by Randy Dutton
Anna popped the tops on two cans and placed one in Pete’s cup holder. She momentarily pressed the other to her forehead, closed her eyes, and smiled at the slight chill.
“This is Jill Brent of Global Heartbeat Network reporting from the Snath Group AeroServices Division at Hilo Airport, Hawai’i.”
“Drum roll please...” Pete grimaced and rapidly tapped the steering wheel, “as we await the news on another Snath Genetics tragedy unfolding.”
“Oh hush, I want to hear this,” Anna responded to his sarcasm.
“We’re speaking again to Dr. Bill Paca, a senior atmospheric scientist with Snath Genetics. Dr. Paca, how successful was your recent test?”
“Jill, it exceeded our expectations! We found rapid propagation of the aerial carbon-trapping bacterium. One thousand kilometers downstream we had a 15% overall reduction in the CO2 plume, with the reductions highest in the center and lower along the edges.”
“Were there any other surprises?”
“Only that the technology is more effective than we anticipated. We calculated the bacterium would dissipate sooner, but our aerial analysis found bacteria concentrations 2,000 kilometers from the release point and horizontal spread twice what we estimated. In fact, we found significant airborne concentrations outside the plume. It’s exciting...”
“What a surprise,” Pete interjected.
Anna just shook her head and stared at the passing prairie landscape.
“Dr. Paca, why is that a surprise?” Jill asked.
“Well, with the bacterium surviving in ambient CO2 airborne concentrations, it’ll continue to scavenge carbon from the air.”
“But doesn’t that mean Snath AeroServices will lose revenue in spraying contracts?”
“We expect to continue receiving UN contracts on source-point spraying. But you’re correct, there’s a financial risk. That said, from a purely scientific viewpoint, this proves geoengineering is effective in solving mankind’s problems. The Snath Group is fulfilling its motto.”
“And what would that be?” the reporter asked.
Click. Anna made a sour face while turning off the radio. “The End Justifies the Mean,” she muttered. She took a sip from her still-cool soda can.
“Ah yes, the Snath global citizen motto!” Pete smirked. “The hits just keep on coming.”
Chapter 19
August 16, 0900 hours
Profit Oil HQ
Dallas
Pete dashed through the building entrance. “Art, may we talk for a moment?” Pete called out with trepidation.
From the SUV, he had seen Art Middleton strolling into the company’s glass and steel high-rise. After handing Anna the car keys, and passing through security’s metal detector, he caught up with Art approaching the elevator.
“What is it, Pete?” Art asked, pressing the elevator button and facing the younger man. His brow furrowed over narrowed eyes, and his hands went into his pockets. He was still annoyed by Pete’s previous month’s revelation on the Maldives investigation.
Pete glanced around the lobby. No one was within earshot. His hand settled on Art’s shoulder. “I owe you more information on Anna Picard, but promise me, you won’t tell anyone.”
“As long as it’s not breaking the law, I promise.” Art’s lips formed a grim line across his face. “But I still don’t forgive you for allowing yourself to be seduced by that assassin who implicated me.”
Pete whispered, “Anna and I are married.”
Art’s jaw dropped.
“We’re using her middle name, Catherine in public. There’s more. She provided the FBI key evidence to take down a massive computer hacking effort directed against the oil and gas industry.”
Art’s hands withdrew from his pockets.
Pete continued. “She also financially hurt Swanson, which reduced his profits on this carbon crisis scam.... She really has repented both in words and deeds and is tormented by her past actions. I’m expressing her apology to you. To those of us who know her, she’s proven her resolve to help.”
Art opened his mouth to speak.
Pete held up his hand. “And she’s carrying my baby.”
The elevator dinged. As the door opened, Art’s jaw clamped close but his wide eyes flicked upward, searching for a response.
Pete’s hand held the elevator door open to allow an overweight, coverall-clad caterer to exit with a rolling cart. A white cloth stenciled ‘Crystal Caterers’ covered the top shelf and draped the sides. The woman’s heavily rouged, puffy cheeks reminded Pete of a chipmunk.
