Drought (39 page)

She pointed to the sharp angle where the two rock faces met, and said, ‘There.'

Halford approached the screen and peered at it closely. ‘
There
? Where? I thought you said there was water. I don't see any water.'

‘It's all underground, Halford. It's an underground lake, and that is where you can get through to it. The Serrano Indians found it in eighteen-something-or-other when they were on their way to Arrowhead Springs. I don't know how far it extends underneath the surface, but this Native American who took us there said it could be bigger than Big Bear Lake. And – because it's underground – all of the water is one hundred percent pure. I've tasted it, Halford. It's the best water you ever tasted in your life.'

Halford kept staring at the satellite image. He didn't say anything, but Saskia came up to him and spoke for him, in a low, growly imitation of his own voice. ‘People of the state of California, I have an announcement to make of great importance. As the drought has worsened, and you have been suffering more and more, I have been sending out teams of geologists to discover new and untapped sources of fresh water. This morning I am delighted to be able to tell you that I have already located an underground lake in Joshua Tree National Park which will very soon alleviate the critical water supply problem in San Bernardino County, and possibly beyond.'

Halford turned and stared at her. She found it impossible to read the expression on his face, because she had never seen any man look like that, ever. He reached into the inside pocket of his yellow jacket and took out a plain white envelope. He handed it to her and said, ‘Those are the only copies. On my mother's life.'

Joseph Wrack stood a little way back, watching and smoking. Halford turned to him and said, ‘I expect you'll be itching—' He had to stop, and clear his throat before he could carry on. ‘I expect you'll be itching to get out there to find that Martin Makepeace.'

‘Oh, yes, your honor, you can count on it. I'll be putting a team together at first light tomorrow.'

‘I thought you didn't have any men to spare,' put in Saskia. ‘Haven't you forgotten? Rioting? Riverside Plaza? Or is getting your revenge on Martin Makepeace much more important than saving some tacky suburban shopping mall?'

Joseph Wrack couldn't stop himself from grinning one of his skeletal grins. ‘That job offer's still open, Ms Vane. But even if you really don't want it, there's one thing you
can
maybe do for me.'

‘Oh, really?'

‘There are some children in that little escape party of yours, aren't there?'

‘Yes, Mr Wrack. One of whom your men shot and killed in cold blood. A mischievous little boy called Mikey who never did anybody harm in the whole of his life. You're complaining that nine of your men got killed? They killed Mikey, that was why.'

‘Well, I'm real sorry that happened. I am. And I'm very anxious that no more children get hurt. What I'm suggesting is that you come out with us tomorrow morning and talk to Martin Makepeace. See if you can cajole him into giving himself up. The very last thing we want is bullets flying around, with little children in harm's way. ESS is a security company, Ms Vane. It's our avowed mission to protect the lives of innocent people, not to put them in jeopardy.'

Saskia knew that Joseph Wrack was talking his usual insincere bullshit, and that he was anxious only to avoid a firefight in which more of his own men might be killed, and in which he might even lose another helicopter. Apart from that, killing children was very poor PR, especially since the ESS brochure showed one of their security guards holding the hands of two smiling toddlers, one white and one Hispanic, underneath the caption ‘First Steps To Safety'.

But then she thought of Mina, sweaty and feverish; and grumpy little George; and Nathan, grieving for his older brother, unable to understand why the world was being so horrible to him.

She thought of Martin, too. She had felt so strongly attracted to him that she didn't really want him to come to any harm, but at the same time she wanted to punish him for not feeling as aroused by her as she had been by him. He deserved to be punished, one way or another, like most men. Bitten and beaten and scratched and choked until they begged her to stop; and then begged her to do it again.

‘All right, Mr Wrack,' she said, at last. ‘I'll talk to him.'

‘It'll have to be pretty early,' said Joseph Wrack. ‘We need to leave no later than a quarter after five so we'll arrive at sunrise.'

