Overload (87 page)

After Nim hung up, he thought of something else and dialed his home number.

Ruth answered. He told her about Old Desperado, the geothermal cutoff, and

the doubtful capacity situation.

She said sympathetically, "Things do seem to happen all at once."

"I guess that's the way life works. Anyway, with all this, and rolling

blackouts starting tomorrow, I'd better not come home tonight. I'll sleep

on a cot in the office."

"I understand," Ruth said. "But be sure you get some rest, and

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remember that the children and I all need you for a long time to come."

He promised to do both.

ne special staff which had been assembled to process the so-called

Consumer Survey in North Castle had been totally disbanded two Nk,ccks

earlicr. The basement room at GSP&L headquarters, where returned

questionnaires had at first flooded in, was now in use for another

purpose.

Sporadically, a few completed questionnaires straggled in. Some days

there were one or two, on other days none.

Those that did arrive were routed by the mailroom to an elderly secretary

in public relations, Elsie Young, who bad been on the special staff but

bad since returned to her regular job. The questionnaires, in their

distinctive postage-paid envelopes, were placed on her desk and, when she

bad time and inclination, she opened and inspected them, still comparing

each with a sample of the handwriting from Georgos Arcbambault's journal.

Miss Young hoped the damn things would stop coming soon. She found them

tedious, time-wasting, and an intrusion on more interesting work.

On Tuesday, around midmorning, Elsie Young observed that one of the

special Consumcr Survey envelopes had been dropped into her intray by a

messenger, along with a sizable batch of interoffice mail. She decided

to deal with the interoffice stuff first.

Seconds after Karen concluded her conversation with Nim bv touching the

phone microsxvitch with her head, she remembered something she forgot to

tell him.

She and Josie bad planned to go shopping this morning. Should they still

do the shopping, and afterward go to Redwood Grove, or should they cancel

the shopping trip and leave for the hospital now?

Karen was tempted to call Nim back and ask his advice, then remembered

the strain in his voice and the pressures he must be working under. She

would make the decision herself.

What was it be had said about a possible power cut before tomorrow's

scheduled one? "It may not happen, in fact it probably won't 11 And

later: "It's just a long-shot precaution."

Wcll . . . obviously! The sensible thing was to go shopping first, which

Karen and Josie both enjoyed. Then they would come back brlefl\- and

afterward leave for Redwood Grove. Tlicy could still be there by early

afternoon, perhaps sooner.

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"Josie, dear," Karen called out in the direction of the kitchen. "I just

had a call from Nimrod, and if you'll come in I'll tell you about our new

plans."

Georgos Archambault possessed a certain animal instinct about danger. In

the past, the instinct had served him well and he had learned to rely on

it.

Near noon on Tuesday, as he paraded back and forth restlessly in the

confined North Castle apartment, the same instinct warned him that danger

was close.

A crucial question was: Should he obey the instinct and, taking a large

chance, leave immediately and head for La Mission and the cooling pumps he

planned to destroy? Alternatively, should be disregard the instinct and

remain until darkness, then leave as originally planned?

A second question, equally important: Was his present instinct genuine or

the product of a heightened nervousness?

Georgos wasn't sure as he debated, within himself, the pros and cons.

He intended to make his final approach to the La Mission plant pump house

underwater. Therefore, if he could get safely on the river and reasonably

close to the plant, be would submerge and, from then on, the likelihood of

his being seen was minimal, even in daylight. In fact, daylight, filtering

downward, would help him locate his underwater point of entry more easily

than in total darkness.

But could he launch the dinghy and get into it, wearing scuba gear,

unobserved? Although the spot he had chosen as a launcbpoint-a halfmile

from La Mission-was normally deserted, there was always the possibility of

someone being there and seeing him, especially during the daytime. Georgos

assessed that particular risk as: fair.

The really big hazard in daylight-a horrendous one-was to drive his

Volkswagen van through North Castle, and then to La Mission, another fifty

miles. A description of the van, and undoubtedly its license number, was in

the possession of police, sheriff's departments and the Highway Patrol. If

be were spotted, there was no way he could outrun pursuit. On the other

hand, it was eight weeks since the description had been issued and the pigs

could have forgotten, or be inattentive. Something else in his favor: There

were a lot of beat-up VW vans around and the sight of one more would not be

unusual.

just the same, Georgos assessed the first part of his mission, if under-

taken now, as: high risk.

He continued pacing and debating, then abruptly made up his mind. He would

trust his instincts about dangcr. The decision was to go!

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Georgos left the apartment at once and went into the adjoining garage.

There he began what he had intended doing tonight: Checking his

equipment carefully before departure.

