The Hammer of Eden (42 page)

Suddenly he heard: “And Melinda wants to talk about the earthquake threat. Hello, Melinda, you’re on
John Truth Live
!”

Priest said: “Hello, John, this isn’t Melinda, it’s the Hammer of Eden.”

There was a pause. When Truth spoke again, his voice had taken on the portentous tone he used for announcements of great gravity. “Buddy, you better not be kidding, because if you are, you could go to jail, you know?”

“I guess I could go to jail if I’m
not
kidding,” Priest said.

Truth did not laugh. “Why are you calling me?”

“We just want to be sure, this time, that everyone knows the earthquake was caused by us.”

“When will it happen?”

“Within the next few minutes.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you that, because it might give the FBI the jump on us, but I’ll tell you something no one could possibly guess. It will take place right on Route 101.”

*  *  *

Raja Khan jumped on a table in the middle of the command post. “Everyone, shut up and listen!” he yelled. They all heard the shrill note of fear in his voice, and the room went dead. “A guy claiming to be from the Hammer of Eden is on
John Truth Live.”

There was a burst of noise as everyone asked questions. Judy stood up. “Quiet, everyone!” she shouted. “Raja, what did he say?”

Carl Theobald, who was sitting with his ear close to the speaker of a portable radio, answered her question. “He just said the next earthquake will take place on Route 101 within a few minutes.”

“Well done, Carl! Turn up the volume.” Judy swung around. “Michael—does that fit any of the locations we have under surveillance?”

“Nope,” he said. “Shit, I guessed wrong!”

“Then guess again! Try to figure out where these people might be!”

“All right,” he said. “Stop yelling.” He sat at his computer and put his hand on the mouse.

On Carl Theobald’s radio a voice said: “Here it comes now.”

An alarm sounded on Michael’s computer.

Judy said: “What’s that? Is it a tremor?”

Michael clicked his mouse. “Wait, it’s just coming on screen.… No, it’s not a tremor. It’s a seismic vibrator.”

Judy looked over his shoulder. On the screen she saw a pattern just like the one he had shown her on Sunday. “Where is it?” she said. “Give me a location!”

“I’m working on it,” he snapped back. “Shouting at me won’t make the computer triangulate faster.”

How could he be so damn touchy at a time like this? “Why is there no earthquake? Maybe their method isn’t working!”

“In Owens Valley it didn’t work the first time.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Okay, here are the coordinates.”

Judy and Charlie Marsh went to the wall map. Michael sang out coordinates. “Here!” Judy said triumphantly. “Right on Route 101, south of San Francisco. A town called Felicitas. Carl, call the local police. Raja, notify the Highway Patrol. Charlie, I’m coming with you in the chopper.”

“This is not pinpoint accurate,” Michael warned. “The vibrator could be anywhere within a mile or so of the coordinates.”

“How can we narrow it down?”

“If I look at the landscape, I can spot the fault line.”

“You better come in the helicopter. Grab a bulletproof vest. Let’s go!”

*  *  *

“It’s not working!” Priest said, trying to control his alarm.

Melanie said: “It didn’t work the first time in Owens Valley, don’t you remember?” She sounded exasperated. “We had to move the truck and try again.”

“Shit, I hope we have time,” Priest said. “Drive, Oaktree! Back to the truck!”

Oaktree put the old car in drive and tore down the hill.

Priest turned and shouted to Melanie over the roar of the engine. “Where do you think we should move it to?”

“There’s a side street almost opposite the coffee shop—go down there about four hundred yards. That’s where the fault line runs.”

“Okay.”

Oaktree stopped the car in front of the coffee shop. Priest leaped out. A heavy middle-aged woman stood in front of him. “Did you hear that noise?” she said. “It seemed to be coming from your truck. It was earsplitting!”

“Get out of my way or I’ll split your fucking head,” Priest said. He jumped into the truck. He raised the plate, put the transmission in drive, and pulled away. He shot out onto the street in front of a big old station wagon. The wagon screeched to a halt, and the driver honked indignantly. Priest headed down the side street.

