The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  “Alexis. Did you know she had ovarian cancer?”

  “What?! No. Where’d you hear that?”

  “She revealed that during the interrogation that she needed her medicine”—he looked at his notes—“Trabectedin. I’ve confirmed the drug is appropriate for the disease.... Perhaps she found out this summer and that’s what changed her.”

  “Well then, they did her a favor!” Swanson said coarsely.

  Gabriel looked harshly at Swanson for his insensitivity. The old man was too intoxicated to pick up on his disdain.

  “Boss, I’ve got Yoav’s team scanning the Internet for any signs of the data she claimed to have against you, and others in various government agencies are standing by to intercept any communication. So far, there’s no trace.”

  “Maybe she was bluffing,” the old man said hopefully.

  “Or possibly the trigger is delayed, or the person she relied upon to initiate it isn’t aware of her death. Either way, we should know soon.”

  Gabriel held up his glass and, with reverence, toasted, “To Anna, may she find the peace she was seeking.”

  Swanson’s eyes narrowed. He held up his glass and with his tight lips formed into a twisted grin, retorted, “To Anna...may she burn in Hell for what she’s put me through!”

  Gabriel’s disapproving stare would have been evident to a sober man.

  “Well, I’ve got more problems,” the old man growled.

  “Such as?” Gabriel was still annoyed.

  “That damn Johansson screwed me with the bacterium. It’s gone wild, too. And I’ve been told by the UN that they’re reevaluating whether to pay for us to spray CO2 plumes with it. I’m losing money there as well!”

  He poured another vodka.

  “And everyone in the world’s making biofuel with my technology! They’re stealing from me and there’s nothing I can do to stop them!”

  “There may be more to that,” Gabriel said.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The bioreactor plans, design workarounds, how to source material including the microbes...it’s all on the Internet.”

  “Everyone knows that!”

  “But did you know Sven published it? He didn’t even hide his identity, probably to gain global fame.”

  Swanson threw his glass against the wall. Its shattered pieces clinked on the deck. “Damn his god complex!”

  Gabriel looked into Swanson’s bloodshot eyes. “Alexis, if you’re not making money on trapping CO2 with Snath Genetics, why not shut it down? You made a lot on the initial contracts.”

  “They’d like that, wouldn’t they?!” he asked sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry. Who are we talking about?” Gabriel had growing concern about Swanson’s grasp of reality.

  “My detractors. They’re jealous because I’m saving the world and they don’t want me to profit from it.”

  “I see.” Gabriel shook his head sadly as the old man took another gulp.

  Swanson’s tired eyes looked up at him. “Have you been able to find Johansson?”

  “No. But we’re still tracking Thames. He and his wife are in Johannesburg, South Africa.”

  “Damn traitor!” Swanson poured himself another Scotch.

  “This may interest you.... Our investigative team pulled up Thames’ phone records. He got a call from a reporter, name of Peggy Lipton, before Sven vanished. I pulled up her bio.” He flipped a film clip onto the screen. A studio promotion showed a perky redhead interviewing President Fernandez on one of his many campaign stops in San Francisco. “Seems she had a fling with Sven back in July and she’s hunting him too.”

  “Thames help her?”

  “Not really, but he seemed nervous...Lipton demanded the other woman’s name.”

  Swanson leaned forward. “Was it Anna?”

  “I severely doubt it. Their egos would have clashed.”

  “So there’s another woman?” Swanson asked hopefully. “Maybe she can tell us where he is.”

  “I’m not sure there was one.... Other than calls to his shipping agent he didn’t have any routine calls the last month. Lipton’s claim may just be misplaced jealousy. A background check showed she’s very chatty and loses boyfriends quickly. One of our investigators spoke to one of her exes. The guy said she was a dynamo in the sack but extremely possessive. Johansson’s cell phone log shows a lot of unanswered calls from her.”

  “So another dead-end!”

  “Appears so.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Our forensic accountants posed as police investigators and interrogated the financial center’s hackers that have been caught.... Dark Energy’s Claire was definitely Anna.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Anna’s DNA was on a thumb drive one of her staff kept. Our investigators created a time-line and determined Anna must been with the real Claire several years ago in Ireland. I presume Anna got what she needed, then eliminated her and assumed the identity.”

  “How’s that help?”

  “Doesn’t much. On the plus side, what we got from the hackers allowed us to reconstruct part of the Dark Energy operational plan, close a few remaining back doors into your corporate servers, and fill in some details.”

