-Chapter 38-
Manuel joined us back in the car, a little more relaxed. He drove back through the city and to the Monterrey airport, far from the terminal, but adjacent to where our plane luckily still sat. There was no use going back to the hospital now, it would have only opened us up to questions we could not answer.
We got out of the car and carefully pulled out the pink suitcase. Galveston placed it in his bag and covered it with clothing, effectively contaminating all his belongings. We didn’t need to have gone this far only to have a customs agent find a very questionable Aztec statue. This wouldn’t have sat well with the Mexican authorities. Just to be safe, I would toss the bag over an airport fence when Galveston got inside. Not the most brilliant of plans, but we had to take this course instead of taking the chance someone would find it through a customs search. Luckily, the area around the private airplanes was poorly guarded, and I managed to toss his bag behind some used oil drums, out of view.
We said our goodbyes to Manuel as he drove us to the terminal area. Galveston shoved a wad of cash in his hand before we left him at the car. He waved gingerly at us before squealing out of the parking area. It almost appeared he was glad to get rid of us. Galveston went through the air terminal first, as I did my best to not to look guilty and followed behind.
Galveston was able to retrieve the bag discretely as I distracted the ground personnel that milled about the plane. He placed it far back in the plane and behind an aft cargo wall, well out of sight for our return to the States.
We were soon in the air, bouncing our way back to San Diego, attempting to race the available light which was now running out. Galveston engaged the autopilot at our cruise altitude and relaxed in his seat.
“I need a beer,” he said through his microphone, his voice cracking over the loud prop noise.
“I agree,” I responded, amazed at the amount of dials and glass laid out in front of me. I never asked where Galveston had learned to fly, but right now I was just too tired to care.
There was so much I didn’t really know about Galveston, some of it I probably didn’t ever want to know. But, he didn’t really know much about me either. He probably didn’t care to know I liked collecting stamps and enjoyed good coffee. Not too interesting for a guy who could fly airplanes and dated English spies.
Our flight proved to be uneventful, and the deep blue of the Pacific came into view as we made our way up the Baja coast over the border and into California.
“How much did you give Manuel before we left?” I asked as San Diego Lindbergh International appeared off our right wingtip, a sign we were getting close to Montgomery airport.
“A thousand bucks,” he answered nonchalantly.
“A thousand dollars in cash?” I exclaimed. “How much cash did you take?” Galveston did the arithmetic in his head.
“Let’s see, I’ve got about two thousand left so…” he continued to do the math.
“Three thousand? You were carrying around three thousand dollars in cash in Mexico?” I became exasperated.
“Yeah. It was safe. I was carrying it in my underwear.” I flashed to Manuel. The poor kid was carrying around a load of money that had spent a day residing around Galveston’s crotch. I felt myself beginning to do a simulated dry heave at the thought.
Galveston banked the plane carefully and lined up for runway two-eight right. I had made it back from Mexico in one piece at the hands of a man who felt it was okay to hold large amounts of cash in his undergarments. Galveston carefully taxied back to the parking spot we had left that morning, shut the airplane down, and secured it. He was visibly exhausted.
We called Alex, who admitted he was sunning himself by his pool. He told us he had heard from Elizabeth. She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep Dr. Sloan under wraps. He was becoming impatient and frustrated over the progress.
“I think Alex needs to start pulling more weight,” Galveston said wearily.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I think he needs to take in a border, a sixty-year old border with a pot belly and extensive knowledge of electrical engineering.” I thought about it a second and figured it could be humorous.
“I agree,” I added, “they have a lot in common.”
“We’ll spring this on him when we see him,” Galveston said putting up his charts. I nodded again in agreement, smiling.
Galveston and I tied the plane down and parted ways. It was a little before eight o’clock and we decided the best course of action was to go home and catch up on some much needed rest and relaxation. We planned to gather in the morning at Alex’s house, and work our way through the new information.
I called Jane on my way home and was relieved to hear her voice, chipper and upbeat. Galveston took charge of the pink suitcase, and planned to deliver it to May the next morning for analysis.
I had a stiff drink as soon as I arrived home to try to help me to sleep, but the scenarios kept playing themselves out in my head. What was Black Bear planning? What were they doing in Brazil? What was the Senator’s connection? And who was this Patelo character? The bigger question continued to linger and appear in my head. What was Black Bear afraid of? These questions would have to wait until morning.
-Chapter 39-
I awoke with a start as my alarm blared out the latest top forty radio hits followed by some nincompoop who spoke in his best DJ voice. The sounds wrenched me to a sitting position. I punched the clock to silence the clatter and waddled to the bathroom. I felt like I’d been struck by a Mack truck. My legs and back hurt, and my rear wasn’t feeling much better. After what seemed like hours, I managed to awake from my stupor and drove quickly to Alex’s humble abode.
