She paused dramatically, then continued. "Now, ladies and gentlemen of the jury," she said, "you are told that carbon dioxide has increased in the last fifty years. Do you know how much it has increased, on our football field? It has increased by three-eighths of an inchless than the thickness of a pencil. It's a lot more carbon dioxide, but it's a minuscule change in our total atmosphere. Yet you are asked to believe that this tiny change has driven the entire planet into a dangerous warming pattern."

Evans said, "But that's easily answered"

"Wait," she said. "They're not done. First, raise doubts. Then, offer alternative explanations. So, now they take out that temperature chart for New York City that you saw before. A five-degree increase since 1815. And they say, back in 1815 the population of New York was a hundred twenty thousand. Today it's eight million. The city has grown by six thousand percent. To say nothing of all those skyscrapers and air-conditioning and concrete. Now, I ask you. Is it reasonable to believe that a city that has grown by six thousand percent is hotter because of a tiny increase in little old carbon dioxide around the world? Or is it hotter because it is now much, much bigger?"

She sat back in her chair.

"But it's easy to counter that argument," Evans said. "There are many examples of small things that produce big effects. A trigger represents a small part of a gun, but it's enough to fire it. And anyway, the preponderance of the evidence"

"Peter," she said, shaking her head. "If you were on the jury and you were asked that question about New York City, what would you conclude? Global warming or too much concrete? What do you think, anyway?"

"I think it's probably hotter because it's a big city."

"Right."

"But you still have the sea-level argument."

"Unfortunately," she said, "the sea levels at Vanutu are not significantly elevated. Depending on the database, either they're flat or they've increased by forty millimeters. Half an inch in thirty years. Almost nothing."

"Then you can't possibly win this case," Evans said.

"Exactly," she said. "Although I have to say your trigger argument is a nice one."

"If you can't win," Evans said, "then what is this press conference about?"

"Thank you all for coming," John Balder said, stepping up to a cluster of microphones outside the offices. Photographers' strobes flashed. "I am John Balder, and standing with me is Nicholas Drake, the president of the National Environmental Resource Fund. Here also is Jennifer Haynes, my lead counsel, and Peter Evans, of the law firm of Hassle and Black. Together we are announcing that we will be filing a lawsuit against the Environmental Protection Agency of the United States on behalf of the island nation of Vanutu, in the Pacific."

Standing in the back, Peter Evans started to bite his lip, then thought better of it. No reason to make a facial expression that might be construed as nervous.

"The impoverished people of Vanutu," Balder said, "stand to become even more impoverished by the greatest environmental threat of our times, global warming, and the danger of abrupt climate changes that will surely follow."

Evans recalled that just a few days before, Drake had called abrupt climate change a possibility on the horizon. Now it had been transformed into a certainty in less than a week.

Balder spoke in vivid terms about how the people of Vanutu were being flooded out of their ancestral homeland, emphasizing the tragedy of young children whose heritage was washing away in raging surf caused by a callous industrial giant to the north.

"It is a matter of justice for the people of Vanutu, and of the future of the entire world now threatened by abrupt weather, that we're announcing this lawsuit today."

Then he opened the floor to questions.

The first one was, "When exactly are you filing this lawsuit?"

"The issue is technically complex," Balder said. "Right now, we have in our offices forty research scientists working on our behalf day and night. When they have finished their labors, we will make our filing for injunctive relief."

"Where will you file?"

"In Los Angeles federal district court."

"What damages are you asking?" another said.

"What is the administration's response?"

"Will the court hear it?"

The questions were coming quickly now, and Balder was in his element. Evans glanced over at Jennifer, standing on the other side of the podium. She tapped her watch. Evans nodded, then looked at his own watch, made a face, and exited the podium. Jennifer was right behind him.

They went inside the warehouse and past the guards.

And Evans stared in amazement.

Chapter 60

CULVER CITY

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 12

1:20 P.M.

The lights were turned down. Most of the people Evans had seen earlier were gone. The rooms were being stripped, the furniture stacked up, the documents packed into legal storage boxes. Movers were carrying out stacks of boxes on rolling dollies. Evans said, "What's going on?"

"Our lease is up," Jennifer said.

"So you're moving?"

She shook her head. "No. We're leaving."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're leaving, Peter. Looking for new jobs. This litigation is no longer being actively pursued."

Over a loudspeaker, they heard Balder say, "We fully expect to seek an injunction within the next three months. I have complete confidence in the forty brilliant men and women who are assisting us in this ground-breaking case."

Evans stepped back as movers carried a table past him. It was the same table he had been interviewed at just three hours before. Another mover followed, lugging boxes of video equipment.

"How is this going to work?" Evans said, hearing Balder over the loudspeaker. "I mean, people are going to know what's happening amp;"

"What's happening is perfectly logical," Jennifer said. "We will file a request for a preliminary injunction. Our pleading has to work its way through the system. We expect it will be rejected by the district court for jurisdiction, so we will take it to the Ninth Circuit, and then we expect to go to the Supreme Court. The litigation cannot proceed until the issue of injunction is resolved, which could take several years. Therefore we sensibly put our large research staff on hold and close our expensive offices while we wait with a skeleton legal team in place."

"Is there a skeleton team in place?"

"No. But you asked how it would be handled."

Evans watched as the boxes rolled out the back door. "Nobody ever intended to file this lawsuit, did they?"

"Let's put it this way," she said. "Balder has a remarkable winning record in the courtroom. There's only one way to build a record like thatyou dump the losers long before you ever get to trial."

"So he's dumping this one?"

