The Hammer of Eden (51 page)

“Dusty’s in San Francisco!” Melanie said hysterically.

“No, he’s not,” Priest said. “Maybe he
was
, when the interview was filmed. By now he’s miles away.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Of course I do. So do you. Michael’s going to take care of his kid.”

“I wish I could be sure,” Melanie said in a shaky voice.

“Make a cup of coffee,” Priest said, just to give her something to do.

“Okay.” She took the pan from the hot plate and went to fill it with water in the rest room.

*  *  *

Judy looked at the clock. It was six-thirty.

Her phone rang.

The room fell silent.

She snatched up the handset, dropped it, cursed, picked it up again, and held it to her ear. “Yes?”

The switchboard operator said: “Melanie Quercus asking for her husband.”

Thank God!
Melanie pointed at Raja. “Trace the call.”

He was already speaking into his phone.

Judy said to the operator: “Put her on.”

All the suits from the head shed gathered around Judy’s chair. They stood silent, straining to hear.

This could be the most important phone call of my life
.

There was a click on the line. Judy tried to make her voice calm and said: “Agent Maddox here.”

“Where’s Michael?”

Melanie sounded so frightened and lost that Judy felt a surge of compassion for her. She seemed no more than a foolish mother worried about her child.

Get real, Judy. This woman is a killer
.

Judy hardened her heart. “Where are
you
, Melanie?”

“Please,” Melanie whispered. “Just tell me where he’s taken Dusty.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Judy said. “I’ll make sure Dusty’s okay—if you tell me where the seismic vibrator is.”

“Can I speak to my husband?”

“Are you with Ricky Granger? I mean Priest?”

“Yes.”

“And you have the seismic vibrator, wherever you are?”

“Yes.”

Then we’ve almost got you
.

“Melanie—do you really want to kill all those people?”

“No, but we have to.…”

“You won’t be able to take care of Dusty while you’re in jail. You’ll miss watching him grow up.” Judy heard a sob at the other end of the line. “You’ll only ever see him through a glass partition. By the time they let you out, he’ll be a grown man who doesn’t know you.”

Melanie was crying.

“Tell me where you are, Melanie.”

In the big ballroom, the silence was total. No one moved.

Melanie whispered something, but Judy could not hear it.

“Speak up!”

At the other end of the line, in the background, a man shouted: “Who the fuck are you calling?”

Judy said: “Quickly, quickly! Tell me where you are!”

The man roared: “Give me that goddamn phone!”

Melanie said: “Perpetua—” Then she screamed.

A moment later the connection was broken.

Raja said: “She’s somewhere on the Bay Shore, south of the city.”

“That’s not good enough!” Judy cried.

“They can’t be more precise!”

“Shit!”

Stuart Cleever said: “Quiet, everybody. We’ll play the tape back in a moment. First, Judy, did she give you any clues?”

“She said something at the end. It sounded like “Perpetual.’ Carl, check for a street called Perpetual.”

Raja said: “We should check for a company, too. They could be in the garage of an office building.”

“Do that.”

Cleever pounded the table in frustration. “What made her hang up?”

“I think Granger found her calling and took the phone away.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“I’d like to get in the air,” Judy said. “We can fly down the shoreline.
Michael can come with me and point out where fault lines run. Maybe we’ll spot the seismic vibrator.”

“Do it,” Cleever said.

*  *  *

Priest stared at Melanie in fury as she cowered up against the grimy washbasin. She had tried to betray him. He would have shot her right there and then if he had had a gun. But the revolver he had taken from the guard at Los Alamos was in the seismic vibrator, under the driver’s seat.

He switched off Melanie’s phone, dropped it into his shirt pocket, and tried to make himself calm. This was something Star had taught him. As a young man he had given way to his rages, knowing that they frightened others, because people were easier to deal with when they were scared. But Star had taught him to breathe right and relax and
think
, which was better in the long run.

