"I'll join you there," Bradley said.
For Evans--who had intermittently been attempting to call Detective Perry while this discussion was taking place--the most disturbing aspect was the implication of constant change. Evans had never really focused on the idea that Indians had lived at the same time as the glaciers. Of course, he knew that this was true. He knew that early Indians had hunted the mammoth and other large mammals to extinction. But he had never considered the possibility that they would also have burned forests and changed the environment to suit their purposes.
But of course they had.
Equally disturbing was the image of so many different forests taking over, one after another. Evans had never wondered what had existed before the redwood forests. He, too, had considered them primeval.
Nor had he ever thought about the landscape that the glaciers would have left behind. Thinking about it now, he realized that it probably looked like the land he had recently seen in Iceland--cold, wet, rocky, and barren. It stood to reason that generations of plants would have to grow there, building up a layer of topsoil.
But in his mind, he had always imagined a sort of animated movie in which the glaciers receded and redwood trees popped up immediately along the receding edge. The glaciers pulled away leaving redwood forest behind.
He realized now how silly that view had been.
And Evans had also noticed, in passing, how frequently Jennifer had spoken of a changing climate. First it was cold and wet, then it was warm and dry and the glaciers melted, then it was wetter again, and the glaciers came back. Changing, and changing again.
Constant change.
After a while, Bradley excused himself and went to the front of the plane to call his agent. Evans said to Jennifer, "How did you know all that stuff?"
"For the reason Bradley himself mentioned. The 'dire threat of global warming.' We had a whole team researching dire threats. Because we wanted to find everything we could to make our case as impressive as possible."
"And?"
She shook her head. "The threat of global warming," she said, "is essentially nonexistent. Even if it were a real phenomenon, it would probably result in a net benefit to most of the world."
The pilot clicked on the intercom, telling them to take their seats because they were on their final approach to San Francisco.
SAN FRANCISCO
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 12
6:31 P. M.
The anteroom was gray, cold, and smelled of disinfectant. The man behind the desk wore a lab coat. He typed at his keyboard. "Morton...Morton...Yes. George Morton. Okay. And you are..."
"Peter Evans. I'm Mr. Morton's attorney," Evans said.
"And I'm Ted Bradley," Ted said. He started to extend his hand, then thought better of it, pulled it back.
"Oh. Hey," the technician said. "I thought you looked familiar. You're the secretary of state."
"Actually, I'm the president."
"Right, right, the president. I knew I'd seen you before. Your wife is a drunk."
"No, actually, the secretary of state's wife is a drunk."
"Oh. I don't get to see the show that often."
"It's off the air now."
"That explains it."
"But it's in syndication in all the major markets."
Evans said, "If we could make the identification now..."
"Okay. Sign here, and I'll get you visitor tags."
Jennifer remained in the anteroom. Evans and Bradley walked into the morgue. Bradley looked back. "Who is she anyway?"
"She's an attorney working on the global warming team."
"I think she's a plant for industry. She's obviously some kind of extremist."
"She works right under Balder, Ted."
"Well, I can understandthat, " Bradley said, snickering. "I'd like her working under me, too. But did you listen to her, for God's sake? Old-growth forests 'suck?' That's industry talking." He leaned closer to Evans. "I think you should get rid of her."
"Get rid of her?"
"She's up to no good. Why is she with us now anyway?"
"I don't know. She wanted to come. Why are you with us, Ted?"
"I have a job to do."
The sheet draping the body was spotted with gray stains. The technician lifted it back.
"Oh Jesus," Ted Bradley said, turning quickly away.
Evans forced himself to gaze at the body. Morton had been a large man in life, and now he was even larger, his torso purple gray and bloated. The odor of decay was strong. Indenting the puffy flesh was an inch-wide ring around one wrist. Evans said, "The watch?"
"Yeah, we took it off," the technician said. "Barely got it over the hand. You need to see it?"
"Yes, I do." Evans leaned closer and stiffened his body against the smell. He wanted to look at the hands and the nails. Morton had had a childhood injury to the fourth nail on his right hand, leaving the nail dented, deformed. But one of the hands of this body was missing, and the other was gnawed and mangled. There was no way he could be sure of what he was seeing.
Behind him, Bradley said, "Are you done yet?"
"Not quite."
"Je-sus, man."