Earthquake in San Francisco

Chapter 6

1

Ironside awoke the next morning before his alarm went off. He hadn't slept well. The decision of the parole board was still on his mind. What a mistake it'd been on their part to turn Frank Hunt loose on the people of San Francisco. How could Hunt have pulled the wool over the eyes of every member of the parole board? They'd no idea what they'd done. Frank Hunt wasn't rehabilitated. Ironside was certain of that. He'd no choice but to find the evidence that Hunt had killed Zach Hill. It had to be out there. The problem was when he'd originally investigated the case, he'd not been able to prove Hunt killed Zack. Ironside, along with his staff would have to go over every bit of evidence and find the proof. Frank Hunt had to be returned to prison.

The detective threw back the covers, pulled his chair next to the bed, and lowered himself into it. Heading to the main room, Ironside wheeled into the bathroom. Mark Sanger was busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. After showering and shaving, the detective returned to his bedroom. While he'd been gone, Mark set out a suit, shirt, tie, under clothes, socks, and shoes. It took Ironside much longer to dress himself than it did if Mark helped him. The chief sometimes had to fight the urge to just allow Mark to do it for him. He knew he was better off being as independent as possible.

Twenty minutes later, Ironside returned to the main room and wheeled up to the table. Sanger immediately brought him a bowl of oatmeal and a banana. Mark had already set the milk and sugar on the table.

"Where's the coffee?" Ironside asked. He could smell the aroma of the brew, and he was ready for a cup.

"Coming right up," Mark called out from the kitchen. He walked over to the table with the pot and one mug. After pouring the chief a cup of coffee, he set the pot on the table.

"Aren't you having breakfast?" He asked his aide.

"No. The commissioner called while you were in the shower. He said he wanted to talk to you privately when he got here. So, I thought it'd be a good time to gas up the van and get a tune up." Mark left his boss and went into his bedroom. He returned wearing a light gray jacket. "Where's the keys to the van?"

The chief looked up at Mark and barked, "You tell me. You have a set of keys."

"You couldn't find your set, so you borrowed mine. I'm just asking for my keys," Mark said with a smirk.

Ironside looked over his shoulder. "They're over there on the desk."

Mark walked over to his boss' desk. He shook his head and grinned. There on the roll top desk were two sets of keys. Obviously, the chief didn't check his desk when he'd asked for Mark's keys. Sanger picked up his keys, leaving the boss' set where he'd left them. Heading for the ramp, he called over his shoulder, "I'm going to pick up some groceries while I'm out. Do you need anything, Chief?"

"No thanks, Mark," he replied.

Sanger opened the door. A surprised Commissioner Randall walked in. "It must be time to have the elevator greased," he mumbled in response to Mark being so quick to open the door for him.

"Later, Chief," Mark called out.

"Later," Ironside responded. He turned and saw Dennis Randall coming down the ramp. "Well hello, Dennis. Mark said you wanted to talk to me. I hope you aren't here to tell me the mayor has changed his mind about investigating the murder of Zach Hill."

Randall said nothing. Heading into the kitchen, he pulled a mug down from the cupboard and joined Ironside at the table. He sat down beside the detective. Ironside took Randall's mug, picked up the coffee pot and was pouring the commissioner a cup of the brew.

"Who made the coffee?" Randall asked as he picked up the coffee mug.

"Mark made it, so drink it at your own risk, Dennis."

Randall slowly took a sip. "It's not bad."

"It's not good," Ironside retorted.

"Is there anyone who can make coffee you don't complain about?" Randall asked.

"Eve can. She's the only one around here who can make a decent cup of coffee. I don't think Mark will ever learn how to make it."

"Why don't you get one of those new fangled coffee pots with the pods that have the coffee inside them? You just drop it in and it makes a perfect cup of coffee, and there's no mess. The coffee grounds are contained in the pod and don't get into your coffee."

"Unless, of course, you like a stronger brew," Ironside said.

"Bob, they have all different strengths and kinds of coffee. You can find something that suits you, or would you rather just complain about Mark's coffee?"

"Dennis, is this really what you came here to discuss?" Ironside growled.

Randall smiled. "No, but it's nice to know I can get under your skin once in a while. You certainly get under mine often enough."

