The Big One

by Harrison Arnston

  “I’m not all that busy, Mr. Kowal … sisick, but that’s beside the point. All I know about Thomas’s death is what I’ve read in the papers, like anyone else. I can’t be of much help to you and it would be a waste of your time.”

  Ted looked deeply into her eyes, made a snap decision and played it out. “Actually,” he said, “what I wanted to talk to you about was Tommy’s work. He was a friend of mine. Before he died, he wrote me a letter in which he stated his belief that a very large earthquake would hit L.A. this year. In fact, his letter indicated that he thought it would be the biggest earthquake the world has ever known. He seemed quite sure of himself.”

  She almost dropped the dog.

  “Come in,” she said, holding the screen door open.

  She may have been in her seventies, but Dr. Glenda Wickshire was a very contemporary woman. The house was furnished in what might be called California modern, all chrome and hot colors, lots of glass and mirrors and art that ranged from Yamagata serigraphs to Picasso prints. There wasn’t a doily in sight.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee? Perhaps a glass of wine?”

  “Coffee would be fine,” Ted said. “Thank you.”

  She let the dog down and he immediately pranced over to check Ted out.

  “He’ll leave you alone in a minute,” she said. “He’s very good.”

  The dog sat at Ted’s feet, his mouth open, panting, his eyes shining, the small powder-puff of a tail carving a temporary pattern in the thick carpet as it wagged back and forth. Then, he ran his nose all over Ted’s shoes and socks, his little nostrils almost vibrating with excitement. He was still there when Dr. Wickshire returned with the coffee.

  “Pierre!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with condemnation. The dog moved back, hung its head in shame and practically crawled to a corner of the room where it plopped down, resting its small head on its front paws, the eyes never leaving Ted.

  The coffee was hot and fresh. Dr. Wickshire, her face white, her hands trembling slightly, apologized. “I’m sorry. He’s normally very good.”

  “It’s quite all right,” Ted said. “I was wearing these same pants around a bunch of cats not too long ago. I think he smells them on me.”

  The doctor glared at her pet for a moment and then turned her attention to Ted. “So,” she said, “tell me how you know Thomas.”

  She was being careful, something that Ted appreciated immensely. He liked her instantly. For the next five minutes, he gave her a complete briefing on his relationship with Tommy. When he was done, she seemed to regard him as less of a possible threat.

  “So Thomas told you he thought a great earthquake was coming?”

  “Yes,” Ted said. “He said it would measure between 9 and 9.5 on the Richter scale.”

  For a moment, she simply stared at him, her breathing coming in short, shallow gasps. Then she put a hand to her forehead and said, “My God! No wonder!”

  “No wonder?”

  Again, she said nothing, instead seeming to concentrate on her labored breathing. Then, she said, “For years, Thomas, I, and a few others have had informal discussions about the possibility of such a quake. We certainly weren’t alone. It’s something that most of us in the field discuss constantly. Notwithstanding the fact that we were all engaged in the business of studying earthquakes, we are all intensely interested for other reasons, not the least of which is the fact that we live here. It’s more than just a vocation. As you can appreciate, those of us who live in California are interested in earthquakes as a matter of course.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I live in L.A.”

  “Well, then … You’ve no doubt heard the prognostications. Unalterable fact, young man. Not geomancy. Without question, there will be a great earthquake in California within the next three decades, either up here or down in your end of the state. We’re all convinced of that. But … while we talk a lot about it, there’s never been anyone who could really put their finger on when and where. Not to mention the magnitude of such a quake.

  “Thomas was almost consumed with this pursuit of his. He was very single-minded, actually. Earthquake prediction was his stated purpose in life and he inculcated us with each and every new step that was being taken. He was quite effusive. And then, quite suddenly, he stopped coming to our little gatherings a few years ago. He said his work had been classified by the government and he was no longer able to talk about it. Naturally, we all wondered about that, because we’ve all been involved with data that was turned over to the government with no thought towards classifying any of it. After all, most of the research is paid for by taxpayers’ dollars. It had simply never happened before.

  “After some discussion, we concluded that Thomas was not being honest with us. We took the position that he and the people he worked for were simply on to something that they did not wish to share with us, for reasons we took to be personal. Fame, fortune, something along those lines. It’s not uncommon for scientists to become greedy when they’re close to a major breakthrough, whatever their field of endeavor.

  “For Thomas to say what he did to you — no offense — but an outsider — comes as a very large surprise. It sheds an entirely new light on his motives. But, I still cannot believe he was working for the government. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “He was,” Ted said. “There’s no mistake about that. And he told me what he did because he thought he was going to be murdered.”

  His words had the impact of a sharp blow. Involuntarily, her hand flew to her throat. “Murdered!” she cried. “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’m very serious, Doctor. That’s why I’m looking into his death. I believe he was murdered.”

  For a moment, he thought she might faint. He made a move to reach toward her but she held up a hand. The dog came running from his resting place and leaped into her lap.

  “It’s all right, Pierre, it’s all right,” she said as she petted him, calming him down. The dog hesitated for a moment, then bounded back to the carpet and jogged back towards his favorite corner, but not before giving Ted what seemed like a dirty look.

