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Saving Cascadia

Page 27

by John J. Nance


  Diane followed his finger as it traced the shadow through the data points. “It looks fatal for this island.”

  “To say the least!” he replied, almost as a snort. “No one would have ever built on this place if this fault had been discovered. It means all the main buildings are unsafe, and it means that Mick Walker is going to have to evacuate the hotel, the casino, and the entire island before it literally splits apart.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Diane, who did the basic analysis of this data?”

  She hesitated, her hand waving generally in the direction of San Francisco. “We have a geologic department, you know, for soils analysis and… seismic…”

  “Isn’t there anyone there who’s competent?”

  “I thought they were. Why?”

  “And you said there was a formal report, and it looked cursory?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the report seem too cursory for a competent geologist to have signed off on it?”

  “I don’t know. Now that you mention it, it did seem a little amateurish.” She motioned to the screen. “You’re suggesting the report I finally wheedled out of them was a sham, aren’t you? The real report showed everything?”

  “Maybe. If the one you were given didn’t contain information about this fault, it could have been a sham to stop you from asking more questions. Maybe there was a real report that told everything and someone hid it and rewrote one just for you, or for Walker, too. Do you know for certain the report you saw… the one that didn’t mention the fault… went to Walker?”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty sure of it. I saw mailing receipts. You know, FedEx airbills.”

  “Did any of the geological staff quit about the same time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe they never got involved to begin with.”

  “You know, I figured that what I was bringing you might well destroy Mick, but this will take Chadwick and Noble down, too.”

  “If someone purposely pulled a cover-up, you’re right. It will end up being a mini-Enron. Do you have a safety copy of this somewhere else?”

  She nodded. “So, what do we do now?” she asked, deftly shifting from an “I” to a “we.”

  “The impossible,” Doug replied. “And that starts with finding Walker immediately and showing him this.”

  “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. In the meantime, I’d like to use your hair dryer and see if I can get some of the water out of my dress.”

  “Sure. There are thick robes in the closet. Help yourself.”

  Chapter 26

  CASCADIA ISLAND HOTEL 9:20 P.M.

  Jennifer sat bolt upright in the luxurious king-size bed, angry with herself for being too tired to sleep. She knew the routine from experience. It would take hours of tossing and turning to finally shake off the adrenalized events of the previous twenty-four hours and drop into a deep enough sleep to do any substantial recharging of her body, let alone her mind. She’d tried to short-circuit the process and force herself to sleep, but continuous tremors, the howling of the wind outside, the awful confrontation with her father, and the underlying heartache over Doug’s duplicity were all marching through her mind like an army.

  Doug.

  Why hadn’t he called her? She’d fully expected the message he’d left when she returned. He was here on the island and had no idea how angry she was. She’d phoned his room immediately, but there was no answer, and she tried his cell phone before leaving a terse message.

  Jennifer tossed the feather comforter off with one flick of her hand and began pulling on clothes from her overnight bag. She grabbed her purse as an afterthought and headed for the front desk, where the desk clerk politely refused to tell her which room Doug was occupying.

  There was an empty concierge desk across the lobby and she found a large envelope there, but no paper. She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a blank, folded piece of writing paper which she inserted in the envelope without marking on it.

  To: Dr. Doug Lam

  TIME-CRITICAL—PLEASE DELIVER TO DR. LAM’S ROOM IMMEDIATELY. LEAVE UNDER DOOR IF NO ANSWER.

  She handed the envelope and a ten-dollar bill to a bellman and walked to the elevator lobby, turning instead into a small alcove where she could stay hidden and yet watch anyone going up.

  Two of the elevator cars were open, and, as she expected after such a substantial tip, the bellman appeared within a minute and boarded one. She stayed out of sight until the doors were closed, watching the readout of floors until she’d confirmed where he was heading. She moved into the adjacent car then and punched five.

  As she’d hoped, the bellman was still moving down the corridor of the fifth floor when she arrived and peeked around the corner. She counted the doors he was passing until he stopped less than fifty feet distant and knocked on one she could see clearly. There was a short delay before it swung open and a woman in a bathrobe stepped into view to retrieve the envelope.

  The woman was young and beautiful, her auburn hair wild, as if she was freshly loved and emerging from the scene of a liaison, and for a moment Jennifer wanted to believe that the bellman had made a mistake.

  But the woman turned, as if listening to someone deeper in the room who was coming to the door to take the envelope. She held it out to him as Doug Lam appeared, looking disheveled, and handed the bellman a dollar.

  Jennifer caught her breath and retreated around the corner, darting into a small ice machine utility room as the bellman returned to the elevator and waited. She heard the doors open and close, but there seemed no point in coming out. There was an upturned plastic bucket in the corner and she sank onto it in stunned silence.

  Who was the auburn-haired lover? Had he picked her up, or was this someone he’d arranged to be with? But why Cascadia? Because it was the last place she’d think to look? But… surely he would have expected someone in Walker’s organization to spill the fact that he’d been there, and in the absence of earthquakes and ultimatums from her, he would be just plain cheating on her.

