Seattle Quake 9.2 (A Jackie Harlan Mystery Book 1) Read online

  "Right. What have we forgotten?"

  Carl's mischievous grin slowly widened. "Nothing. A royal blue chopper will land in the play field across the street from the daughter's house and it'll be the talk of the neighborhood for weeks."

  Jackie buried her face in her hands and shook her head, "Good point. Set up a new paint job in LA."

  "Red?" Carl asked.

  "We used red last time."

  "I know, but baby likes it when she's red."

  Jackie glanced at the blue chopper sitting quietly on its landing pad, and then smiled. "Okay, red." Suddenly, she turned her attention to Michael, "You took care of the flowers, right?"

  "Don't worry. I picked them out myself yesterday and the mike is in place. All the guy has to do is deliver them. And before you ask, I know she's working today. The flowers will be delivered to her office at exactly 4:30. And if she leaves early, he'll take them to her house. Relax, will ya?"

  Finally, Jackie returned his smile, "Flowers always make a woman feel good."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  *

  When Katie Moore glanced at the clock it was 11:15 a.m. She lived eight miles south of the Kingdome, just west of SeaTac airport and as usual, her dog Spook lay sleeping on the floor. Katie had a migraine headache and the noise of planes taking off wasn't helping. She rested her elbows on the kitchen table and massaged her temples with her fingertips. Suddenly, her black Labrador shot up and raced to the door.

  "What is it, boy?"

  Spook pawed and whined, wagged his tail, and then deserted his position and lay back down.

  Katie watched him a moment more, and then went back to her massage, "Guess that's why we call you spook." Overhead, the roar of a 747 grew louder.

  *

  In Chicago, the flight from New York landed at O'Hare International Airport without incident. Evan Cole looked haggard and tired as he dug his commercial ticket out of his jacket pocket and walked to the flight monitors. Flight 414 to Seattle, originally scheduled to leave in less than half an hour, was delayed. Furious, he turned toward the ticket counter. But before he could head that direction, his cell phone rang.

  Clumsily, he stuffed his ticket back in his pocket, pulled out the phone and extended the antenna, "Hello."

  "Evan, this is Loraine."

  His eyes lit up and his smile was warm, "Loraine, I found her. She's in...”

  "I know. Evan, we've been friends for a long time...long before you married my sister and I love you like a brother. You know that, don't you?"

  "I love you too, Loraine. But just now…”

  "Evan, Christina didn't fake her own death."

  Hundreds of people wandered the corridor or hurried off to catch flights. Children cried, teenagers laughed and couples argued, but Evan Cole noticed none of it, "What?"

  It was early afternoon in New York. Even so, Loraine Whitcomb walked to the bar in her well-furnished, dark mahogany library, poured herself a brandy and took a drink. "It's a long story and I haven't got time to tell it to you now." She was his same age, kept her gray hair bleached blond and lived a life of luxury at Evan Cole's expense. Loraine never married, handled Evan's many contributions and loved to grow flowers.

  Stunned, Evan found a row of seats and sat down. "You've known Christina was alive…all these years? Why didn't you tell me?"

  "At first, Jennifer needed a wealthy husband. And later, there were your sons to consider." It was stormy in New York with black billowing clouds yielding thunder, lightning, and a downpour of hard rain -- a lot like the day Christina vanished. Brandy in hand, Loraine walked to the window, pulled the sheers aside and looked out.

  "Loraine?"

  "I'm here."

  "Are you going to tell me what happened or not?"

  Lightening streaked across the sky and thunder quickly followed, booming loudly and ominously, "It's all so very complicated."

  "What's complicated? Loraine? …Loraine talk to me."

  But Loraine didn't answer. Instead, she slowly set the phone and her drink down on a table. She turned, walked out of the library and closed the door behind her. Her four million dollar house with its five acres of gardens was well known and admired. One last time, she walked down the gold-capered staircase with its dome windows and crystal chandeliers. She crossed the white marble foyer, picked up her clutch bag and pulled out her keys. Quickly, she removed the house key and laid it on a table next to the door.

  The expression on Loraine Whitcomb's face was subdued when she climbed into her luxury car and turned on the ignition. In the midst of the dark storm, she calmly drove away.

