The Last Oracle: A Climate Fiction Thriller (Sam Jardine Crime Thrillers Book 3)

by Christopher Hepworth

  ‘Oh... sir?’ Jamal said to Crawford as he headed back to the accommodation hut.

  ‘Yes, Jamal?’

  Jamal pointed to the massive mountain range that loomed over the drilling site. At the summit of the mountain an enormous semi-frozen glacier loomed over the fracking site like a thick tablecloth. Freezing water cascaded from the summit of the mountain at regular intervals. The edifice dominated the whole area and stretched as far as the eye could see.

  ‘The boys and I are worried about the mountain. It makes strange noises at night like the rumbling of a giant’s belly. Is it safe, sir?’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Jamal. It’s a new glacier formed out of last season’s ice melt. It happens all the time in Greenland. The noises you hear are all part of the winter freezing process. It seems a bit fragile now but by spring, the glacier will be as hard as iron. You’ll soon get used to it.’ Crawford laughed to show there was nothing to fear and headed back to the accommodation hut, whistling as he went.

  As soon as Crawford had disappeared, the group hauled their crate from a shelf in the storage shed. Jamal sheared the lock with a pair of bolt-cutters and opened the wooden lid. He pulled out the layers of gaskets and the drill-bit components from the top half of the crate and unscrewed the timber that served as a false bottom. The four war veterans peered into the bottom of the crate and chattered in Arabic as they passed the selective-fire Kalashnikov rifles around the group. They fondled the rifles’ cold steel like familiar old friends. The group’s explosives expert Rashid heaved the miniature Pakistani-built ‘Vengeance XV’ nuclear warhead from the bottom of the crate. The tactical nuclear weapon had been designed to be fired from a portable rocket launcher in battles for control of the Kashmir region, but it had been captured by the Taliban and recycled to the Syrian war front. Included in the crate were all the components necessary to create a small nuclear explosion that would shatter the ice dam and unleash the biggest mega-flood on the planet since Lake Agassiz eight thousand years before.

  ‘How long will it take you to prepare the device? Jamal asked.

  ‘A month, perhaps two.’

  ‘Why so long? I can’t stand another week in this hellhole.’

  ‘I have to convert the miniature warhead from an impact device to a sophisticated time bomb. That is unless you want to become the meltwater lake’s first victim.’

  ‘Take your time, my friend. There will be a time for martyrdom later. I want to be alive to see the end of Western civilisation as it descends back to the ice age.’

  CHAPTER 29

  Capitol Hill, Washington

  Art Shaughnessy greeted each member of House Energy subcommittee with a firm handshake and the casual banter of someone who had spent decades rubbing shoulders with Washington’s movers and shakers.

  Sylvester La Rue followed in his boss’s footsteps, handing out leather-bound folders to each of the nineteen members of Congress with a frozen smile etched on his face. Sam gazed at the high-vaulted, gilded ceiling of the Capitol Hill office that had been reserved for the hearing. The opulent room reminded Sam of an Italianate Renaissance stateroom with its soaring columns, elaborate paintings and marble statues.

  The subcommittee sat around three sides of a U-shaped table facing Sam, who was seated at a separate table covered with a white linen cloth. He ran through the prepared script in his head and studied the members of Congress who would decide the fate of his amendment. The future prosperity of Daingerfield Oil, the funding of his solar panel division, and Cantara’s Sirius Motor Company depended on his ability to convince at least ten people of the merits of his argument.

  To his left were the eight free trade Democrats, who stared at him with open hostility and distrust on their faces. The nine Republicans to his right were chatting among themselves or looking at their watches. At the end of the table sat the suave and reassuring presence of the Republican subcommittee chairman Curtis Silverwood, and his rotund deputy Jake Pope. Pope looked distracted and unsure of himself. Every so often, his neck would twitch and Sam wondered if La Rue’s trolling campaign had affected his mental state.

  As Shaughnessy and La Rue took their seats either side of Sam, Silverwood opened the meeting.

