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Authors: Graham Masterton

Drought (30 page)

BOOK: Drought
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‘So? What does this have to do with Makepeace and Saskia Vane?'

‘Ah,' said Jim Broader, looking deeply pleased with himself. ‘The owner happened to mention that yesterday evening he had been forced to turn away a party of twelve, including several kids. They had pleaded with him, but he couldn't risk losing his license.'

‘Go on.'

‘All of our guys have been given a BOLO for Saskia Vane and this Makepeace character, so they asked the owner to tell them what this party of twelve looked like. He said they were traveling in three separate vehicles: an old Chevy Suburban; as well as some kind of pickup; maybe blue or green; and a bronze Eldorado convertible, with two women in it, apart from the driver. One of the women had short black hair.'

Joseph Wrack continued to stare at the map. ‘Shit,' he said, with his teeth clenched together. ‘
Shit
! That's them all right. Big Bear City,
shit
! So where did they go from there?'

Jim Broader followed Route 247 with his finger. ‘East a ways, and then due north is my guess. Barstow, then Vegas, then who knows where? Denver? They might even try for Canada.'

Joseph Wrack was biting the edge of one of his thumbnails. ‘If they carried on driving overnight last night, they could be in Salt Lake City by now, goddamnit. Get in touch with Bill McNaughton at SLC Security – ask
him
to put out a BOLO, too, and be sure to let us know the
second
any one of his people catches sight of them. But I also want three choppers out looking for them nearer to home, and three road patrols. They have kids with them, remember. They could have stopped someplace to rest, so they may not have gone all that far.' He still didn't take his eyes away from the map, as if he expected to see three tiny vehicles crawling across it. ‘Most likely you're right, and they're headed north. On the other hand, that Saskia woman is very far from stupid and Makepeace is an ex-Marine … one of life's survivors. Maybe that's what they want us to think. They could be making east for Phoenix, or even south for Mexico.'

‘OK,' said Jim Broader. ‘I'm on it.'

‘I
want
Makepeace, Jim,' said Joseph Wrack. ‘Nobody screws around with me, the way he did. Nobody wrecks my property or hurts my people. I want that Saskia Vane, too. She tipped him off, after all. And not only that, Governor Smiley wants her, and I want to know why.'

‘Boss?'

‘Smiley says that she owes him, and I want to know
what
she owes him, because he's scared of her, too.'

‘I'll tell you who might have an idea – Abelina King. She handles all the publicity for Gold Crescent Pictures.'

‘Yes, I know Abelina King. She used to live here in San Bernardino before she went to LA. She did some promotion for us but I haven't seen her in years. Why would she know anything?'

‘She used to be very good friends with Saskia Vane
and
with Governor Smiley. I'll see if I can get in touch with her, anyhow. And there's a few other people in LA who might have an inkling.'

Joseph Wrack reached out and drummed his fingertips on the San Bernardino Mountains. ‘Where are you, Martin Makepeace? Where are you, Saskia Vane? Let me tell you something, you two … I'm going to find you, wherever you are. I'm going to find you, and when I do, you're going to wish that you were never born.'

His phone shrilled. He let it ring six or seven times and then he picked it up. ‘What?' he demanded.

‘Mr Wrack? This is Nurse Petersen at the Odyssey. Your mother is conscious now. Would you like to speak to her?'

Joseph Wrack kept on drumming his fingertips on the map. ‘Tell her I'm busy, would you? No, don't tell her that. Tell her you couldn't get hold of me. I'll call back later.'

‘She's heavily sedated, Mr Wrack, because of the pain. She may not be conscious later.'

‘I see. I'll just have to take my chances, then, won't I?'

When Halford Smiley arrived back at his office in the State Capitol in Sacramento, he found Lisa Esposito from the Office of Ground Water and Drinking Water waiting for him.

‘Lisa, come along in,' he said, crossing over to his desk and dropping the file that he had been reading on the way back from San Bernardino.