  Like he did with his ex-wife, she thought. I don’t know this man.

  There was a choice, Jennifer told herself. Sit on the stupid bucket and cry until some shocked guest came in and tried to give her unwelcome help, or go rip his door off the hinges and demand an explanation. Be a victim or seize control. What choice was that?

  She could hear voices in the corridor now and the sound of the elevator arriving and departing, and when it was quiet again, she stood and charged out of the utility room and down the corridor where she pounded on his door.

  There was no answer.

  She knocked again.

  Still nothing, and anger began to rise within her at his audacity for trying to hide.

  She pounded harder, louder, adding her voice.

  “I know you’re in there, Doug! And I know she’s with you. Open the damn door and come out like a man and face me!”

  Still nothing, except the sound of several other doors being opened along the corridor as other guests stuck their heads out, wondering what the commotion was all about.

  The tears were flowing now, the frustration and anger boiling over as she felt the muscles in the back of her neck reaching alert proportions, tightening like steel bands, the inevitable headache already starting to rumble its way into existence. She felt her heart and pulse pounding as loudly as her hand was pounding on the door, but no matter how she willed it to open, the door remained shut, and at last she stopped and stepped back.

  A portly man in a business suit was coming down the hall toward her, a deeply worried expression on his face. She could see other faces peering out of various rooms as he reached her and tried to take her by the shoulders.

  “Are you all right, Miss?”

  She shrugged him off and stepped back, unable to completely control the sobs that were catching in her throat.

  “Y… yes! Tha… thanks.”

  “I think I know what’s happening here
… My wife and I wanted to know if you’d like to talk about it with someone? I’m a pastor.”

  She was shaking her head and backing up in confusion.

  “No. Thanks.”

  “Well… okay. We’d be glad to help, though. These things are always difficult.”

  She turned and walked to the elevator, banging on the down button, aware the man had started walking slowly toward her again out of concern.

  The stairwell was a short distance away and she darted to it, desperate to disappear from the scene of her embarrassing loss of control. The two flights to her floor went by in an instant and she paused at the landing, unsure whether to wait and collect herself or burst into her corridor and hope no one was watching as she blubbered her way to her room. Somehow she found her key card, slipped inside, and closed the door firmly behind her.

  In private at last, Jennifer slid slowly down the wall to the floor where she hugged her knees to her chest and let the dam break.

  CASCADIA ISLAND HOTEL

  Sanjay’s call came as Doug and Diane Lacombe were crossing the lobby. His voice was terse and intense, with none of the usual humor.

  “Doug, we’re seeing regularly spaced microquakes now in the Quiet Zone, and they’re being echoed from north Vancouver Island all the way to the southern end.”

  “What is it?” Diane asked as Doug came to a halt and partially bent over to hear. He held up a hand in a wait gesture.

  “Are they almost rhythmic?”

  “Yes, they are. But they’re everywhere now north and south along the zone above twenty-five kilometers. Doug, that’s along the entire eight hundred miles of the subduction front! You hear what I’m saying?”

  “Stay calm. Tell me your precise interpretation, Sanjay.”

  “Terry and I talked. He’s still monitoring his array, and he and I both think it’s beyond question now that this is an overture to the big break. Nature may be giving us a final warning to get to safety, and if we’re right about that, there isn’t much time. You need to get the hell off that island, man.”

  “I’m not sure I can. The only ferry took out the dock and sank, and I can’t even find Jennifer to check on the possibility of flying out.”

  “Doug, please call Terry as quickly as possible. You need to hear what he’s seeing. And have you found the governor yet?”

  “Yes, but he raced away when I told him about Olympia. He’s not going to do anything, even though I told him the USGS was issuing an alert.”

  “You told him what?”

  “Just so you’ll know if it hits the fan.”

  “Have… have you talked to Menlo Park?”

  “No.”

  “But you said that to the governor? That we’d already issued an alert?”

  “I had to. I know we’re right about this. But obviously there is no official alert yet, right?”

  “Absolutely not! Our headquarters is waiting for Washington to okay it. Holy shit, Doug! I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Well, I did, but it didn’t work. What does Terry need to tell me?”

  “He’s seeing something strange on his seismic array.”

  “Strange? Good grief, Sanjay, everything about this is strange.”

  “He wouldn’t go into it with me. Just call him.”

  “I’ll do it now.”

  He rang off and quickly dialed Terry’s cell phone. The seismologist had been tracking the progressive increase in the microquakes and the larger tremors in the Quilieute Quiet Zone some twenty to twenty-five kilometers beneath them, and his sensitive seismographic coastal array could “see” far more than the ones Sanjay was watching in Seattle.

  “Something very odd is going on just under or on that island, Doug. I’m picking up large impacts on the surface that are not earthquakes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like… like pile drivers or something. Everyone I’ve called out there tells me there’s no construction going on, but I’m seeing a regular impact signature every two to four seconds.”

  “Okay, but why does it matter? The zone is already unlocked, and it’s unzipping itself. The genie is out of the bag.”