"Dennis!"

The commissioner waved his hand. "Okay, okay. We'll forget about the coffee, although I don't see anything wrong with Mark's coffee."

"Dennis!"

"Now you know how you drive me crazy at times. Anyway, I came to talk to you about another matter. The mayor insisted I come."

Ironside turned serious. "Oh, what about?"

"Ted got a call from the U.S. Geological Survey. They're telling us that earthquake we had the other day is only a prelude for a much bigger quake they believe is going to hit the San Francisco area," Randall reported.

"They have been predicting the big one for years. Why is this any different from before?"

"Because they claim the plates are still moving. It indicates there is a lot of pressure. They believe it'll only be relieved by a major earthquake," the commissioner explained.

"Don't tell me you and the mayor expect me to stop an earthquake?" Ironside said sarcastically.

"Why not? You can stop criminals; why not earthquakes?" Randall responded just as sarcastically.

Ironside chuckled. "Dennis, you're becoming terribly sarcastic."

The commissioner smiled. "You're a bad influence. Seriously, Bob, this could be disastrous."

"Earthquakes can be, but just what are you expecting me to do about it?"

"You're the head of the police force . . . "

Ironside interrupted him. "I'm a consultant to the commissioner; I'm not the head of the police force."

"Actually, if you read the changes the city council made; you're over everyone in the department except me."

Ironside feigned surprise. "You're over me?"

"Believe it or not, yes."

"That's a surprise, but I'll pretend you never told me," Ironside said with a grin.

Randall shook his head. "Can we be serious for one second?"

"Your second is up, Dennis."

"Bob!"

"Okay, Commissioner. You still haven't answered my question. What do you expect me to do about it?"

"Make sure all of our police are aware of a possible devastating quake. I want all of them ready to assist where ever they're needed. Quietly let them know what we've been told by the experts. I want the entire force put on alert."

"For how long?"

"What?"

"For how long, Dennis? Putting the force on alert means putting extra patrolmen on the streets as well as having everyone on standby to be called in at a moment's notice."

"Until further notice," Randall said. "The mayor and the city council have authorized it."

The chief was silent for a moment before saying, "They really believe a big earthquake is inevitable?"

"They do. As much as I hope it never happens, the experts are certain of it." The expression on the commissioner's face was grave.

"Alright, I will call in the chief of police and the chief of detectives and explain the situation to them."

Both Randall and Ironside sat at the table drinking coffee without saying anything further. When the commissioner finished the last of the coffee in his mug, he stood up. Looking down at Ironside, he said, "I hope they're wrong, or at least it's not as big as they're predicting . . . "

Before he could finish his thought, the room began to shake. Randall was thrown off his feet. He reached for the table to steady himself. Ironside was busy trying to control his wheelchair. It rolled one way and then the other. Books fell off the shelves, papers scattered and floated to the floor. The coffee mugs they were drinking from only moments ago slid from the table to the floor, smashing into pieces.

Thirty seconds seemed like an hour before the shaking stopped. Ironside reached for the phone which was displaced to the edge of the table. He dialed the main desk. "Have all units report as soon as they've had time to assess effects of that quake." He slammed down the phone.

Looking around the room, objects and papers had been shaken from shelves, desks, tables, and counters. Despite the mess it caused, the quake hadn't been as strong as the previous one. "That's the second quake in three days," Ironside said.

"We were told there'd be more before the plates really shift," Randall said. "I'd better get back to the Hall of Justice. The city council will be in a panic." Randall placed his hand on Ironside's shoulder and stood there for a moment.

"I know, Dennis, I know."

Randall nodded. He turned and headed for the door. "Keep in contact, Bob."

"I will," Ironside said as he watched Randall leave the office.

2

Ed never dreamed he could enjoy Vivian's company as much as he did, except for their difference in opinion of the police. It was going to be extremely hard to leave her and go back to San Francisco. He'd been in New York for three days now, and every day brought something new. Ed had already been to two plays on Broadway, visited some of the fanciest restaurants in the city, and met many Broadway stars. Vivian was parading him around her friends, giving them the impression they were most definitely a couple.