Galveston had beaten me there and was waiting inside. Alex looked in a truly disheveled mood, Galveston must have already told him of his new roomy, and I had missed the reaction. It must have been great. I tried to get myself settled, but before I could, Galveston reached hyper mode, like a kid who had just eaten too much sugar.
“Alright Alex, now that were here, I need info on an Ernesto Patelo. He’s an acquaintance of Colonel Espinosa.” Alex dejectedly began typing; probably still thinking about how he was going to entertain Dr. Sloan.
I positioned myself at an adjacent computer and began to surf the web, anything to pass the time while Alex did his work. Something caught my eye almost immediately. I don’t know why, but it seemed to stand out. The news article read, “Rebels Destroy Nigerian Oil Outpost”. I clicked the link and read through the article.
Lagos (Reuters) – A major explosion was reported at two of the main
export oil terminals of Nigeria’s Bonny crude oil loading platform
early Thursday morning. The explosion completely destroyed the two
offloading output terminals for oil produced from the Niger delta
region. The fire continued to burn throughout the afternoon as fire
crews tried to control the blaze. “Oil production has been ceased
indefinitely until security concerns are addressed,” a spokesman for
Royal Dutch Shell said, a principle operator of tankers in the area.
The Nigerian government has blamed extremist rebels for the
explosions and has plans to move troops into the area. No group has
claimed responsibility for the attack. The Niger Delta produces an
estimated 2.3 million barrels a day according to U.S. government
sources and has seen drastic cuts in production of up to 450,000
barrels per day due to recent conflicts with militant groups. The price
of oil rose today on the news of further cuts in oil production in the
region, which threatens to disrupt global energy capacity demands.
I sat staring at the article. Could there be a connection here, I thought. Nah, they wouldn’t go to these lengths, they wouldn’t dare. On the other hand, they did poison someone using an Aztec statue, broke into a woman’s house in
England, and already tried to kidnap an esteemed professor.
I then thought over the connection logically. The gears in my brain moved exceedingly slow, the rust and cobwebs from the previous night were causing the neurons not to fire. I gave myself a quick slap in the face, reverberating the sound across the room. Alex and Galveston stared at me pitifully, as if I had lost my mind. I gave my face another good smack and told myself to think. Yeah, that did it, I was clear and my face now hurt. I felt like a fool, but I was awake. Just like slapping myself in the face got the attention of Alex and Galveston, these explosions would get everyone’s attention.
I resolved it came down to a simple case of cause and effect, supply and demand. Actually eloquent, I had to admit, as I read the article again. They cause an explosion and cut off the supply of much needed oil to a hungry global economy. The effect would be increased demand, and a nasty little rebel group would get the blame. I just knew it had to be Black Bear behind this explosion. They were intentionally trying to drive up the price of oil, and they were doing it the most quick and effective way they knew how, by blowing the hell out of a major oil producer’s infrastructure. But again the question returned for the millionth time again to why? I had to find this out and now.
Galveston and Alex were so enthralled with searching for Dr. Patelo that they hardly knew I was in the room. At this point I was only speculating that Black Bear was involved in these explosions, because I had no proof. I looked up Black Bear on the financial pages. It gave all the information on the company. Black Bear had made 237 million in revenue the last quarter, with a healthy earnings report. It was hardly proof of a company struggling for a profit. The stock price was holding relatively steady at twenty three dollars a share. Visibly not a sign a company is doing poorly. Black Bear had also announced some new government contracts that would pad their bottom line in the coming years.
I searched through the old news items. Most of the news was about the company acquiring new contracts, and the ebb and flow of the company’s stock price, but one item stood out. About six months ago, Black Bear agreed to provide security services to Global Energy Enterprises in their overseas operations. It explained that Global Energy Enterprise was a non-profit company that supplied energy solutions for developing countries. This was the organization that Weston Chase had started, and the one Dr. Sloan had told us about. As I read further, the story quoted a speech from Black Bear CEO, Timothy Placer. It read:
We have established a grant to Global Energy Enterprises for their
continued good work in developing green energy alternatives for
areas of the world in need of these services. In addition to this grant,
Black Bear Global Security will supply all the services for this great
organization to safely implement all of their alternative energies, such
as solar, wind, and clean fuels. In response to the growing need for
all people to have access to alternative forms of energy, and in
cooperation with the government of Brazil, we will start up our
newest endeavor, Ecomax Clean Energy. This may seem strange
given that our primary business is security services, but we feel this
will significantly diversify our position in the world marketplace, and
with our know how in security services we will be able to ensure that
new breakthroughs in energy technology will be accessible by all who
are in need.
It tugged on the heartstrings. These great bastions of American capitalism wanted to help all the lonely, desolate peoples of the world. I continued to read the transcript, transfixed to the words.
Ecomax will research and develop alternate forms of energy, and we
have already begun to employ the best and brightest from the
scientific community. We have also begun the research and
development of a cleaner burning hydrocarbon fuel and the
development of more effective battery technology.
The transcript ended and the story behind it summarized the feelings of investors.
