The Assassin's Wife

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The Assassin's Wife Page 15

by Roger Weston


  He nodded. Carl looked back at Meg and produced a photograph of her. “As I said, we know who you are. Again, I compliment you on your disguise, but there’s no need for games. Since you’re so interested in our operation, let me show you around.”

  Never admit you’re not who you say you are.

  “Go.” Carl waved his hand at the thug who was standing nearby. “Leave us alone.” He turned to Meg and said, “You know you’re going to—”

  Focusing on acting the part of an embittered employee, she cut him off. “I think your security people are rude. I’ve barely arrived on this ship. It’s hardly surprising I would want to take a look around. I don’t appreciate being treated like this.”

  “You’re absolutely right. I’m afraid my men are a little high strung, but then after your foolish stunt at the rock quarry, I put my people on alert, even way out here.”

  “Are you nuts or something? I expect an apology. You better believe that I’m reporting this to the union. Not only that, I’ll probably sue for harassment.”

  Carl frowned. “Miss Gales, please accept my apology. I assumed Ronnie Gales was a man. I’ve made a terrible mistake, but I had to be sure you were legitimate. Allow me to show you around and brief you on our mission. I’ll be interested to see how you think this ship compares to the Luska.”

  Meg stood still for a moment. It worked. Eric was right. Carl had just been testing her. As for the Luska, she wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but apparently Ronnie must have worked on a ship called the Luska.

  “Fine, but you should never assume anything just from a name. I’m not the first woman to shorten Rhonda to Ronnie. I’ll look forward to a formal apology. Until then, yes, I would like to see where I’ll be working.”

  “This ship,” he said, gesturing grandly, “is extraordinary in several ways. Take this wheelhouse, for example. There’s no wheel. Our captain navigates her by means of a joystick. This is a key feature that makes our operation possible.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Carl flared his arms out and twisted both his hands back and forth. “The propellers’ angle of attack can be changed instantly by hydraulic rams that the captain controls with the joystick. That means the Sturgeon can quickly reverse direction and stop. She can go sideways, at angles, or turn in circles around a position. This feature is quite extraordinary, and it allows us to maintain our exact position over the drop point, even in heavy weather and strong currents.”

  Meg wasn’t sure how much she should know, and she didn’t want to give herself away by asking a question that would expose her as a fraud.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Carl said. “You want to know what I mean by drop point. Be patient. We’ll get to that.”

  Carl smiled. “We didn’t tell you everything before you got here because we operate on a need-to-know basis, and we take the secrecy agreement that you signed very seriously. It’s a matter of national security.”

  “I understand,” Meg said. “I’ll admit I’m impressed by the captain’s ability to move the ship sideways. Gives her a lot more versatility than most.”

  “That’s correct. We don’t even have a rudder because this state of the art ship doesn’t need one.”

  “I am impressed,” Meg said. She could hardly believe her good luck. She was able to play along like she’d done this before.

  Carl gazed around the wheelhouse with obvious pride. He ran his long pale fingers through his white hair. “In addition to being a container ship, the Sturgeon has all the features of a salvage ship, a drilling rig, and a scientific laboratory. We run a cable down to depth, the end of which is attached to a pod. There’s no other ship like this in the world. She’s nine-hundred feet long, designed and built specifically according to my requirements.”

  “What are the capabilities?” Meg said, trying to sound knowledgeable.

  Carl raised his hand, showing his palm to silence her. “The pod has a steel frame that supports and protects various electronic equipment, such as side-looking sonar, lights, and a video camera. I noticed you were down in the deck shack, so you’ve seen the video I’m talking about.”

  Meg nodded. “It’s very clear.”

  “Video cameras are cheap and easily packaged for underwater use. Lighting is often a problem, however. Water absorbs much of the light, and then mud is usually dark-colored with low reflectivity, so it also absorbs light. That means we have to use much higher levels of light than is typically used in the air. Bottom line is you’re right. We have excellent quality video of the eruption, and that’s extraordinary.”

