by John Hunt
“You’ve checked out this Baddori character thoroughly, I presume?”
“Of course. Petur, you know I have. I’m confident that he’s an honorable man. His records were hard to come by, so it would seem that he has been doing some fairly deep cover work of late. They were buried surprisingly deep, actually. Almost didn’t find anything. Almost.”
Isaac reached into the inner left pocket of his ruffled sports coat. Out came several pieces of paper. He tossed them nonchalantly on the table in front of his friend.
Petur reviewed the information presented with interest. This man was certainly well trained and had appropriate experience. He would be a valuable asset to the Island Project.
“So, how do I get him to sign on?”
“Goodness gracious, Petur! You have been getting people to sign on to this project successfully for the past two years. What’s special about this man?”
“You haven’t been listening, have you? The scientists, engineers, teachers, and financiers all liked their jobs. We just gave them a new venue in which to work. This man no longer likes what he does.”
“No, Petur, it is you who is not listening. He likes his work well enough. It is the cause that he has labored for that he no longer likes. He just needs a new cause. The Island can be his new cause.”
Petur had to agree. “OK. Perhaps. But this isn’t someone who has been thinking about the issues important to us. This is all new to him. He doesn’t seem to be a dreamer. Not an idealist like we are.”
“No, he may not be. But you don’t know that for sure. He is currently a lost man — without a calling, without drive. He is ripe for fertilizing, nurturing, and plucking. Don’t miss out on him. His talents would serve us well.”
“Agreed. His apparent attachment to Sophia may be all that it takes. I’ll see what I can do.”
Petur slouched in his chair and looked up toward the crystalline ceiling above. He was getting tired. Damn, he wished the OTEC had not sunk. But Isaac was right. And Joseph had been equally correct the other day. There was no use obsessing. He had to get over this.
First thing in the morning, Petur knocked on Sophia’s door. She was already awake, clanking pots and pans together in the kitchen. Jeff was still catching up on sleep lost during the trip to Paradise. Sophia pulled open the front door.
“Good morning,” she said in Icelandic. “Come on in. I’ll get you some breakfast.”
Likewise speaking in his native tongue, Petur accepted the invitation. “I have grown completely accustomed to American-style breakfasts of course. How are you with those?”
“We got stocked up last night. Pancakes, sliced bacon, and a couple of scrambled eggs coming up.”
She moved back into the kitchen while Petur took to the stairs, two at a time. He was in her bedroom in a moment, and sat down on the bed beside the still-sleeping Jeff. The sleeping man began to stir, and then in a flash he was sitting bolt upright. Petur had been forcefully twisted around, with one of his hands shoved painfully between his scapulae and with Jeff’s arm lodged firmly around his neck.
“Goddammit, Petur. You scared the crap out of me! What the hell are you doing here?” Jeff released his grip on Petur’s neck, but continued to press the hand uncomfortably up his back.
“Just wanted to talk, big guy. I see you got up on the wrong side of the bed!”
Jeff released his lock completely. “I’m sorry. Not really used to the environment yet. I’ll try not to kill anyone. It’s going to take some change in my thinking, though.”
Petur stood up, allowing Jeff to get out of bed. Jeff was wearing only white boxer shorts, but he moved over to his still packed suitcase and pulled out a pair of loose black running shorts. Petur could not miss the massive scar on Jeff’s chest. He would have to ask about that someday.
“Don’t rush to change your thinking, Jeff. Maybe you should not yet get out of your chosen career.”
Jeff moved toward the bathroom and performed some mandatory morning tasks and Petur went back downstairs.
In the kitchen, Sophia cracked eggs into a large glass bowl. The kitchen was fancy: clean and white and modern. It had the standard microwave and flat-topped electric stove. An ultrasonic dishwasher, capable of cleaning much more than dishes, was tucked under a counter. But despite all the modern aspects of the Island, someone still had to crack eggs into a bowl to make pancakes.
