The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  No, Pete reminded himself as he turned north. He’d pay the higher price for the real stuff even if that supply was dwindling.

  He looked into Anna’s deep blue eyes, lit with excitement. “Ready to do this?”

  “More than you can imagine!” Her attention turned to the supplies in back as the vehicle swung left. The large SUV was packed with a large cooler and enough equipment for multi-day backpacking trips or more comfortable car camps.

  With eyes on the foldable, two-person Aerius Expedition kayak taking up a quarter of the space, she added, “You’re optimism is contagious.”

  “If you’re referring to the kayak, it doubles as a sailboat for times when rivers or lakes beckon.... I like to be prepared.”

  “I’ve not really spent a lot of time out west in the countryside,” she said pensively. “I’ve always preferred being in the cities, or nearly so. I felt traveling in the outlands was too lonely a venture for someone on their own. Guess what I’ve called wilderness before this?”

  “Hillbilly backyard?” He ventures, chuckling. Then at the sound of her unclicking seat belt, turned to watch her pull her right ankle under her left thigh and lean forward. Glancing at her lithe body contort while he drove was a frequent pleasure. Even in casual attire and no makeup she was seductive.

  “The doldrums...the part of the country where one can’t escape one’s melancholy.” While talking, her upper body twisted left and right. “I never had anyone I truly liked traveling with. Back then, I couldn’t understand why anyone wanted to live anywhere but in an urban environment. In a city, there were always people around and I could imagine them being acquaintances, even friends.”

  “Did that view affect your goals?”

  “Of course! We promoted urban living as the solution to society’s ills.” Her left foot now was under her right leg and the rotations continued.

  “What ills would it solve?”

  “You know...the overuse of resources, pollution, and the violence of an unmanaged population.”

  “Sounds like Agenda 21 urban planning. But why force people into urban islands?”

  Her legs stretched out while she pressed against the ceiling. “The elites believe freedom is destructive and dangerous to those who rule. Living in rural areas reduces people’s dependence on government and encourages independent thought.”

  “And you?”

  She settled back into the seat and shrugged. “It was all a game to me...and you know how I like to win! I saw society’s division – those who ruled and those who were ruled...and I chose a side. But now I’m out and I want as little to do with progressives as possible.”

  His eyes were sympathetic. “Your travail is over. You have a partner for life...and a friend,” he brushed her cheek with his hand.

  Affectionately squeezing his right upper thigh, she leaned closer and kissed his cheek. “You got that straight. With you, I’ve got a strong breeze at my back and a full sail. And for the first time ever, I’m looking forward to wilderness.”

  She watched the distant trees become more plentiful as they drove north. “I’ve been thinking about the baby question...you know, how many am I willing to have?”

  “I suspect a trap.”

  “No trap. Let’s see how easy the first one is. I’m tired of planning every little detail of my life. It’s time for spontaneity.”

  “Works for me, though you may not think of kids as little details once they’re onboard.” He chuckled.

  “Maybe.” She leaned against his shoulder, and dialed the A/C temperature down a few more degrees. “Do you like living in Texas?”

  “Sure. I love the people, the independent attitude and the opportunity—”

  “No. I mean the weather. It’s going to be over 100 degrees again today. How do you deal with it?”

  “I’m used to it. You’ve just been spoiled with the French Riviera climate for the past decade.”

  She sighed. “I do miss the weather there. It’s the best climate in the world... sheltered from the cold, dry mistral winds out of the Rhone River valley and the frigid air off the Alps. And usually it’s moderated by the Mediterranean.”

  “Didn’t you get hot winds off the Sahara?”

  “The Siroccos can cause problems, but they don’t last longer than a couple days.” She looked out the window and shook her head. “But your Texas wind and heat...it goes on for weeks and weeks!”

  “Thus you leaving our bed in the early mornings.”

  “It’s the only time it’s cool enough to run!”

  “Speaking of your running, the last few mornings have been weird....”

  “How so?” Her eyes batted innocently.

  “Morning before last, I woke up groggy at nine, and you were still sound asleep. That’s not like either of us.”

  “Must have been our”—she cleared her throat—“late night activities.” Her accent turned country. “We just plum wore each other out!”

  He added in similar country drawl. “Da country life must be gittin’ to ya!”

  They both chuckled.

  “Well, don’t worry, Anna. Where we’re going, and possibly living the rest of our lives, you won’t be suffering from high heat.”

  “No, just the opposite.” She jokingly pouted. “I’ll suffer from cold, wet, windy weather nine months out of the year. You’re going to miss me not dressed in skimpy outfits.”

  “Then I’ll have you longer in bed because you can run during the day.”

  “Maybe, but, as you’ve discovered, I don’t need a lot of sleep.... Well, maybe occasionally.”

  “Whose talking about sleep?!”

  “Even you have your limits.” She affectionately poked his arm.

  “Okay...think how great it is for the skin.”

  “You mean not being able to get a tan?”

  “No, I mean the cool, damp air. Think of it as a natural moisturizer,” he teased.