Lisa Esposito was a very tall woman, over six feet, and she could have been a model if she hadn't been so large and intimidating. Her hair was a wild torrent of dark brown waves that cascaded right down over her shoulders. Her eyes had heavy green-shadowed lids and her dark red lips seemed to be permanently stretched back to show off her large white teeth. She was wearing a pale lavender suit and although she was quite small-breasted it was carefully tailored to minimize the generous width of her hips.

‘Coffee? Lemon tea?' asked Halford. ‘I seem to remember that you like your lemon tea. Got to keep your tongue sharp somehow.'

‘I'm good, thank you,' said Lisa. Her accent was hard and tensile and she barely moved those stretched-back lips when she talked, like a ventriloquist. ‘The EPA will be sending you an email about this, but Douglas thought it would be a good idea if I came to brief you in person.'

‘Oh, yes?' said Halford. His personal assistant appeared in the doorway and he waved his hand to her and said, ‘Coffee, Nann, would you? And some of those ginger cookies, if you have them. And if you don't, then why the hell not? Ha! Ha! Only kidding!'

He took off his salmon pink coat and draped it over the back of his chair. ‘OK, then, Lisa, to what do I owe the pleasure? Please – have a seat. I do like to talk to my women on the same level.'

Lisa remained standing, so that Halford had to continue to look up at her. He went over to his desk and sat down himself.

‘So what's this all about?' he asked her, tilting his chair back.

Lisa opened her large purple tote bag and took out a folder. ‘You need to know that the President has given the Environmental Protection Agency the power to take overall control of the water supply in every state critically affected by the drought. That, as you know, means every state except for Washington, Oregon, New Hampshire and Maine.'

‘What the hell is that all about?' Halford demanded. ‘What can the EPA do that I haven't done already? I've cut agricultural irrigation by twenty-two percent. I know that irrigation is still going to use up most of our groundwater, but if I cut it any more we're going to go hungry as well as thirsty.

‘I've also brought in a special water rotation system in every major population center, to share out what groundwater we
do
have as fairly as possible.

He picked up the folder from his desk and said, ‘You want to see the latest figures, as of Tuesday? So far I've managed to reduce California's total daily consumption from forty-six thousand million gallons to thirty-one thousand million gallons. I'd like to see the EPA get even close.'

Lisa said, ‘It's not so much the quantity of water that the President is concerned about, Governor. It's the extreme negative reaction that you've been getting from the public. There's an election next year, and the last thing he wants to do is alienate ethnic minorities and blue-collar workers and women.'

‘Oh,' said Halford. ‘I thought that he might be more interested in saving as many lives as possible.'

‘Of course he is. And that's why he's given the EPA the authority to take over. You've had riots in Oakland, and Modesto, and Fresno, and Bakersfield. You've had even worse riots in San Bernardino, even though you went there yourself to keep the population calm.'

Halford shook his head dismissively. ‘You call them “riots”, Lisa, but they're nothing more than minor public disturbances. You'll always have your lawless element who are ready to take advantage of any natural disaster. Look at all that looting after Hurricane Katrina. I can tell you now that we have all of those disturbances totally under control.'

‘All the same, Halford, the EPA will be sending in officials from the Office of Enforcement and Compliance, and they'll be handling the drought crisis from now on. You'll be able to read all the details in the email, but Douglas thought we owed you the courtesy of informing you in person, and so did I.'

Halford said nothing for a very long time, but sat with his eyes cast down and his lower lip protruding just a little, like a child who has been told that he can no longer have his own way. Eventually, though, he stood up and went to the window and looked out over Capitol Park. The lawns were scorched yellow for want of watering, and the leaves of the trees had turned brown, but right from the very beginning of the drought Halford had insisted that the state legislature should be seen to be setting an example.

‘Is there any message you want me to take back to the EPA?' asked Lisa.

‘Message? Yes, I have a message. You can tell the EPA to go fuck themselves.'

‘Halford, that isn't going to help.'

‘It's not intended to help. I am the elected Governor of the state of California and I am in charge of handling this drought crisis, not the EPA or the OECP or the OW or the OGWBW, or any other goddamned stupid acronym you care to mention. Not the President, either. Especially not the President. He can go fuck himself too, him and his ethnic minorities and his blue-collar workers and his women.'