  *

  With little left to do but wait, Carl Rhodes took the air crane up for a "spin around the block." His spins usually involved photographing wildlife from high in the air or flying a bit too low over houses to get people to come out. In thirteen years, Jackie paid nearly that many fines and the cost of replacing five cracked windows. But it was a harmless prank, at least so far.

  Michael was on to something. He'd been completely engrossed in his work for hours and declined to share anything with her until he was sure, so Jackie decided on a long shower -- at least until the small hot water tank ran cold. Just before she stepped in, she glanced at her watch. It was time for Evan Cole's delayed flight to leave Chicago.

  *

  Without air conditioning, KMPR's attic was hot and sticky in the summer sun. Collin wiped his brow with a paper towel, and then pulled off his T-shirt. For nearly an hour, music played while Max connected wires from the booth to the new generators in the basement. In a few more minutes, they would shut the power down completely. No big loss. Saturday morning brought few calls anyway. Collin shoved one side of his window open, stuck his head out and lit a cigarette.

  "The minute my back is turned," Max teased, shaking his head as he set his toolbox down on the floor. He pulled the new wiring through a hole drilled in the outside studio wall, and then threaded it through another hole into the control room. Next, he checked the length, and then applied caulking to seal both holes. "And where's your shirt? There are laws in Seattle, you know. You gotta wear a shirt, shoes and you can't smoke in a public business."

  "So fire me. It's too hot to work up here anyway."

  Max put the cap back on the caulking tube and tossed it in his toolbox. "Man, we only get three days of summer a year and you can't take it? What a wimp. Hey, see that spool? Hand it to me, will ya?"

  Collin took a drag, laid the cigarette in an ashtray, grabbed the spool of wire, and followed Max into the booth. When he glanced at the console, three lines were lit up. "What the...? Max look!"

  Max quickly wiped his hands on his pants and closed the booth door. He waited until Collin was in place, flipped the switch and mumbled, "They're probably calling to complain about the music."

  "KMPR, what's on your mind?" Collin asked.

  "I've been trying to get you guys to answer for fifteen minutes," a woman blurted out. "Something weird is going on. There's a blue chopper…”

  "Hang on a second. Tell me who you are, where you're calling from and slow down. You talk faster than most people can listen."

  "Okay. My name is Cynthia. I'm in Bremerton. Anyway, there's a huge blue chopper flying too low. The noise was so loud, it broke out one of my windows. Course, the window was already cracked, you know, from that earthquake."

  "Did the chopper crash?"

  "No. It lifted off again. By the time I ran outside, it was high in the air and headed for the Olympic Mountains. But my neighbor got a good look at it. It's got guns mounted on the bottom."

  "Guns? Is she sure?"

  "She's certain. The barrels are long and about six inches in diameter."

  Collin rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, "Maybe it's ATF or FBI."

  "She said it wasn't marked. It doesn't even have numbers. Aren't government choppers supposed to be marked?"

  "I always thought so."

  "Me too. Anyway, you find out who they are. I want th
em to pay for my window!"

  "I'll do my best, Cynthia." Collin glanced at Max, shrugged, and then pushed the next button."

  This time the caller was a man, "This is Brian and I'm over here on Bainbridge Island. I saw it too. It's a sky crane, you know, like they use to haul logs out of the forest. And it dropped something in the water. Maybe something fell off, I don't know. There was another chopper with red markings. It looked like Channel Eight news, or maybe it was channel six. I never can remember which color is which. Anyway, the news chopper started to come closer and when it did, the sky crane turned and took off."

  "Did you see any guns on it?"

  "I couldn't tell what they were. They don't look long enough to be guns, but these days, who knows? I'm ex-army and it’s a Sikorsky 54A all right, but it’s been modified. The blades are longer, it has a full body and the aft windows are bigger."

  "Aft windows?"

  "Yes. In a sky crane, there are windows in the back of the cab so the crane operator can see what he's doing. Like I said, normally these choppers are used to haul logs or fight fires. But this one's got a full body with windows along the sides where the water tank should be."

  "I see."

