The hammer of eden

ALSO BY THE AUTHOR A Dangerous Fortune Night over Water The Pillars of the Earth Lie Down with Lions On Wings of Eagles The Man from St Petersburg The Key to Rebecca Triple Eye of the Needle A Place Called Freedom The Third Twin This book is a work of fiction Names, characters, places, organizations, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental “Smoke on the Water.” Words and music by Jon Lord, Ritchie Blackmore, Ian Gillan, Roger Glover, and Ian Paice (Deep Purple) © 1972, reproduced by permission of B Feldman & Co Ltd trading as Hec Music, London WC2H 0EA “There but for Fortune” by Phil Ochs, © 1963 Barricade Music ASCAP, quoted by kind permission of Barricade Music, a division of Rondor Music International Copyright © 1998 by Ken Follett All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher Published by Crown Publishers, Inc., 201 East 50th Street, New York, New York 10022 Member of the Crown Publishing Group Random House, Inc New York, Toronto, London, Sydney, Auckland www.randomhouse.com CROWN and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Follett, Ken The hammer of Eden / Ken Follett.—1st ed I Title PR6056.O45H3 1998 823′.914—dc21 98-26882 eISBN: 978-0-307-77511-5 v3.1 CONTENTS Cover Other Books by This Author Title Page Copyright Part 1: Four Weeks Part 2: Seven Days Part 3: Forty-eight Hours Acknowledgments PART ONE Four Weeks When he lies down to sleep, this landscape is always on his mind: A pine forest covers the hills, as thick as the fur on a bear’s back The sky is so blue, in the clear mountain air, that it hurts his eyes to look up Miles from the road there is a secret valley with steep sides and a cold river in its cleft Here, hidden from strangers’ eyes, a sunny south-facing slope has been cleared, and grapevines grow in neat rows When he remembers how beautiful it is, he feels his heart will break Men, women, and children move slowly through the vineyard, tending the plants These are his friends, his lovers, his family One of the women laughs She is a big woman with long, dark hair, and he feels a special warmth for her She throws back her head and opens her mouth wide, and her clear high voice floats across the valley like birdsong Some of the men quietly speak a mantra as they work, praying to the gods of the valley and of the grapevines for a good crop At their feet, a few massive tree stumps remain, to remind them of the backbreaking work that created this place twenty-five years ago The soil is stony, but this is good, because the stones retain the heat of the sun and warm the roots of the vines, protecting them from the deadly frost Beyond the vineyard is a cluster of wooden buildings, plain but well built and weatherproof Smoke rises from a cookhouse In a clearing, a woman is teaching a boy how to make barrels This is a holy place Protected by secrecy and by prayers, it has remained pure, its people free, while the world beyond the valley has degenerated into corruption and hypocrisy, greed and filth But now the vision changes Something has happened to the quick cold stream that used to zigzag through the valley Its chatter has been silenced, its hurry abruptly halted Instead of a rush of white water there is a dark pool, silent and still The edges of the pool seem static, but if he looks away for a few moments, the pool widens Soon he is forced to retreat up the slope He cannot understand why the others not notice the rising tide As the black pool laps at the first row of vines, they carry on working with their feet in the water The buildings are surrounded, then flooded The cookhouse fire goes out, and empty barrels float away across the growing lake Why don’t they run? he asks himself; and a choking panic rises in his throat Now the sky is dark with iron-colored clouds, and a cold wind whips at the clothing of the people, but still they move along the vines, stooping and rising, smiling at one another and talking in quiet, normal voices He is the only one who can see the danger, and he realizes he must pick up one or two or even three of the children and save them from drowning He tries to run toward his daughter, but he discovers that his feet are stuck in the mud and he cannot move; and he is filled with dread In the vineyard the water rises to the workers’ knees, then their waists, then their necks He tries to yell at the people he loves, telling them they must something now, quickly, in the next few seconds, or they will die, but though he opens his mouth and strains his throat, no sounds will come out Sheer terror possesses him The water laps into his open mouth and begins to choke him This is when he wakes up A man called Priest pulled his cowboy hat down at the front and peered across the flat, dusty desert of South Texas The low dull green bushes of thorny mesquite and sagebrush stretched in every direction as far as he could see In front of him, a ridged and rutted track ten feet wide had been driven through the vegetation These tracks were called senderos by the Hispanic bulldozer drivers