He looked at the satellite image more closely, tracing the tips of his fingers over it as if he could almost feel how prickly the cholla was. ‘This is where they're camped out, is it, in this open space here? In that case we can't land there. We might accidentally hurt the kids and apart from that Makepeace could open fire on us before we'd even get our skids down. No … we'll have to touch down here, at the head of the valley, and then make our way down on foot. We can wave a white flag to show that we've come for a powwow.' He turned back to Saskia. ‘Where are you staying? I'll send a driver for you at four forty-five.'

‘The Hilton. Meanwhile … I think I should take Halford back to the airport. He looks like he has ants in his pants.'

‘Don't worry, Jim Broader can drive him. It's about time Jim did something useful around here.'

‘No, I'll take him,' said Saskia. ‘His honor and I have a couple more things to talk over before he goes back to Sacramento.'

‘We do?' said Halford, irritably.

They made their way back to the freeway through the rubble-strewn streets. Every now and then Saskia had to back up and turn around because the street ahead of them was barricaded with burning vehicles.

‘I think you're taking me this way on purpose,' said Halford, as they came nearer to the Inland Center, from which a huge column of smoke was rising into the afternoon sky.

‘Maybe I am. Maybe you need to have your nose rubbed in what you've done.'

‘Saskia, for Christ's sake. You have your DVDs back now. What more do you want?'

‘I don't really know, Halford. You caused me so much pain.'

‘Listen … I know how much you loved David. You didn't mean that to happen. It was his own fault, as much as yours.'

‘Oh, terrific. You can say that now. You didn't say that when you were threatening to hand over all of your videos to the DA's office.'

‘I had to protect myself, Saskia, as well as you. It was always a two-way arrangement.'

They were on South E Street now, with only a few blocks to go before they reached the freeway, but Saskia slowed the car down and then drew into the curb. On their right-hand side, in the Burger Mania parking lot, at least five cars were on fire and another six or seven had already been reduced to blackened skeletons. The restaurant itself was gutted, with all of its windows smashed.

‘What are you stopping for?' asked Halford. ‘Come on, Saskia, I just need to get back to the airport. My security people are going to be having kittens as it is.'

Saskia turned into the parking lot. Although so many cars were burning, there was nobody in sight. She looked around, frowning, for exactly the kind of space she wanted, and then she backed into one, stopped, and applied the parking brake.

‘What the
fuck
are you doing?' Halford demanded.

Saskia turned to him and said, ‘You know, Halford, I blame myself, mostly, for David. He always wanted more and I should have said no. I blame myself for what
you've
been putting me through, too. I should have told you to do your worst, and hang the consequences. But maybe I enjoyed you treating me the way you did, thinking you could fuck me whenever you felt like it, and everything else you made me do. You're such an irredeemable bastard, Halford, and you have such terrible taste in clothes, but maybe that's why you turn women on so much.'

Halford closed his eyes for a moment, as if he had a migraine. Then he said, ‘Saskia. Put a lid on the psychoanalysis, will you, honey, and just drive me to the airport?'

‘There's only one more thing, Halford. I have a little souvenir for you.'

‘Souvenir? What are you talking about?'

‘It's in the trunk. I'll get it for you. We won't be seeing each other ever again, will we? So it's something for you to remember me by.'

‘I don't
want
anything to remember you by. I'd rather have something to forget you by. Can't we just get going?'

Saskia took no notice. She took the keys out of the ignition, climbed out of the car and went around to the trunk. She opened it up and took out the spherical M-67 fragmentation grenade that she had wedged between the spare wheel and the side of the trunk, to stop it from tumbling around. With the trunk lid still open to mask what she was doing, just in case Halford happened to turn around, she pulled the pin out of the grenade. Then she slammed the trunk shut, and opened up the offside rear door.

‘
Saskia
—' snapped Halford. But without a word to him, Saskia dropped the grenade into the footwell behind him. The safety spoon fell off it, and because she had deliberately parked on a slight slope, facing forward, it rolled right under his seat.

‘Saskia, what in
God's
name are we waiting for?'

