Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt) 📕

been associated with the federal government.”

The three men on the other side of the room conferred in whispers.

At the end of their impromptu conference, Gleason said, “Can you put us in touch with your husband?”

“If I do, he’ll insist that a condition of his cooperation will be allowing us to stay inside General Marx’s protective shield.”

“Of course, no problem,” Gleason said without hesitation.

“Okay. I’ll step outside and call him.”

“No, call him here, on speaker.”

Baldwin understood. As the head of Santa Barbara County Emergency Operations, her husband technically worked for Gleason. He could call him direct. Gleason had sent his aide to find them, so he could promise Evarts her safety in return for private cooperation. If the riot had not frightened her so much, she would have left. Instead, she punched up her husband’s private number.

“Greg, this is Patricia. You’re on speaker with Paul Gleason, Adjutant General Brad Marx, and Howard Brady, Department of Water Resources, Division of Safety of Dams. I’m in the lieutenant governor’s temporary offices with Ashley, Smith, and Wilson.”

“I got your text. I assume you’re safe.”

Evarts sounded wary, probably because she had used Patricia instead of Trish. He probably suspected that she was under some level of duress.

“We are … and we will remain safe on the condition that you secretly cooperate with the lieutenant governor.”

“Hit mute!” Gleason demanded in a loud voice.

She did.

“I didn’t put conditions on your protection.”

“Excellent. Then I can tell my husband to go about his duties, and you’ll continue to protect us from the mob.”

Gleason huffed. “This is not a quid pro quo situation; however … neither of us are obligated to provide help to the other.”

Baldwin could not help but laugh. “Listen, my husband’s a direct man. Subterfuge won’t accomplish anything but lengthen these negotiations. Why don’t we just drop the pretense and get on with it? We both know what we want.”

Gleason took three deep breaths. Obviously, straightforward was not in his repertoire. Finally, he nodded toward the phone to signal surrender.

She took her phone off mute. “Greg, you there?”

“Yes. Did you get your little tiff with the lieutenant governor resolved?”

“We did. We’ll be direct. He has a request.”

“Yes, Paul.”

Baldwin smiled. He had used Gleason’s first name to needle him. From his expression, it had worked.

“Greg, good buddy, I understand you have access to someone at the Livermore Lab.”

Tit for tat.

Gleason continued, “We would like to initiate a conversation. A highly sensitive conversation. Something we would not like to see in the press … or back at the Department of Energy, for that matter. If you can arrange that for us, we will insure the safety of your wife and her friends. Is that direct enough?”

“Yes, I understand,” Evarts said for all to hear. “But I have no personal contact. My access is through a friend. He will need to be brought on board.”

“Tell us about your friend,” General Marx said.

“His name is Jim O’Brian. He’s a retired army officer, like myself. In retirement, he runs SAR teams. When the Cachuma Dam broke, we had reason to get reacquainted.”

“Does he have any continuing contact with the Pentagon?” General Marx asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. In truth, I don’t think he wanders far from the hills north of here.”

“Is he trustworthy?” General Marx asked.

“He’s an officer and a gentleman. If he gives his word, you can take it to the bank.”

“Then I’ll need his word,” Gleason said. “The governor has authorized this contact, but only in the strictest confidence.”

“Who should I have him call?”

“General Marx.” Gleason gave him the phone number.

“Expect a call in a few minutes … if he’s not on a search operation in the wilderness. If that’s the case, I’ll call back to tell you it will take more time.”

“This is time sensitive,” General Marx said.

“General, Search and Rescue are often in dead zones. That’s the nature of the job. Hopefully, he’ll be home resting. We’ve had a few tough days down here.”

“Understood. I want a call back in fifteen minutes, one way or the other.”

“Then I’d better get on it.” Evarts terminated the call.

“Where do we go?” Smith asked.

“None of you are required any further,” Gleason said. “I’d prefer not to see you again. William will show you to a vacant office. Make do as best you can.”

He opened the door and bellowed at his aide, despite his being less than ten feet away. William literally leaped from his chair and scurried into the office.

“Take these people to an unassigned office, preferably one with a couch. Show them where the vending machines are.” He turned to Baldwin’s party. “Now go. We’ll handle it from here.”

William showed them to an office opposite a women’s restroom. He told them there were two couches in the women’s room and one in the office. He laughed and said one of the men would need to sleep on the floor. Hilarious.

When they were closeted in the office, Smith said, “Thanks. I know that was difficult for you. Gleason’s a prick.”

Baldwin shrugged off her coat. “He is, but I’ll get even.”

“How?” Smith asked.

“My husband’s friend works for an intelligence agency.”

“You’re kidding,” Smith said.

“Not at all. Mr. Gleason’s plea for help from a federal agency won’t remain secret.” She smiled. “At least, not from the powers that be.”

Chapter 51

“This is crazy.”

“Yes,” O’Brian said.

Evarts and O’Brian stood under a canopy on a hill north of Pacheco Pass. They were five hundred feet above and almost two miles away from Highway 152.

“Will it work?” Evarts asked.

“We’ll know soon enough.”

The rain continued unabated. Since this plan had been approved two days previously, Evarts had hoped that the sun would break though the dark shroud of clouds to bake the earth dry. No such luck. Mother Nature remained on a rampage. Not a quick hit, like an earthquake or tornado, no, this was malevolent water torture. Water everywhere—falling from the sky, standing in lowlands, and cascading down every slope. All accompanied by inexorable dreariness. The whole scene exhausted him.

The politics exhausted him as well. Nothing