He hurried, however, the sense of danger still persisting.

17

"There's a telephone call for you, Mrs. Van Buren," a waitress announced,

"and I was told to tell you it's important."

"Everybody thinks their call is important," the p.r. director grumbled,

"and most times they're dead wrong."

But she got up from the table in the GSP & L officers' dining room where

she was lunching with J. Eric Humphrey and Nim Goldman, and went to the

telephone outside.

A minute or two later she returned, excitement in her eyes. "One of those

Consumer Surveys came back and we've got a match on the Archambault

handwriting. A half-wit in my department has been sitting on the thing

all morning. I'll ream her out later, but she's on the way to the

Computer Center with it now. I said we'd meet her there."

"Get Sharlett," Eric Humphrey said, rising from the table. "Tell her to

leave her lunch." The executive vice president of finance could be seen

a few tables away.

While Van Buren did so, Nim went outside to the telephone and called

Harry London. The Property Protection chief was in his office and, when

informed of what was happening, said he would go to the Computer Center

too.

Nim knew that Oscar O'Brien, the only other member of the "think group,"

was out of town for the day.

He joined the others-the chairman, Sharlett Underhill and Van Buren-at

the elevator outside the dining room.

They bad gone through the usual security formalities in entering the

Computer Center. Now, the four who had interrupted lunch, plus Harry

London, gathered around a table as Teresa Van Buren opened out the

Consumer Survey form and a photographed handwriting sample which a

chastened Elsie Young had delivered to her a few minutes ago.

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It was Eric Humphrey who expressed what was obvious to everyone. "There's

no doubt of it being the same handwriting. Absolutely none."

Even if there were, Nim thought, what was written was a giveaway.

The terrorists you presumptuously describe as small-time, cowardly

and ignorant are none of those things. They are important, wise and

dedicated heroes. You are the igoramuses, as well as criminal

exploiters of the people. justice shall overtake you! Be warned

there will be blood and death . . .

"Why the bell," Harry London said to no one in particular, "did he take

so long?"

Sharlett Underhill held out a hand. "Give that to me."

Van Buren passed her the questionnaire and the finance chief took it to

the portable "black light" which Nim had seen used during his previous

visit to the center. Mrs. Underhill snapped the light on and held the

form under it. At the top of the sheet the number "9386" stood out.

She led the way to a computer terminal-a keyboard with a cathode ray

screen above it-and sat down.

First, Mrs. Underhill trapped in her personal code: 44SHAUND. (It was her

age and a corruption of her two names.)

The screen instantly signaled: READY. ENTER REQUEST.

She typed in the project name-NORTH CASTLE SURVEYfollowed by the secret

code, known only to herself and one other, which would release the needed

information. The words NORTH CASTLE SURVEY appeared on the screen; the

secret code didn'tthe computer's precaution against others observing and

memorizing it.

Immediately the computer signaled: ENTER QUESTIONNAIRE NUMBER.

Sharlett Underhill typed in: 9386

The screen flashed back:

OWEN GRAINGER

12 WEXHAM RD., APT E

The city's name and a zip code followed.

"I got it," Harry London said. He was already running to a phone.

Slightly more than an hour later Harry London reported personally to Eric

Humphrey and Nim, who were in the chairman's office suite.

"Archambault's flown the coop," London said. "If that woman had only

opened the questionnaire when it came in this morning . . ."

Humphrey said sharply, "Recriminations will do us no good. What did the

police find at that address?"

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"A warm trail, sir. According to a neighbor, a man who's been seen

occasionally before, drove away in a Volkswagen van half an hour before the

place was raided. The police have issued an APB for the van, and they have

the building staked out in case be comes back. But" -London shrugged-"that

guy Arcbambault has slipped through their hands before."

"He must be getting desperate," Nim said.

Eric Humphrey nodded. "I was thinking that too." He considered, then told

Nim, "I want an immediate warning sent to all our plant managers and

security personnel. Give them a report of what has happened and repeat

Archambault's description; also get a description of the vehicle he's

driving. Instruct our people everywhere to increase their vigilance and to

report anything suspicious or unusual. We've been that man's target before.

He may decide to make us one again."

"I'll get on it right away," Nim said, as he wondered: Was there no end to

what could happen in a single day?

Georgos hummed a little tune and decided that today his luck was holding.

He had been driving for an hour and a quarter and was almost at the point,

near La Mission, where he planned to launch the dinghy. Apparently his VW

van had attracted no attention, probably-in partbecause he had driven

carefully, observing traffic rules and speed limits. He had also avoided

freeways where encountering a California Highway Patrol car would have been