Drought (14 page)

‘They can't do that. Can they?'

‘It wouldn't surprise me. Governor Smiley and his gang seem to think that anybody on welfare doesn't deserve squat.'

‘But we can't live without water, Martin.'

‘Maybe that's the idea.'

When he drove downtown, Martin found that the streets were almost completely deserted and most of the stores were shuttered. Broken bricks and other debris were strewn across the sidewalks and traffic signs had been uprooted. At most of the major intersections, black-and-white squad cars were parked, but he was disturbed to see nearly as many dark blue Explorers with the ESS logo on their doors, from Empire Security Services. Both squad cars and security vehicles had their engines idling to keep their air conditioning on. Although it was only nine a.m., the temperature was already up to ninety-two degrees, and the weather forecast on his radio warned of 120 by noon.

Most mornings when he didn't feel like cooking his own breakfast he stopped at Molly's Café on the corner of North D Street for Polish sausage and scrambled eggs, but Molly's was shuttered, too. Further along West Court Street, he saw more squad cars parked diagonally across the street, and more ESS Explorers, too, and at least twenty riot police standing around with the sun reflecting from their plastic shields, as well as uniformed security guards. A siren was whooping three or four blocks away, and there was a feeling in the air that something ugly was about to happen.

He drove to the office, parked, and went upstairs. Brenda the receptionist pulled a face at him as if she were disappointed that he had actually come in early, and she had no cause to complain about him. ‘Arlene's having a team meeting,' she said. ‘Don't worry. It hasn't started yet.'

‘What? Me worry?' said Martin. He went through to the kitchen first, where a jug of coffee was brewing. He filled his mug, took a couple of Anna's Orange Thins from the tin on the counter, and went through to Arlene's office. Shirelle Jackson was already there, as well as Kevin Maynard and Dana Suykerbuyk, a plump young woman with a mass of dry blonde curls, a huge bosom and a bottom to match, and a fondness for lime green sweat pants with loops under the feet.

Arlene looked up and said, ‘Ah, Martin, you're here! We're still waiting for Karen and Michelle, but we might as well begin. The thing is that this drought situation has suddenly escalated and the police are expecting some very serious trouble as the day goes on. The water was supposed to come back on in the first neighborhoods that were affected by mid-afternoon, but the drought crisis people think it may have to stay off for a little longer.'

‘Exactly how long is “a little longer”?' asked Martin.

‘They're not entirely sure.'

‘Oh, I'm sure they
are
sure. They're just not
telling
anybody, is all. So what are we supposed to say to our families?'

‘As always, Martin, our first concern is the safety and well-being of the children in our care. So what we need to do is to keep our families calm and try to minimize any risk of civil protest. We don't want any of our children getting hurt in a riot.'

Martin put down his coffee mug on her desk, which he knew she didn't like. ‘If you think that I'm going to do Governor Smiley's dirty work for him, Arlene, you'd better think again. You might as well know that I talked to the governor yesterday and he openly admitted to me that he has a deliberate policy of depriving the poorer neighborhoods of water while maintaining supplies to the wealthier districts.'

‘Aw, come on, I can't believe that,' put in Kevin Maynard. ‘Governor Smiley made a specific promise in his statement on TV last night that everybody would get their fair share.'

‘He's a politician, Kevin, for Christ's sake. President Obama promised that he would reduce the nation's deficit.'

‘That's different. This is a natural disaster, not a man-made one.'

Martin was about to tell Kevin that a broken promise was a broken promise when his cellphone rang and he saw that Saskia Vane was calling him. He excused himself and went outside into the reception area.

‘Martin?' said Saskia. She sounded as if she were in a diner somewhere, with plates clattering and people laughing in the background. ‘I've spoken to Bill Schiller in the DA's office. Your son's arraignment is tomorrow but Bill has promised me that he'll look at the possibility of not contesting bail. Your son has no previous criminal record and the circumstances of his case are still very iffy, which are both in his favor. And, well, Bill owes me one.'

‘You mean they might let Tyler out?'