  ‘Welcome to the home of democracy, Mr Jardine. I can see you are impressed with our humble conference room.’ Silverwood flashed a reassuring smile at Sam, revealing a perfect set of gleaming white teeth and the first signs of crow’s-feet at the corners of his piercing blue eyes. He had a Hollywood chin and dark brown hair that betrayed the first hint of grey. A superbly cut Westmancott suit flattered his slim physique.

  ‘It’s magnificent, Mr Silverwood. Thank you for agreeing to see me.’ Sam had to remind himself that behind Silverwood’s charm and sophistication lay a razor-sharp mind that could kill off his dreams in an instant if he miscalculated his strategy.

  ‘We’ve heard a lot about you. Ex-Vice President Winslow sends his greetings and says we had better be careful or you will tie us in knots with your clever negotiating skills.’ Silverwood smiled but the rest of the subcommittee remained cold and unimpressed.

  ‘The ex-Vice President is too kind. He helped me out several times over the years.’

  A bearded Republican looked at his Rolex. ‘I don’t want to appear rude but I have a fundraising lunch to attend in one hour. Can we get a move on?’ he said.

  ‘Of course, Congressman Owen. I think we can begin,’ Silverwood said. ‘Perhaps you would explain the finer points of your amendment, Mr Jardine?’

  ‘Certainly, Congressman Silverwood.’ Sam stood up, adjusted his jacket and fiddled with his gold cufflinks. He tried to make eye contact with his audience, but most were frowning at their smartphones.

  ‘My honourable congressmen and congresswomen. I work for one of the companies that has already made America prosperous. Twenty years ago, America was dependent upon the OPEC nations for its oil, and American production was in terminal decline. Rex Daingerfield’s fracking methods and his horizontal drilling techniques made America self-sufficient once more and has led to the creation of tens of thousands of well-paying jobs.’

  ‘Excuse me for a moment, Mr Jardine,’ said a flamboyantly dressed Republican, beginning to rise from his seat. ‘I must take a call from the National Firearms Association. They want me to speak at their rally in Montgomery, Alabama—’

  ‘We all agreed there would be no phone call interruptions during the hearing,’ Senator Silverwood cut in firmly. ‘Please resume your seat, Mr Watson, and switch off your mobile.’

  Congressman Watson glowered at Sam and sat down.

  Sam continued. ‘As a direct consequence of the fracking industry’s production of large quantities of gas, America has changed the way it generates its electricity and has reduced its carbon footprint by fifteen per cent. Carbon emissions per kilowatt hour are now their lowest since 1964—’

  ‘What’s wrong with carbon emissions?’ interrupted Congressman Pampling, a Republican congressman from Georgia who had three coal-fired power stations in his district. ‘Trees and plants need carbon dioxide to survive.’

  ‘Indeed they do, Congressman Pampling. And I believe the trees in your district are thriving.’

  The Democrats to Sam’s left sniggered at his joke, but the Republicans sat stony faced. ‘Mr Daingerfield has rescued the American oil and gas industry from terminal decline, but he has only bought an additional ten or twenty years before America reaches “peak oil” once more,’ Sam said. ‘The Make America Prosperous bill may offer a degree of temporary protectionism, but oil and gas companies also depend upon safe and accessible sources of supply in friendly nations overseas if they are to remain viable.’

  ‘And your amendment will achieve this?’ Silverwood asked.

  ‘It will. Daingerfield Oil has rediscovered the legendary Nefertari oilfield in the western deserts of Egypt. The region is sparsely inhabited and there will be zero environmental damage. If Daingerfield is given access to that oil, it will secure the
company’s future and provide oil wealth to a friendly nation for at least twenty years. My amendment improves the bill by only targeting nations who engage in anti-competitive behaviour and enhances its chance of passing through Congress. The amendment also removes one of the unintended consequences of the bill, which will punish those companies it is supposed to protect and who first made America prosperous. Thank you for your attention, I am open to questions.’

  Sam sat down and felt somewhat relieved – his presentation seemed to have been well received. Even one or two Democrats were nodding their heads. Only Congressman Pampling from Georgia looked unimpressed and Sam regretted he had made a joke at his expense.

  ‘What did Israel say about your new oilfield?’ asked Democrat Congressman Friedenberg.