Petur looked at his sister as she beat the eggs with a hand whisk. He was very proud of her. She had always been a beauty. Petur’s friends were perennially interested in dating her more than anyone else, despite the abundance of highly attractive women in Iceland. He was proud not only of her appearance, but also her grace. Even as she beat the eggs, she held herself tall and straight — statuesque. Most important was her intellect. Sophia was a genius.
“Your young man is awake.”
“It’s about time. Does he want some pancakes too? I hope so. I’m making enough for everybody.”
“I didn’t ask him. He should be down in a moment though.”
“What did you ask him, Petur?”
“Nothing really.”
“Haven’t got around to it, have you?” Sophia turned to look over her shoulder.
“Around to what, Sophia?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“Hmmm,” was all she said.
She peeled off strips of thin lean bacon from the pre-sliced package. Each strip created a satisfying sizzle as she placed it on the hot skillet. The distinctive and pleasant scent quickly filled the room.
When she was done with the batter, the scent of pancakes joined the scent of bacon. Petur got very hungry. At Sophia’s request, he poured three large glasses of orange juice and an additional glass of milk for himself and set the table.
Jeff strode in, dressed in casual white slacks and a loose blue short-sleeved shirt. He wore boating shoes with cotton socks. He had combed his hair. Now that Jeff had freshened up, Petur could see why his sister chose this man. Solidly but not excessively muscled, with a firm jaw and sharp, intelligent green eyes, he made quite an impression. He smiled frequently, and his smile was disarming. Jeff smiled now.
The chef heard him come in. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead. Breakfast will be on the table in moments. Take a seat and relax.”
“Sophia, you are a marvel! Petur, we are in Paradise, with perfect weather and a beautiful woman cooking us a wonderful breakfast. I could live here forever.”
Sophia turned and gave a quizzical look to her brother. Petur did not miss the meaning. It was time to ask.
He thought for just a moment, and then said, “Jeff, you could live here forever. We could use someone with your talents and skills right now.”
Jeff raised his eyebrows slightly.
Petur continued. “Last week, while undergoing a seven-week-long tow from the Northwest coast of the United States to Paradise 1, a prototype full-scale Ocean Thermal Energy Converter designed by us sank in deep water. It is not retrievable. Most would consider this a catastrophe, but we remain optimistic. Nonetheless it is a significant setback.”
Jeff asked, “What exactly is this device?”
“An OTEC is a system designed to make electricity by taking advantage of the thermal gradient between the warm tropical surface waters and the much cooler deep waters around these islands. It is sort of a reverse refrigerator, but on a very large scale. This device was larger than most city buildings, and cost hundreds of millions.”
“Was it insured?” Jeff queried.
“Fortunately, yes.”
“How long to build a new one?”
Sophia cut in at this point, as she placed the first serving of pancakes and bacon on the table in front of the men. “It will push my work back by months while a new one is built. Probably more, for the new one has to get towed here as well.”
They dug in heartily, slapping butter and syrup all over their large first servings. The orange juice helped keep Petur from feeling too full of the pancakes as they expanded in h
is belly. The bacon was crisp and brown with enough flavorful fat left on it.
Jeff could hold more than Petur, for he had already finished his first stack and was getting another serving when he turned to Petur and said, “What went wrong? Do you know how it sank?”
Petur nodded as he was swallowing. Then he said, “To some extent, yes. The OTEC was towed here by a large ocean-going tug called the Mary Brewer. They were less than a day from arrival when it happened. The Mary Brewer started sinking first. Unfortunately, it took the OTEC down with her.” Petur filled Jeff in on all the details that they had gleaned from interviews with the first officer and crew. He made careful note of the tragic loss of Captain Hahnemann as he valiantly tried to free the OTEC before it was pulled over.
“Sounds like he was a very good man.” Jeff asked the obvious next question, “Any idea what happened to cause the sinking?”
