State of Fear

Evans was sure that was not true. "Fifty thousand is a lot of money," he said, "I don't see why it should strangle--"

 

"Because it will!"Drake snapped."Because I am telling you it will!" He seemed surprised by his own outburst. He gripped the desk, got control of himself. "Look," he said. "We can never forget about our opponents here. The forces of industry are strong, phenomenally strong. And industry wants to be left alone to pollute. It wants to pollute here, and in Mexico, and in China, and wherever else it does its business. The stakes are huge."

 

"I understand," Evans said.

 

"Many powerful forces are taking an interest in this case, Peter."

 

"Yes, I'm sure."

 

"Forces that will stop at nothing to be sure that we lose it."

 

Evans frowned. What was Drake telling him?

 

"Their influence is everywhere, Peter. They may have influence with members of your law firm. Or other people you know. People whom you believe you can trust--but you can't. Because they are on the other side, and they don't even know it."

 

Evans said nothing. He was just looking at Drake.

 

"Be prudent, Peter. Watch your back. Don't discuss what you are doing with anyone--withanyone --except me. Try not to use your cell phone. Avoid e-mail. And keep an eye out in case you are followed."

 

"Okay.... But actually I've already been followed," Evans said. "There's a blue Prius--"

 

"Those were our guys. I don't know what they are doing. I called them off days ago."

 

"Your guys?"

 

"Yes. It's a new security firm we've been trying out. They're obviously not very competent."

 

"I'm confused," Evans said. "NERF has a security firm?"

 

"Absolutely. For years, now. Because of the danger we face. Please understand me:We are all in danger, Peter. Don't you understand what this lawsuit means if we win? Trillions of dollars that industry must pay in the coming years, to halt their emissions that are causing global warming. Trillions. With those stakes, a few lives don't matter. So: Be very damn careful."

 

Evans said that he would. Drake shook his hand.

 

"I want to know who told George about the paragraph," Drake said. "And I want that money freed up for us to use it as we see fit. This is all riding on you now," he said. "Good luck, Peter."

 

On his way out of the building, Evans ran into a young man who was sprinting up the stairs. They collided so hard that Evans was almost knocked down. The young man apologized hastily, and continued on his way. He looked like one of the kids working on the conference. Evans wondered what the crisis could be, now.

 

When he got back outside, he looked down the street. The blue Prius was gone.

 

He got into the car and drove back to Morton's, to see Sarah.

 

 

 

 

 

HOLMBY HILLS

 

 

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 5

 

5:57 P. M.

 

Traffic was heavy. He crept slowly along Sunset; he had plenty of time to think. The conversation with Drake left him feeling odd. There had been a funny quality to the actual meeting. As if it didn't really need to happen, as if Drake just wanted to make sure he was able to call Evans in, and Evans would come. As if he were asserting his authority. Or something like that.

 

Anyway, Evans felt, something was off.

 

And Evans also felt a little strange about the security firm. That just didn't seem right. After all, NERF was one of the good guys. They shouldn't be sneaking around and following people. And Drake's paranoid warnings were somehow not persuasive. Drake was overreacting, as he so often did.

 

Drake was dramatic by nature. He couldn't help it. Everything was a crisis, everything was desperate, everything was vitally important. He lived in a world of extreme urgency, but it wasn't necessarily the real world.

 

Evans called his office, but Heather had gone for the day. He called Lowenstein's office and spoke to Lisa. "Listen," he said, "I need your help."

 

Her voice was lower, conspiratorial. "Of course, Peter."

 

"My apartment was robbed."

 

"No--you, too?"

 

"Yes, me, too. And I really need to talk to the police--"

 

"Well, yes, you certainly do--my goodness--did they take anything?"

 

"I don't think so," he said, "but just to file a report, all that--I'm kind of busy right now, dealing with Sarah...it may go later into the night..."

 

"Well, of course, do you need me to deal with the police about your robbery?"

 

"Could you?" he said. "It would help so much."

 

"Why of course, Peter," she said. "Leave it to me." She paused. When she spoke again, it was almost a whisper. "Is there, ah, anything you don't want the police to find?"

 

"No," he said.

 

"I mean, it's all right with me, everybody in LA has a few bad habits, otherwise we wouldn't be here--"

 

"No, Lisa," he said. "Actually, I don't have any drugs, if that's what you mean."

 

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "I wasn't assuming anything. No pictures or anything like that?"

 

"No, Lisa."

 

"Nothing, you know, underage?"

 

"Afraid not."

 

"Okay, I just wanted to be sure."

 

"Well, thanks for doing this. Now to get in through the door--"

 

"I know," she said, "the key is under the back mat."

 

"Yes." He paused. "How'd you know that?"