Vale looked at Lena.
“I can go back to Harbor Point.”
“Can you get a public-works supervisor and a road engineer with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then do that. And don’t threaten the foreman just because he’s the person standing in front of the fence. Find the person who actually has authority.”
He nodded once.
At Harbor Point, security manager Simon Bell was standing beneath the awning of a temporary office, speaking into two phones. He was a square-faced man in a bright yellow raincoat with a clipboard protected inside a plastic cover.
“I’ve already told your dispatch,” he said when Vale approached. “These trucks cannot move. Company safety policy.”
“The emergency plan you submitted names this road as a designated evacuation route,” said city public-works supervisor Dana Cho, who had come with Vale. “We need to confirm whether it can safely carry buses. If it can, you need to clear it.”
Bell looked from her to the deputy.
“My boss is going to have something to say about this.”
“He can say it to Incident Command,” Dana answered. “Who ordered the trucks parked here?”
Bell hesitated.
“Mr. Voss.”
Nolan Voss, Grayline’s regional director, had been the face of Harbor Point in every groundbreaking photograph. He appeared at charity auctions, sponsored youth baseball, and never forgot the name of anyone wealthy enough to help him.
Vale had met him twice at county fundraisers. Voss had shaken his hand and called him “one of the good ones” in a tone that made the compliment feel like a request for future loyalty.
“Get him on the phone,” Vale said.
Bell dialed. He listened. Then he handed the phone to Dana Cho.
“Mr. Voss,” she said, “the road is named in your signed emergency-access agreement. A county engineer is evaluating load and water conditions. I need your personnel to cooperate.”
The voice on the other end was loud enough for Vale to hear pieces of it.
*Unauthorized.*
*Liability.*
*I’ll call the mayor.*
Dana did not flinch.
“You may. The county evacuation order remains in effect. We are documenting your refusal.”
A minute later, Voss ended the call.
Bell lowered the phone slowly. “He says we’re not moving anything.”
Dana looked at the trucks, then at a survey marker near the shoulder. Water was gathering around the roadway’s lower corner. She stepped away to consult the county engineer before deciding whether any vehicle should use it.
Vale stood still, looking at the yellow company logo on Bell’s raincoat.
Three hours earlier, somebody wearing that logo had called to report a woman in a blue jacket as a threat to Gate Seven.
Now the same company was keeping elderly residents from reaching high ground.
His radio crackled.