  A sneer formed. “So what did you do with the hackers?”

  “Nothing. They still think my guys were the police. The hackers are lucky Anna didn’t include your name in her dealings. Otherwise, I’d have had to eliminate them. As a matter-of-fact, a few claim being assigned to attack your servers.”

  “That witch really pulled a number on me!”

  “On both of us.... I’d have stepped in had I known.”

  “You didn’t work for me then. What would have compelled you to stop her?”

  “Professional courtesy. I recruited her. I didn’t need her to sour my relationship with you. It was damn stupid of her to pull the tiger’s tail.... Boss, that brings to mind another topic, have you given consideration to your ‘continuity of operations plan’?”

  “My what?”

  “How to keep operations going in the event something happens to you.”

  “Yes, I’ve thought over what you said, and decided an accountant really isn’t the best person to maintain operations if I’m attacked. Number crunchers don’t understand the agenda like you operational guys. And lawyers play it too safe.”

  Swanson opened a drawer and pulled out a manila envelope. “It’s all here. I’m giving you authority to take control under certain circumstances. This allows you to take immediate defensive or offensive actions without delay, using any of my assets as you deem necessary.”

  “Do your lawyers know?” Gabriel tried to hide his excitement.

  “My personal attorney has a copy and another one’s in my suite safe.” He looked Gabriel in the eye. “Someone goes after me, you hit them with everything I’ve got!”

  Chapter 60

  September 2, 1800 hours

  Farmhouse Ruins

  Cobble Hill, BC

  Duke kicked the cold, wet ashes. He was alone, inside the periphery of the fire marshal’s tape line. The blackened area where a single charred body had been recovered had been combed over and then abandoned hours earlier by local officials. Walls that had survived the blaze had been blown into the forest by the large, overheated propane tank’s detonation. Most of the farmhouse was reduced to blackened planks and beams, slurried and knocked around by high pressure water.

  With gloved hands, a metal detector, and some small hand tools, Duke explored the building’s carcass, focusing upon the crawl space. It had become the depository of the intense fire’s soot and sludge, and partially burnt fragments.

  The fire chief had told Duke that their investigation only indicated one victim. Duke didn’t want them to know otherwise – a second victim would raise more suspicion.

  The investigator had made a preliminary determination that the fire was an accident. The written report claimed a frayed electrical cord had spa
rked leaking propane from the crawl space under the main room. It then flashed to another propane leak near the large storage tank. He surmised that the second leak caused a fire that must have prevented whomever was there from shutting off the propane valve.

  The RCMP weren’t much help. They failed to find any of the Russians that the caller claimed were using the farm house. The police had tried to uncover the anonymous caller but static made the woman’s voice recording hard to understand.

  Duke didn’t believe in coincidences. The fire was too convenient. He blamed the Russians, attributing this disaster to their crude behavior and tactics. And yet, he suspected the Russians might have found a more lucrative use for the captive and might have faked her death.

  Sifting through the debris, Duke was angry that his bounty had also gone up in smoke. His thoughts added to his stern demeanor.

  The millions should have been mine. Tipping Harley about the general location led to the timely review of the border crossing video. After that, it was fairly easy to predict Olga would head west. And I could have intercepted her in time. Why he passed it to the Russians, I don’t understand.

  With all their resources, the Russians blew the surveillance, and nearly killed her. The photos of her bleeding scalp and bruised chest make that painfully clear. And to use debasing physical abuse to break her resistance...that was downright stupid.

  Throughout the day he and Kyler dug through the debris, pulling up blackened planks, and combing the scorched tree line for scattered debris. His mind tried recreating what happened but some things didn’t add up.

  Why was the chair against the door? Why was the guard’s body not nearly as burnt on his side against the wood flooring? That indicates he was on the floor before the fire. Why are there three melted buttons from a woman’s blouse scattered on the floor...and no other clothing? Even the melted cable ties had been cut but where was the photographed switchblade...or any knife? If Olga was being savaged by the Russian as the contact claimed, why were his pants still on?

  He shook his head.

  Everything’s circumstantial. No one really knows what was in the room before the fire and others may have moved or taken evidence, even if it hadn’t been logged in.

  He got back down on his knees and felt through the ashes.

  This is where the fire started.

  He lifted the broken end of a copper propane line. His eyes narrowed at the straight edge.