The brunette with thick shoulder-length hair and long bangs over dark eye-shadowed eyes mumbled thank-you in a low, gruff voice while slowly pushing past.
He and Art entered the empty car. Pressing the 12th floor button, he waited for the door to close before saying, “I beg you not to raise the investigation issue again. Other than my dad, no one else in the meeting knows about her and me.”
Art looked at Pete and shook his head in disbelief. “This is a bit much...May I meet her? I’m a skeptic. I want to hear her story...from her.”
“I’ll talk to my dad, but sure. How about dinner tonight? I’m sure Anna would want to apologize personally, like she did to him.”
“All right, Pete. I’ll keep an open mind.” His smile was thin as he clasped Pete’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go inside.”
They walked side-by-side into the conference room. Tom raised an eyebrow at Art’s calm expression. His gaze settled on his son for an explanation.
Pete gave him a thin smile and slight nod in return.
“Sorry we’re late.” Pete and Art sat near the caterer’s tray of coffee, water, fruit and muffins positioned near the front of the table. A beautiful, crystal centerpiece, the size of a basketball and cut with numerous large facets, sat on the table center. Its top center was hollow and adorned by a yellow rose floating in colored water filled to the brim.
Tom cleared his throat. “I’d move the caterer’s centerpiece but I’d make a mess.”
The group chuckled.
“Welcome gentlemen to the meeting. A lot has happened over the past month involving global carbon trapping and how it affects our industries. We’re here to formulate countermoves to the UN Carbon Law.”
Tom grinned and gave Pete a knowing glance. “But before I get into that, I’d like to announce that on August 3th Pete married a lovely and intelligent woman named...Catherine.”
Sam Chase and Ed Rutledge heartily congratulated Pete.
Art’s response was more subdued.
Tom then went on to discuss the collapsed attempt by computer hackers to shut the fossil fuel industries. He then mentioned, mainly for Art’s benefit, the FBI’s sting operation.
The Alaska sale set off a lively discussion on how the loss of its resources would adversely affect their industries and the US economy.
“At least it wasn’t bought by the Chinese,” Ed said.
“Ed, don’t be so sure,” Sam cautioned. “Who, exactly, do you think will get the bulk of the resources? The Pebble Mine outside Anchorage is the world’s largest untapped source of copper. China’s desperate for copper.”
Art chimed in, “The US left coast resents how a product is extracted. So expect progressives to protest and try to bar importation. They fought against mineral and energy development in Alaska. Think mining will stop now because it’ll be owned by Russia? As VP of Global Mining, China’s influence in this deal leaves me extremely concerned.”
“You’re probably right, Art,” Ed added. “China’s ability to influence global food production worries American agri-business.”
Tom directed his attention to Pete. “Son, do you have an update on the carbon-trapping technologies?”
Pete’s elbow was on the table, thumb and forefinger cupping his chin as he glanced at his notes. He raised his eyes, then gestured with his left hand. “As you know, the phytoplankton release in the oceans has made the species endemic. The evidence points to Snath Genetics
, even if Swanson claims not to have known of its release.”
“Does anyone believe him?” Sam asked.
“While I’m sure it came from Snath, I don’t believe Swanson authorized it.” Pete raised his left index finger in a professorial pose. “Releasing it to the wild doesn’t fit Swanson’s goals. In fact, I believe he tried to prevent it when he found out the product’s full potential. He wants power and money, which is reduced with this release.”
Pete paused, and looked up. “No, the culprit appears to be the former head of Snath Genetics, Dr. Sven Johansson. He went rogue and had a more egotistical motivation. One of my sources said Johansson had a ‘god complex.’ He wanted to be a global hero and didn’t care much about the money. Nor does he apparently care about humanity.”
“Where’s he now?” Ed asked.
“No one knows. He could be hiding...or dead. Certainly he’s made enemies among those who understand the ramifications of the releases...and that includes Swanson.”
Ed cocked his head. “The ramifications being what?”