He drove four hundred yards and stopped outside a neat one-story house with a fenced garden. A small white dog barked fiercely at him through the fence. Working with feverish haste, he again lowered the plate of the vibrator and checked its dials. He set it to remote operation, jumped out, and got back into the ’Cuda.

Oaktree screeched around in a U-turn and tore off. As they raced along Main Street, Priest observed that their activities were beginning to attract attention. They were watched by a couple carrying shopping
bags, two boys on mountain bikes, and three fat men who came out of a bar to see what was going on.

They came to the end of Main Street and turned up the hill. “This is far enough,” Priest said. Oaktree stopped the car, and Priest activated the remote control.

He could hear the truck vibrating six blocks away.

Star said shakily: “Are we safe here?”

They were silent, frozen in suspense, waiting for the earthquake.

The truck vibrated for thirty seconds, then stopped.

“Too safe,” Priest said to Star.

Oaktree said: “It ain’t fucking working, Priest!”

“This happened last time,” Priest said desperately. “It’s gonna work!”

Melanie said: “You know what I think? The earth here is too soft. The town is close to the river. Soft, wet ground soaks up vibrations.”

Priest turned to her accusingly. “Yesterday you told me earthquakes cause
more
damage on wet ground.”

“I said that buildings on wet soil are more likely to be damaged, because the ground underneath them moves more. But for transmitting shock waves to the fault, rock should be better.”

“Skip the goddamn lecture!” Priest said. “Where do we try next?”

She pointed up the hill. “Where we came off the freeway. It’s not directly on the fault line, but the ground should be rock.”

Oaktree raised an eyebrow at Priest. Priest said: “Back to the truck, go!”

They raced back along Main Street, watched now by more people. Oaktree screeched into the side street and skidded to a halt next to the seismic vibrator. Priest jumped into the truck, raised the plate, and pulled away, flooring the gas pedal.

The truck moved with painful slowness through the town and crawled up the hill.

When it was halfway up, the police car they had seen earlier came off the freeway ramp, lights flashing and siren sounding, and sped past them, heading into town.

At last the truck arrived at the spot from which Priest had first looked over the town and pronounced it perfect. He stopped across
the road from the Big Ribs restaurant. For the third time, he lowered the vibrator’s plate.

Behind him he could see the ’Cuda. Coming back up the hill from the town was the police cruiser. Glancing up, he spotted a helicopter in the distant sky.

He had no time to get clear of the truck and use the remote. He would have to activate the vibrator sitting here in the driver’s seat.

He put his hand on the control, hesitated, and pulled the lever.

*  *  *

From the helicopter, Felicitas looked like a town asleep.

It was a bright, clear evening. Judy could see Main Street and the grid of streets around it, the trees in the gardens and the cars in the driveways, but nothing seemed to be moving. A man watering flowers was so motionless, he seemed to be a statue; a woman in a big straw hat stood still on the sidewalk; three teenage girls on a street corner were frozen in place; two boys had stopped their bicycles in the middle of the road.

There was movement on the freeway that flew past the town on the elegant arches of a viaduct. As well as the usual mixture of cars and trucks, she spotted two police cruisers a mile or so away, approaching the town at high speed, coming, she assumed, in response to her emergency call.

But in the town no one moved.

After a moment she figured out what was going on.

They were listening.

The roar of the helicopter prevented her from hearing what they were listening to, but she could guess. It had to be the seismic vibrator.

But where was it?

The chopper flew low enough for her to identify the makes of cars parked on Main Street, but she could not see a vehicle big enough to be a seismic vibrator. None of the trees that partly obscured the side streets seemed big enough to hide a full-size truck.

She spoke to Michael over the headset. “Can you see the fault line?”

“Yes.” He was studying a map and comparing it with the landscape
beneath. “It crosses the railroad, the river, the freeway, and the gas pipeline. Dear God almighty, there’s going to be some damage.”

“But where’s the vibrator?”

“What’s that on the hillside?”