‘I'm not sure yet. Even if they do, it's still going to take two or three days at least to arrange bail and Bill doesn't know how much we're going to be talking about. It could be fifty thousand. It could be much more. It's highly unlikely that the judge will let him out on OR.'

‘Well, thanks for trying, Saskia. I appreciate it.'

Saskia hesitated for a moment and then she said, ‘There's something else you need to know, Martin.'

‘OK. What's that?'

‘I shouldn't be telling you this, but I think you're one of the good guys.'

‘Oh, yes? After everything I've said to you?'

‘Maybe I deserved it. I'm the best in the business, but you only get to be the best in the business by making other people believe in you, especially when you're lying. Sometimes the only way to do that is to convince yourself that you're telling the truth.'

‘So what are you going to tell me now?' Martin asked her. ‘The truth, or a lie, or a lie that you've convinced yourself is true?'

‘This is true, Martin. We had a meeting of the drought crisis team at seven a.m. this morning, mapping out the areas where we're going to be shutting down the water supply. All of those neighborhoods that we've already shut down are going to stay shut down, at least for another twenty-four hours.'

‘They're going to
stay
shut down? And you expect me to tell people to keep calm about it?'

‘Martin – we just don't have the water! The average citizen of San Bernardino uses two hundred twenty-six gallons of water every single day. We've cut off only thirty-two thousand people out of a total population of two hundred thirty thousand, but that means we've managed to save fourteen million gallons of water already.'

‘Well, hallelujah! Now you sound like you're trying to convince me that you and Governor Smiley are the saviors of the planet.'

‘Listen to me, Martin, this is serious. We're cutting off the water supply at West Valley Detention Center.'

‘What?'

‘That's right. From noon today. I don't know for how long.'

‘That's insanity. You can't deprive prisoners of water. Apart from the fact that it's inhuman, you're going to have a riot on your hands that makes all this chanting and rock-tossing we've had up until now look like playschool.'

‘I know, Martin. But Halford won't be budged on it. “The inmates of West Valley Detention Center knowingly broke the law, but still the long-suffering taxpayer has to pay for their upkeep,” that's what he said. “Why should we give them the same privileges as everybody else?”'

‘Water isn't a privilege, Saskia. Water is necessary for human beings to stay alive.'

‘That's why I'm telling you. I personally think this almost amounts to genocide. But most of all I don't want your son to get hurt.'

‘Well, great, thanks. But they're taking him to West Valley whether I like it or not. What can I do about it?'

‘I really don't know. But I just thought I ought to warn you.'

‘Saskia?' he said. ‘Saskia?' But her line had gone dead. He tried calling her back but she had switched off her cell and all he heard was her recorded message.

He stood in reception, his hand pressed to his forehead, trying to think what to do. Brenda stared at him, but she didn't ask him why he hadn't gone back in to join Arlene's team meeting.

She didn't even speak when he walked straight out of the office without saying where he was going or when he might be back.

A
s he drove out of the city center, he could hear shouting and screaming coming from the direction of Meadowbrook Park, and more sirens scribbling and whooping, followed by the sporadic popping of tear-gas guns. A police helicopter was slowly circling around City Hall, its white reflection wavering across one glassy wall after the other, the clatter of its rotors echoing from street to street.

His cell played ‘Mandolin Rain' over and over. He glanced at it and saw that Arlene was trying to get in touch, but he didn't answer it. After five minutes of repeated calling she gave up. He didn't like to let her down – or the families that he was supposed to be visiting that morning – but this was too urgent. He didn't have time to argue, or to justify himself.

He drove west of the city center to the suburb of Rialto. The streets were quiet here, and so he guessed that the water supply hadn't yet been cut off. Mothers were driving past in SUVs, taking children to school. A mailman was delivering letters. A young dogwalker was taking seven assorted dogs for a walk along West Alru Street, ranging from a St Bernard to a Shiatsu, and straining to keep them all in check.