"Yeah. Because I guarantee you, no court is going to grant injunctive relief for excess carbon dioxide production by the American economy." She pointed to the loudspeaker. "Drake got him to emphasize abrupt climate change. That nicely dovetails with Drake's conference, which starts tomorrow."

"Yes, but"

"Look," she said. "You know as well as I do that the whole purpose of this case was to generate publicity. They've got their press conference. There's no need to pursue it further."

She was asked by movers where to put things. Evans wandered back into the interrogation room and saw the stack of foam core graphs in the corner. He had wanted to see the ones she hadn't shown him, so he pulled a few out. They showed foreign weather stations around the world.

Alice Springs, Australia 18792003

Clyde, NWT 19432004

Christchurch, NZ 18642003

Kamenskoe, Siberia 19491998 Of course, he knew that these particular charts had been chosen to prove the opposition's point. So they showed little or no warming. But still, it troubled him that there should be so many like these, from all around the world.

He saw a stack marked "Europe" and shuffled through them quickly:

Rome, Italy 18111989

Paris, Le Bourget 17571995

Milano-Linate, 17631986

Stuttgart, Germany 17921999

Navacerrada, Spain 19412004

Gцteborg, Sweden 19512004 There was another stack marked "Asia." He flipped through it.

Choshi, Japan 18872004

Lahore City, Pakistan 18762003

Takayama, Japan 19001990

Tokyo, Japan 18762004

"Peter?"

She was calling him.

Her own office was already packed up. She had only a few boxes of things. He helped her carry them out to her car.

"So," he said, "what're you doing now? Going back to DC and your boyfriend?"

"I don't think so," she said.

"Then what?"

"Actually, I thought I'd go with you."

"With me?"

"You're working with John Kenner, aren't you?"

Evans said, "How did you know that?"

She just smiled.

Heading out the back door, they heard the loudspeaker from the conference. Drake was talking now, thanking the press for coming, urging them to attend his forthcoming conference, and saying that the real danger from global warming was its potential for abrupt climate change.

And then he said, "Excuse me, but I regret to say, I have an extremely sad announcement to make. I have just been handed a note that says the body of my dear friend George Morton has just been found."

Chapter 61

CULVER CITY

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 12

2:15 P.M.

The full story was on the news that afternoon. The body of millionaire financier George Morton had washed up on the shore near Pismo Beach. The identification was made from clothing and from a watch on the victim's wrist. The body itself was mutilated, the result of shark attacks, the newscaster said.

The family of the philanthropist had been notified, but no date for the memorial service had been set. There was a statement from Morton's close friend Nicholas Drake, director of NERF. Drake said that Morton had devoted his life to the environmental movement and to the work of organizations like NERF, which had just recently named him their Concerned Citizen of the Year.

"If anyone was concerned about the terrible changes that are taking place around our globe, it was George Morton," Drake said. "Ever since we learned he was missing, we have been hoping against hope that he would be found in good spirits and good health. I am saddened to learn that this is not the case. I mourn the loss of my dear and dedicated friend. The world is poorer without him."

Evans was driving when Lowenstein called him on the car phone. "What're you doing?"

"Coming back from the press conference I was ordered to attend."

"Well, you're going to San Francisco."

"Why?"

"Morton's been found. Somebody has to identify the body."

"What about his daughter?"

"She's in rehab."

"What about his ex-wife? What about"

"Evans, you're officially assigned. Make your arrangements. The forensic guys don't want to delay the autopsy so they need him ID'd before dinner."

"But"

"Get your ass up there. I don't know what you're bitching about. Take the guy's plane, for Christ's sake. You've certainly been helping yourself to it lately, from what I hear. Now that he's dead you'd better be more careful. Oh, one more thing. Since you're not family, they'll need two people to ID him."

"Well, I can take Sarah, his secretary"

"No. Drake wants you to take Ted Bradley."

"Why?"

"How the hell do I know? Bradley wants to go. Drake wants to indulge him, keep him happy. Bradley probably thinks there'll be news cameras there. He is an actor, after all. And he was George's close friend."

"Sort of."

"He was at the banquet table with you."

"But Sarah would be"

"Evans, what part of this do you not understand? You're going to San Francisco and you are taking Bradley with you. Period."

Evans sighed. "Where is he?"

"He's in Sequoia. You have to stop and get him."

"Sequoia?"

"National Park. It's on the way."

"But"

"Bradley's already been notified. My secretary will give you the number for the San Francisco morgue. Good-bye, Evans. Don't screw up."

Click.

Jennifer said, "Problem?"

"No. But I have to go to San Francisco."

"I'll come with you," she said. "Who is Sarah?"

"Morton's personal secretary. His old assistant."

"I've seen pictures of her," Jennifer said. "She doesn't look very old."

"Where did you see pictures?"

"In a magazine. They were at a tennis tournament. She's a championship tennis player, something like that?"

"I guess."

"I would have thought that since you spent so much time with Morton, you'd know her well."

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "I mean, we've spent a little time in the last few days."

"Uh-huh." She looked at him, amused. "Peter," she said. "I don't care. She's very pretty. It's only natural."

"No, no," he said, reaching for the phone. "It's nothing like that." Desperate to put an end to this conversation, he dialed the Beverly Hills police and asked for Detective Perry. The detective was not yet back from court. Evans left a message and hung up. He turned to Jennifer. "How does it work if they issue a warrant for your arrest?"

"Criminal," she said. "Not my area. Sorry."

"Me neither."

"Somebody going to arrest you?"

"I hope not."

Then Lisa, Herb Lowenstein's chatty assistant, called. "Hi, Peter. I have the numbers for Mr. Bradley and for the San Francisco morgue. They close at eight. Can you make it by then? Herb wants to know. He's very upset."