  “I’ll probably mold,” she mocked. “And I only weigh 135 pounds. The winds will blow me over!”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll gain weight as pregnancy advances.” He chuckled. “It should help stabilize you against the Pacific storms.”

  “Thanks a lot!” Her finger gently poked his rib. “You really know how to flatter your bride.” She put a towel on her lap then pulled a diamond whet stone from her purse, and the switchblade from the boot.

  “I’ll love you no matter what you weigh.” His eyes flitted to her active hands.

  Her brow lifted skeptically.

  He continued, “That said, I’ll admit you’re sexier when you’re fit and trim, and kickboxing your dojo dummy.”

  “Sweat turns you on?” The knife clicked open and she rhythmically slid the blade from heel to tip across the fine grit side of the stone.

  “Your intensity does.” His eyes narrowed at the scraping sound of the blade moving back and forth. “But so does your elegant demeanor, and your playfulness, and—”

  She flipped the stone over to its ultra fine grit side and continued sharpening. “Okay, I’ve got the message.... You’re easy.”

  “Only with you. Since we met, I’ve looked at no other woman.”

  Her brow lifted again while staying focused on the task.

  “Seriously! You’re the only woman I think about!”

  “Pete, I’m realistic. You don’t need to pretend false integrity with me. I’m not worried about you having wandering eyes...besides”—her chin lifted and she held the blade up so sunlight glinted into his eyes—“I can pulverize the competition.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.”

  Chapter 30

  August 23, 1300 hours

  White House

  “Mr. President, Sir Eldon is here.” The matronly presidential secretary closed the door behind a dapper man in his mid-70s. His thinning gray hair was combed backward and flipped just over the collar.

  “Welcome, Eldon.”

  “Good day, Mr. President.” The visitor grasped the president’s outs
tretched hand and covered the clasp with his left.

  Moments later they separated and the president motioned to his chief of staff. “You remember Jack Dowell.”

  “Of course.” They shook hands less enthusiastically.

  The president waved the distinguished gentleman to the opposing sofa. “Bourbon neat, isn’t it?” He nodded to Dowell who moved to the bar to make drinks.

  Sir Eldon nodded.

  The president’s hands folded in his lap. “So how can we help the UN today?”

  “Mr. President, the Secretary General wants to update you on the Millennium Development Goals, and particularly on how the United States can accelerate them. As you know, we’re behind schedule on several of the eight international poverty eradication goals.”

  President Fernandez grinned. “No doubt implementing the Carbon Law preoccupied the Secretary.”

  The visitor nodded. “Yes, Mr. President, the UN is very pleased with the US efforts reining in its industry to reduce carbon dioxide.” He diffidently took the proffered glass from Dowell.

  “Sustainability was one of the eight goals. In which of the other seven does the UN need help?”

  “Our goal to reduce poverty and hunger is digressing.”

  “Perhaps the food riots are a distraction,” Fernandez said. “After most of our embassies and consulates were ransacked, we left the UN in charge of aid and development policy.”

  “It has always been the UN’s goal to speak with a single voice and to provide with a single hand,” Sir Eldon said. “Nationalism is dead.”

  The president glanced at his wall-mounted Harvard doctoral diploma. “I’m not sure having UN universities replace the national universities throughout the world was a great idea. Many of my Harvard alumni friends are really pissed at me for allowing globalization of our education system.”

  “You agreed three years ago, when the UN started enforcing that platform.”

  Fernandez turned toward his guest. “I didn’t realize how much it would hurt my political support.”

  “But isn’t it true that by controlling curriculum you were able to convince your American public that carbon dioxide was the cause of ecological calamity?”

  “We were able to indoctrinate them that our position was righteous, but alternative ideas are still being promoted through private schools and dissenting teachers.”

  “That is something you need to eliminate.”

  “To expand our collective reach, we’re offering free online courses.”

  “And by extension, weren’t you able to reduce the influence of heavy industry in US politics?”

  “Yes, through high fees and restrictive campaign laws.”

  “And didn’t your unions rally their support to you because you promised them the green jobs?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sir Eldon,” Dowell interjected. “What the president is trying to say here is that the UN, by having assumed control over most international interaction, isn’t maintaining order. That’s necessary to implement the other planks of the platform.... But you’re here now, how may we help you?”

  “As you implied, food and fuel riots are now daily events around the globe. It is our contention your American Constitution is at fault.”

  “Excuse me?!” the president’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward.

  “Many of the protesters are communicating through uncensored networks. Some of your American media are falsely portraying UN actions as selective, inefficient, and corrupt. Anti-government action is motivated by your Constitution’s ‘Basic Freedoms’. Your ‘Freedom of Speech’ is particularly troublesome. We appreciate the actions you have taken to investigate purveyors of dissention and to shut down websites...but it isn’t enough.”

  “What are you asking the president to do?” Dowell asked.

  “For us to achieve a new world order, we need global control over the media and a refutation of your basic freedoms. We ask you to amend your Constitution to limit your freedoms, or to dismiss your Constitution entirely,” Sir Eldon said sternly.

