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Later that night, MacGregor flipped through the channels on the TV, looking for local news. When he got to KHON, he heard the reporter say, “We’ll have updates on that pending eruption of Mauna Loa, so be sure to stay tuned. In the day’s sports news—”

MacGregor’s phone rang. Or, rather, phones—landline and cell simultaneously. He glanced at his watch as he answered it. The HVO had an automated telephone alert system that kicked in whenever there were significant changes in the field-monitoring devices. He half expected to hear the flat computer-generated voice calling him back to work, but instead a male voice said, “Dr. John MacGregor?”

“Yes. Speaking.”

“This is Lieutenant Leonard Craig. I’m a staff physician at the Kalani VA Hospital in Honolulu.”

“Yes?” His first thought was that this must be about Jake Rogers or the cameraman he had fished out of the crater. Or both. Had they been so badly injured that they were taken to Honolulu? “Is this about the helicopter crash?”

“No, sir, it’s not. I’m calling about General Bennett.”

“Who?”

“General Arthur Bennett. Do you know him?”

MacGregor frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

“He’s retired now. Perhaps you met him in the past. General Bennett was in charge of all army training installations in the Pacific from 1981 to 2012.”

“I wouldn’t know him, then. I didn’t come here until 2018,” MacGregor said.

“That’s very odd, because he definitely seems to know you.”

“Did he say he knows me?”

“Unfortunately, the general suffered a stroke that left him with one-sided weakness and an inability to speak. But his cognitive functions are still intact. That’s why we thought you might know him. Or know about him.”

Mac took the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. He wondered if Lieutenant Craig had dialed him by mistake.

“I’m sorry,” MacGregor said. “Do you have the right person? I’m a geologist with—”

“The Hawaiian Volcano Observatory. Yes, sir. We know who you are. Sir, do you know a Colonel Briggs?”

“No, I don’t know him either,” MacGregor said. “What is this about?” He glanced at the television—they were showing footage from the Merrie Monarch Festival’s hula competition in Hilo.

There was a knock at his front door. MacGregor glanced at his watch and said, “Can you hold on? Someone’s at my door.”

“That will be the car we’ve sent for you, sir.”

“The car you’ve sent for me?” What the hell?

“Colonel Briggs has arranged transportation for you from Lyman. The car will take you there now. Colonel Briggs will see you in an hour.”

“See me where?”

“Honolulu, sir. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

In the empty house, his voice sounded much too loud when he said, “Yes, sir.”