he opened the door to his own apartment, crossed the living room, walked into the kitchen and wrapped his strong arms around his wife of only a few months.
She was by far the prettiest girl to grace the campus of Colorado State University and from the moment he saw her, Collin was taken. But Beth Carpenter was notorious for turning down dates, hated immaturity and intended to get the best education available. So Collin used a novel approach. He made sure they shared at least one class per semester and kept his distance. Yet each time he saw her, he whistled his favorite song -- "
There is someone standing behind you, turn around, look at me
."
She recognized the 60's tune and finally, in the hallway outside of class, she turned around and looked at him. Now she was his wife and her beauty still took his breath away, "Have you any idea how much I've missed you?"
Nearly as tall as he with her hair in small, long braids, Beth's smile was warm and genuine. "Indeed? Did you miss me enough to buy me a new car?" Her brown eyes twinkled as he lowered his lips to hers. But when his kiss seemed somehow urgent, Beth pulled away to look at him. "What is it?"
Collin ignored the question and drew her close again.
"Something's wrong. What? We promised to be honest, remember? I can take it, just spit it out."
He kissed her forehead, took her hand and led her to the sofa. When she sat down beside him, he wrapped his arms around her again. "It's just that I love you so. You're beautiful, you're funny, you're so alive and I can't imagine what I did before I met you. Beth, if I ever lost you, I’d…”
"Baby, I'm pregnant, not terminally ill. Women live through this kind of thing every day."
He chuckled and laid his head on top of hers, "It's not that. I didn't check it out before I brought you here. I didn't think to. Seattle has earthquakes like LA, and the more I learn, the more frightened I am. It could happen, Beth, it really could."
"Yes, but maybe not for another hundred years. Honey, there are no safe places. Our other choice was Dallas where they have hurricanes, floods and tornadoes. Even Colorado has killer blizzards. We're as safe here, with a maybe earthquake, as we are anywhere else. Besides, it's so beautiful here."
The two-story house faced south, yet the living room had an extension with side windows offering views both east and west. Collin gazed through the picture window at the multitude of downtown city lights glistening against the crystal clear, night sky. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes it is. And you like working for Max."
"I like Max very much. I got a good look in the booth today. Remember he said it was rustic? Well, he forgot to mention the bobby pins."
"Bobby pins?"
"Uh huh, and tape and who knows what else. The guy's either a genius or the biggest miser I've ever met. And he's so inventive with the sound effects."
Beth moved just enough to tuck her feet up under her body and nuzzle deeper into his neck, "So I've noticed. I love it when you're talking about the Prophet and he plays Titanic music."
"Titanic music?"
"Don't you remember? They played 'Nearer my God to Thee' on the Titanic right before it sank."
"Oh great, that's just great. Max is warped, you know that. Am I the only one who gets frazzled when that Prophet calls in?"
"You mean you don't know who it is?"
"Not a clue, neither does Max. Tell me, don't you get a little freaked?"
"Well sometimes, when I let myself think about it. But the guy's not for real, he can't be."
"I sure hope you're right."
Beth pulled away and smirked, "And this from a man who isn't sure there is a God. If there is no God, he can't have Prophets, right?"
Collin wrinkled his brow and lightly bit his lower lip, "Right."
"So, can we stay?"
He took a deep breath, stared at the city lights a moment longer and then smiled, "On one condition."
"What?"
"Tomorrow we make some serious survival plans, complete with dried food, water and enough diapers to last for months. Deal?"
"Deal." Finally, she lifted her lips to his
KMPR, Thursday, July 23
"…last night, an earthquake measuring 2.9 on the Richter scale rattled windows and woke several residents. They say, seismologists that is, it was an aftershock from July's 4.3 quake. They say that, because it was centered in the same area. Most folks don't feel small quakes. Actually, I was reading my earthquake book last night and…”
Max slapped both hands against the side of his face and quickly interrupted, "Oh boy, here we go again."
"No wait, this is interesting. Did you know that in China and Japan, they sometimes see red and white flashing lights in the sky right before an earthquake?”
"Red?"
"That's what the book says. The flashes are sort of like the northern lights and they're so bright, they wake people out of a sound sleep."
Max scratched the top of his head, and then the side of his face, "So okay, if I see a red light I should run, right?"
"Unless you're at an intersection."
"Very funny."
Collin reached in his drawer, grabbed a candy bar and began unwrapping it. "Did you hear about part of that new shoe store collapsing? Bet last month's shaker weakened it."
"Collin is eating again folks. That's what all that noise is."
KMPR's host ignored Max and went on, "Bet our Governor thinks so too. He's trying to get new funds to fix the Alaskan Freeway, you know the double-decker that runs along the waterfront. I say, tear it down and put in a park, Mister Governor."
While Max brought up the music, Collin took a quick bite, chewed and swallowed, "And now for the latest Prophet news. This morning, a local Minster found a man matching the Prophet's description asleep in his sanctuary. Pastor Jack couldn't explain how the Prophet got in since he always locks the church up tight. And no, the Pastor didn't see any fire in the Prophet's eyes."