Now he considered the damage Melanie had done. Had the FBI been able to trace her phone? Could they find out where a mobile was calling from? He had to assume they could. If so, they would soon be cruising the neighborhood, looking for a seismic vibrator.

He had run out of time. The seismic window opened at six-forty. He looked at his watch: it was six thirty-five. To hell with his seven o’clock deadline—he had to trigger the earthquake right now.

He ran out of the rest room. The seismic vibrator stood in the middle of the empty warehouse, facing the high entrance doors. He jumped up into the driver’s cabin and started the engine.

It took a minute or two for pressure to build up in the vibrating mechanism. He watched the gauges impatiently.
Come on, come on!
At last the readings went green.

The passenger door of the truck opened, and Melanie climbed in. “Don’t do it!” she yelled. “I don’t know where Dusty is!”

Priest reached out to the lever that lowered the plate of the vibrator to the ground.

Melanie knocked his hand aside. “Please, don’t!”

Priest hit her backhanded across the face. She screamed, and blood came from her lip. “Stay out of the damn way!” he yelled. He pulled the lever, and the plate descended.

Melanie reached across and threw the lever back to its start position.

Priest saw red. He hit her again.

She cried out and covered her face with her hands, but she did not flee.

Priest returned the lever to the down position.

“Please,” she said. “Don’t.”

What am I going to do with this stupid bitch?
He remembered the gun. It was under his seat. He reached down and snatched it up. It was too big, a clumsy weapon in such a small space. He pointed it at Melanie. “Get out of the truck,” he said.

To his surprise she reached across him again, pressing her body against the barrel of the gun, and threw the lever.

He pulled the trigger.

The bang was deafening in the little cabin of the truck.

For a split second, a small part of his mind felt a shock of grief that he had ruined her beautiful body; but he dismissed the feeling.

She was thrown back across the cab. The door was still open, and she fell out and tumbled down, hitting the floor of the warehouse with a sickening thud.

Priest did not stop to see if she was dead.

For the third time, he pulled the lever.

Slowly the plate descended to the ground.

When it made contact, Priest started the machine.

*  *  *

The helicopter was a four-seater. Judy sat next to the pilot, Michael behind. As they flew south along the shore of the San Francisco Bay, Judy heard in her headphones the voice of one of Michael’s student assistants, calling from the command post. “Michael! This is Paula! It’s started up—a seismic vibrator!”

Judy went cold with fear.
I thought I had more time!
She checked her
watch: it was six forty-five. Granger’s deadline was still fifteen minutes away. Melanie’s phone call must have made him start early.

Michael was saying: “Any tremors on the seismograph?”

“No—just the seismic vibrator, so far.”

No earthquake yet. Thank God
.

Judy shouted into her microphone: “Give us the location, quickly!”

“Wait a minute, the coordinates are coming up now.”

Judy grabbed a map.

Hurry, hurry!

A long moment later Paula read the numbers on her screen. Judy found the location on her map. She said to the pilot: “Due south two miles, then about five hundred yards inland.”

Her stomach lurched as the chopper dived and picked up speed.

They were flying over the old waterfront neighborhood, full of derelict factories and car dumps. It would have been quiet on a normal Sunday: today it was empty. Judy scanned the horizon, looking for a truck that could be the seismic vibrator.

To the south she saw two police patrol cars speeding toward the same location. Looking west, she spotted the FBI SWAT wagon approaching. Back at the Presidio, the other helicopters would be lifting off, full of armed agents. Soon half the law enforcement vehicles in Northern California would be heading for the map coordinates Paula had given out.

Michael said into his microphone: “Paula! What’s happening on your screens?”

“Nothing—the vibrator is operating, but it’s not having any effect.”

“Thank God!” Judy said.

Michael said: “If he follows his previous pattern, he’ll move the truck a quarter of a mile and try again.”

The pilot said: “This is it. We’ve arrived at the coordinates.” The helicopter began to circle.

Judy and Michael stared out, searching frantically for the seismic vibrator.

On the ground, nothing moved.

*  *  *

Priest cursed.