  "I called every TV station from Seattle to Tacoma, and none of them admit to having a news chopper anywhere near Bainbridge. I saw the sky crane another time too. It was hovering over Elliott Bay on the day of the earthquake. Hey, I just thought of something. Didn't a cabin cruiser sink in the Bay a couple of months ago?"

  "I remember that. It belonged to some rich guy in Florida."

  "Maybe he hired the crane to lift it out of the water."

  "Maybe so. Thanks Brian. Give us a call if you see it again."

  "Will do. I'm curious now."

  In the booth, Max flipped his mike on, "Know what I think? I think it’s another right wing, Christian Coalition conspiracy."

  Collin sneered and put his finger on the next button, "KMPR, you see a blue chopper?"

  "No. But I've been in an earthquake."

  "Really. Where?"

  "In San Francisco in 1906. My name is Amanda and when I went to San Francisco, it was so cool because I'd never been there before, but I remembered the streets."

  "Wait, you'd never been there…but you were in the 1906 earthquake?"

  "I must have been...in another life."

  Collin shook his head and glanced at his burned out cigarette. "Thanks Amanda. Call again sometime." With the phone lines once more quiet, he took his headset off and lit another.

  In the booth, Max was busy jotting down places to call -- Ft. Lewis, McNeil Air Force Base, Bremerton Naval Station, Whidby Island, Seattle Police, Boeing and Paine Field. He laid the pencil down and studied his list. "One of them has to know who owns that blue chopper. But first, the generator." He flipped on the music and went back to work.

  Collin returned to the window and leaned one shoulder against the wall. Across the street and just beyond a small park, two identical, six floor apartment buildings stood side by side. Below, kids played on the park swings and climbed on bars, while their mother's basked in the rare summer sun.

  Max changed the intercom music from Jazz to Soft, making Collin smile and think of Beth. “...There is someone standing behind you, turn around, look at me. There is someone to love and guide you, turn around, look at me." Collin started to go down stairs to see her, and then he thought better of it. The time was 4:08, Saturday afternoon.

  *

  The morning hours passed quickly for Seely and Jenna on the forty-third floor of the Winningham Blue. Seely bought lunch and promised an excited Jenna they'd finish before five. The love of Jenna’s life was finally on his way home and only a few hours remained until Kevin's plane was due to touch down at SeaTac Airport. But by 4:10, Seely was thirsty and needed a breath of fresh air. She took the express elevator down to the lobby, and then entered a small shop on the upper sub-floor, where she smiled at the clerk and paid for her orange juice. She walked to a long, narrow bar against the wall and grabbed a napkin. Wearing blue jeans and a white shirt with her long hair in a bun, she leisurely strolled out on the terrace. The fresh warm air was just what she needed.

  When she reached the four-foot high brick wall, she set her juice down and took a deep breath. On the street level below, Magnolia trees offered large white blossoms and shoppers sat on benches in the flower garden.

  On weekdays, Second Avenue was bumper to bumper with traffic, including a multitude of city buses opening their doors, letting people off, and then allowing others to board. But on Saturday, buses ran less frequently and today, there were only two in sight. The first came and went without incident. But in the second, a blind man seemed unable to get his guide dog to budge. Finally, he spoke stern words and the dog relented. The canine led his master down the steps and away from the bus, but as soon as the master urged him south, the dog abruptly sat down. Perplexed, the blind man issued more commands. Still the dog disobeyed, whining and barking instead. At a loss, the man leaned down, spoke softly and rubbed the dog's ears. Even so, the dog refused to move.

  In front of the Federal Building across the street, seagulls watched an elderly lady toss pieces of bread from a bag. The gulls circled and landed. But instead of retrieving their easily obtained meal, they quickly took flight again.

  Slowly, Seely searched the cloudless sky. She could feel no wind and other birds were doing the same -- landing, but not staying. "I don't like the looks of this. I don't like it at all."

  Forgetting her drink, she hurried back inside. She raced across the Bank foyer, rushed around a delivery man with a huge bouquet of flowers, jetted into the hallway, and jammed her finger on the express elevator button. Urgently, she pushed the button again, and again, "Come on."