Saskia shut the door and started to run, pressing the central locking button on the Buick's remote as she did so. She wasn't waiting for anything, because she knew that she had only a few seconds to escape from the blast.

She sprinted across the Burger Mania parking lot to the low wall that divided it from the Shoe City parking lot next door, and threw herself flat down on the tarmac behind it. She closed her eyes and stuck her fingers in her ears, so she neither saw nor heard Halford as he shouted at her and tried to get out of the car.

Two tugs at the Buick's door-handle unlocked it, but the fuse on the M67's six-and-a-half pounds of Composition 4 explosive was only four-point-four seconds. The car was blown apart with a shattering explosion which echoed and re-echoed from all of the buildings around it, and on the opposite side of the road. A blizzard of metal and plastic fragments flew over Saskia's head and were scattered more than five hundred feet away, in all directions.

After a few seconds, the clattering stopped, and Saskia dared to look up from behind the wall. The Buick was in flames, and it would only be a matter of time before the gas tank blew up, too. There was nothing left of Halford's seat except for springs, and there was nothing left of Halford but an empty sack-like figure that was hugging a deflated air-bag. It looked more like a blood-soaked nightdress case than the Governor of California.

Saskia could see Halford's head resting on the front steps of Burger Mania, although thankfully he was looking in the opposite direction.

She didn't wait any longer. She started to walk briskly back toward the city center. The way things were, with rioting all across the county, it would probably be days before anybody discovered what had happened to Halford Smiley. Who would notice one more burned-out car in a parking lot crowded with burned-out cars?

It was still so hot that the road in front of her was shimmering, and she wished that she had had the foresight to bring a bottle of water with her and worn more practical shoes, because she was starting to hobble. But she had only walked as far as SoCal Super Trucks, a quarter of a mile further up the road, when a bullhorn blew loudly behind her, and a fire engine pulled up beside her.

The driver leaned out of his window and called out, ‘Need a ride, pretty lady?'

She crossed over the road. ‘Thank you! You saved my life!'

The firefighters opened the door for her and held out their hands to help her climb up the steps. Inside the crew cabin it smelled strongly of smoke and rubber and sweat. Five soot-stained faces grinned at her as one of the firefighters shifted himself sideways to give her enough space to sit down.

‘I had a little car trouble,' she said, loudly, as the fire engine pulled away with its engine bellowing. ‘Something I should have fixed a long time ago.'

N
ight fell and the stars came out and there was still no sign that Joseph Wrack had sent out a team to hunt them down, but Martin stayed where he was, sitting on the trunk of his Eldorado, with his Colt Commando across his knees.

Peta came over with a mug of Manhattan chowder for him. ‘Maybe she hasn't told ESS where we are,' she said. ‘Maybe she just didn't relish the idea of living in the desert with a bunch of kids.'

‘I don't know,' said Martin. ‘I think we'll have to give it two or three days before we're totally sure. The Taliban used to do that to us … launch an attack and then disappear for days on end, until we thought that they must have moved on someplace else. Then, when we were all relaxed, they'd hit us again, even harder.'

‘This isn't a war, Martin.'

‘Oh, yes it is, sweetheart. All human life is a war, and it always will be. So long as somebody has something that somebody else wants – so long as somebody believes in something different from somebody else – there'll always be war. Always. It's never going to end. Never. Not until this planet splits apart.'

‘You shouldn't be such a pessimist,' said Peta. She pointed to the stars and said, ‘Look … Cassiopeia.'

Martin squinted upward. ‘Oh, yeah? They all just look like stars to me. You were always telling fortunes. What does that mean?'

‘Cassiopeia is the goddess of riches and good fortune. If she shines on you, it means that one day, you'll strike it rich.'

‘Like I'm going to win the MegaMillions?'

‘Maybe not
literally
rich, but your life is going to turn out well.'

‘Oh. I see. To tell you the truth, I don't give a damn, so long as it starts raining again. What's the point of being rich if the whole country is nothing but a dried-out desert?'