The actress introduced him to everyone, but she went out of her way to avoid the subject of his occupation. When it did come up, it was always less than pleasant. The sergeant was surprised people thought so little of the police. He knew he shouldn't be; he ran into it quite often in San Francisco. He supposed it was something he'd never get use to no matter where he was. Certainly, there were some bad cops out there, but most of those who served their perspective cities were dedicated officers whose job was to protect their citizens. He wondered how the mistrust of the police could be so wide spread. Unfortunately, one bad apple did seem to spoil the bunch as far as the people were concerned.

Vivian stirred in his arms. Ed looked at his watch. It was almost noon, and he'd been waiting for her to awaken. Brown was used to being up early. His boss quite often called his officers in early or worked them late at night when a major case was being investigated. Over the years, Ed had developed an internal clock that woke him quite early most mornings. Even when cases ran him and his fellow officers to exhaustion, it was rare when he'd sleep past 7:00 a.m. He was tempted to wake Vivian. Ed wanted to spend as much time as he could with her before returning to San Francisco.

She wanted him to stay in New York; she'd made that clear. Ed loved his job in San Francisco. He was a good cop. He had to be to work for Chief Ironside. The sergeant was aware his boss could be demanding and sometimes rather moody. And, the chief certainly was sarcastic at times. All of that didn't take away from the pride he had being selected by the chief to work with him. Could he leave all that? Would it be worth it to finally have a woman he loved in his life? Would he ever be able to find love putting in the hours he did working for Robert Ironside? His professional life was perfect or damn near as close to perfect it could get. But, was it enough? Wouldn't he like to come home to a woman instead of an empty apartment? The more he thought about it, the more the idea became appealing. Then Robert Ironside and the city of San Francisco entered his mind. The doubts gnawed at him.

As Vivian stirred, Ed looked down at her. Her eyes opened slowly. When she saw Ed, she smiled. "It's so nice waking and the first thing I see is that handsome face."

"You'll probably get tired of my face before long," Ed said with a smile.

"Never!" She bounced out of bed and glanced at the clock beside the bed. "Oh my, I didn't realize I'd slept this late."

"Of course you didn't," Ed said playfully. "You were sleeping. How could you know what time it was?"

Vivian laughed at him and dropped back down on the bed. Placing her hand on the side of his jaw, she leaned in and kissed him. "I could never get tired of this." After running her fingers through the hair on his chest, she darted out of the bed as fast as she did the first time. "Get up, Ed Brown. Are you going to sleep the day away?"

"I've been awake for hours. You're the one who sleeps until noon," Ed reminded her.

Heading in the direction of the bathroom, she called out over her shoulder. "I get the bathroom first."

"Great! That means I'll only get a cold shower and have about two seconds to take it," Brown quipped.

"It takes me a while to return to beautiful," she said as she turned and posed for him.

Ed smiled. "You don't have to return to beautiful. You're beautiful just the way you are."

She lifted her long hair on both sides of her head and continued to pose. "You must be kidding. Look at my hair!"

Ed laughed. "I like it mussed up."

She went into the bathroom and stuck her head back out. "Obviously, since you're the one responsible for this look." She continued teasing him.

"I like that look. Why are we in a hurry anyway? What have you got planned?"

"We're going on a picnic." He heard her call out from the bathroom."Sounds nice. Just you and me and nature."

He could hear the water running as she turned on the shower. "Just you, me, and a lot of very wealthy people."

Ed became instantly uncomfortable. He'd met quite a few of Vivian's friends. Most of them only seemed to tolerate him, but there were others whom he got the feeling looked down at him.

A few minutes later, Vivian came out of the bathroom in her robe. She was drying her hair with a towel. "Okay, your turn."

Rather, then head for the shower, Ed stood there wondering what Vivian was up to. "What about this picnic? Who are the people that'll be there," he asked her.

She stopped rubbing her hair with the towel. "Why do you ask?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?" Brown asked. As much as he enjoyed her company, he was not fond of some of the stuffy people she introduced to him.

"Of course not. I get the feeling you don't care for my friends," she said defensively. "So far, you haven't given them much of a chance to get to know you."

"Maybe that's because every time one of them finds out I'm a police officer, they start running cops down."

"Do you really expect anything different? After all, all you have to do is look at what cops do."

It was Ed's turn to become defensive. "Just exactly what's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm talking about police brutality. You can't pick up a newspaper and not read about it every day."