Response on Wall Street was mixed with the stock closing lower on
the news. Investors seem cool to the idea of a security company
entering the volatile and uncertain world of alternative energy
solutions from the ground up.
I was stunned. They really were doing this, and I had to admit that it was a brilliant plan, if not devious, with the insider information we knew. But if I had been an investor at this time, I would have run for the exits. A company that had no experience in energy beginning a start-up, from scratch? Not something I would put my money into. There were still answers I needed, however, and further questions to form.
Just about then I hear a yelp from across the room.
“We found him,” Galveston yelled as I spun my chair towards him. “Here he is, Ernesto Patelo.” He pointed to the screen in an act of satisfaction.
“Let me guess,” I started, “he works for a company in Brazil,” I scratched my head to let the tension build, “and I bet it’s called Ecomax.” I let the words sink in and watched Galveston’s and Alex’s expressions fade from excitement to amazement. They stuttered in unison at my Yuri Geller like powers.
“How did you, what, how?” Galveston stammered.
“I did a little research of my own. I think we need to have a little pow-wow.”
-Chapter 40-
I relayed all the news I had gathered; the explosion, the Black Bear bottom line, their help with Global Energy Enterprise, and the start-up of Ecomax in Brazil. They sat transfixed, and I held their attention with every word I said.
“I think I follow, but I’m still confused,” Galveston said as I finished with my information. “Break your theory down, in a nutshell.”
“I’ll try to dumb it down for you,” I said joking. “Maybe I’ll start from the beginning. That ought to help us see the timeline better. Black Bear offers to provide security for Global Energy in the bad, rough parts of the world, so they can implement whatever, it doesn’t really matter.”
“Who got them to do that?” Galveston interrupted.
“I don’t know, but Black Bear gave Global Energy a grant and they become a prized child and a buddy, just wanting to help. Global Energy knows what Dr. Sloan is working on, and as cover, Black Bear starts Ecomax, strategically placing it out of the prying eyes in the U.S. They place the company in Brazil, all under the guise of helping the world, the environment, etcetera, where Ecomax would be out of sight from U.S. regulations and investment law. Black Bear steals two of the battery prototypes right as Dr. Sloan leaves for Memphis, but the two they steal aren’t the final version.” I was in the zone, one thought coming after another, like the last pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “Black Bear flies the prototypes to the airfield in northern Mexico, and with Colonel Espinosa’s help, they’re exchanged to another plane. They’re then flown to Brazil where Espinosa hands them over, and returns to Mexico. The one man that is aware of this hand-off is poisoned and now dead.”
“Colonel Espinosa?” Alex jutted in.
“Exactly,” I answered coolly, enjoying my new found respect. “They manage to silence him and the trail was supposed to go cold right there.”
I looked at Galveston and Alex to make sure they were following me. They both stared intently, waiting for the next sequence of events.
“Now this is where it gets messy,” I warned them. “Black Bear sends a team to England to retrieve the final plans. They probably had the same information as the Feds. Somehow they knew the prototypes weren’t the final version. The trip to England was an effort to get the final design while they get Genesis to develop software for a production line.”
“Black Bear must be confident they can produce it,” Galveston added.
“I think it went to Ecomax to be developed, but without the final plans they would have to reverse engineer it to set it up for production, cost
ing valuable time. Stay with me here, nobody would be interested, yet,” I said with dramatic effect. “To accomplish this feat they blow up a major oil export center. The explosion is blamed on terrorism, the markets respond with supply fear, and oil prices rise drastically. Black Bear plans to capitalize on the high oil prices with the release of the battery, making a lot of people very, very rich.”
Alex and Galveston sat stunned, but nodded in acknowledgement at what was in theory a simple plan, but with the many steps, amazingly difficult. They began to pepper me with questions like I was an esteemed professor. I don’t know about the esteemed part, but I did consider myself an expert in economics.
“What do you think they’ll do next?” Galveston asked inquisitively.
“I’m bothered by this one explosion actually. It’s not really enough to cause a very long term drop in oil supply. I think they’re going to strike again,” I said.
“Another explosion? Do you think in the U.S.?” Alex asked.
“I don’t think so. Too easy to investigate. I think they’ll go after another major export area. Probably in an area where we don’t have good relations. This would ensure that the U.S. won’t be able to investigate.” I leaned back in my chair. “I am bothered by two questions, though. What is the catalyst for them to do this, and two, what is the truth behind Black Bear’s bottom line? I think that’s an area we need to figure out. I would bet Black Bear isn’t doing as well as their financial and accounting reports show.”
“I agree,” said Galveston. “I think there is some cooking of the books going on. Alex, look into that. Find out any information you can on Black Bear. Contracts, law suits, liquidity issues, anything that sounds like they’re not doing as well as they say they are. Roger, who do you guess may have started this?” I thought hard for a second, trying to formulate an intelligent answer.
Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 01 - Flapjack Page 18