‘Halford—'

Halford went over and looked her straight in the face, even though he had to tilt his head back to do so. ‘You can tell the EPA that if any of their officials attempt to exert any authority over the management of water anywhere in the state, they risk being treated the same as anybody who riots – in other words, a threat to public safety. Under the current emergency laws, we can use deadly force to deal with them.'

Lisa looked down at him and started to smile. ‘You're not serious.'

‘Oh, I'm serious, Lisa. Never more so.'

The smile faded. ‘It's true what they say about you, isn't it, Halford?'

‘They say a lot of things about me, Lisa, some of them derogatory, but most of them complimentary. I get things done, that's all, and I don't particularly care how I do it.'

‘They say you were going to be twins, but you strangled your brother before you were even born.'

Halford couldn't help grinning at her. ‘That's good. I haven't heard that one. I like it.'

Lisa left just as Nann was bringing in Halford's coffee and a plate of cookies. Halford picked up one of the cookies and sniffed it. ‘This is orange,' he said, ‘not ginger.'

‘I'm so sorry, Governor, that's all we have at the moment.'

Halford said, ‘Hold out your hand.'

‘What?'

‘Hold out your hand.'

Nann did as she was told, holding out her right hand, palm upward. Halford laid the cookie on it, and then folded her fingers back until the cookie was completely crushed.

‘How long have you been working for me?' he asked her.

‘Seven months,' she said, although her lip was trembling and there were tears springing up in her eyes.

‘After seven months, Nann, you should have learned that if I can't get exactly what I want, then I don't want anything at all. No substitutes, that's my motto in life. No fucking alternatives. The right thing, or nothing.'

Nann nodded, and swallowed, still holding the crushed cookie in her hand.

Halford said, ‘Have I ever told you that you have very sexy ears?'

SIX

B
y mid-afternoon they were driving up a narrow trail that led them through the Big Morongo Canyon Preserve. The gray sunbaked mountains all around them gave them no sense of scale, so they might just as well have been three tiny vehicles crawling their way across Joseph Wrack's map.

The heat was overwhelming. By three p.m. it had grown so fierce that Martin and Saskia and Ella could hardly breathe, and so Martin closed the top of his Eldorado and switched the air conditioning on full. Even though the interior of the car quickly became cooler, it now felt dark and claustrophobic, especially since it was so dazzlingly bright outside.

They reached the crest of a promontory, overlooking a deep, dry valley, and Santos stopped his Suburban and climbed out. Peta and Martin stopped, too.

‘Everything OK?' Martin called out.

‘It's the kids,' said Santos. ‘My air con needs re-gassing and this heat is killing them. Mina most of all.'

Martin looked inside the truck and saw that all the children were lolling on their seats limp and exhausted. Mina was cuddled up against Susan, sucking her thumb; but even Susan was looking waxy, with her hair stuck wetly to her forehead.

Saskia reached over and lifted Mina out. Mina's eyes were half-closed and she gave a little shudder as Saskia held her in her arms, as if a goose had walked over her grave.

‘This kid's sick,' said Saskia. She pressed her hand against Mina's forehead to check her temperature. ‘I don't know what she's suffering from, maybe some kind of virus, but she needs to see a doctor.'

‘She's been sick on and off for a couple of weeks,' said Susan. ‘Sometimes she's been OK but other times she's been throwing up and then falling asleep for hours and hours and you can't wake her up.'

‘Didn't you take her to the ER?'

‘Mom said she would get better on her own. Besides, if she needed treatment we couldn't pay for it.'

‘I see. She could afford booze for herself but no medication for her daughter.'

‘Rita has passed now,' said Santos, without looking around. ‘There is no honor in speaking ill of those who cannot defend themselves.'

‘Let me keep Mina with me,' Saskia suggested. ‘I have some ibuprofen which should keep her fever down, and if I give her regular drinks and keep her cool she should start feeling better.'

‘You sound like you've done this before,' said Martin.

Saskia took a handkerchief out of her pocket and patted Mina's forehead with it and wiped her runny nose. ‘Yes,' she said, without looking at Martin. ‘Maybe.'

BOOK: Drought
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