“The phytoplankton’s outcompeting native plankton and changing the food chain. It’s clouding the water, letting less light penetrate through the epipelagic zone – the surface layer of ocean where photosynthesis occurs. The marine snow and larvacean mucus nets are rapidly increasing.”
“Marine snow?” Sam’s brow furrowed.
“Organic detritus – excrement and dead bodies of marine life drifting from the surface. The marine snow that doesn’t get eaten or recycled on the way is called export production.”
The faces around the table showed confusion.
Pete explained. “Here’s how it works. Under normal conditions, small, mid-water plankton called larvaceans forms very thin mucus nets that catch detritus and form it into balls. Bacteria collect on these balls and in their pores, and feed on the mucus. As the balls get heavier, usually within 24 hours, they start sinking while the bacteria release mega-nutrients, which help more phytoplankton propagate. The bacteria continue eating as the balls sink, so, under normal conditions, 99 percent of this detritus – this marine snow – is consumed before the ball is reduced to carbon.”
“You said the mucus nets are increasing?” Sam asked.
“When the larvacean discards one net, it excretes another. Because the carbon shells created by Snath’s releases have no value to the larvaceans, nets clog faster and are dropped sooner. As the nets descend, they deliver organics to the ocean floor equal in volume to the marine snow.”
Pete glanced at the nodding attendees. “With Snath’s genetically-modified phytoplankton, we estimate that export production – the particles that aren’t eaten – will increase ten-fold. That will sequester more carbon on the ocean floor, effectively removing it from the food chain.”
“A ten-fold increase? That’s dramatic!” Art exclaimed.
“It’s a rough estimate. The Germans did an iron filing test years ago that caused a phytoplankton bloom near Antarctica.”
“Iron?”
“One of the essential elements needed for propagation. It’s often naturally deficient in areas of the ocean. The researchers estimated they got a temporary 50 percent export production, but such sudden increases ignore realities.”
“Such as?”
“Predation doesn’t increase fast enough to offset the increased blooms. Thus, the bloom strips the surface waters of nutrients and sends them to the bottom where bottom-dwellers can recycle some of it.”
“So seeding the ocean starves later generations of phytoplankton?” Art asked.
Pete’s head bobbed. “When seeding runs out, it disrupts the entire food chain. This plague wasn’t designed to create that boom-then-bust scenario. It focuses on removing one thing...carbon, and leaves the mega-nutrients intact.”
“Sounds like the perfect carbon sequestration strategy,” Ed suggested.
“As long as there’s a sufficient supply of atmospheric CO2 for the ocean surface to absorb. That’s been a goal of global warming proponents.”
“Any chance CO2 levels will just stabilize?”
“Maybe, if nature rejects the invasive species.”
“You postulate that CO2 levels will drop to critical levels?”
“The phytoplankton infestation is increasing exponentially, so, yes. Eventually CO2 levels will plunge, possibly to the point of threatening all life on Earth.”
The room went silent a moment.
“What about the genetically-modified moss? I hear the press referring to it as Fuzz.” Sam asked.
“Yes, Fuzz is spreading across the globe. It was designed to be a biological filter to trap CO2 in industrial environments. But as it sheds particles, the wind carries them aloft to propagate, so now it’s invasive across every continent. With our Texas heat and humidity, it’s quite prevalent.”
“What makes it different from other plants?”
“Several things,” Pete said. A photosynthesis chart popped up onscreen. “This shows the light spectrum.”
Ed pointed to the Fuzz data points. “You’ve got Fuzz data points extending far beyond visible light. Why?”
“Because, in addition to efficiently using frequencies other plants use, Fuzz uses ultraviolet energy to grow.”
“I didn’t think that was possible!” Ed exclaimed. “Plants have always overheated from UV. That’s partly why they use so much water for transpiration...to cool themselves. The guy that incorporated that feature was a genius.”
“Yes, and that gives Fuzz another competitive edge,” Pete said.
“Utterly amazing. We should look at incorporating those genes into food crops,” Ed mused.