  Meg nodded. “Why the interest in underwater volcanoes?”

  “You will see. It’s part of my plan to solve one of the earth’s most pressing problems. People have no idea how much radioactive waste is produced in this country and around the world. This overflow creates tremendous security issues, and few countries are equipped to deal with their own waste. We’re providing a huge service to humanity by disposing of the waste.”

  “What does a volcano have to do with the world’s nuclear waste issues?”

  “I will show you. Follow me.” Carl led Meg to the wheelhouse. Huge cranes lifted a steel container over the ocean. Carl continued: “You see, this operation is clearly the most effective way to solve a huge man-made problem.”

  Meg watched as the semi-sized container was dropped into the sea.

  Carl smiled. “The ship must know exactly where it is at all times, which GPS makes easy. The trick is not to stray more than fifty meters from the center of the drop site—and that’s not always so easy in Aleutian waters because the weather you’re looking at right now is the norm. Actually, it gets far worse. If we stray more than fifty meters, we risk damaging the underwater buoys and sled system from cable friction.”

  “Those containers must weigh thousands of pounds. How can your cranes support that kind of weight in rough weather?”

  “It’s very dangerous work for deck hands, but we pay you well. One of our deck hands lost both his legs when a container swung and crushed him against another container. Of course, if the weather deteriorates too much, we have to shut down. We’ve had issues with hydraulics, but this ship is a workhorse. She lowers and lifts objects weighing two hundred and fifty tons, but we try not to exceed a hundred tons in these conditions.”

  “How does the sled system work?” Meg said.

  “It’s ingenious. Landing our containers directly into the crater is the tricky part due to the heavy underwater pull of the current. We’ve drilled anchors into the solidified lava around the perimeter of the volcano. Those anchors secure the circular buoy system around the crater. The buoys are larger than three story buildings. They hold up a huge cable mesh. Once we get our container into the zone, the funnel-shaped mesh helps guide the container into the crater.”

  “That sounds like an incredible work of underwater engineering.”

  He smiled. “It had to be. It’s very turbulent down there. A lot can go wrong, but the mesh makes up for most of what Murphy throws at us. It’s like dropping a steel marble into a wide-mouth funnel. But imagine a steel marble dropping though the bottom of the funnel and plunging downward into a hole beneath. Of course, in this case, the hole is erupting, so the heavy steel marble must sink down into the molten lava.”

  “You said the mesh can make up for most of what Murphy throws at us. What do you mean most?”

  “A volcano erupting underwater is a violent and tremendously powerful force. The container’s approach is a critical time. If the volcano coughs unusually hard at the wrong moment, it can spit our container back out.”

  “But it would get caught in the mesh and fall back into the crater, wouldn’t it?”

  “Perhaps, but by then the container walls would probably be melted from the molten lava, which is over a thousand degrees.”

  “What if that happens?”

  “Radioactive waste escapes into the surrounding area. My guess is some of the fish down there
have three heads.”

  Meg hesitated and wondered if he was joking. “If it’s so risky, why go to all this trouble for an illegal operation? Why not just dump the containers overboard at night and keep on going?”

  He smiled. “Because the goal is to try to legalize it after the technique is perfected. If I can do it in these conditions, I can do it anywhere.”

  “How many accidents have there been?”

  “Quite a few, but in the long run, it will be worth it, for us and for all of mankind.”

  Meg waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “If that much radioactive waste has been released into the sea, how do you expect the public to go along with your scheme?”

  Carl gestured toward the island, which loomed off to starboard, a few miles away. “Real simple. It couldn’t have escaped your attention that we’re working in Amchitka Pass. In 1971, Amchitka Island was the site of the largest underground nuclear test blast in US history. The bomb was called Cannikin. Five megatons. An explosion twenty times that of Hiroshima’s lifted the ground up twenty feet. The seismic shock registered at 7.0 on the Richter scale. Subsidence and faulting at the site created a mile-wide lake. There were dramatic rock and turf slides.”

