Her Name Will Be Faith (46 page)

"Richard," JC said. He did not sound very angry,
not even like a man who has recently been awakened in the small hours of the
morning. But
then, JC's voice
never did change its timbre. "I have just been called by
Assistant Commissioner McGrath, inquiring if I had
authorized my
station to put out an
emergency warning for the evacuation of New York
City.
Has such a warning been issued by NABS?"

"Yes,
sir, Mr White."

"Who
by?"

"I
made the telecast, sir."

"On
whose authority did you do that, Richard? Did Waring give you
authorization?"

"I haven't seen Hal since the 10.30 forecast, sir,
although I'm expecting
him
in at any moment for the morning update. If he can get through the
traffic."

"Then on whose authority did you make that telecast?
What pro
gram did you interrupt?"

"I interrupted a movie, Mr White. I convinced the
program controller that it was necessary to do so. He wanted to call Mr Kiley,
but I told
him I had your authority. I take full
responsibility, sir."

"You do." Still JC did
not raise his voice. "You acted on your own
initiative despite an express directive from me to the contrary?"

"I felt it to be necessary,
sir, in view of the direction Hurricane Faith
is now taking."

"Has she changed speed or track since last we
spoke?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir. But..."

"So, she still cannot reach
New York for another 24 hours at the
earliest,
right?"

"Well, sir..."

"Thus the circumstances are
exactly the same as when I gave you
definite
instructions last night, are they not?"

"They are, sir, except that the hurricane is now that
much closer, and
she could quicken up.
There is simply no way of telling."

"Just as there is no way of telling if she might
suddenly stop, or turn
away.
Richard, has it occurred to you that the National American
Broadcasting Service may well have to face severe censure
– and with
drawal
of advertising revenue as a consequence – for what you have done?
You have deliberately created a panic situation without
the slightest
justification."

"I disagree, Mr White. I think I had every
justification. In fact I think
I,
we, the service, had a responsibility, in view of the facts in our
possession."

"Richard, I would like you to clear out your desk and
be off the studio premises by seven o'clock this morning. Your employment is
terminated
as of this moment. I
will call my lawyers on Monday and have them
advise me on whether, in the circumstances, we are under
any obligation
to
buy out your contract. I doubt, in view of the utter irresponsibility of
your action, your flagrant disregard of a directive from
the company
president, that they
will consider that a necessity. Now remember, Rich
ard, I do not want you on any property owned or controlled
by me after
seven o'clock this
morning. Or you will be charged with trespass, in
addition to whatever other charges the police may be
intending to bring
against you. Have a good
day." The phone went dead.

Richard looked at it, then at Julian, then at a wind-swept
and rain-
drenched Jayme, who had just
come in and was peeling off a slippery
anorak.
"Hi," she said. "Do you have any idea what it's like out
there?"

"I
thought I told you to leave town?" Richard demanded.

"Well, I was going to do that… but then I decided I
should be with
you
guys. The fact is, I abandoned my automobile. There's an eight-mile
tail back through the Hudson Tunnel. They're bumper to
bumper and
jammed solid. I've
been walking for the past hour, in the rain. You could
at
least seem happy to see me."

"I
always thought you were a natural blonde," Julian remarked.

Jayme surveyed the black line through her dripping hair
in her compact
mirror.
"Needs touching up, doesn't it?" she agreed, and looked over her
shoulder
at Richard. "What's the matter with you, then?"

"I
have just been fired."

"Oh.
Ah… I'll make some coffee."

"Silly old bastard," Julian grunted.
"Let's hope Faith scores a direct
hit on his part of Long Island, just as Gloria did. Only
he's so goddamned
lucky
he probably won't even have a tree down. I don't think he lost any
in
Gloria, either. What are you going to do?"

"Stay
right here until this thing is over."

"But..."

"Sure, he says he'll charge me with trespass if I'm
here after seven. So
let him."

The
phone buzzed.

"But if that's him," Richard said, "you'd
better tell him you're in
charge."

"Yeah," Julian said, uncertainly, and picked it
up. "Summers. Oh, hi.
Yes, he's here." He
handed it over. "Your friend Hammond."

"Mark!" Richard shouted, then flipped on the
open speaker and
returned the handset.

"I've been trying to get you for damn near an
hour," Mark said. He
sounded at once tired
and aggrieved – but also excited.

"Well,
the line's been kind of busy. What do you have?"

"What do I have," Mark said. "I got back
just after midnight. Christ,
I
have never been in anything like that, and I sure as hell hope I am
never
in anything like that again. Write down these co-ordinates."

