She packed for a weekend, and then pinched her lip. Suppose that window did shatter and let a whole lot of rain in? Richard seemed to think it could. All of her treasured possessions… but wasn’t she thinking of giving most of them up, anyway? Certainly she couldn’t take them with her.
She fed the children and put them to bed. The six o’clock forecast had revealed Faith’s westward turn, but not dramatically, and Richard had been studiously calm and relaxed about what he had had to say; she guessed he was waiting to be given his instructions by JC and decided against calling him to give him her change of plan. She’d do it later.
Instead she tried getting a shore to ship call through to Esmeralda, but after an hour the operator told her it was impossible to raise the yacht and that she must still be out of range. That was a lot preferable to wondering if she could have been dismasted and lost her aerials, so Jo agreed to try again tomorrow morning, immediately before leaving for Bognor.
By now she decided it might be a good time to tell Richard what she was doing, or rather, what she was not doing before tomorrow, and called the studio, but the switchboard said he’d gone out for a bite to eat. “Ask him to call Mrs Donnelly when he comes in, will you,” Jo said. By now everyone in the world, she supposed, knew that she and Richard had something going — and she didn’t mind.
To keep herself awake, she kept the TV on and watched some irrelevant mini-series, and promptly fell fast asleep, to awake with a start. There had been a succession of rain squalls slashing the windows on and off during the evening, and distant rumblings, but she was totally surprised by the sudden flash of lightning and the almost immediate crack of thunder right overhead. The whole apartment block shuddered again and again, a vicious reminder of what it might be like were the hurricane really to hit the city.
She got up and went into the bedrooms, but amazingly, both Owen Michael and Tamsin were still fast asleep. But that thunderclap had ended her last doubt about leaving.
Then she thought of Marcia and Benny. They should leave too, and also seek the safety of Pinewoods. She reached for the phone and punched out the numbers, tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for them to answer, but there was no response. Her watch showed eleven o’clock, so there was no possibility they would have gone to bed. Thus they had to be out, at a party. She’d have to try them again later. She replaced the phone, and heard Julian Summers’ voice, hastily turned back to the set.
“We are interrupting this program to bring you the latest update on Hurricane Faith. Here is Richard Connors.”
Richard had changed his wet clothes and was again well dressed and immaculate, but his face was grave. “Good evening,” he said. “This is Richard Connors, bringing you the latest information we have on Hurricane Faith. Faith is now a very big storm indeed, the biggest, in terms of wind speeds, ever recorded. She has sustained winds around the center of approximately 170 miles an hour, and her present position is here…” He stood in front of the wall map and pointed with his wand. “The co-ordinates are 37 degrees 20 minutes North Latitude. 71 degrees 46 minutes West Longitude. That places her, as you can see, 280 miles east by north of Norfolk, Virginia, and exactly the same distance southeast of New York. You can also see from her track, that she is now definitely heading northwest. There was some doubt about that earlier this evening, but now it is almost certain that we are going to feel the full effects of the storm here. There is also some evidence that Faith is beginning to quicken. For the past two days she has been moving very slowly, at an average of 10 knots. Now the speed appears to be increasing, which means that she could be no more than 24 hours away from us, if that. In any event, she will be here not later than Sunday morning.
“Now this is a highly dangerous storm. I repeat, she is the most dangerous storm we have ever seen in this area. Because of her size and intensity, we have little previous experience to work on, but with winds this high we can expect extensive damage. This means most roofs are going to be at risk, and all windows and doors will be extremely vulnerable. There is no glass in the world will stand up to such a force. There may also even be a risk to complete buildings, unless they have been constructed to an exceptionally high standard. That is what the wind will do. But an even greater problem will be presented by the storm surge. It could be as high as 30 feet, depending on the state of the tide when the hurricane actually touches land, but the effects will be felt some five hours before the full force of the storm is encountered. Such a storm surge would mean the flooding of vast areas of land along the coast, and indeed of considerable portions of Manhattan itself. We at NABS feel that in these circumstances it is our duty to warn you that everyone living within five miles of the coast in the area stretching from Atlantic City to Newport, Rhode Island, must consider themselves and their property in grave danger. In the interests of human safety we urge everyone who can to evacuate these areas before tomorrow afternoon and certainly all those whose dwellings are situated less than 50 feet above sea level. For those who cannot evacuate, for whatever reason, instant preparations must be made for a period of up to 48 hours after the storm has passed through. Especially is this important for anyone trapped… remaining in a high-rise office or apartment. This is because extensive and prolonged power outages can be expected as well as a complete failure of the telephone system. Additionally, a refuge should be prepared in each apartment away from external windows and doors, and a store of drinking water ensured. The best way to do this is fill the bathtub, now, while there is uncontaminated water available — but that water must be used only for drinking purposes.”