The vibrating machinery was operating, but there was no earthquake.

This had happened before, both times. Melanie had said she did not really understand why it worked in some locations but not others. It probably had something to do with different kinds of subsoil. Both times the vibrator had triggered an earthquake on the third try. But today Priest really needed to be lucky the first time.

He was not.

Boiling with frustration, he turned off the mechanism and raised the plate.

He had to move the truck.

He jumped out. Stepping over Melanie, who was crumpled up against the wall, bleeding onto the concrete floor, he ran to the entrance. There was a pair of old-fashioned high doors that folded back to admit big vehicles. Inset into one panel was a small, people-size door. Priest threw it open.

*  *  *

Over the entrance to a small warehouse Judy saw a sign that read “Perpetua Diaries.”

She had thought Melanie was saying “Perpetual.”

“That’s the place!” she yelled. “Go down!”

The helicopter descended rapidly, avoiding a power line that ran from pole to pole along the side of the road, and touched down in the middle of the deserted street.

As soon as she felt the bump of contact with the ground, Judy opened the door.

*  *  *

Priest looked out.

A helicopter had landed in the road. As he watched, someone jumped out. It was a woman with a wound dressing on her face. He recognized Judy Maddox.

He screamed a curse that was lost in the noise of the chopper.

There was no time to open the big doors.

He dashed back to the truck, got in, and rammed the shift into reverse. He backed as far as he could into the warehouse, stopping when the rear bumper hit the wall. Then he engaged first gear. He revved the engine high, then let out the clutch with a jerk. The truck lurched forward.

Priest pressed the pedal to the floor. Engine screaming, the big truck gathered speed the length of the warehouse, then crashed into the old wooden door.

Judy Maddox was standing right in front of the door, gun in hand. Shock and fear showed on her face as the truck burst through the door. Priest grinned savagely as he bore down on her. She dived sideways, and the truck missed her by an inch.

The helicopter was in the middle of the road. A man was getting out. Priest recognized Michael Quercus.

He steered toward the helicopter, changed up a gear, and accelerated.

*  *  *

Judy rolled over, aimed at the driver’s door, and squeezed off two shots. She thought she might have hit something, but she failed to stop the truck.

The chopper lifted quickly.

Michael ran to the side of the road.

Judy guessed that Granger was hoping to clip the helicopter’s undercarriage, as he had in Felicitas, but this time the pilot was too quick for him and lifted high as the truck charged the space where the aircraft had been.

But, in his haste, the pilot forgot the roadside power lines.

There were five or six cables stretched between tall poles. The rotor blade caught in the lines, slicing through some. The helicopter’s engine faltered. One of the poles tilted under the strain and fell. The rotor blade began to spin freely again, but the chopper had lost lift, and it fell to the ground with a mighty crash.

*  *  *

Priest had one hope left.

If he could drive a quarter of a mile, then get the plate down and the vibrator operating, he might yet trigger an earthquake before the FBI could get to him. And in the chaos of an earthquake, he might escape, as he had before.

He wrenched the wheel around and headed down the road.

*  *  *

Judy fired again as the truck swung away from the downed helicopter. She was hoping to hit either Granger or some essential part of the engine, but she was unlucky. The truck lumbered down the potholed road.

She looked at the crashed helicopter. The pilot was not moving. She looked back to the seismic vibrator as it gradually gathered speed.

I wish I had a rifle
.

Michael ran up to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. She made a decision. “You see if you can help the pilot—I’ll go after Granger.”

He hesitated, then said: “Okay.”

Judy holstered her pistol and ran after the truck.

It was a sluggish vehicle, taking long moments to accelerate. At first she closed the distance rapidly. Then Granger changed gear, and the truck picked up speed. Judy ran as fast as she could, heart pounding, chest aching. The tail of the truck carried a huge spare wheel. She was still gaining on it, but not so rapidly. Just when she thought she would never catch it, Granger shifted gears again, and in the momentary slowdown, Judy put on a burst of speed and leaped for the tailgate.