South Beechwood Avenue was deserted, but then it usually was – a long, straight street with neat single-story houses on either side, silently baking under the mid-morning sun. Martin reached the 600 block and parked on the corner, outside a white Mexican-style house with arches over its front verandah and a stack of logs outside the garage. The Stars and Stripes hung limply from a flagstaff, as if it were suffering from heat exhaustion.

He climbed out of his car and went up to the front door. He could hear a TV playing loudly inside and a woman talking. He rang the doorbell and waited. Nobody answered so he rang it again.

The door was opened almost immediately. Martin found himself confronted by a young round-faced Hispanic woman in a sleeveless red dress and a red checkered apron. From inside the house behind her came a strong smell of frying onions.

‘Hi, there. Is Mr Bonaduce at home?'

‘Mr Bonaduce? Who wants to know?'

‘If he's at home, tell him it's Angel.'

‘Angel?' The expression on the girl's face clearly said, you don't look like any kind of angel that I've ever seen. But she went back inside and Martin heard her say, ‘Mr B! You have a visitor! Calls himself Angel.'

There was a moment's pause and then the girl reappeared and now she was smiling. ‘Mr Bonaduce says to come on in.'

Martin stepped inside and went through to the living room. Sitting in a high-backed brocade armchair in front of the TV was a fortyish man with gray slicked-back hair and a round, homely, Italian-looking face, with bags under his eyes. He was heavily built, with a bulging belly and swollen thighs. It was only when he held out his left hand in greeting that it was obvious that his right arm was missing, and that his empty sleeve was folded and pinned to the side of his dark maroon shirt.

‘Charlie, how are you?' said Martin, shaking his hand.

‘Bored, sex-starved,' said Charlie. ‘Haven't seen you in a coon's age, Angel. Take a load off why don't you?'

Martin sat down on the end of the couch next to him. ‘Sorry it's been so long, Charlie. We've been three team members short these past six months, so we've all been working our asses off.'

‘You want a beer? Rosa, bring us a couple of beers, will you, my darling? Only domestic, I'm afraid. I know you like that Indian stuff. This drought affecting you much? I saw on the news that there's some kind of a riot downtown, on account of people having their water shut off.'

‘I just came from there,' Martin told him. ‘The whole thing's turning into a full-blown disaster movie. And it's affected me personally. My son, anyhow. That's one of the reasons I'm here, Charlie. I really need your help.'

‘I might have known. And here's me thinking you came here just to talk about pussy and baseball and give me an excuse to get drunk. Not that I need one.'

Martin told him how Tyler had been arrested for murder and rape, and how he was scheduled to be taken to West Valley Detention Center. He also told him that the water supply to the prison was going to be cut off in less than two-and-a-half hours' time.

‘They're really going to do that?' asked Charlie. ‘How the hell did you find that out?'

‘I know this woman who's working for Governor Smiley's drought emergency team.'

‘Oh, yeah? How well do you know her?'

‘Not
that
well. But well enough for her to give me the heads up.'

Rosa came in with two cold bottles of Rolling Rock. Martin didn't usually drink before the evening, these days, but today was different. Charlie clinked bottles and said, ‘Here's to swimmin' with bow-legged women! So where do
I
fit into this?'

‘You still have those two Colt Commandos and that RPG-Seven?'

Charlie was about to take a swig from his beer bottle but now he slowly lowered it. ‘Hey, now. Hold on here. What exactly do you have in mind, Angel?'

‘I don't want Tyler locked up in that jail. It's as simple as that.'

‘So what are you planning to do? Blow a hole in the prison wall, and then go in with all guns blazing?'

Martin shook his head. ‘I'm going to make sure that he never even gets there.'

‘Oh, really? And how do you intend to do that? Jesus, Angel, you always were a psycho, even back in Camp Leatherneck.'

‘Listen,' said Martin, ‘the cops have told me that they'll be driving him away from police headquarters around two p.m. They'll be heading along the Foothill Freeway because that's the quickest and the most direct route. That means that approximately fifteen minutes later they'll be passing the intersection with North Alder Avenue.'