who cut them in brutally straight lines On one side, at precise fifty-yard intervals, bright pink plastic marker flags fluttered on short wire poles A truck moved slowly along the sendero Priest had to steal the truck He had stolen his first vehicle at the age of eleven, a brand-new snow white 1961 Lincoln Continental parked, with the keys in the dash, outside the Roxy Theatre on South Broadway in Los Angeles Priest, who was called Ricky in those days, could hardly see over the steering wheel He had been so scared he almost wet himself, but he drove it ten blocks and handed the keys proudly to Jimmy “Pigface” Riley, who gave him five bucks, then took his girl for a drive and crashed the car on the Pacific Coast Highway That was how Ricky became a member of the Pigface Gang But this truck was not just a vehicle As he watched, the powerful machinery behind the driver’s cabin slowly lowered a massive steel plate, six feet square, to the ground There was a pause, then he heard a low-pitched rumble A cloud of dust rose around the truck as the plate began to pound the earth rhythmically He felt the ground shake beneath his feet This was a seismic vibrator, a machine for sending shock waves through The bang was deafening in the little cabin of the truck For a split second, a small part of his mind felt a shock of grief that he had ruined her beautiful body; but he dismissed the feeling She was thrown back across the cab The door was still open, and she fell out and tumbled down, hitting the floor of the warehouse with a sickening thud Priest did not stop to see if she was dead For the third time, he pulled the lever Slowly the plate descended to the ground When it made contact, Priest started the machine * * * The helicopter was a four-seater Judy sat next to the pilot, Michael behind As they flew south along the shore of the San Francisco Bay, Judy heard in her headphones the voice of one of Michael’s student assistants, calling from the command post “Michael! This is Paula! It’s started up—a seismic vibrator!” Judy went cold with fear I thought I had more time! She checked her watch: it was six forty-five Granger’s deadline was still fifteen minutes away Melanie’s phone call must have made him start early Michael was saying: “Any tremors on the seismograph?” “No—just the seismic vibrator, so far.” No earthquake yet Thank God Judy shouted into her microphone: “Give us the location, quickly!” “Wait a minute, the coordinates are coming up now.” Judy grabbed a map Hurry, hurry! A long moment later Paula read the numbers on her screen Judy found the location on her map She said to the pilot: “Due south two miles, then about five hundred yards inland.” Her stomach lurched as the chopper dived and picked up speed They were flying over the old waterfront neighborhood, full of derelict factories and car dumps It would have been quiet on a normal Sunday: today it was empty Judy scanned the horizon, looking for a truck that could be the seismic vibrator To the south she saw two police patrol cars speeding toward the same location Looking west, she spotted the FBI SWAT wagon approaching Back at the Presidio, the other helicopters would be lifting off, full of armed agents Soon half the law enforcement vehicles in Northern California would be heading for the map coordinates Paula had given out Michael said into his microphone: “Paula! What’s happening on your screens?” “Nothing—the vibrator is operating, but it’s not having any effect.” “Thank God!” Judy said Michael said: “If he follows his previous pattern, he’ll move the truck a quarter of a mile and try again.” The pilot said: “This is it We’ve arrived at the coordinates.” The helicopter began to circle Judy and Michael stared out, searching frantically for the seismic vibrator On the ground, nothing moved * * * Priest cursed The vibrating machinery was operating, but there was no earthquake This had happened before, both times Melanie had said she did not really understand why it worked in some locations but not others It probably had something to with different kinds of subsoil Both times the vibrator had triggered an earthquake on the third try But today Priest really needed to be lucky the first time He was not Boiling with frustration, he turned off the mechanism and raised the plate He had to move the truck He jumped out Stepping over Melanie, who was crumpled up against the wall, bleeding onto the concrete floor, he ran to the entrance There was a pair of old-fashioned high doors that folded back to admit big vehicles Inset into one panel was a small, people-size door Priest threw it open * * * Over the entrance to a small warehouse Judy saw a sign that read “Perpetua Diaries.” She had thought Melanie was saying “Perpetual.” “That’s the place!” she yelled “Go down!” The helicopter descended rapidly, avoiding a power line that ran from pole to pole along the side of the road, and touched down in the middle of the deserted street As soon as she felt the bump of contact with the ground, Judy opened the door * * * Priest looked out A