“Even our best theoretical models are inadequate to predict with precision which faults will move and with what intensity. However, as we plan for crisis management, we must take into account not only the swamping of southern California, but also earthquake action of such intensity that the entire western portion of California, from San Francisco to San Diego, might become a peninsula separated from the mainland.

“If that were to happen,” Eisenblatt said, using his pointer to indicate an area on the map, “a new body of water will be formed there, both by the influx from the Pacific after the geological events have subsided, as well as by the retention of a portion of the seawaters that have inundated the state. Again, let me add that an earthquake of this scale is so devastating as to leave loss of life and property virtually beyond calculation.”

“We are losing most of our Pacific Fleet,” Al Augustus said. “We will lose the aviation production capability of Lockheed and Northrop. If this thing swamps the Sea-Tac area, Boeing is as good as gone. That means only McDonnell Douglas and Grumman will be left. Obviously, we run the risk of losing Silicon Valley, along with the heart of Intel and Microsoft. This is going to put tremendous stress on all our systems.”

As he looked around the table, the defense secretary could see that several men had taken off their coats and ties. Others were wiping their foreheads with handkerchiefs. The secretary of agriculture had his hands over his eyes and was shaking his head in disbelief. The formality of the meeting had slowly disintegrated, and the level of emotion had dramatically intensified. Everyone in that room was painfully aware that the world as they knew it would never be the same again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

BY 9:50 P.M., EASTERN standard time, the tension in the presidential Cabinet Room was palpable. Several cabinet officers had placed calls to their staffs to check on progress in their areas of operations. White House couriers and Secret Service agents had delivered confidential packets containing updated information and reports from the field. None of the news was good.

Al Augustus loosened his tie and turned toward the secretary of energy. “We now have less than ten minutes until impact, Madame Secretary,” he said. “Can you give us an appraisal of what we’re looking at, relative to energy matters?”

The secretary of energy, Marsha McGovern, was an attractive woman in her mid-fifties who had once headed a large southern university. She was a capable administrator, but her critics contended her cabinet appointment was more a reflection of her gender and voting address than her actual ability.

As she stood, the lights dimmed and charts were displayed on the large-screen monitor. “Until today,” she began, “the electric generating capacity in the state of California has been on the order of fifty million kilowatts, with annual production of some one hundred eight billion kilowatt hours of electricity. Nearly seventy percent of the electricity in the state is generated in thermoelectric plants that depend on petroleum and natural gas resources.”