Richard grabbed a pad and pencil and wrote, then frowned.
"Hold on,
old
buddy, that can't be right. We got a ten o'clock update from Coral
Gables which placed her 280 miles south-east of us. These
figures make her only 240. And you say you got them just before midnight? Faith
has
moved 40 miles in two hours?"

"That's what I'm telling you," Mark said.
"She has suddenly put her
skates
on, and turned some more, and she is moving north-west at 20
knots."

"Holy
shitting cows," Julian commented.

"And
then some."

"But that means she'll be with us… Christ, at two
o'clock this
afternoon," Richard said.

"I reckon so," Mark agreed. "But that ain't
all. Sustained winds are 180
miles an hour
plus."

"Say
again?"

"You heard me, buddy boy. I damn near lost the ship.
Listen, I'm
going out again at
dawn. I'll call you again when I get back. Right now
I'm
aiming for a little sleep. Can you use the data?"

"Use it," Richard said. "God Almighty!
180
miles per hour. You ever
heard of that
before?"

"Can't
say I have. As they say, it's gonna be a great time in the old
town tonight. Or rather, this afternoon. If I were
you, buddy boy, I'd
head for the Catskills. See you."

The phone went dead, and the three of them stared at each
other.

"Tides,"
Richard snapped. "Holy Christ, tides!"

"Jayme," Julian snapped. "The tide
tables." He snatched the booklet
from her hand. "High tide
1.18
this
afternoon. And it's a biggie; more
than six feet."

"Hell,"
Richard said. "Oh, hell."

"You
reckon this is the biggest storm in all history?" Jayme asked.

"I don't know," Richard said. "But I
reckon that we need a new
category to describe it:
Category Six!"

Marcia yawned. “Jees, I can hardly keep my eyes open.
Where are we?"
She
peered through the steamed up windscreen at the deluge outside the
automobile,
half blinded by the oncoming headlights.

"Just coming through Stuyvesant Square headed for
Houston," Benny
replied briefly,
frowning at the traffic.

"Why Houston? Why didn't you
turn on to 14th, as usual?"

"Thought this would be quicker."

Marcia peered out again. "What the hell's going on,
baby? Will you
just look at all this
crowd? What time is it?"

"Not
two yet."

"Seems like Kitty's wasn't the only party. I'm never
going to be able
to
get out of bed in the morning. And I'd so wanted to finish the paintwork
in
the lounge. It's looking pretty good, don't you think?"

"Great," was Benny's absent-minded reply. He
was feeling grouchy.
The
more of these parties they went to, the less he liked them. They had
planned to arrive early and leave early, but all the late
arrivals had
jammed their auto in
tight and he and Marcia had realized that they
couldn't get away without breaking up Kitty's entire
evening – so they had returned to the melee, trying to look jolly while
bored out of their
minds.

It was 2.15 when they rolled up on to the concrete parking
space and
they failed to unlock
the front door before they were drenched to the skin,
while
thunder and lightning crashed and flashed around their heads.

"Phew,
this is some storm. Must be an offshoot of that hurricane people
were talking about at the
party. It's the same one as hit your folks' place in the Bahamas, you
know."

"I
know," Marcia said, for a moment almost sober. Taking Belle out
to
Bognor had been the most traumatic experience of her life, and of
course
they were all still mourning poor Lawson… she hadn't been able
to make herself tell Babs
about the baby. But heck, life had to go on.

Benny bolted the door on
the inside, leaned against it, and yawned. "What say we take the phone off
the hook and sleep in, huh?"

"Hiram Korovski is
calling early about that idea he had..."

"That's why I suggest
we disconnect it. I'll be in no state to discuss Hiram's ideas till after
lunch."

"True."
Marcia giggled and rubbed her wet face against his. "Come
on, let's take just one
look before we go up." She pulled his arm towards
the lounge door. Together they stood, dripping, to admire their
handiwork
– the fresh wallpaper
which covered all the nail holes, scars left by
mindless tenants over the years, the new white paint on door and window
frames,
and the alcove of shelves by the fireplace, which Marcia planned to finish when
she woke up. The four second-hand chairs and the settee
stood in the middle of the room with the pile of loose covers and
matching
drapes, all under an old
sheet, waiting to be fixed in place as soon as the
paint pots were out
of the way. "Whee! Isn't it exciting?" Marcia hugged Benny's arm.

"It's the best
looking lounge in the village." He kissed her nose. "And
when it's finished, we start on the nursery."
Benny was more excited
about the baby than anything else.