The nurse gently shook Guang Xi awake.
“You have visitors,” she said quietly.
Guang Xi saw Dr. Huang and two other men standing in his room. The first man wore the typical University attire, matching shirt and slacks. He was short and squat in stature with a bald head and a chubby face. He wore thin wire-rimmed glasses over intense dark eyes.
“Guang Xi,” Dr. Huang said. “This is Dr. Zheng from the University Department of Experimental Physics.
The other man wore an Army uniform with a number of medals on his chest. The applet on his shoulder bore one gold star.
“This is Junior General Fong,” Dr. Huang said. “He is from the CNSA, China’s Space Agency.” Dr. Huang leaned closer to Guang Xi and whispered, “He’s also a member of the Ministry of State Security.”
“How can I help you?” Guang Xi said, looking at Junior General Fong.
“I just need to confirm a few facts,” Fong replied. “The curtain of light was several miles long — over a thousand feet high and bright enough to be seen in direct sunlight?”
“Yes,” Guang Xi answered.
“We have calculated the energy requirements to create a light curtain of that description,” Dr. Zheng said. “We are in the range of two terajoules.”
Guang Xi ran the numbers in his mind. “That’s the equivalent of… 480 metric tons of TNT. No wonder the earthquake was so massive. You’re saying… That’s not natural. That couldn’t happen by itself.”
Dr. Zheng nodded.
“I told you,” Dr. Huang added. “He’s the brightest grad student at the University.”
“Somebody did this,” Guang Xi said firmly. “Somebody did this to me!” Anger exploded from Guang Xi. “This was no accident. This was not fate. This was deliberate!”
“Yes,” Fong replied.
“Who did this to me?” Guang Xi screamed. “Who did this!”
“There is only one facility on the planet that can direct and focus that kind of power,” Fong said. “That facility belongs to the United States of America.”
CHAPTER 8
Mayor Willa McBride chaired the committee that judged the sand sculpturing competition which officially launched the summer season in Dolphin Beach. The tide was moving out, so the gray sand was wet and perfect for mounding and shaping into the exotic art forms that were such a favorite with the tourists. Artists came from the entire Pacific Northwest area, and as far south as Northern California. As Willa and the Judging Committee moved from one sculpture to the next Willa’s favorite for first prize kept changing. The pacific dolphin leaping from the water, about to jump over a surfer was her current favorite. Each year there was always a sculpture of Poseidon surrounded by mermaids that took one of the top three medals in the competition. This year there was also a mermaid riding a giant crab in the running for a medal. There was the traditional castle complete with knights standing guard and something quite unusuaclass="underline" a large fat Buddha with his legs crossed in the Lotus position, which appeared to be floating above the surrounding water, with a ring of fish nearly standing on their tails in admiration.
Willa held back on her opinion as the committeemen discussed their choices. With six committee members, Willa would vote only to break a tie, which wasn’t necessary this year. First prize went to the dolphin jumping over the surfer. It was, after all, Dolphin Beach. With the judging done and medals awarded, Willa strolled back to the city offices.
Oceanside Drive bordered the beach near the Village Center, with small B&B’s between the shore and Oceanside Drive both to the north and to the south. Hill Street formed the south end of the Village Center and made its way up hill to the east, connecting with Highway 101. Main Street began just to the north of Village Center and ran parallel to Oceanside Drive, ending in a cul-de-sac at the Ocean Grand Hotel and the base of Promontory Point.
A young man rose from the single visitor’s chair as Willa walked in the door. He was tall and thin, almost too thin. His hair was long, medium brown and not well combed. He also had the scruffy beginnings of a beard. He wore a dark blue sweatshirt bearing the logo of a coffee house she didn’t recognize, and a pair of faded jeans. The only thing that looked decent were the brightly colored cross-trainer shoes he was wearing.
“Ms. McBride, I’m Jason Roberts,” he said holding out his hand.
Willa shook hands with him, wondering what he wanted. “How can I help you, Jason?” she asked. Since becoming mayor, she had realized that everyone who came in to see her wanted something from her.
“Actually, I’m here to help you,” Jason replied. “I’m a graduate student at the California Institute of Technology and my master’s thesis is on the Cascadia Subduction Zone.”
“Okay,” Willa replied. “This sounds like something we’d be better off sitting down to discuss.” She led him into her office and closed the door. “Run this by me again, please.” He carried his backpack in with him and plopped it down on the floor next to the chair.
“Sure,” Jason said as he sat down. “I work in the Earth Sciences Department at Caltech. Only the brightest and the best get to go there.”
“Right,” Willa replied as she sat in her chair, wondering what was coming next.
“As I said, my master’s thesis is on the Cascadia Subduction Zone.”
“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t understand your concern. So why are you here?”
“Most everyone’s familiar with the San Andreas fault that runs through California. What most people don’t know is that it connects with two other fault lines after it leaves the coast of northern California at the Mendocino Triple Junction. The Cascadia Subduction Zone starts there and runs north to Vancouver Island.”
“Okay, so why are you here?” Willa asked again. Why can’t he just get to the point?
“I’m actually spending my summer as a CREW volunteer. That’s the Cascadia Region Earthquake Workgroup. I’m reviewing tsunami evacuation plans for all of the coastal towns and providing updated information where those plans need to be revised.”
“Well, our plan has been in place for years now; there are signs directing people where to go during an alert.”
“Yes, well, I accessed the plan for Dolphin Beach through the Internet, and from what we learned from the earthquake and tsunami in Sumatra, your plan needs to be revised. I’m here to help you do that.”
“It sounds like there’s some sort of a catch coming,” she said.
“Of course there is,” he replied. “But not much of one.” He reached into his pants pocket and produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. He also took out his wallet, removed his California Driver’s license and his Caltech ID card and placed them on her desk, as well.
The letter was from the Cascadia Region Earthquake Workgroup introducing Jason Roberts. It authorized him to work as a volunteer and asked only that he be allowed to use local camping facilities along the Pacific Northwest Coast as he performed his review of evacuation plans during the summer break. There was a phone number if she had any questions. Willa reached for the phone and was about to dial the number when she had another idea. Instead of the number on the piece of paper, she called information and gave them the name of the organization. Jason smiled and looked around the office. Once Willa verified the phone number she asked to be directly connected. A one-minute conversation verified who Jason was and what he was doing. The lady from CREW asked if Jason had brought his backpack into the office. Willa glanced down next to the chair where Jason was sitting. There was the large dirty backpack.
“Yes,” Willa replied.
“Tell him to keep it off the furniture and the carpeting,” she said. “He treats every place as if it were a dorm room.”