Deluge (The Best Thrillers Book 2) by James Best (top romance novels txt) 📗

“It’s not a good plan,” Baldwin said. “It doesn’t bring out the sun. But it’s a damn sight better than doing nothing.”

“Okay,” Mandel said, “My control panel is blazing like Christmas. I have dozens of callers on the line. Willing to field a few questions?”

“Absolutely,” Smith answered for them all.

“First caller, what question do you have for this carload of overeducated kibitzers?”

“This is Sam in Antioch. Clown car would be more like it. Are you people nuts? The San Joaquin has already overflowed its banks, and you want to send a gazillion more gallons our way. Forget it. The Delta is far too valuable and fragile to wash it out to sea. Besides, you can’t do this without an environmental impact study.”

Smith laughed. “Good one, you had me going for a minute.”

“I’m serious, bozo. If you do this, there will be lawsuits. Big time. This is nature. You can’t mess with it. It’s sacrosanct. Don’t interfere. Don’t, or you’ll feel the wrath of Mother Nature … and our lawyers. You’ll rue the day you when you receive an envelope from Californians for Sane Water Policy.”

“I think you misunderstood,” Smith said. “We don’t want to harness Mother Nature, we want to set her free. Our suggestion is to remove manmade obstacles.”

“Bull. Anytime you mess with the status quo, you risk causing more harm … and mark my words, you will be held accountable. An LLD beats a PhD any day of the week, so go back to Southern California where you belong.”

Mandel jumped in. “Unfortunately, it’s time for a hard break. We’ll be back in a few moments for another call.”

The phone went to elevator music.

“That went well,” Smith said sarcastically.

Wilson said, “We thought mentioning improving the flow before suggesting we drain the dams would sound better, but it didn’t make any difference.”

“No, it didn’t,” Baldwin said. “Either way, people just visualize tons of water barreling right at them. I have to admit, the image is scary.”

Mandel came back. “Okay, to mix it up a bit, we’re going to Brenda in Clear Lake. She has a different perspective. Brenda, go ahead.”

“Thank you, Bob. It’s a pleasure to be on your show again. I disagree with one of your guests. When you said we’ve been really bad, your guest called Santa Claus for the defense. I’m not going to talk ill about that jolly ol’ man, but remember, St. Nicholas was only a saint. He didn’t have the power to call down the wrath of God, and the wrath of God is what we’re seeing. God is cleansing our sins. We are morally corrupt and despicable. We have veered away from the path of God. Right here in our own state, the film industry produces filth that’s only exceeded by the porn of the San Fernando Valley. Silicon Valley seduces our youth with games filled with sex, killing, and who knows what all. San Francisco is literally an open cesspool. And Sacramento … Sacramento is filled with politicians … and that’s all that needs saying there. Bob, mark my words, California is the American Babylon, and now we’re being punished by God Almighty.”

“Brenda, that’s why I love you. You never equivocate. So God is throwing us under the bus. Any proof?”

“Bob, you always ask for proof, and it’s right before your eyes. All you need to do is see. You should let me help you.”

“Nooo … I’m a goner, Brenda, a reprobate for life.” He laughed heartily. “No hope for me, I’m afraid. But you really believe this is God’s doing?”

“Flooding? Bob, think about it. That’s his favorite retribution. Your guests said that the last time God cleansed California was in 1862—right after the Gold Rush debased the morals of an earlier generation. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

“Well, Brenda, as always, an interesting perspective. Any questions for our guests?”

“Yes,” Brenda said. “Why do you feel entitled to interfere with God’s will?”

“We don’t believe we are,” Smith said. “If what we suggest works, then we believe that’s God’s will, as well.”

“Oh, that’s cute. Now you’re the hand of God. Pretty arrogant, if you ask me. The previous caller told you that an LLD beats a PhD. Well, God beats them both. Sorry, guys, he’s omnipotent.”

She rung off.

Mandel laughed. “Brenda always gets the last word.”

“Brenda has a point,” Smith said, “The book of Isaiah says, ‘I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form the light and create darkness. I bring prosperity and create disaster.’ That said, I also like good ol’ Ben Franklin’s take in Poor Richard’s Almanac: ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ We need to save humankind and animals. If we do nothing, both die.”

“But it sounds like both Mother Nature and God disapprove of your ideas. And others, it appears. I have one more call, if you have the time.”

“Of course,” Smith said.

He looked at Baldwin and shrugged.

“Okay, this is Candice Sherman, spokesperson for the governor. Go ahead, Candice.”

“First, I want to emphasize in the strongest terms possible that these people do not speak in any official capacity for the state, nor does the state endorse their views. Furthermore—”

Mandel broke in. “Excuse me, Candice, sorry to interrupt, but why would my audience assume my guests spoke in any official capacity?”

“They shouldn’t. The governor’s Seismic Safety Commission is only a citizen advisory council that has no authority to make government policy. In fact, the commission discarded the views of these people. Two of them are not even members of the commission, and only one is an actual climatologist. They should not be proposing policy, especially not in this crisis. They are not experts in climate, flooding, or emergency response. To tell the truth, I’m not even sure what supposed expertise they possess. Bob, here’s the bottom line, they got on your show under false pretenses. Lastly, because their conduct has been highly unprofessional, I have been instructed by the governor to rescind their council appointments here and now.”

“My.” Mandel stayed quiet for a long moment. “Neither I, nor