He paused, and took a sip of water. “We have contacted the Police Department and asked for their immediate assistance in effecting this evacuation, and we are looking forward to their co-operation. Now let me stress that there is absolutely no need for any kind of panic. Hurricane Faith cannot reach New York before tomorrow afternoon at the very earliest. Therefore there is ample time for every man, woman and child who wishes to do so to leave the city. We hope and pray that this may only be a precautionary measure, that Faith may again change direction and retreat into the Atlantic, and that the danger may be past by this time tomorrow night. But until it is past, we must repeat, if your home is less than 50 feet above normal water level, and if it is within five miles of the sea, it may become subject to flooding and structural damage during the next 48 hours. This station will of course remain on the air for as long as there is power, bringing you up-dates and information, as they are available. This is Richard Connors, for the National American Broadcasting Service. Thank you.”
SATURDAY 29 JULY: Pre-Dawn
National American Broadcasting Service Offices, Fifth Avenue — 12.10 am
“Whew!” Julian Summers said, and wiped his brow.
“So here we go,” Jayme agreed.
Richard lit a cigarette, something he very rarely did.
“I must say,” Julian remarked. “I am really amazed that you finally persuaded JC to put that message out.”
“Or that McGrath agreed to co-operate,” Jayme said.
Richard stubbed out the cigarette again; he had taken only two puffs. “I didn’t persuade anyone,” he said.
“You mean they got the message,” Julian suggested.
“No,” Richard said. “I couldn’t get hold of JC until half an hour ago; although he told me to contact him after the six-o’clock update, he’d gone out to cocktails and dinner. Then he flatly refused to allow a warning to go out until Faith is within 100 miles of the city. Kept repeating that we had done all we could by forecasting what was going to happen; it was up to the city authorities to take whatever steps they thought necessary, and if they didn’t, well, to quote his favorite expression, the egg would be over their faces, not ours.”
“Holy Jesus Christ,” Julian commented. “Does he have any idea?”
“None whatsoever. He’s prepared to risk maybe a million lives to score a political point.”
“Well, thank God the police woke up i
n time,” Jayme said.
“Let’s hope they do,” Richard agreed.
She stared at him. “You mean…”
“I didn’t waste my time trying to get them to move. I didn’t have the time. New York doesn’t have the time.”
They both stared at him. “Let me get this straight,” Julian said at last. “You put out that warning without JC’s permission, and without any reference to the NYPD?”
“It was the only way,” Richard told them. “It had to be done.”
“You have any idea what’s going to be happening down there once that message percolates?”
“So there’ll be an upheaval. And the police will just have to step in and sort it out. Just as they should’ve been doing since this morning. But people will start to leave the city, and that’s all that matters. Sorry, gang, to have landed you in it…”
“Oh, we’re with you,” Jayme said. “But I guess we’d better barricade that door.”
“And take the phones off,” Julian suggested.
As he spoke, Richard’s buzzed.
“I think I’ll take all calls,” Richard said, and picked it up. “Connors.”
“Oh, Mr Connors,” the switchboard said. “A Mrs Donnelly called a couple of hours ago, while you were out. She asked for you to call her back, but you told me you were taking no messages until your late forecast.”
“Thank you, Maisie,” Richard said. “She’ll be out in Bognor, Connecticut. Just a moment.” He checked his address book, gave her the number. “Call her there, will you.” He replaced the phone, looked at his staff “It’ll take JC a little longer than that to react, I guess.”
Park Avenue — 12.15 am
Jo realized that she had completely misjudged the rapidity with which the authorities would get to work once they were convinced there really was trouble coming. And of course Richard would not have thought it necessary to let her know because he would assume she was already safely tucked away in Connecticut. “Oh, damn,” she muttered.
But it would still surely take an hour or so for people to react and get on the streets. She was already packed, and the Mercedes was topped up with gas.
She ran into Owen Michael’s bedroom, shook him awake. “Get dressed,” she said. “Quickly now.”
He sat up, looked at his window, against which the rain was pounding. “Is it dawn?” he asked incredulously.
“Not quite,” Jo told him. “But we’re leaving early. Hurry.” She went into Tamsin’s room, got her up as well.
“But Mommy,” Tamsin complained. “It’s all dark and rainy out there.”
“It’ll be light in Connecticut,” Jo promised. “Now do hurry.”
She returned to the lounge, once again looked around her. She must have left the apartment something like five hundred times to drive up to Bognor, never with the slightest doubt that in two days’ time she would be back, or that everything would be exactly as she had left it. Now, wherever she glanced, her eye picked up something of enormous personal importance, presents from her parents, school trophies, photographs… a kitchen drawer disgorged plastic carriers and she rushed from room to room grabbing miscellaneous memorabilia, throwing them into a jumble until the carriers threatened to split. The carriage clock in the lounge said twenty-five minutes past twelve and she grabbed it, dropped it into her anorak pocket, and jostled Owen Michael and Tamsin out of the front door, dashed back for three cans of Coke and some cookies, and finally they crammed into the elevator with their belongings.
“Mom?” Owen Michael was at last waking up. “It’s only just gone midnight.”
“I know, darling.”
“What an hour to leave town,” Tamsin commented.
“What’s the idea, Mom?”
Jo hesitated. She had to be careful not to frighten them, or get them worrying about their own treasured possessions such as Owen Michael’s collection of model airplanes. “I thought we’d surprise Granpa and Granma.”
“Surprise them?” Owen Michael said. “Holy shit!”