"Viv, have you ever thought about what kind of world we'd live in if there weren't police to keep order in our cities?" Ed asked her.

"There wouldn't be any trouble at all if the government would just take away all the guns, and that includes police as well," she argued.

"You can't possibly believe that."

"But, I do. Do you have any idea how many people have been shot and killed in the city by police?" She dropped the towel on the bed and walked over to the vanity. Sitting down, she picked up a brush and began running it through her damp hair.

"Did you ever think that the shootings by the police were justified?"

"There's no justification for shooting and killing one of our citizens," she snapped at him.

"Would you rather have the individual shoot and kill one of your citizens? Police don't use deadly force unless it's absolutely necessary."

Vivian dropped the brush on the vanity and turned around to face him. "You can't possibly believe that. It's the police that the citizens have to fear not the average Joe on the streets."

Brown didn't care for the direction the conversation was going. He came to New York to spend time with Vivian, and he'd prefer that the time was pleasant. He didn't want to spend it arguing with her over his occupation. Ed admitted to himself that her attitude toward what he did for a living was upsetting and disturbing. He remembered when she'd come to San Francisco, she'd shown a disdain for guns and police officers. He wondered how she'd feel if he constantly displayed that disdain for what she did for a living.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'If you outlaw guns, only the outlaws would have guns?"

"That's just something the gun rights people say to scare the rest of the people in this country."

Ed couldn't believe what he heard. "So, what you're saying is you want to eliminate my job?"

"You could do other things, Ed."

"Like what? Follow you around while the public adores you?" Ed said, regretting the remark as soon as he said it.

The expression on her face changed. "You don't take what I do for a living seriously."

"I could say the same for you, Viv."

"I don't live in a world where I shoot people," she said angrily.

"No, you live in a world where you pretend; you live in a fantasy world," Ed shot back.

Vivian had enough of the conversation. She didn't want to argue with him. In time, he'd come to see things her way. He could work for the NYPD until she convinced him to leave police work for good. Things would work out. They had to. She was determined to have Ed Brown, and on her terms.

Vivian walked over to the television and turned it on. Brown shook his head. "That's not going to help, Viv. We have to work out our differences." She ignored him and turned the channel to the news.

The image on the wide-screen television immediately caught his attention. It was his beloved San Francisco. A reporter was standing in front of the Hall of Justice.

"For the second time this week, the city of San Francisco has been shaken by an earthquake. Although the damage has been minor in both cases, experts are concerned these tremors are nothing compared to what the city may be facing. Earthquakes can't be predicted with very much certainty, and everyone in the city is becoming very nervous about the possibility of a much larger earthquake hitting the San Francisco area. Our sources tell us the city's mayor has ordered Police Commissioner Dennis Randall to place the Police Department on high alert. The commissioner was seen leaving Police Headquarters, where it's believed he went to see Chief Robert Ironside, who's the highest ranking police officer in the city. We urge all citizens not to panic, but to be aware if nothing else, the possibility of more quakes like the two we've just experienced. This is Desmond Grant reporting for KLS News."

Vivian looked over at Ed with concern. She knew what he was thinking. If Ironside was involved, he immediately would be impelled to return to San Francisco. She had to head that off. "I'm sure everything will be all right, Ed. You people have earthquakes all the time, and they have been predicting the big one for as long as I can remember."

"I know, but I should call the chief," he said and headed for the phone next to the bed.

Vivian hurried over to the night stand. She placed her hand over the phone just as he arrived. "Your chief is capable of handling it. You're on vacation. He'll call if he needs you. In the meantime, we've a picnic to attend."

She was right. If the chief needed him, he'd call. Ed wanted nothing more than to put the argument behind them and enjoy each other's company. "You're right. He'll call if he needs me. I'll get ready to go to the picnic."

"Ed," she said in that little girl voice. She put her arms around his waist.

"Yes."

"Let's not argue. I don't want to argue anymore. I just want us to enjoy our time together." She reached up with her hand and rubbed his chest.

He smiled down at her. "I don't want to argue either. Let's get ready and go to your picnic." He bent down and kissed her. Despite having her so close to him, his mind was on the city of San Francisco and Robert Ironside.