Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) James Best (best e book reader .TXT) 📖

level so that the Emergency Operations Center directs all SAR teams across the state. Talk to Nevada and Arizona. There’s a protocol for requests between states. Get it enacted. I can supplement my people with SAR personnel. They have training for this kind of work.”

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Yeah. Call your husband and get him to send a dozen of his people over here. My people are gonna get tired pretty soon.”

She opened the door a crack. “I’ll make that call. No promises other than to pass on your request. Now, we better get going or we’ll never get to Sacramento.”

“You said two questions.”

“Damn, I forgot. Can you give me one of your cards?”

All three of them exchanged cards.

“You’re professors?” His tone sounded incredulous, less optimistic.

“Yes, but don’t hold it against us. We’re also on a state emergency commission.” She had a thought. “Don’t you have UTV retailers in the area?”

“We do. About thirty miles up the road. But for some reason I can’t comprehend, they want money for those damn things.”

“Commandeer them,” she said. “I’ll get you the budget … or pay for them myself.”

He busted up laughing. “Is that the kind of advice you give the lieutenant governor? Thanks, but I like my job. Nor would I do well in prison. Without official authorization, I’m not gonna confiscate private property. This is tragic, but not the kind of catastrophe that warrants martial law.”

“How much would ten UTVs cost?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Lots of different models. A hundred and fifty thousand, maybe.”

“I’ll go to my car and write you a check.”

At first, he looked incredulous, but then he glanced at her Mercedes. As a CHP lieutenant, he recognized it as a nearly quarter million-dollar car.

“Damn … you know what, if you’re serious, I’ll take you up on that. And I know a way to make it a charitable donation.”

“That’s beside the point. On second thought, in a month or so, I may appreciate it. Thanks.”

“No, thank you. Make the check payable to the CHP 11-99 Foundation. It’s a charitable organization dedicated to the Highway Patrol. They in turn will loan the UTVs to the CHP.”

After she wrote the check, a cruiser pulled out and escorted them down the off-ramp and on to the surface street detour. It didn’t speed their exit, and the flashing lights were annoying, but it was the CHP lieutenant’s way of saying thank you.

Creeping along with the rest of traffic, Baldwin said, “Jon, you were right to have us stop. I bet tomorrow we’ll be the only people to have an eyewitness account.”

Ashley sat quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You just had to show off.”

“You mean that crack about the lieutenant governor? I’m sorry, Jon. People think I trade off Greg’s position. I guess I’m overly sensitive to name-dropping. It made no difference, and I should have let it pass.”

“Hum,” he said. “I suppose that was impolite, but that was not what I was referring to.”

She was confused, and a quick mental run-through of the encounters brought nothing to mind. “Then what are you talking about?”

“That damn check. You just handed that officer more money than my annual salary.”

Chapter 5

Evarts grew grumpier by the minute. He had just gotten off the phone with his wife, and she had passed on a request for a dozen of his men. He hit the call button to his assistant with more force than required.

He heard Robert Cunningham’s voice say, “Yes, sir.”

“Have the deputy chiefs and commanders in my conference room in fifteen.”

He heard the dead sound that meant his assistant had disconnected to arrange the meeting. He had eighteen detectives and sixty patrol officers, plus technical and administrative staff. He didn’t believe this storm severe enough to warrant siphoning off ten per cent of his force. Besides, the request came from the CHP. Evarts seldom discussed police politics with Baldwin, because he didn’t want to feel obligated to listen to university politics. He had no direct knowledge about what the engineering faculty thought about the liberal arts faculty, but he guessed they weren’t bosom buddies. Neither were the police and Highway Patrol. Overlapping jurisdictions didn’t help. Technically, CHP could enforce traffic laws on any public road in the state. From a practical perspective, they limited themselves to interstates, state highways, and public roads in unincorporated areas. Even so, that meant CHP had jurisdiction over Highway 101, the major thoroughfare that ran between his city and the ocean. Disagreements were few, but when they occurred, they often became bitter.

He picked up the phone and punched the mayor’s button. The mayor’s assistant put him through after he had pleaded his case.

“Good morning, mayor,” Evarts said.

“I suspect not, if you’re calling me. What’s the problem?”

Mayor Megan Walsh was early into her second term. One-on-one, Evarts and Walsh had a relaxed working relationship. In groups, he showed deference, but she still found ways to display her authority over him. Whenever he felt irritated about her showing off, he visualized the prior mayor, and her quirks fell away to nothingness.

“I’ve received an informal request from CHP to loan out some of our officers. A big chunk of I-5 collapsed beyond Coalinga. Farm area with lots of north-south traffic but little infrastructure.”

“Why us? And what the hell is an informal request?”

He told her.

“Damn.” She stayed silent for a long moment. “Okay, volunteers only, no overtime, no more than five. Think that will do it?”

“Five’s more than they’ll probably get from any other jurisdiction.”

“Make sure Patricia gets kudos from the powers that be in Sacramento. You personally call the CHP assistant commissioner, Field Operations, and the local captain of the Coastal Division, and make sure they feel beholden to us. Call the Officers Association and sweet-talk them into turning a blind eye if any of our people take it upon themselves to work extra hours. You good with all that?”

“I am, your honor. Good plan.”

“Yeah, right. Now, tell me the truth; is this just the start?”

“The truth is, I don’t