“We have very little clue about that. There was an explosion on board the tug, and part of the side of the hull was torn out. Most of the crew never even saw the damage. In fact, we think only the captain saw it. The first officer, Tom Stouffer, did say that the Captain had shouted something about sabotage.”
Jeff looked pensive. Petur was quiet. Sophia was quiet too. There was an extended pause in the conversation. Finally, after taking a deep breath and holding it in his lungs, Jeff said, “So, where can I find the first officer? And I would like to see the charts of the waters around here too — to get a feel for the area. And I will need the plans of the Mary Brewer — the hull and decks and electronics, and even the plumbing. And some info on the OTEC. Sophia, do you have a pen and paper so I may write some things down?”
She laughed as she reached into a drawer under the microwave and pulled out the items he requested. “And Petur was worried about how he might convince you to take the job!”
Jeff eyed Petur for a moment, and smiled. “I guess I haven’t left myself in a good bargaining position as to salary, have I?”
“Actually,” Petur responded gleefully, “your eagerness to jump right into the fray has just caused me to increase my planned initial offer!”
Jeff winked at Sophia. Under his breath, he whispered, “I thought it might.”
20. Tunnel of Fusion
THE NEXT FEW days were spent in luxury. Jeff and Sophia dined consecutively at Gustav’s fine restaurant at the top of Science Hall, in the quaint dining room at the Guest House, and at the expansive establishment in the recently completed luxury resort along the southern beach. This resort, although still far too new to be rated by the travel guides, was designed as a five-star facility and it would easily earn the rating.
The quiet location — a completely isolated island in the middle of the Pacific — was enough to attract vacationers. Add the mild tropical climate, the exquisite facilities, the unique attractions, and the generous marketing budget and the resort had no trouble filling its rooms and bungalows. After a brief period when visitors waited on a standby list, the proprietors quickly and substantially raised their rates. The resort made a very large profit for its investors, and most of that profit flowed into the research budget and other ventures of the Island Project. And it attracted wealthy visitors who, once exposed to the Island’s principles, considered its investment opportunities.
The population of the island grew every day. As various facilities came online, the people who had agreed to run them came. These people were hired carefully, trained thoroughly and paid well. They had been recruited from countries throughout the world.
Jeff reclined in a long chair beside one of six well-appointed pools in the resort complex and swallowed some cold beer. The surrounding buildings had a common design: one story, decorative thatched roofs that overlay storm-resistant wood and metal; broad, open entrances; and windows that provided views of the shore and the ocean. A bar, a small café, a children’s game room, and a tearoom all were available in the resort.
Bellhops and barmaids, athletic directors and maintenance personnel, chefs and waitresses, and everyone else a major hotel complex required expertly staffed the resort. Jeff noted that everyone who worked here seemed to take pride in his or her job, including the cheerful and efficient pool bartender.
Sophia told him why.
Petur, who was one of the first investors in the resort, concerned himself greatly with the staff’s motivation and satisfaction. And so he treated the staff well. He gave them responsibility, authority, and respect. He trusted the staff to do their jobs as well as they could. The staff had no corporate politics to negotiate. They did not fear the management. Petur treated them as individuals. He did not enforce universal employment policies or a universal wage scale. People were paid the amount that they agreed to accept, were not overworked unless they wanted to be overworked, and had opportunities to expand their skills and increase their income by means of working harder or smarter. Solid underlying philosophy, good management, and exceptional capital financing made this all possible.
Problems with the staff rarely arose. If someone did not fit in or contribute, Petur found a different position for her — if not on the island, then on the mainland. He offered very few people severance packages. No disgruntled ex-employee might have had the motive to sink the OTEC.
It was almost a utopia — almost. Every utopia has a fatal flaw, and Jeff did not see one, but he was confident that one would appear. He hoped it would not be soon.