  “Beyond what we’ve accomplished, that’s a tall order and, frankly, it’s not possible at this juncture,” Fernandez said.

  “I’m also a Harvard graduate and understand US history better than you think. I know Presidents Lincoln and Roosevelt each restricted freedoms during war,” Sir Eldon said. “John Adams supported The Alien and Sedition Acts, which went against your First Amendment. Jefferson thought every constitution should expire after each generation.”

  Dowell interjected, “It’s true. He knew buying the Louisiana Territory exceeded his constitutional power.”

  Sir Eldon continued. “The extent to which the US follows its Constitution appears to depend upon the president at any given time. It’s situational. Why, I could give examples of using your Constitution to defend slavery...and to end it...and even to deny states’ rights. And your great FDR violated it at his whim before and during wartime.” He paused significantly.

  “You’re suggesting we declare war? Against whom?” The president’s brows narrowed.

  “Against what!” Sir Eldon corrected with a professorial finger in the air. “When the UN declared war against carbon dioxide at the Maldives Conference, it was not just against a pollutant, it was against the polluters. Your Freedoms are defensive weapons against us.” He placed a folder into the president’s hand. “Here’s how we think you can do it.”

  The president leafed through the executive summary. “Interesting.”

  Chapter 31

  August 23

  Central Oklahoma

  “Black Hat?” Pete’s eyes darted between the road ahead and her tablet’s screen.

  Anna’s toes stopped tapping against the windshield and her feet came off the dashboard. She put the tablet down and brought the seat back up. Lowering the satellite radio’s classic station volume, she stared absently at the south-central Oklahoma. She exhaled a deep breath. “Reading the latest computer security presentations from their website.”

  “Anything in particular?”

  Her lips momentarily pressed together, and then let out a sigh. “Computer tracking and surveillance systems.”

  “Why that?”

  “Pete, you ever feel like we’re going into the witness protection program?”/

  “In a way, it is...but self-imposed and self-financed. Swanson’s money will make it easier...provided he doesn’t find out.”

  Her eyes twinkled in reminiscence. “Technically, it wasn’t his money. I skimmed it before it went into his account.”

  “Think he’ll unravel your subterfuge? Fifty million euros is a lot!”

  “It’s a thousandth what he’s worth, I made him much more.”

  “Still, as an insider, he may feel the betrayal was worse than losing the money. How exactly did you skim that much?”

  Her eyes crinkled. “Simple...I created a mirror-trading program on a separate server.”

  “You created it?”

  “Okay, be picky. One of my crew did. The program made financial trades micro-seconds before the primary server. I always got the better price, and the difference accumulated.”

  “That’s a lot for just two weeks.”

  “I knew the skim wouldn’t last long, but I thought I’d have another week until someone noticed.”

  “So you planned on running?”

  “Not initially.”

  “The scheme wasn’t planned?”

  Her head shook. “I prepared for that contingency...along with a few other exit strategies. The equipment was on hand, and my staff was up to the task. I just didn’t set it up until after we met, when my conscious wouldn’t let me continue helping Swanson achieve his goals.”

  “How long did you take to put together the whole hacker operation?”

  “Years.... The equipment and facilities were easy. Most of the effort I spent recruiting and vetting the black hatters.”

  “Black hatters?”

  “Yeah, the hackers
with malicious intent.”

  “Are there good hackers?”

  “Yeah. Those would be the white hats, guys who try to help companies and governments fix security problems.”

  His brow lifted. “And you wanted...the bad guys?”

  “Hell yes!” Her head bobbed. “I needed people motivated by ego and greed, and not a do-gooder who might reveal my operation...or me.”

  “And your Claire alter ego...how long for you to create her?”

  Anna’s lips pursed while considering an answer. “I assumed the identity of a real hacker.”

  “Did she cooperate?”

  “She died.” There was sadness in her voice.

  “Of what?” His voice was cautious.

  “Like many hackers, she was a drug addict.”

  “That...is an incomplete answer.”

  “It’s meant to be.” Her tone had a sharp edge.

  He exhaled deeply. “Okay, I’ve hit a wall...I’ll redirect.... Incinerating Dark Energy’s operation center, did we do everything necessary?”

  “To hide the details? Not really.... We wiped one side of the ledger.”

  “Just one?” His brow furrowed.

  “Every transaction has multiple entries. The banking and communication records are intact elsewhere...probably at the NSA as well. We made it harder, but not impossible to piece everything together.”

  “With you, there’s always more.”

  Her finger lightly touched his nose. “But of course, mon amour! Even if Swanson figures it out, following the money trail will be nigh near impossible.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because, except for several ‘red herring’ accounts, I rerouted the bulk of the money from the initial Swiss account to the Caymans. I shifted the money again, to other shell accounts. From those I bought bearer bonds. On the trip to Vegas, I personally transferred the bonds to another bank.”

  His head cocked. “What do you mean by the red herring accounts?”