  At last, a door opened. She stepped in and quickly pushed the button marked 43. Endless seconds passed before the door closed and the elevator began to climb. Alone, with her heart racing, she nervously toyed with her necklace and backed into the corner of the small room. Finally, the express elevator increased its speed, whirling past the first thirty-six floors. Even so, Seely remained on edge. Her eyes were glued to numbered lights above the door and her thoughts poured out of her mouth, "Thirty-six floors of solid wall. What were they thinking of?"

  CHAPTER 5

  At 4:14 p.m., Max threw the power switches in the basement of KMPR. Just as he hoped, the backup generators kicked on. He hurried up two flights of stairs, raced across the studio and dashed into the sound proof booth. All the appropriate lights were lit on his console, the equipment along each wall buzzed and Max was pleased, "Perfect."

  Collin snuffed out his third cigarette and grabbed his T-shirt. "Guess that means I have to go back to work." He sighed, put his shirt on and waited while Max flipped what seemed like dozens of switches on the control panel. Two minutes later, the new backup generators were off and KMPR was back on public power.

  *

  Just south of the San Juan Islands, a pod of Orca whales abruptly turned and headed into the Strait of Juan de Fuca toward the open sea. At the same time, the Victoria Clipper sailed past a Port Townsend Lighthouse and started for Vancouver Island. In Everett, two police officers parked their cars outside a restaurant and went inside for coffee.

  Just north of the Snohomish County line in Mountlake Terrace, an eight-year old boy in a little league baseball uniform wound up to throw a pitch. On the 405 freeway heading south, a drunken motorist in a station wagon quickly changed lanes without signaling for the third time. Just out of sight, a family of six lounged on the deck of their cabin cruiser on the waters of Lake Washington.

  South of Seattle, soldiers marched across an open field at Fort Lewis while at McCord Air Force Base, pilots climbed out of cockpits on the runway. Nearby, the California Zephyr whizzed through Fife on its way north.

  In Federal Way, thousands of kids with half as many parents played in swimming pools, rode amusement rides or slid down tall water slides. At Boeing field, a new 777 ma
de a perfect landing, successfully completing its maiden flight. On Seattle's waterfront, a half filled ferry blasted its horn, and then pulled away from the dock.

  At the Seattle Center, children frolicked in the water fountain or paused to count the state flags in the Flag Pavilion. On the second level of the Center House, whole families boarded the Monorail and prepared for the three-minute ride to the heart of downtown. Others paid the price, and then climbed into glass-encased elevators for the lift to the top of the Space Needle.

  In the southbound lane of the short I-5 tunnel under the Convention Center, none of the Saturday drivers noticed when three small yellow tiles popped off the western wall.

  Seventy-six year old Morgan Toliver stood in his living room window and waved good-bye to his five-year old great-grandson. For no apparent reason, the lower left hand corner of his window suddenly cracked.

  On a wide window ledge of a third story apartment house built in 1932, a faded red brick set in old gray mortar slipped a full inch out of place.

  And Spook was spooked again. This time, the dog whimpered and pawed on Katie Moore's kitchen door until she let him out. Befuddled, Katie stepped outside to watch. Spook raced to the back fence, abruptly stopped, lifted a paw and whimpered -- this time louder. Just as abruptly, he turned and darted back to her. At her feet, he quickly jumped into the air, and then he was off again, speeding toward the back fence.

  "What on earth has gotten into you?" Katie muttered.

  In the bathroom of her expensive home facing Lake Washington, Silvia Graham applied lipstick to her top and bottom lips, and then rubbed them together. She put the cap back on and tossed the lipstick tube in her bag. But just as she was about to leave, she noticed movement. When she glanced down, the water in the toilet bowl was rippling.

  *

  Any other time, Seely would have marveled at the speed of the express elevator. But now, it seemed painfully slow. "Come on!" she nearly shouted. At the thirty-seventh floor, the elevator slowed to normal, passing each level at a snail's pace. The necklace still in her right hand, she deliberately took a long, slow breath. "Calm down old girl, this could be a false alarm." But as soon as the door opened, she dropped the necklace back in place and flew out. She ran down the center corridor, dashed through the kitchenette, burst into the main room, and shouted, "Everybody, go home now!"