  ‘I can assure you Mr Friedenberg, this oilfield will have no impact on the interests of Israel.’

  ‘I don’t like the anti-Semitic tone of your voice, young man.’

  ‘I can assure you I am not anti-Semitic, sir.’

  ‘I could not bring myself to vote against any measure that might harm our allies. Israel is the only democracy in the region.’

  ‘Egypt are also allies of the United States.’

  ‘The Egyptian government has a poor human rights record,’ Friedenberg retorted.

  ‘They do have major challenges in their struggle against religious intolerance and they need our support with that issue. But they have been professional in their dealings with Daingerfield Oil throughout the licensing negotiations. The amendment will provide twenty years of safe and secure oil and gas, which will be enough to ensure a smooth transition to clean sources of renewable energy and a sustainable energy policy.’

  At the mention of renewables, half a dozen of the Republicans sat upright in their chairs as if they had been poked with an electric cattle prod. La Rue pointed towards Sam’s folder as if prompting him to stick to the script.

  The Republican Congresswoman Betty Castella slipped on a pair of severe tortoiseshell reading glasses and studied Sam’s proposal. ‘Don’t tell me Rex Daingerfield has hired someone with a social conscience,’ she drawled in her smoky Southern accent. ‘What is the world coming to?’

  ‘The fact is, Congresswoman Castella, oil will run out within our lifetimes and we need to prepare for that scenario now. That issue is not in contention.’

  Castella peered at Sam over her spectacles. ‘I see we are getting to the real issue here, Mr Jardine. This is an underhand attempt to raise money for your Sirius solar-powered vehicle in which you have a large shareholding, is it not?’

  The members of Congress all stared at Sam in surprise. La Rue inched his seat away and turned his back on Sam as if to disassociate himself from his client.

  ‘I happen to be a minority shareholder and own twenty per cent of the company.’

  ‘Isn’t that something of a conflict of interest with your position in the oil industry?’

  ‘Not at all. Daingerfield is an energy company, not just an oil and gas business.’

  ‘Does the car work?’

  ‘Better than we ever imagined. The factory has produced a fleet of twenty vehicles for extensive testing. It received its Egyptian roadworthiness certificate last week and is expected to receive its European Union certificate next month. But to commence full-scale production, the car will need hundreds of millions of dollars of investment and Daingerfield has committed to provide some of that funding as an advance against the projected Egyptian oil profits.’

  ‘But what about the American auto industry?’ said Friedenberg with a horrified look on his face. ‘It could cost hundreds of thousands of jobs.’

  ‘The American auto industry will come to embrace this new technology, which will create many high-paying jobs of the future.’

  ‘The auto industry might, but not the oil industry,’ said Castella. ‘There are tens of thousands of oil industry workers in my district and they’re not going to thank me for throwing them out of work. I’m sorry, I can’t vote for your amendment.’ She folded her arms across her ample chest and glared at Sam. Several of her Republican colleagues were looking at Sam with open hostility, while the Democrats smelled blood.

  Sam knew he was losing the Republicans and decided to go for broke. ‘While I was in Egypt’s western desert, Rex Daingerfield’s daughter taught me that we are at a defining moment in our history. We are facing an environmental catastrophe brought on by the lack of a coherent energy policy. Whether you like it or not, formulating a sensible energy policy is the single biggest issue of our time. Bigger than oil profits, bigger than building a re-election war chest, and definitely bigger than party political point scoring.’ Sam stared at each member of the subcommittee. ‘I am offering you a rational energy plan that ticks all of those boxes. Even then, it may be too little, too late. I implore you to work together on this plan that phases out fossil fuels over a twenty-year period, starting with the dirtiest power plants and ending with the wholesale adoption of solar, wind and wave technology. Your grandchildren will thank you for your decisive leadership.’

  ‘Those are fine words, Mr Jardine,’ said the Republican Congressman Pampling. ‘But everyone knows there’s is no such thing as manmade climate change. It’s a fallacy perpetuated by greedy academics trying to justify their research grants. Every blog I read on Breitbart says the same thing.’