  “Amazing. ‘Course it does sound a bit harsh on the island.”

  Carl nodded. “Concerns have been raised in recent years that new fissures may be opening underground, allowing radioactive materials to leak into the ocean. A 1996 Greenpeace study found that Cannikin was leaking both plutonium and americium into the environment.”

  “I never heard about that.”

  “Most people haven’t. Not surprisingly, the government denied any connection with the Cannikin contamination.”

  “Denied it?”

  Carl nodded. “Claimed it was fallout from a Chinese nuke test.”

  “And now we’re testing your new waste disposal process here?”

  “Yes, because if we make a mistake, the contamination is deniable.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “The Department of Energy has already turned this area into a nuclear disaster. If anyone complains about more nuclear pollution in the area, the big boys can get their people in congress to discredit the accusations. All they’ll have to do is blame the contamination on Cannikin or fallout from the Chinese nuke test.”

  Meg was quiet for a moment. “That’s brilliant,” she said. “It’s good to know we’re working for smart people.”

  Carl smiled. Thoughts of what he would say when he received the Nobel Peace prize crossed his mind. “Once we perfect our method, then we move to a better site.”

  “You mean somewhere with calmer waters.”

  “Precisely. We’re already looking very seriously at a sub-aqueous vent in the outer Hawaiian Islands. The conditions are excellent there, and it’s located beyond the inhabited islands.”

  “And the public will know about this one?”

  “Eventually, we plan to go mainstream. However, the Hawaiian site has the potential to become a public relations nightmare, so we’re looking for alternate sites to go public with.”

  “What’s in it for you?” Meg said.

  Carl rubbed his pale forehead. “Few people have any idea how profitable the waste disposal business is.”

  “Really?”

  Carl sharpened his gaze at her. “I’m amused by your acting skills, Meg, but now I must insist on an intermission. I’ve been in this game too long to be fooled that easy. After all, even Eric never was one to believe appearances. He, too, was a master at his craft.”

  Meg clenched her fists tightly. “If that’s true, it’s only because you lied to him.”

  “Oh, another of the righteous ignorant then. What do you think I’m doing here?” He gestured out toward the water.

  “Dumping nuclear waste.”

  “Dumping?” His pale face turned pink with anger. “This is a highly sophisticated and sanitary disposal operation. What would you say if I was to plant all of these containers of nuclear waste upwind from your home, your town?”

  “Like you’re doing in Idaho right now?”

  “That’s right.” Carl nodded. “You’ve seen our operations there. Yes, everybody wants cheap electricity, but nobody wants the waste byproducts in their own backyard. Of course, these same hypocrites have no complaint if toxic wastes land in someone else’s county.”

  “I guess that would include the criminals who actually put it there.”

  “I’m no criminal. I’m trying to find a better solution for humanity. You see all those containers out on deck and blame me, but I had nothing to do with creating that mess. That disaster was created by the shortsighted rabble. Government bureaucrats who haven’t got the guts to do the right thing. I come along to save mankind from its own folly, and who gets the blame? I do.”

  “Isn’t dumping waste in the ocean shortsighted?”

  Carl strolled to the window and looked out for a moment. He turned back to her. “Nobody has more respect for the ocean than I do. I am sinking the waste into molten lava. Ultimately I am sinking the waste right into the mantle of the earth where it came from and where it can do no harm.”

  “That’s the theory, but it doesn’t always work out that way.”

  “Yes, a few containers end up on the sea floor. I expect that. It’s all part of a plan that my ignorant critics can’t comprehend.”

  “Why don’t you explain it?”

  Carl shrugged and shook his head. “As the volcano erupts, the molten lava spreads. It covers up the containers on the sea floor and seals them forever.”

  “And what if it doesn’t work out that way?”