Once more, all ten-phone lines lit up.
"KMPR, go," Collin said, winking at Max.
The man's voice sounded angry and demanding, "Look Collin, you're gonna cause a panic if you keep this up. Everybody knows it's a publicity stunt and all you're doing is scaring people."
"Tell me, how do I prove KMPR has nothing to do with this? I swear we're not behind it."
"Then stop letting him on the air. Don't you know panic is just as deadly as earthquakes?"
"My friend, when we first went on the air we made our listeners a promise. We don't screen the calls. We believe people are intelligent enough to know when they have something important to say. Besides, people don't panic over something like this, not after 'War of the Worlds.' They're smarter than that. On the other hand, no one denies we live in an earthquake zone. Maybe it takes a Prophet to make people pay attention. Call him a wacko, call him an extremist, call him anything you like. But the truth is, right after work tonight I'm getting prepared just in case…and so should you."
In the booth, Max pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to his father. "Dad, Collin wants a raise."
*
In the fault below Elliott Bay, small sections of earth repeatedly crumbled. The shifting rock caused only minimal shaking in the 1.0 to 1.5 range, but at the University of Washington, seismographs recorded every tremor. A man spread yesterday's graphs out on a table and carefully examined them. His eyes still glued to the jagged marks, he reached for his phone, punched an auto dial number and listened.
As always, he found comfort in the sound of his wife's voice. "Hi babe…No, nothing's wrong. I was just wondering if our stored water is out of date…I swear nothing's wrong. At least nothing I can put a finger on. You know me, the least hint of a major occurrence and I start running down the list. Have we used anything out of the medical kit? Mark's in a new school this year, and…”
Harlan Detective Agency had all the pictures of Christina, AKA Seely Ross they needed. So instead of flying, Carl took up his fishing pole and headed into the woods. Once more Jackie sat across from Michael in her mobile home, nestled beneath the shade of several pine trees. This time, both were dressed in casual clothing and the music was livelier. "How did this get so complicated?" she asked.
"I have no idea. The sister-in-law still won't take my calls. I did reach the cemetery caretaker, however. Once a year someone, a woman, comes to lay flowers on Evan Cole's grave. The caretaker doesn't know who she is and says it's not his place to ask. I faxed him a picture of Seely Ross and he says she is definitely not the one. The woman who comes is short, frail and probably in her seventies."
Jackie stood up, walked two steps into the kitchen and grabbed a plate of freshly baked cookies. Retracing her steps, she set them on a small table beside Michael's easy chair and retook her seat. "What are we going to do? We can't keep Evan at bay much longer and we can't expose Seely Ross until we know what's going on. She's got the classic symptoms. She goes to work, buys groceries and goes home. She has no friends, goes out only to see her grandchildren and does all her other shopping over the Internet. She's frightened Michael, she must be."
"I agree, but of whom? Evan Cole is not an abuser. In fact, he raised two good sons who are successful in their own right; he made his money honestly and is quite generous." Michael helped himself to a cookie and paused to savor the taste. "Are you sure you don't want to marry me?"
Jackie laughed and reached for a cookie, "It's against company policy. I never marry the men I work with."
"In that case, I quit."
"Michael, be serious. We have nothing new on the sister-in-law or the bank account, right?"
"Nothing. Banks are not so easy to break into, you know, and so far sister-in-law Loraine Whitcomb is squeaky clean. Don't worry, I'm still on it. I do have one little jewel to offer. I talked to Evan Cole's best friend and business partner. He agrees with everyone else, Evan wouldn't hurt a fly. Besides, Mister Cole deeply loved Christina. He nearly went nuts after she died. He spent a fortune trying to recover the body, built a shrine in his house and refused to part with a thing she ever owned or touched. Unfortunately, the house burned down about six months later, which is why there are no dental records."
"I see. What about her dentist?"
"Evan doesn't remember which Dentist she went to and all his cancelled checks burned. The portrait he hung in his office was all he had left. According to his friend, the painting was a great source of irritation to his second wife, but Jennifer eventually learned to live with it." Michael helped himself to another cookie and watched Jackie's thoughtful expression.
"Okay, so Evan Cole loved his wife and probably isn't the one who hurt her. That leaves us with a dead second wife, a sister-in-law who won't talk, an old woman, and a burial site for a man who's very much alive. Got any suggestions?"
"Yes. Let's go ask her."
"The sister-in-law?"
"No, Seely Ross. You're her Internet friend, ask her to dinner. Maybe you can get her to talk."
Saturday, July 26
For Sam Taylor, Saturdays meant only one thing -- golf. As bank president, Country Clubs eagerly sought his membership. But Sam preferred the old golf course of his youth, in the community of Mount Lake Terrace several miles north of Seattle. It had a small clubhouse and down to earth members. As he always did when he arrived, he put on his highly polished, white golf shoes, opened the trunk of his car and tossed his old fishing hat in. Next, he withdrew a new, red golf cap. He put it on, lifted his chin and lowered the trunk enough to examine his reflection in the back window. He smiled. Wearing all white with a red-checkered vest, he carefully examined the rest of his appearance. Satisfied, he grabbed his red golf bag, closed the trunk and headed for the clubhouse. The time was 8:45 a.m.