“Now please, Owen Michael,” Jo remonstrated, and breathed a sigh of relief as the car came to rest in the lobby. Washington emerged from the office, much to her surprise. “Washington,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on night duty this week, Mrs Donnelly, in place of Luke Edwardes.” He eyed the bags. “You folks going off somewhere, then? It sure is a poor night out there.”
“Owen Michael, go on down to the garage and get yourself and Tamsin settled,” Jo instructed. “Take those bags.”
“I can do that, Mrs Donnelly,” Washington protested.
“You can help me with this big one,” Jo said. She watched the children disappear down the stairs. “Didn’t you see the latest up-date on the hurricane, Washington?” she whispered. “It’s coming straight at us. So I’m taking the children out of town.”
“You are? Heck.” His breath came through his teeth. “No, I didn’t see it. What channel carried that?”
“NABS, not half an hour ago.”
“No, I was watching a film about… say, ma’am, when are they expecting the storm to hit?” His eyes were wide with alarm.
“Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow morning.”
“Oh! Then there’s plenty time.” He smiled.
“There isn’t,” Jo scolded. “Do you know how many people live in Manhattan? Maybe seven million. Can you imagine the traffic jams when they all decide to leave together? There could well be a panic.”
Washington stroked his chin and slowly nodded. “Guess you could be right, Mrs Donnelly. And that warning was put out by that Richard Connors, I guess. He’d know what’s going on. And he’s a friend of yours, too.”
So you must know what’s going on as well, Jo thought, having seen Richard coming here at odd hours of the day, and night. But that wasn’t important, at this minute. “Yes,” she said. “He does. Washington, I think you should wake everybody in the building, and tell them to leave. And then leave yourself.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Mrs Donnelly,” Washington protested. “I couldn’t leave anyhow until I was sure the building was evacuated, and I couldn’t leave even then. Suppose somebody was to break in?”
“Washington, no one can expect you to sit here throughout a hurricane, surely. Okay, so you have to see everybody off the premises, but then surely you can go. Ring the agents and find out.”
“At one o’clock in the morning? There wouldn’t be anyone there, Mrs Donnelly. But I’d better go wake those folks up. They ain’t going to be too pleased, either.”
“And be sure you leave yourself the moment you can,” Jo said severely.
“Yeah. I guess I could wake the old lady now and tell her to pack a bag,” Washington decided. “Yeah. You say that storm is coming straight for us?”
“Yes,” Jo said. “Straight for us.” She staggered down the stairs with the bag to join the children in the Mercedes.
New York Police Department Headquarters, Park Row — 12.30 am
Assistant Commissioner McGrath yawned, stretched, and looked at his watch. “Christ! It’s gone midnight.”
The waiting police captains seated around the table exchanged glances; they could have told him that half an hour ago. It was his innovation, to hold these Friday night sessions when every conceivable important case or public event coming up the following week was reviewed in detail, numbers of men required on the spot allocated, and responsibility determined, so that every man would arrive at the office on Monday morning knowing exactly what he had to do — but they did drag on.
“Any coffee left?” the AC asked, and then got up to walk to the window and look out at Park Row. “Brother, is it raining out there.” He blinked at the lightning flash which cut across the sky. “And doing everything else as well.” Someone placed a fresh cup of coffee in his hand, and he turned back to face his men. “Anything left before we wrap it up?”
“Just the Garcia case,” said Captain Harmon.
“Hell, yes, I’d
forgotten that. When do we get Garcia back from Cleveland?”
“He arrived this afternoon. He’s downstairs in the cells now. We’re going to charge him Monday.”
“Any trouble with Cleveland?”
“A few grumbles. But I pointed out they only have a trafficking charge. We have extortion and murder in addition to narcotics, and our warrant was signed before theirs. So they agreed we should have first crack.”
“Will the murder charge stick?”
“Probably not, given Garcia’s reputation for getting rid of witnesses. But I think we have him on the narcotics.”
McGrath pointed. “If we can’t fry the rat, I want him put away for so long he’ll have forgotten which way Manhattan faces when he comes out. Got me?”
“We’ll put him away, Chief,” Harmon said soothingly.
“Just so long as you do. Keep me posted, every inch of the way. Okay. Let’s call it a day.”
The men started to get up, and the telephone rang. Captain Wright picked it up, listened. “It’s the eighth precinct. For you, Harry.”
Captain Jonsson took the phone, listening, brows slowly gathering into a frown. “So the weekend is starting early,” he remarked, then listened some more. “Okay,” he said at last, “I’m coming over. Put some extra men out. I’ll be right there.” He replaced the phone. “There’s something strange going on. My people say the streets are suddenly getting real busy, and there’s been some trouble after an accident.”
“What do you mean, busy?” McGrath demanded. “In the middle of the night?”
“People leaving town,” Jonsson explained.
“In the middle of the night?” McGrath asked again, incredulously.
“Going away early for the weekend,” Wright suggested.
“That’s what I thought,” Jonsson said. “But there could be more to it than that. Lieutenant Lancing says there’s damn near a riot going on because some character has skidded and blocked a road. Seems people are shouting they have to get out of town before Faith gets here.”
Her Name Will Be Faith Page 28