  “It will.” He smiled. “Without me, thousands would be living in close proximity to these wastes. Without me, the problem would compound. Without me, Hanford would leak enough nuclear waste into the Columbia River to poison the entire northwest. The local newspapers there dubbed me the savior of Hanford.”

  “Did they ask where you put all their waste?”

  “Of course, but they don’t really care, so they don’t follow up. They’re just like everyone else. Just get it out of my town and let someone else suffer. But the Texas legislature did the right thing.”

  “Yes, I read that they turned Texas into the waste dump for the nation.”

  “And the world,” Carl said. “Texas politicians understand that our responsibility as humanitarians goes beyond our borders. But the Texas dump is filling up fast. We’re planning to double its size, but you have no idea the staggering amount of waste that the DOE has produced from their nuclear bomb program. No idea. Our last shipment filled seven hundred train cars, and that was from just one facility. We have three more states eager to send their waste to Texas, and others are starting to look south. I am a servant of all those good people. They don’t deserve to be rescued from their self-created disasters, but I don’t turn them away.”

  “You talk a lot about responsibility. Don’t you think the millions of dollars you pulled in last year have corrupted your judgment?”

  Carl sat down in the captain’s chair. He ran his hand through his white hair twice. “There is no end to the foolishness of little minds. One man can only do so much to save them from themselves. As the great James Allen said, ‘They curse the effect, but they nourish the cause.’ Do you realize that you’re talking to the man who expects to be the recipient of next year’s Nobel Peace Prize?”

  “That’s a joke,” Meg said. “I read the reports. Your Texas operation is set up so that over ten years, you can make billions and then walk away and leave the cleanup to the taxpayers.”

  Carl shrugged. “Who created the problem? Was it me? Am I to shoulder all the burden of mankind? Will I still be here in ten thousand years when we haven’t even approached the half-life of the waste? Anyway, I have the backing of President Stall and I’m tiring of your attitude, Meg. I think it’s time that we went down on deck.”

  “Maybe not.” Meg pulled out her Colt .45.

  C
arl smiled. “Where do you think you’re going to go? You’re on a ship.”

  “I’ll worry about that. You worry about not getting gut shot. Give me your gun.”

  Carl handed it over. Meg took it and shoved it under her belt. As she went for the door, she lowered her gun. In just that moment, the second mate lunged for her. He slammed her against the wall so hard that it knocked the breath out of her, but her survival instincts worked faster than thought itself. Like a mountain lion thrusting its teeth into the neck muscles of a wounded fawn, Meg’s slammed the Colt .45 against the side of the second mate’s head. The mate staggered back and fell down.

  Carl stepped toward her, but she raised her gun. “You want some? I’ll give you the real stuff, right up your nose.”

  Carl raised his hands. He shook his head and looked down at the second mate. “Danny Boy,” he said, “couldn’t you have done better than that?”

  Meg ran out the side door onto the bridge wing deck.

  CHAPTER 48

  Meg took two flights of stairs from the bridge deck down to “E” deck, where she ran down the hall, her feet slapping loudly on the hard floor. She was lost and turned into a doorway that she hoped was an exit. It was the salon, where three deck hands were taking a break and watching a mountain climbing documentary. All three of them looked at her in disbelief just as the ship-wide emergency alarm went off, followed by a man’s voice blasting across the intercom.

  “An intruder is on the boat and must be apprehended. She is a dark-haired woman, and she is on the run now. Stop her.”

  For the first second, the men exchanged glances as if they thought it was all a practical joke. In the next moment all three were on their feet and coming at Meg.

  She pulled her Colt .45 and waved it around from one to the next.

  “Who wants to get shot?” Meg said. “They shot my husband, and I watched him bleed to death. You don’t want to get shot. I promise.”

  A giant man with a dark complexion stepped toward her. “Don’t do anything stupid, sweetheart.”

  Meg fired into his leg. “You mean like that?” The silenced shot pleased her somehow with its smooth sound and overwhelming effectiveness. The man dropped and rolled onto his back, holding his leg and rocking around on his spine.

 

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