  People and dogs. It was easy to see why some people treated them better than they would human beings. If they were trained properly, they were loyal, undemanding companions. Never an argument. Always glad to see you. Agreeing with everything you said without question. Not like cats. He hated cats.

  Dogs were different.

  “I can’t believe that Thomas was murdered,” she said, recovering her self-control quickly. “I just can’t. You seem to be saying that he was murdered because of his convictions. That simply isn’t possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s no proven way to predict earthquakes. Not yet. Certainly, much research is being done and there have been some impressive case histories, but … we’re a long way from being able to really do what you suggest. And even if we could, the costs would be enormous. In the billions. Even if Thomas was working for the government, and even if funds were almost unlimited, that kind of breakthrough is still years away. You simply have no idea.”

  Ted sipped his coffee for a moment and then asked, “What can you tell me about earthquakes?”

  She looked at him as though he were mad. “That’s a rather lengthy discussion, Mr. Kowal … sisick.”

  “Please … call me Ted. It’s easier.”

  “I’d rather not,” she said, pointedly.

  Ted leaned forward. Pierre was immediately back on his feet, ready to move. He was just a little thing, but he had the instincts of a tiger, ready to take on anything or anybody.

  “Dr. Wickshire,” Ted said, keeping his voice as even as possible, “I don’t mean to be offensive. I really don’t. I’m not here to badger you. If I seem a little hostile it’s because I’m a trained investigator who knows when something isn’t right. I have good reason to believe that Tommy was murdered, and that makes me angry.

  “I also have reason to believe that Tommy was on to something. I t
hink he was right about a big quake in L.A. and I think there are people trying to suppress that information.

  “I’m looking for help. A lot of help. I need a friend, someone I can trust. Someone who can work with me and keep her mouth shut. Someone who isn’t all that trustful of governments. Someone who has a mind of her own and isn’t afraid to use it.”

  He looked at her, his eyes filled with pleading, and said, “Will you help me?”

  For a moment, she stared at him intently, trying to take the measure of this stranger who’d just entered her house and thrown lightning bolts of shock at her. This man, who spoke directly and to the point. Who seemed sincere, if not obsessed. There was a sense of danger about him. A certain tinge of mystery. At this point in her life, she welcomed some excitement.

  It had been a lonely life indeed. She’d never married. There’d been men, early on. Men who’d said they had no objections to her working, following her fascination with nature, especially rocks. But she knew differently. She knew that as soon as she married one of them, the pressures would start. Pressures to stop working, have a family, become a housewife like every other woman of that era. It was expected.

  Until recently, she’d never regretted her decision. But now, in the twilight of her years, there were times.…

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Perhaps, I just need someone to talk to. Someone who knows about earthquakes, the people involved with them … the bureaucracy.…”

  “Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll help you.”

  Very deliberately, Ted opened his briefcase and withdrew the second copy of Tommy’s report. “I think you should read this,” he said, handing it to her.

  “I thought you said this was only going to take a few minutes,” she said, as she hefted the report in her hands.

  “I lied,” Ted said, looking apologetic.

  First she read Tommy’s letter. Then she quickly leafed through the report. When she had finished, she looked at Ted, her face white and drawn. “My God,” she said. “I was aware, of course … aware that discussions had been held relative to the possible evacuation of a major city, but …” She stopped and touched a hand to her cheek, “It was such conjecture. We all assumed it would be decades before we would be able to effectively predict a great earthquake. The discussions seemed so redundant! I never expected to live to see the day when …” Her voice trailed off.

  Ted leaned forward again and asked, “These discussions … why wouldn’t they have developed a workable plan? Why isn’t something being done right now?”

  “It’s always been a question of priorities,” she said, almost wistfully. “Since earthquake prediction is in its infancy as a science, we were constantly fighting to procure more funds for research. They were very hard to come by and never enough. Then again, you must understand that undertaking the development of a plan for the evacuation of a city the size of Los Angeles is enormously expensive as well. First the plan has to be devised and then it has to be maintained. Things change. New roads are built, new buildings … previously available resources become unavailable. It requires constant updating … a full-time staff, equipment.…

  “It’s a case of what comes first, the chicken or the egg. If there is no effective way to predict an earthquake, what is the point of spending precious resources on evacuation plans that will never be implemented? You see?”

  “I see,” he said.

  “So … we were all more concerned with the aftereffects of such a quake. Getting medical facilities in place, devising emergency measures to cover a wide range of problems. Evacuation beforehand … was something that seemed a fantasy. At least for some time. I had no idea that the matter had been seriously addressed … and by a secret government agency … My God!”

  She seemed close to tears.

  “Will you help me?” he asked.

  “I told you I would,” she said. “But … could you let me keep this report for awhile? I’d like to look it over thoroughly.”

  Ted rose to his feet. “That’s not a problem. But I would caution you to not discuss this with anyone. And I mean anyone. Until I have a better handle on this situation, I’m not sure who we can trust and who we can’t. And, as I said earlier, I’m convinced Tommy was murdered. I wouldn’t want … anything to happen to you.”