helicopter had landed in the road As he watched, someone jumped out It was a woman with a wound dressing on her face He recognized Judy Maddox He screamed a curse that was lost in the noise of the chopper There was no time to open the big doors He dashed back to the truck, got in, and rammed the shift into reverse He backed as far as he could into the warehouse, stopping when the rear bumper hit the wall Then he engaged first gear He revved the engine high, then let out the clutch with a jerk The truck lurched forward Priest pressed the pedal to the floor Engine screaming, the big truck gathered speed the length of the warehouse, then crashed into the old wooden door Judy Maddox was standing right in front of the door, gun in hand Shock and fear showed on her face as the truck burst through the door Priest grinned savagely as he bore down on her She dived sideways, and the truck missed her by an inch The helicopter was in the middle of the road A man was getting out Priest recognized Michael Quercus He steered toward the helicopter, changed up a gear, and accelerated * * * Judy rolled over, aimed at the driver’s door, and squeezed off two shots She thought she might have hit something, but she failed to stop the truck The chopper lifted quickly Michael ran to the side of the road Judy guessed that Granger was hoping to clip the helicopter’s undercarriage, as he had in Felicitas, but this time the pilot was too quick for him and lifted high as the truck charged the space where the aircraft had been But, in his haste, the pilot forgot the roadside power lines There were five or six cables stretched between tall poles The rotor blade caught in the lines, slicing through some The helicopter’s engine faltered One of the poles tilted under the strain and fell The rotor blade began to spin freely again, but the chopper had lost lift, and it fell to the ground with a mighty crash * * * Priest had one hope left If he could drive a quarter of a mile, then get the plate down and the vibrator operating, he might yet trigger an earthquake before the FBI could get to him And in the chaos of an earthquake, he might escape, as he had before He wrenched the wheel around and headed down the road * * * Judy fired again as the truck swung away from the downed helicopter She was hoping to hit either Granger or some essential part of the engine, but she was unlucky The truck lumbered down the potholed road She looked at the crashed helicopter The pilot was not moving She looked back to the seismic vibrator as it gradually gathered speed I wish I had a rifle Michael ran up to her “Are you okay?” “Yes,” she said She made a decision “You see if you can help the pilot— I’ll go after Granger.” He hesitated, then said: “Okay.” Judy holstered her pistol and ran after the truck It was a sluggish vehicle, taking long moments to accelerate At first she closed the distance rapidly Then Granger changed gear, and the truck picked up speed Judy ran as fast as she could, heart pounding, chest aching The tail of the truck carried a huge spare wheel She was still gaining on it, but not so rapidly Just when she thought she would never catch it, Granger shifted gears again, and in the momentary slowdown, Judy put on a burst of speed and leaped for the tailgate She got one foot on the bumper and grabbed the spare wheel For a frightening moment she thought she would slip and fall; and she looked down to see the road speeding beneath her But she managed to hold on She clambered onto the flatbed among the tanks and valves of the machinery She staggered to keep her balance, almost fell, and righted herself She did not know whether Granger had seen her He could not operate the vibrator while the truck was in motion, so she remained where she was, heart thumping, waiting for him to stop But he had seen her She heard glass shatter and saw the barrel of a gun poke through the rear window of the driver’s cabin She ducked instinctively The next moment she heard a slug ricochet off a tank beside her She leaned to the left so that she was directly behind Granger, and crouched low, heart in her mouth She heard another shot and cringed, but it missed her Then he seemed to give up But he had not The truck braked fiercely Judy was thrown forward, banging her head painfully against a pipe Then Granger swerved violently to the right Judy swung sideways and thought for a terrifying moment that she would be hurled to her death on the hard surface of the road, but she managed to hang on She saw that Granger was heading suicidally straight for the brick front of a disused factory She clung to a tank At the last moment he braked hard and swerved, but he was a fraction of a second too late He averted a head-on smash, but the offside fender plowed into the brickwork with a crash of crumpling metal and breaking glass Judy felt an agonizing pain in her ribs as she was crushed against the tank she was holding Then she was thrown into the air For a dizzy moment she was totally disoriented Then she hit the ground, landing on her left side All the