  Congressman Friedenberg laughed. ‘How ridiculous! Only a Republican from Georgia could spout such hogwash!’

  ‘Is it a coincidence Congressman Friedenberg’s district contains the University of Stanford; that hotbed of left-wing academia and scientists who have the most to gain from peddling the global warming myth? I think not!’ retorted Pampling.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I think it is time to vote,’ said Silverwood quickly. ‘You have given us something to think about, Mr Jardine, and I must say you have a unique way of making your point.’

  ‘Is there any point? Mr Jardine has managed to upset everyone in this room... including his own lobbying company,’ said Castella, grinning. She pointed at La Rue, who had thrown his pen onto his notepad and was shaking his head in disgust at Sam’s views on climate change.

  ‘So, I take it you will not be supporting the amendment, Congresswoman Castella?’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  ‘Nope,’ said Pampling.

  ‘Count me out,’ said Congressman Owen. ‘Climate change is another government excuse to stiff my district with a new tax.’

  The six other Republicans all voted against Sam’s amendment, much to the amusement of the Democrat subcommittee members.

  ‘Congressman Pope?’ said Silverwood to his deputy chairman.

  Pope was staring out of the window and appeared distracted. Sam feared La Rue’s trolling campaign had left the congressman disillusioned and confused with politics. He fiddled with his pen and then looked at Sam for what seemed an age.

  ‘Mr Pope?’ Silverwood repeated.

  ‘I admire this young man,’ said Pope, pointing at Sam. ‘He’s got the guts to stand up for what he believes in, which is a rare thing on the Hill.’ He gathered his possessions and walked towards the door.

  ‘I’m quitting politics, but my last act will be to vote in favour of Mr Jardine’s amendment. Good luck to you, boy, and look me up if you ever decide to build your solar car in the USA.’

  ‘I’ll remember that, sir,’ Sam said as Pope left the room.

  ‘Well that’s nine votes to one against Mr Jardine’s amendment.’ Silverwood pointed towards the eight Democrat subcommittee members. ‘Do you wish to cast your votes, or are you happy to see the amendment defeated?’

  Congressman Friedenberg raised his hand. ‘I must admit, this doesn’t sit well with me, but I’d rather have Egypt inside the tent than outside it. I’m voting for the amendment.’

  Another Democrat raised his hand. ‘I guess if the honourable Republican committee members on the other side of the room have voted against the amendment, I must be for it.’<
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  ‘Me too. I’m voting for the young man’s amendment,’ said a Democrat congresswoman.

  ‘Count me in,’ said another Democrat. ‘It’s true that we need a sensible energy policy to see us through the next twenty years.’

  ‘Mr Jardine got my vote as soon as he spoke the truth on climate change. I’m in,’ said the fifth Democrat.

  ‘What the hell. Someone has to challenge the climate change conspiracy theorists in the Republican Party. I’m voting for the amendment,’ said the Democrat from Chicago.

  The two other Democrats both voted in favour of Sam’s amendment, leaving Sam facing defeat by one vote once the Republican chairman voted with his party.

  ‘I will summarise the current vote count,’ announced Silverwood. ‘In favour of Mr Jardine’s amendment, nine votes. Those against, nine. The casting vote falls to me.’

  La Rue looked at Sam and shrugged his shoulders to suggest if he had kept to the script, his amendment would have carried the day.

  ‘However, the prosperity of our nation and that of the world’s economy demands we cannot walk away from alternative sources of energy.’ Silverwood continued. ‘Whether those sources come from friendly nations outside our borders or from renewable energy is beside the point. I happen to agree with Mr Jardine when he says our energy policy is at crisis point.’ Silverwood looked at each subcommittee member in turn to check if his words had made an impact. ‘I apologise to the honourable members in my own party but I’m going to vote in favour of Mr Jardine’s amendment. I pronounce the amendment carried and the meeting is closed. Mr Jardine, I would like a word with you, if you please.’

  Art Shaughnessy turned to face Sam and shook his hand. ‘That was a rather unorthodox strategy, Mr Jardine, but an effective one nonetheless. Congratulations on securing your amendment.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Shaughnessy.’