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The data room of HVO had been transformed into an electronic command post.

Rebecca Cruz’s team brought their portable consoles in on rolling tables and put them in the center of the room, then got down on their hands and knees, arranged big, insulated cables on the floor, and put beveled metal covers over them. This required some of them to crawl beneath Rick Ozaki’s table, and he made no attempt to hide his unhappiness with that.

“I suddenly feel like a speed bump,” Rick said to Mac.

“Would you like me to ask them to leave because they’ve invaded your personal space?” Mac said. “You should have figured out by now that it’s all hands on deck.”

“How are we supposed to do our work with all this going on around us?” Rick asked.

Rebecca came over and placed her hand on Rick’s shoulder. “I am so sorry we’re in your way. It must be very annoying.”

Rick actually blushed. Mac wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. He grinned. The world might be about to explode, but guys were guys.

Rick went back to work, still blushing slightly, as if he’d just been noticed by the prettiest girl in class.

The Cruzes—Rebecca and her brother and her cousin—were clearly good at their job, Mac had to admit. They were competent and demanding, and they completely took over the room. They refused to plug into the existing HVO power supply—Rebecca said the current wasn’t stable enough.

The team’s own generators, now chugging away in the parking lot, were incredibly noisy. And they had placed backup batteries in the hall, turning it into an obstacle course.

There was no question who was in charge at Cruz Demolition.

“I know it’s annoying,” Rebecca told Mac, “but the batteries can’t be more than five meters from the computers. It’s a timing issue.”

She shrugged and produced a dazzling, world-class smile. Her energy was as appealing as she was, Mac thought; she was a power source all by herself. Mac was looking for ways to prolong the conversation when Jenny came over then and asked if they were going to continue with their plan for an ambulance and a medical infirmary. She told him the army people said they needed the space for helicopter landings. Mac said she should ask Briggs.

He could tell Jenny had more to say, but his cell phone rang again—Betty wanted to know if the library should pull up the most recent satellite pictures to find hot areas where lava was coming close to the surface. Then Henry Takayama’s assistant called to say that Tako couldn’t meet Mac for coffee, but perhaps they could meet in an hour at the pier—would that work? Mac said it would and stuffed his phone back in the pocket of his jeans.

Tako Takayama.

His day just kept getting better.

From time to time, Mac glanced over to the corner of the room where Colonel Briggs was standing, watching the activity in front of him, listening to the constant chatter. He was obviously feeling the hum of the place and quietly smiling.

Like they were all in the army now.

His.

Briggs understood the situation better than anyone else in the room. He knew he had opened himself up to criticism by trying to distance the army from a crisis they’d created.

But he knew, as a practical matter, that his job right now was to prevent widespread panic and present this operation as a civilian undertaking for which the army was providing support.

Then there was the problem of finance, which was no small thing. In order for the army to fund its involvement in this operation, Briggs needed approval from Hawaiian Command. But experience told him that if he’d attempted to get approval, it would have been delayed or simply denied. That was why the old army man looked at Cruz Demolition as the cavalry riding over the hilltop. Briggs could authorize that; later, if they pulled this mission off, the army could be reimbursed for assisting a civilian operation.

It was in this same spirit that Briggs urged MacGregor to talk to Takayama and keep the army as far in the background as possible.

He also encouraged MacGregor to continue his ordinary routine, including surfing practice in Hilo.

“The less feeling of crisis there is, the better,” Briggs said. “Appearances matter, Dr. MacGregor. Trust me on that.”

“But I’m needed here,” MacGregor said.

“You’re needed more down there to show people you’re living your life.”

“At least you didn’t say living my best life,” Mac said.

“I might not have the best people skills in the world,” Briggs said, “but I’m not an idiot.”

It was Briggs who deftly orchestrated the closing of the park to the public, which would be done in stages over the next forty-eight hours. Working with Jenny Kimura, Briggs had all the press releases for the coming days ready on the first day. And it was Briggs who encouraged MacGregor to bring in other high-profile experts as advisers.

“Don’t take this all on your own shoulders,” he said. “Spread it around.”

“So I can spread blame around later?” Mac asked. “Is that the army way?”

The two men stared at each other in silence. Mac knew he had probably overstepped, but he wasn’t any more worried about Briggs’s feelings than he was about his own staff’s. Something else Mac always told Rick and Kenny and even Jenny: It’s a hardball league. Wear a helmet.

Briggs was the one who blinked first.

“I’ve heard concerns about pyroclastic flows,” he said. “Are there experts in that area we could call in?”

“There are people we could call in,” Mac said. “But we’re not going to.”

“Why is that?”

“Because either you trust me or you don’t, Colonel,” Mac said. “That’s why.”

Briggs gave him the cold-eyed stare again. Maybe he was surprised when Mac didn’t go into a dead faint.

“Just so we understand each other,” Mac said.

“I’m starting to think I couldn’t possibly understand you better if I tried, Dr. MacGregor.”

Mac walked over to where Rebecca Cruz was working, thinking, What’s he going to do, court-martial me?