  “It hasn’t hit us yet, though, Doug. Shouldn’t we stop whatever they’re doing?”

  “You mean, in case it’s making things worse?”

  “Yes. Maybe if the impacts, whatever they are, were stopped, the final quake wouldn’t come quite as quickly and we’d have more time to evacuate people. You, for instance.”

  “That’s all we’d gain, Terry. The whole subduction zone is breaking. It’s not just Cascadia any more. There’s no way to stop it. I mean, what’s been started is going to thunder on to a catastrophic conclusion now. There’s just too much force behind it.”

  “Yeah, I understand. But Doug, can you at least take a run around that rock and see if you can tell what’s going on?”

  “You’re suggesting a field trip in the middle of all this? Hell, Terry, I need to find Mick Walker and get an evacuation started, and get that buffoon of a governor to declare an emergency.”

  “But this could buy us time.”

  “What? What could? Belatedly stopping some construction activity?”

  “It might. It might delay the final catastrophe.”

  “I doubt it. Are you seeing any harmonic responses between the surface impacts you’re reading from this island and the microquakes? Anything I can hang my hat on?”

  “No. Nothing I could point to and say ‘see, it’s responding directly.’ But—”

  “Then it’s a waste of time.”

  “Doug—”

  “But… I will take a look if you’re really convinced I should.”

  “I am, man! And then you need to get off that death trap.”

  “Where should I look, Terry?”

  “Whatever’s happening is on the western side of the island. I’ve got it down to that area in my calculations.”

  “I’ll call you back. Are you ready to bug out yourself?”

  “Packed and ready, with the engine running.”

  “Good. First sign of the big one, get to high ground.”

  “Doug, find a helicopter, okay? This is no time for heroism.”

  “I’ll try. I also have a lady to locate without whom I’m not leaving.”

  He folded the cell phone and resumed the short walk with Diane to the front drive where a doorman was talking on a handheld. He introduced himself as a friend of Mick Walker.

  “We’ve got a dire emergency and I need to find Mr. Walker immediately. Please get him on your radio and tell him I have the critical information he needed.”

  The man nodded and turned away as he worked his way through his communications net, then turned back.

  “Mr. Walker is at the casino, sir. We can have one of our bellmen run you folks over there.”

  They climbed into the back of one of the covered utility carts and headed out, but Doug leaned forward and handed the driver a twenty.

  “Before we head for the casino, I need you to drive to the western side.”

  “Why, sir?”

  “There’s something important I need to check out for Mr. Walker. I know that wasn’t part of your instructions, but humor me.”

  The bellman nodded and turned at the next intersection.

  “Do you know of any construction activity still going on tonight?” Doug asked when the cart had steadied out.

  “Like what?”

  “Heavy stuff, like a pile driver or explosives being used for excavation.”

  The driver shook his head. “I haven’t felt anything like that for weeks.”

  “Something is kind of thumping the west end of this island. Any idea what it could be?”

  He shrugged. “Just the surf, I guess.”

  “The surf?”

  “The waves usually hit us there first, especially with the new artificial barrier reef.”

  Diane and Doug exchanged glances

  “Artificial what?”

  �
��Well, it’s kinda like a reef, but made of concrete, and shaped like some sort of curved wing. Mr. Walker built it to create spectacular waterspouts, you know, when the waves come in? The water builds to a point, like in a funnel, and then shoots straight up for sometimes as much as a hundred feet. Powered by nature. We’re building a heated observation tower out there, too, but it’s not ready yet.”

  “So, the whole thing’s incomplete?”

  “No. Just the observation tower. They just pulled the barriers away from the reef a few days ago for the opening. Until then, they had some huge barges out there to keep the waves off.”

  They rounded a series of bungalows and drove into a circular parking area on the southwesternmost point of the island, and Doug scrambled out with Diane behind him, both of them hunching down against the stiff, cold wind fresh off the water.

  There was a thunderous roar accompanied by heavy vibrations beneath their feet as a column of water shot almost straight up, and Doug could see another large wave building behind the first, rising alarmingly as both sides of it were squeezed together by the massive concrete structure until the resulting monster wave crashed into the final barrier and went vertical, as before.

  “Good lord,” Doug said, almost under his breath, as another round of vibrations wobbled the rock beneath their feet. “This is it.”

  “What?” Diane asked, leaning closer to hear his reply.

  “The fellow I told you about over on the coast, Terry, has been picking up large impacts on the island. He thought it might be construction, but… it’s this thing.”

  “Pretty impressive, huh?” the driver asked.

  Doug was nodding, his eyes following the two curved wings of the wave-shaping barrier reef to its apex, where, instead of a simple concrete chute, a large rectangular structure stood to receive the waves as well as throw them into the air.

  “What’s that for?” he asked the driver, pointing to the blockhouse-like feature.

  “I’m not sure,” the man replied. “I do know there were some pretty exotic materials shipped in here for this thing, mostly on barges. I think they preassembled some of it.”

 

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