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

when the storms hit the coastal ranges, they’ll drop their loads. Big time. The wet ground can’t handle any more, so the water will roll down the hills into the Santa Ynez River. The bright guys with all the degrees will release water from Gibraltar and let it flow into Cachuma until it gets fuller and fuller, and that old pile of dirt won’t hold it back. Listen, Greg, unless we do something, when catastrophe hits, the inland regions will have grabbed all our men and equipment. We’ll be stark naked out in the rain.”

Evarts got up and paced again.

“That’s a pretty sophisticated scenario, Tom,” Evarts said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Contacts. People who study this stuff.”

“I need more than that for willful noncompliance.”

“My contact is at UCSB. That’s all I can tell you. I promised anonymity.”

Evarts had paced only half the length of the room before he whirled around. “Not that asshole Jonathan Ashley?”

Lopez’s startled expression told him everything.

“My god, he’s a historian, not a meteorologist,” Evarts said. “When did you talk? He’s in Sacramento with my wife right now.”

“Today. He called from Sacramento. He’s advising the governor on this crisis. He’s a tenured professor, and he sounds very certain.”

“He’s only an associate professor, and that’s only thanks to my wife. The man’s a quack, a poser, and a pain in the ass. How’d you run into him?”

“He’s my wife’s brother.”

Chapter 10

Baldwin sipped coffee. She had found a comfortable chair in a far corner of the hotel lobby and was exploring relevant websites on her laptop. Most of them dealt with government authority during an emergency. Before their meeting ended, Brad had returned to request that the commission members and guests remain until the next day. He announced that this time, they would start at a civilized hour, nine o’clock in the morning. Baldwin wondered if the next day’s meeting would run long. Could she escape Sacramento soon enough to drive to Los Angeles before nightfall? Her keynote speech came after dinner the following night, so if she was forced to fly the morning of her presentation, she could still make it to the conference in time to deliver her address. It was not her preferred course of action, because she would need to fly back afterwards to pick up her car and drive home. She shook these thoughts from her head. Whatever came about, she’d handle it.

Thankfully, Ashley had disappeared with Sherrell Wilson, the US Geological Survey woman. Baldwin needed quiet time, or at least time away from Ashley. Let him frolic with his soulmate. She enjoyed her respite of solitude.

Uh oh. She spotted Tom Smith sauntering in her direction. She should have stayed in her room.

He loomed over her. “Cramming for the exam?”

“In a way. I’m a historian. I’m not knowledgeable about extreme weather or state actions in an emergency. I’m surveying what I can find online. Maybe I’ll be able to contribute more tomorrow.”

“May I sit?”

At least he was polite enough to ask. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been around people for two days. Right now, I’m enjoying a little quiet time.”

“I won’t disturb you.”

“You will. There are two types of people in the world: those who recharge around groups of people and those who recharge in solitude. I’m the latter.”

“A shame—I’m the former.” He started to leave but hesitated and asked, “Why is a historian on a seismic commission?”

“Professor Ashley and I wrote a journal article on the Great Flood of 1862. I guess someone thought we could add a historic perspective.”

He nodded, started to leave, but swung back again. “Are you on any news sites?”

“Is something happening?” she asked.

“Evacuation orders have gone out for Redding and areas below Folsom Lake.”

“Why? Did more dams break?”

“No. This time it’s precautionary. The EOC acting director is getting very nervous about this so-called atmospheric river.”

She went to her favorite local news site to confirm that Smith wasn’t just looking for an excuse to hang around. The evacuation orders had been issued, but not one news agency mentioned anything about an atmospheric river.

When she looked up from her screen, Smith still stood there. “Are we going to get out of here tomorrow?” she asked.

“My guess … no. Look outside. It’s raining harder than ever.”

Baldwin stood up and looked toward the big glass entrance doors. She had been so comfortable in her own world that she had been oblivious to her surroundings. Something was happening in the lobby, especially by the entrance and registration counter. A frenzy of activity. Drenched people, wet hair stuck to their faces, dripped all over the marble floors, while maintenance men swished big mops back and forth, trying to protect the hotel chain against lawsuits. Some customers laughed, some yelled angrily, and one woman cried quietly as her male companion tried to get a clerk’s attention. Baldwin closed her laptop, tucked it under her arm, and approached the entrance. She watched sheets of water flowing off the covered drive. Gusts of wind blew the water back and forth like curtains fluttering in an open window. When a woman jumped from a car sitting beneath the overhang, the wind caught and flipped up her dress as she shielded her eyes to run into the hotel. Soon, she stood breathless at the entrance, soaked from the sprint.

Baldwin sensed Smith behind her. Without turning, she asked, “How long has it been this bad?”

“Almost an hour,” he answered. “You must have been pretty engrossed.”

“I tend to do that when I’m into research,” she said. “Has an atmospheric river been confirmed?”

“It has, but not announced to the media.”

“Damn. I’m not going to get out of here, am I?”

“You have someplace to be?” Smith asked.

“Los Angeles. Thursday night.” She shrugged. “Keynote address at a conference.”

“Good news and bad news. I don’t think you’ll make it, but I doubt others will either. I just got off the phone with my assistant at Caltech.” He waved his arm toward the door. “Same down there. God just uncupped his hands