breath was knocked out of her body so that she could not even yell with pain Her head banged against the road, her left arm went numb, and panic filled her mind Her head cleared a second or two later She hurt, but she could move Her bulletproof jacket had helped to protect her Her black corduroys were ripped and one knee was bleeding, but not badly Her nose was bleeding, too: she had reopened the wound Granger had given her yesterday She had fallen near the rear corner of the truck, close to its enormous double wheels If Granger reversed a yard, he would kill her She rolled sideways, staying behind the truck but getting away from its giant tires The effort sent sharp pain through her ribs, and she cursed The truck did not reverse Granger was not trying to run her over Perhaps he had not seen where she had fallen She looked up and down the street She could see Michael struggling to get the pilot out of the crashed helicopter, four hundred yards away In the other direction, there was no sign of the SWAT wagon or the police cars she had spotted from the air, or of the other FBI helicopters They were probably seconds away—but she did not have seconds to spare She got to her knees and drew her weapon She expected Granger to jump out of the cabin and shoot at her, but he did not She struggled painfully to her feet If she approached on the driver’s side of the truck, he would surely see her in his side-view mirror She went to the other side and risked a peek around the rear corner There was a big mirror on this side, too She dropped to her knees, lay flat on her belly, and crawled under the truck She wriggled forward until she was almost beneath the driver’s cab She heard a new noise above her and wondered what it was Glancing up, she saw a huge steel plate above her It was being lowered onto her Frantically she rolled sideways Her foot caught on one of the rear wheels For a few horrendous seconds she struggled to free herself as the massive plate moved inexorably down It would crush her leg like a plastic toy At the last moment she pulled her foot out of her shoe and rolled clear She was out in the open Granger would see her at any second If he leaned out of the passenger door now, gun in hand, he could shoot her easily There was a blast like a bomb in her ears, and the ground beneath her shook violently He had started the vibrator She had to stop it She thought momentarily of Bo’s house In her mind she saw it crumble and fall, then the whole street collapse Pressing her left hand to her side to ease the pain, she forced herself to her feet Two paces took her to the nearside door She needed to open it with her right hand, so she shifted the gun to her left—she could shoot with either— and pointed it up to the sky Now She jumped onto the step, grabbed the door handle, and flung it open She came face-to-face with Richard Granger He looked as scared as she felt She pointed the gun at him with her left hand “Turn it off!” she screamed “Turn it off!” “Okay,” he said, and he grinned and reached beneath his seat The grin alerted her She knew he was not going to turn off the vibrator She got ready to shoot him She had never shot anyone before His hand came up holding a revolver like something out of the Wild West As the long barrel swung toward her, she aimed her pistol at his head and squeezed the trigger The bullet hit him in the face, beside the nose He shot her a split second later The flash and noise of the double gunshot was terrific She felt a burning pain across her right temple Years of training came into play She had been taught always to fire twice, and her muscles remembered Automatically she pulled the trigger again This time she hit his shoulder Blood spurted immediately He spun sideways and fell back against the door, dropping the gun from limp fingers Oh, Jesus, is that what it’s like when you kill someone? Judy felt her own blood course down her right cheek She fought a wave of faintness and nausea She held the gun pointed at Granger The machine was still vibrating She stared at the mass of switches and dials She had just shot the one person who knew how to turn the thing off Panic swept over her She fought it down There must be a key There was She reached over the inert body of Ricky Granger and turned it Suddenly there was quiet She glanced along the street Outside the Perpetua Diaries warehouse, the helicopter was on fire Michael! She opened the door of the truck, fighting to stay conscious She knew there was something she ought to do, something important, before she went to help Michael, but she could not think what it was She gave up trying to remember and climbed out of the truck A distant police siren came closer, and she saw a patrol car approaching She waved it down “FBI,” she said weakly “Take me to that chopper.” She opened the door and fell into the car The cop drove the four hundred yards to the warehouse and pulled up a safe distance from the burning aircraft Judy got out She could not see anyone inside the helicopter “Michael!” she yelled “Where are you?” “Over