*
With fresh air, a clear sky and the bright morning sun in their faces, Jackie poured coffee for Carl and Michael, and then sat down in a lawn chair beneath the second Mobile home's awning. At ten minutes past nine a.m., Jackie took a deep breath, picked up the satellite phone and placed a call to her client's private line in New York City. "It's me, Jackie."
"And…”
"Good news, the birthmark is a perfect match."
"I'm on my way."
"Wait! Mister Cole? …Mister Cole?" But the line was dead. "I knew he'd do that." She hung up the phone, turned and stared at the grin on Michael's face. "Give him half an hour, and then start checking the airlines. I want to know what flight he's on and exactly where his layovers are."
"Doesn't he own a plane?"
"Yes, but yesterday the pilot detected a malfunction in the engine."
Carl chuckled and set his coffee cup down on the round metal table, "A malfunction? How convenient."
"I want him on a commercial airline. In a private jet, he could land anywhere."
Michael helped himself to sugar and cream, reached for a spoon and began to stir his coffee, "Are you sure we're doing the right thing?"
"No. But I can't think of any other way. It took a lot of convincing to get Seely Ross to see me and I don't think we'll get another chance. You got all the papers?"
Michael scooted his small frame back in his chair, crossed his feet and laid his spoon down, "Yep. Airline tickets, hotel rooms and a man in Chicago ready to make new ID's. You give the word, we pick up the two of you first…then her daughter and family. We fly them to the compound, take them by ferry to Canada and put them on a flight to Chicago…where they disappear off the face of the earth."
"Good. We're all set then. All we have to do is get Evan Cole in a hotel room. He pays our fee and we give him Seely's address."
"And," Carl put in, "if it turns out he's not the one she's afraid of and she wants to see him, he's right here in Seattle waiting."
"Right. What have we forgotten?"
Carl's mischievous grin slowly widened. "Nothing. A royal blue chopper will land in the play field across the street from the daughter's house and it'll be the talk of the neighborhood for weeks."
Jackie buried her face in her hands and shook her head, "Good point. Set up a new paint job in LA."
"Red?" Carl asked.
"We used red last time."
"I know, but baby likes it when she's red."
Jackie glanced at the blue chopper sitting quietly on its landing pad, and then smiled. "Okay, red." Suddenly, she turned her attention to Michael, "You took care of the flowers, right?"
"Don't worry. I picked them out myself yesterday and the mike is in place. All the guy has to do is deliver them. And before you ask, I know she's working today. The flowers will be delivered to her office at exactly 4:30. And if she leaves early, he'll take them to her house. Relax, will ya?"
Finally, Jackie returned his smile, "Flowers always make a woman feel good."
"I'll keep that in mind."
*
When Katie Moore glanced at the clock it was 11:15 a.m. She lived eight miles south of the Kingdome, just west of SeaTac airport and as usual, her dog Spook lay sleeping on the floor. Katie had a migraine headache and the noise of planes taking off wasn't helping. She rested her elbows on the kitchen table and massaged her temples with her fingertips. Suddenly, her black Labrador shot up and raced to the door.
"What is it, boy?"
Spook pawed and whined, wagged his tail, and then deserted his position and lay back down.
Katie watched him a moment more, and then went back to her massage, "Guess that's why we call you spook." Overhead, the roar of a 747 grew louder.
*
In Chicago, the flight from New York landed at O'Hare International Airport without incident. Evan Cole looked haggard and tired as he dug his commercial ticket out of his jacket pocket and walked to the flight monitors. Flight 414 to Seattle, originally scheduled to leave in less than half an hour, was delayed. Furious, he turned toward the ticket counter. But before he could head that direction, his cell phone rang.
Clumsily, he stuffed his ticket back in his pocket, pulled out the phone and extended the antenna, "Hello."
"Evan, this is Loraine."
His eyes lit up and his smile was warm, "Loraine, I found her. She's in...”
"I know. Evan, we've been friends for a long time...long before you married my sister and I love you like a brother. You know that, don't you?"
"I love you too, Loraine. But just now…”
"Evan, Christina didn't fake her own death."
Hundreds of people wandered the corridor or hurried off to catch flights. Children cried, teenagers laughed and couples argued, but Evan Cole noticed none of it, "What?"
It was early afternoon in New York. Even so, Loraine Whitcomb walked to the bar in her well-furnished, dark mahogany library, poured herself a brandy and took a drink. "It's a long story and I haven't got time to tell it to you now." She was his same age, kept her gray hair bleached blond and lived a life of luxury at Evan Cole's expense. Loraine never married, handled Evan's many contributions and loved to grow flowers.