Judy followed his pointing finger. Above the town, close to the freeway, she saw a small cluster of buildings: a fast-food restaurant of some kind, a glass-walled office building, and a small wooden structure, probably a chapel. On the road near the restaurant were a mud-colored coupé that looked like an old muscle car from the early seventies, a police cruiser pulling up behind it, and a large truck painted all over with dragons in livid red and acid yellow. She made out the words “The Dragon’s Mouth.” “It’s a carnival ride,” she said.

“Or a disguise,” he suggested. “That’s about the right size for a seismic vibrator.”

“My God, I bet you’re right!” she said. “Charlie, are you listening?”

Charlie Marsh was sitting beside the pilot. Six members of his SWAT team were seated behind Judy and Michael, armed with stubby MP-5 submachine guns. The rest of the team were hurtling down the freeway in an armored truck, their mobile tactical operations center. “I’m listening,” Charlie said. “Pilot, can you put us down near that carnival truck on the hill?”

“It’s awkward,” the pilot replied. “The hillside slopes steeply, and the road forms a narrow ledge. I’d rather come down in the parking lot of that restaurant.”

“Do it,” Charlie said.

“There isn’t going to be an earthquake, is there?” the pilot said.

Nobody answered him.

As the chopper came down, a figure jumped out of the truck. Judy peered at it. She saw a tall, thin man with long dark hair, and she felt immediately that this had to be her enemy. He stared up at the chopper, and it seemed as if his eyes were on her. She was too far away to see his features clearly, but she felt sure he was Granger.

Stay right there, you son of a bitch, I’m coming to get you
.

The helicopter hovered over the parking lot and began to descend.

Judy realized that she and everyone with her could die in the next few seconds.

As the helicopter touched the ground, there was a noise like the crack of doom.

*  *  *

The bang was a thunderclap so loud, it drowned the roar of the seismic vibrator and the thrash of the helicopter rotors.

The ground seemed to rise up and hit Priest like a fist. He was watching the chopper land in the Big Ribs parking lot, thinking that the vibrator was pounding away in vain, his scheme had failed, and he would now be arrested and thrown in jail. The next moment he was flat on his face, feeling as if he had been punched out by Mike Tyson.

He rolled over, gasping for breath, and saw the trees all around him bending and twisting as if a hurricane were blowing.

A moment later he came to his senses and realized—it had worked! He had caused an earthquake.

Yes!

And he was in the middle of it.

Then he was afraid for his life.

The air rang with a terrifying rumbling sound like rocks being shaken in a giant pail. He scrambled to his knees, but the ground would not stay still, and in trying to stand up, he fell over again.

Oh, shit, I’m done for
.

He rolled over and managed to sit upright.

He heard a sound like a hundred windows breaking. Looking over to his right, he saw that was exactly what was happening. The glass walls of the office building were all shattering at the same time. A million shards of glass flowed like a waterfall off the building.

Yes!

The Baptist chapel farther down the road seemed to fall over sideways. It was a flimsy wooden building, and its thin walls went down in a cloud of dust and lay flat on the ground, leaving a massive carved-oak lectern standing in the middle of the wreckage.

I did it! I did it!

The windows of Big Ribs smashed, and the screams of terrified children pierced the air. One corner of the roof sagged, then dropped on a group of five or six teenagers, crushing them and their table and their rib dinners. The other patrons rose in a wave and surged toward the now-glassless windows as the rest of the roof started to come down on them.

The air was full of the pungent smell of gasoline. The tremor had ruptured the tanks at the filling station, Priest thought. He looked across and saw a sea of fuel spilling over the forecourt. An out-of-control motorcycle came off the road, weaving from side to side, until the rider fell off and the machine slid across the concrete, striking sparks. The spilling gas caught a light with a
whoosh
, and a second later the entire plaza was ablaze.

Jesus Christ!

The fire was frighteningly close to the ’Cuda. He could see the car rocking up and down, and the terrified face of Oaktree behind the wheel.

He had never seen Oaktree scared.

The horses from the field next to the restaurant burst through the broken fence and galloped full-tilt along the road toward Priest, eyes staring, mouths open, terrified. Priest had no time to get out of the way. He covered his head with his hands. They raced by either side of him.

Down in the town, the church bell was ringing madly.