  She stared at him for a moment and slowly nodded her head. “I’ll keep it to myself,” she said. Then, “What exactly are you planning on doing with this information?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” he said. “I only know that somehow … I have to find a way to make them change their minds. Los Angeles has to be evacuated. This cannot be allowed to happen.”

  She continued to stare at him for a while longer. Then her attention returned to Tommy’s letter, her face mirroring the emotions that churned within her. After looking it over one more time, she lifted her head and sighed deeply. “There’s the possibility,” she said, “that this report is inaccurate. Have you considered that?”

  “I have,” he said. “But somehow, I don’t think it is. Do you?”

  For a moment she said nothing. Then, in a very quiet voice, she said, “I’ll let you know tomorrow. After I’ve had an opportunity to really study it.”

  He extended his hand. “OK, Doctor. Thanks for your help. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She stood up and gripped his hand firmly. “Yes. Tomorrow.” Then she asked, “Are you a religious man, Mr. Kowalczyk?”

  “Not really,” he said, quickly.

  “Then I’ll have to do the praying for both of us,” she said, a sad little smile on her lips.

  Thirteen

  * * *

  He could smell it in the hallway as he walked purposefully toward the door to her apartment. The door was already ajar when he got there, the delicious smells wafting through the small opening.

  “I hope I’m not too late,” he said, as he stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him.

  “No, it’s fine,” she called from the kitchen. “We have time for a drink and then it’ll be ready.”

  She peeked out from around the entryway to the small kitchen and motioned to a tray sitting on a side table in the living room. “Help yourself to a drink. I’ll be right there.”

  By the time he fixed his drink, she was there, her hair carefully combed and framing the high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes, unlike yesterday, seemed to sparkle with new life.

  She was wearing a simple white blouse and a full black skirt. Her legs were bare and her feet were shod in leather thongs. She carried a glass of white wine in her hand as she walked into the living room, her body a study in fluid, sensual motion.

  “Did you find out anything?”

  “Not yet,” he lied. “I talked to some people but it’ll be a few days before I really get some answers back.”

  “Did you talk to Dr. Wickshire?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you think of her?”

  He grinned. “She’s a hell of a woman. Sharp as a tack, independent, like you said. I like her. She’s doing some research for me. She said she’d have some answers tomorrow.”

  She looked at him intently. “You said you came up here because of Tommy,” she said. “What would she know about Tommy’s death?”

  “Nothing really. I’m just trying to understand a little of Tommy’s work. I’m trying to figure out why he thought he was in danger.”

  For a moment she just looked at him, the big eyes trying to take a read. “And have you?”

  He wanted to tell her badly. At the same time, he didn’t want her involved any further than she already was. Tommy was dead, murdered, and she’d been paid off on a life insurance policy that never existed, by a government agency that worked in the shadows. It wasn’t the time.

  “Not yet,” he said. “As I told you, I talked to some people and I’m still trying to sort it all out. Once I have a feel for what’s going on, I’ll fill you in. Real
ly.”

  “Then, you’re going to be here a few days?” She said it quickly, her voice betraying her excitement.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I’m glad.”

  The glow in her cheeks told him that she meant it.

  “I hope you like chicken cacciatore,” she said.

  “I love it,” Ted replied, honestly. “I can’t cook a lick and you have no idea how wonderful it is to have a genuine home-cooked meal for a change.”

  “And you,” she said, “have no idea how nice it is to have a man for dinner who isn’t a total sleazeball.”

  She was right. It hadn’t even entered his mind.

  He’d rarely thought of her as anything but an appendage, granted a beautiful one, but an appendage nonetheless. Or maybe Tommy was the appendage. Whatever. They were two, not one of each. A pair. A couple. It had always been that way, ever since the first day they’d laid eyes on each other. Tommy and Terry. Together. Holding hands or hugging or kissing or simply talking. But always together.

  In college, they’d been four, but he’d always seen them as a unit. It never occurred to him that after the divorce, she’d be sought after by other men. It was only natural, but it just never occurred to him. It was foreign. It didn’t fit.

  “I guess it’s a little tough out there,” he said. “The single marketplace.”

  “Tough? God! I think sometimes that I wanted Tommy back because he was a known quantity. He ignored me, he had a hundred other faults, but at least I knew what to expect, even if it was nothing. Meeting new people, knowing that it might develop into a relationship, is brutal. You hear yourself speaking words you’ve never used before in an effort to impress. Impress who? The guy is usually married and lying about it, or he thinks you’ve got a case of the hots because you’re divorced and getting sick and tired of … being alone.

  “Men, present company excepted, are such turds, Ted. Really, they are. Oh sure, I met some real upfront guys, men with character, who made no bones about the fact they were married. Some of them were nice but there’s no future in that. As for the available ones … there were a few nice ones, but they were generally self-absorbed, like Tommy. They’d talk for hours about themselves. I’d try to be interested, but God! They were so damn boring! After the divorce, I swore to myself that the next man would have to …”