Under the din people poured across the marble lobby toward the doors, dodging fallen ceiling plaster and broken glass. Outside, Montgomery Street crackled with the lights of emergency vehicles. A police officer fought upstream to get inside. The blonde was ten feet behind, struggling through the crowd. The man in the corner paced, head down, needing her to hurry. People rushed by him, jumpy. "Everything crashed off the bookshelves. I thought for sure it was the Big One." The man turned, shoulders shifting. The Big One? Hardly. This earthquake had just been San Francisco's regular kick in the butt. But it was bad enough. On the street, steam geysered from manholes. And he could smell gas. Pipes had ruptured under the building. The quake was Hell saying, Don't forget I'm down here—you fall, I'm waiting for you. He checked his watch. Come on, girl, faster. They had ten minutes before this building shut down. A fire captain glanced at him. He was tall and young and moved like the athlete he was, but nothing clicked in the fire captain's eyes, no suspicion, no Is that who I think it is?