“Ed, I’ll make sure you get the data.” Pete clicked on a slide of a microscopic image. “Now, as you can see, this fragment has interesting high-surface, aerodynamic properties. It looks like a paraglider with hooks. The shape keeps it aloft, but when it contacts another surface it latches on.”
“Pete, how far will it go?” Sam asked.
“There’s very little research on Fuzz, so we don’t know... but it’s showing up in places we wouldn’t have expected.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Like?”
Pete grimaced. “Deserts, isolated islands, tundra, ice fields, glaciers. It’s not growing on ice, just accumulating.”
“And it’s surviving?” Ed frowned. “We can’t get any single plant to survive in conditions as varied at that.”
“It seems to be thriving.” Pete confirmed. “It’s being studied.”
“Anything else?” Sam asked.
Pete shook his head and pursed his lips. “Not for Fuzz.... You may have heard the results of genetically modified bacterium the UN paid to have released into the Kilauea Caldera in Hawai’i. It was meant to trap excess CO2. It, too, seems to have exceeded its parameters and is functioning at much lower atmospheric CO2 concentrations.”
“Will it go global?” Art asked with concern.
“Early indications are it might.”
“Pete, were these technologies meant to escape control?”
“Art, it’s looking that way. For political reasons, the government let the technology be developed without adequate oversight.... There was another technology that was going to be released, but it’s deployment was foiled. It was an anaerobic bacterium designed to be slipped into America’s active and inactive oil and gas wells to render the bore holes unusable.”
“Foiled? By whom?” Sam asked.
Pete smiled at Art, then addressed Sam. “A good Samaritan sabotaged the program at the last minute.” Pete glanced back at Art who nodded understanding.
Tom smiled at the inside knowledge. “Thank you Pete.”
Pete took his seat.
“I’m going to discuss the fossil fuels situation.” Tom clicked on a slide of production rates. “As this chart shows, global oil and gas production has dramatically declined. This was influenced by the UN’s coercive actions. Specifically, the UN military is forcing wells to be capped in cou
ntries that haven’t voluntarily shut down production....”
The brunette caterer rolled the cart back two hours later just as the meeting ended. With white-gloved hands, she tossed the rose in the waste bin then stuck a towel into the centerpiece to soak up the water. Next she retrieved the basketball-sized crystal centerpiece, and placed each glass cup in a sectioned holder. Minimal effort was expended to clean up food crumbs.
Chapter 20
August 16, 1600 hours
Dallas
The ‘Crystal Catering’ van sliding door clanked closed. The brunette yanked out the cheek inserts and yellowed teeth overlays. Flexing her jaw, she then swigged a chilled bottle of water grabbed from a cooler behind the passenger seat.
Plopping into the driver’s seat, the plus-sized woman drove the van out of the Profit Oil Company’s attached parking garage. Once onto the street, she started loudly singing the country western song, ‘Crash My Party’. “It don’t matter what plans I got, I can break ‘em....Yeah, I can turn this thing around at the next red light...”
Two blocks later, she pulled into a narrow alley between two windowless brick buildings. The engine stayed on to run the A/C.
Clambering to the van’s windowless rear, she took off the coarse-haired wig and shook out her silky straight black hair. Once out of the size-18 coveralls, she peeled off the custom fat-suit, and hung both in a vertical locker with several other costumes. The next layer was a personal cooling system. She clicked off the embedded pump that circulated coolant through the blue suit’s tubing, then loosened the elastic straps on the sides and unzipped the front. Off it came.
Now dressed in a size-6, flesh-colored, sleeveless body-suit, she pulled on worn designer jeans, a Dallas Cowboys cold-shoulder tee, and cowboy boots. Stepping outside, she peeled off the magnetic caterer decals, and changed the license plates. The van was now nondescript.
Back in the driver’s seat, she drove to a nearby shopping center parking lot.
Opening a cabinet door downward provided a functional workbench. Sitting on a stool, she lifted the top bowl that had held the floating rose. She removed the memory card from a multi-lens camera and inserted it into a laptop.