here!” He was behind the busted doors of the warehouse, bending over the pilot Judy ran to him “This guy needs help,” Michael said He looked at her face “Jesus, so you!” “I’m all right,” she said “Help is on the way.” She pulled out her cell phone and called the command post She got Raja He said: “Judy, what’s happening?” “You tell me, for Christ’s sake!” “The vibrator stopped.” “I know, I stopped it Any tremors?” “No Nothing at all.” Judy slumped with relief She had stopped the machine in time There would be no earthquake She leaned against the wall She felt faint She struggled to stay upright She felt no triumph, no sense of victory Perhaps that would come later, with Raja and Carl and the others, in Everton’s bar For now she was drained empty Another patrol car pulled up, and an officer got out “Lieutenant Forbes,” he said “What the hell went on here? Where’s the perpetrator?” Judy pointed along the street to the seismic vibrator “He’s in the front of that truck,” she said “Dead.” “We’ll take a look.” The lieutenant got back in his car and tore off down the street Michael had disappeared Looking for him, Judy stepped inside the warehouse She saw him sitting on the concrete floor in a pool of blood But he was unhurt In his arms he held Melanie Her face was even paler than usual, and her skimpy T-shirt was soaked with blood from a grisly wound in her chest Michael’s face was contorted with grief Judy went to him and knelt beside him She felt for a pulse in Melanie’s neck There was none “I’m sorry, Michael,” she said “I’m so sorry.” He swallowed “Poor Dusty,” he said Judy touched his face “It will be all right,” she said * * * A few moments later Lieutenant Forbes reappeared “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said politely “Did you say there was a dead man in that truck?” “Yes,” she said “I shot him.” “Well,” the cop said, “he ain’t there now.” 22 Star was jailed for ten years At first, prison was torture The regimented existence was hell for someone whose whole life had been about freedom Then a pretty wardress called Jane fell in love with her and brought her makeup and books and marijuana, and things began to look up Flower was placed with foster parents, a Methodist minister and his wife They were kindhearted people who could not begin to understand where Flower was coming from She missed her parents, did poorly at school, and got in more trouble with the police Then, a couple of years later, she found her grandma Veronica Nightingale had been thirteen when she gave birth to Priest, so she was only in her mid-sixties when Flower found her She was running a store in Los Angeles selling sex toys, lingerie, and porno videos She had an apartment in Beverly Hills and drove a red sports car, and she told Flower stories about her daddy when he was a little boy Flower ran away from the minister and his wife and moved in with her grandma Oaktree disappeared Judy knew there had been a fourth person in the ’Cuda at Felicitas, and she had been able to piece together his role in the affair She even got a full set of fingerprints from his woodwork shop at the commune But no one knew where he had gone However, his prints showed up a couple of years later, on a stolen car that had been used in an armed robbery in Seattle The police did not suspect him, because he had a solid alibi, but Judy was automatically notified When she reviewed the file with the U.S attorney—her old friend Don Riley, now married to an insurance saleswoman—they realized they had only a weak case against Oaktree for his part in the Hammer of Eden, and they decided to let him be Milton Lestrange died of cancer Brian Kincaid retired Marvin Hayes resigned and became security director for a supermarket chain Michael Quercus became moderately famous Because he was nice looking and good at explaining seismology, TV shows always called him first when they wanted a quote about earthquakes His business prospered Judy was promoted to supervisor She moved in with Michael and Dusty When Michael’s business started to make real money, they bought a house together and decided to have a baby A month later she was pregnant, so they got married Bo cried at the wedding Judy figured out how Granger had got away The wound to his face was nasty but not serious The bullet to his shoulder had nicked a vein, and the sudden loss of blood caused him to lose consciousness Judy should have checked his pulse before going to help Michael, but she was weakened by her injuries and confused because of loss of blood, and she failed to follow routine Granger’s slumped position caused his blood pressure to rise again, and he came around a few seconds after she left He crawled around the corner to Third Street, where he was lucky enough to find a car waiting at a stoplight He got in, pointed his gun at the driver, and demanded to be taken to the city En route he used Melanie’s mobile to call Paul Beale, the wine bottler who was a criminal associate of Granger’s from the old days Beale had given him the address of a crooked doctor