He sipped his beer and reveled in the warm sun. Sophia had gone to her lab and he would meet her there soon. He had yet to see where she worked, and he did not really understand what she did.
A young woman in a bikini strutted teasingly close. He glanced at the back of her head. Black shoulder-length hair poured over her well-tanned skin. He followed the graceful line of her spine downward between her scapulae to the gentle curve at the base of her back until she turned the corner around a thatched roof building.
Jeff downed the rest of his beer. Perspiration covered his chest and abdomen like dew and condensed into droplets that rolled down his side and onto the cement. He picked up his towel and mopped off his forehead. After a brief cleansing shower, he dove into the pool. The cool water stunned him for a moment, but he quickly acclimated and floated on his back. He kept his eyes closed, the sun shining through his eyelids with a bright red glow. Now and again, he opened his eyes to see the sun, almost directly overhead. The white clouds, which overlaid the island during the day, only blocked the sunlight at noon.
He rolled over and blew out the air from his lungs into the water. Then he dove and swam along the blue bottom of the pool, briefly scraping one of his shoulders on the cement. He surfaced just as he felt his body demand that he refill his lungs. As he rubbed the water from his eyes, he saw Sophia sitting on the poolside, smiling down at him.
“Well hello there, handsome!” she said. “Getting caught up on relaxation?”
Jeff pushed himself up and settled beside her, his wet thighs dampening the cotton of her white shorts. She pushed him away gently and made a face as she tried in vain to pat off the dampness.
“Don’t like water, do you, ma’am?”
She grunted gleefully, and reminded him, “One of us here has to work, you know.”
Ashamed, Jeff nodded his head. “I am still stuck waiting to see if I can be hired on for sure.”
“Petur told me just now that the debate is over. You’re in. It’s time to go to work.”
Jeff stood up quickly. “Let’s go, then. I think I’ve had enough rest.”
He stepped over to where he had left his towel and patted himself off. He took Sophia’s hand and together they walked over to one of the bungalows, inside of which he had left his clothes. In a moment he was dressed in long casual green slacks and a short-sleeve, slightly wrinkled white cotton shirt with a few damp marks. On his feet he wore moccasins. This was his standard San Diego style, but it worked well in this climate also.
They walked through the well-manicured young gardens to the welcome cente
r, where rental carts always waited. Jeff took his fresh new card out of his pocket, inserted it in the appropriate place, and off they went down the road.
“Before I begin my work, I still need to see what you do. It’s about time.”
Sophia nodded, “It most certainly is.” She paused. “It is not necessarily exciting, except to physicists. You may be bored, you know. I make no promises.”
“Just watching you at work is exciting to me.” He grinned slyly. “Especially if it’s me you are working on.”
Sophia shoved him, causing the golf cart to veer sharply across the road. Jeff recovered control rapidly, but it had not been pretty. Fortunately no one was coming the other way; however, a couple in a cart following close behind wondered if they were sharing the road with a drunk. The couple slowed down to distance themselves from the menacing pair ahead.
“Whoa, lady. You’re becoming dangerous.”
“Just trying to keep up with you.”
After just a few minutes they were rolling down the road to Science Hall. Jeff pulled the vehicle to a stop in one of the allocated spaces. They climbed the marble stairs into the grand entrance hallway. He had seen the building several times now, including his night at dinner in the restaurant in the top story. He was impressed then, and he remained impressed now. Within this huge meeting hall, already many decisions had been made. This was where the members of the Island Project gathered to have lively discussions.
They walked along the perimeter of the hall to the elevators. Sophia pressed the red number 2, and after the doors closed, Jeff was surprised that the elevator went down. He had seen those red numbers and wondered what they had meant. He had assumed they were to access the maintenance passages between the main floors labeled with black numbers, but he now knew that this building was much larger than it appeared from the surface. For there were twelve numbers in red, and then four letters — A, B, C, and Z — all below the surface.
Jeff looked over at Sophia. “What is Z for?”