Granger made the driver drop him at a corner in a grungy neighborhood (The traumatized citizen drove home, called the local police precinct house, got a busy signal, and did not get around to reporting the incident until the next day.) The doctor, a disbarred surgeon who was a morphine addict, patched Granger up Granger stayed at the doctor’s apartment overnight, then left Judy never found out where he went after that * * * The water is rising fast It has flooded all the little wooden houses Behind the closed doors, the homemade beds and chairs are floating The cookhouse and the temple are also awash He has waited weeks for the water to reach the vineyard Now it has, and the precious plants are drowning He had been hoping he might find Spirit here, but his dog is long gone He has drunk a bottle of his favorite wine It is difficult for him to drink or eat, because of the wound to his face, which has been sewn up badly by a doctor who was stoned But he has succeeded in pouring enough down his throat to make himself drunk He throws the bottle away and takes from his pocket a big joint of marijuana laced with enough heroin to knock him out He lights it, takes a puff, and walks down the hill When the water is up to his thighs, he sits down He takes a last look around his valley It is almost unrecognizable There is no tumbling stream Only the roofs of the buildings are visible, and they look like upturned shipwrecks floating on the surface of a lagoon The vines he planted twenty-five years ago are now submerged It is not a valley anymore It has become a lake, and everything that was here has been killed He takes a long pull on the joint between his fingers He draws the deadly smoke deep into his lungs He feels the rush of pleasure as the drug enters his bloodstream and the chemicals flood his brain Little Ricky, happy at last, he thinks He rolls over and falls in the water He lies face down, helpless, stoned out of his mind Slowly his consciousness fades, like a distant lamp becoming dimmer, until, at last, the light goes out ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I am grateful to the following people for help with this book: Governor Pete Wilson of California; Jonathan R Wilcox, deputy director, Office of Public Affairs, Office of Governor Pete Wilson; Andrew Poat, chief deputy director, Department of Transportation; Mark D Zoback, professor of geophysics, chairman, Department of Geophysics, Stanford University; In the San Francisco field office of the FBI: Special Agent George E Grotz, director of press relations and public affairs, who opened many doors; Special Agent Candice DeLong, profiling coordinator, who generously spent much time helping me with the details of an agent’s life and work; Bob Walsh, special agent in charge; George Vinson, assistant special agent in charge; Charles W Matthews III, associate special agent in charge; Supervising Special Agent John Gray, crisis management coordinator; Supervising Special Agent Don Whaley, chief division counsel; Supervising Special Agent Larry Long, Tech squad; Special Agent Tony Maxwell, evidence response team coordinator; Dominic Gizzi, administrative officer; In the Sacramento field office of the FBI: Special Agent Carole Micozzi; Special Agent Mike Ernst; Pearle Greaves, computer specialist, Information Resources Division, FBI headquarters; Sierra County sheriff Lee Adams; Lucien G Canton, director, Mayor’s Office of Emergency Services, San Francisco; James F Davis, Ph.D., California State geologist; Ms Sherry Reser, information officer, Department of Conservation; Charles Yanez, manager, South Texas, Western Geophysical; Janet Loveday, Western Geophysical; Rhonda G Boone, manager, corporate communications, Western Atlas International; Donnie McLendon, Western Geophysical, Freer, Texas; Mr Jesse Rosas, bulldozer driver; Seth Rosing DeLong; Dr Keith J Rosing, director of emergency services, Irvine Medical Center; Brian Butterworth, professor of cognitive neuropsychology, University College, London Most of the above were found for me by Dan Starer, of Research for Writers, New York City As always, my outlines and drafts were read and criticized constructively by my agent, Al Zuckerman; my editors, Ann Patty in New York and Suzanne Baboneau in London; and numerous friends and relatives, including George Brennan, Barbara Follett, Angus James, Jann Turner, and Kim Turner Visit the Ken Follett website at http://www.ken-follett.com ... remind them of the backbreaking work that created this place twenty-five years ago The soil is stony, but this is good, because the stones retain the heat of the sun and warm the roots of the vines,... piece of land from the Department of the Interior in the autumn of 1969 Around the table, everyone went quiet Even the kids shut up, sensing the atmosphere of fear and dismay Star ripped open the. .. of girls in front of her But for the last few years, though they still believed in the principle of free love, neither of them had actually taken advantage of it So Melanie had come as kind of