  This was cut with a metal saw.

  He followed the copper line to the crawlspace lattice near the outside propane tank and found another fresh cut into the copper.

  Odd. The cuts allowed gas to escape in two spots.

  He returned to where the interrogation room had been and crawled through the ashes along the pathway to the rear of the house. Eventually his hand felt a small round plastic disk. He wiped it with his now filthy shirt.

  Identical to the other three. Is it Olga’s? If so, how did it get here?

  “Kyler, let’s search the forest.” He and his shepherd made a concentric circle search around the farm house. It wasn’t until they were on their fourth ring, a few dozen meters past the scorched forest, and away from the odor of charred debris and burning plastic, that Kyler perked up. He eagerly led Duke south through the forest to a small clearing.

  A light Fuzz surface showed fresh tire depressions but indistinct tread patterning. “Good boy, Kyler!” Duke took photos of the escape location.

  The grinning hunter turned to the shepherd. “Well, boy, this Fuzz surface makes getting a tire imprint impossible.”

  They walked the length of the logging trail until it met the local road. Faint skid marks revealed the retreating vehicle’s escape onto the road. He took more photos.

  “Looks like SUV tire marks. Tell you what. Let’s walk the road a bit. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Man and dog leisurely strolled down the quiet road enjoying the sunshine and exercise denied during several days of driving. Within a couple kilometers, Kyler put his nose into the air and turned into the heavy brush.

  “What’d you find, Kyler?”

  The dog growled and did a point.

  “It’s just a piece of PVC, Boy, nothing—” Duke squinted at the pipe, then scanned a wider arc. Nearby a piece of yellow fiberglass insulation was caught on a branch of scotch broom. He picked up both. “There’re no buildings around and these were freshly thrown. Neither has been exposed to rain. They’ve got to be from the farmhouse, but why here?”

  He marked the point on the road where the items were found. To protect any prints, he wrapped the insulation around the pipe and headed back to the van.

  Halfway back, he stopped, looked through the tube, then sniffed the yellow-wrapped pipe’s hollow end. “Gun powder.” A grin formed. “A silencer! He found her, and had a pistol! Now we know the Russians didn’t whisk her away.”

  They returned to the van. Duke gulped a beer and then emailed Harley. “If I find Olga alive, do I get the full bounty?”

  The response was almost immediate. “Do you have information that she’s alive?”

  “No,” he lied.

  Duke smiled at the personal reply from his former CIA buddy.

  “Yes, Cousin. You would get it all – Gabriel.”

  Chapter 61

  September 4

  Port Angeles, WA

  The secretive couple sat in a dark booth, sipping their coffees. While speaking in hushed tones, Anna was clicking her tablet keys as Pete warily watched tourists pass the Internet café entrance.

  Anna released the wireless mouse and squeezed Pete’s hand. Her smiling eyes were on his. “I needed those last three days. Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

  “With your injuries, I’m surprised hiking forest trails didn’t slow you down.”

  “You coddled me with a nice easy pace. And the trails along those gurgling streams weren’t too steep.”

  Her hand slid loose, then angled the screen, and advanced through several images. “I have some spectacular shots of the Sol Duc Waterfall.”

  She clicked a sound file link and a thunderous roar came through the speaker. “The sound’s exhilarating. I wish I could capture the feel of cool mist billowing from the fingers of water falling through the emerald-colored rock.”

  He pointed at an image. “I like this time-lapsed one. Really softens the plumes.”

  His leg gently pushed against hers. “But as you’ve found, the best views aren’t all from established trails. I told you...wilderness doesn’t need to be lonely.”

  Anna’s voice deepened into a seductive whisper. “Now that you’ve shown me how soft and sensual real moss is, I’ve got a new perspective.... Romance under a cathedral of majestic old growth trees and barely hidden from other hikers by waist-high ferns beats a five-star hotel any time.”

  Her head touched his shoulder. “If only we’d been alone on that bridge....”

  His smile twisted. “Babe, you’re an adrenalin junkie. You like the risk of getting caught, don’t you?”

  “Don’t act surprised.” Her eyes were gleaming. “You’ve known that about me from day one... I think that’s why you didn’t marry little Susie cheerleader. You wanted someone...dangerous.”

  His hand rubbed her bare thigh. “Well, maybe a little.... Oh, but there’re many more hidden lakes and tarns to visit. And we can make each trip as memorable.”

  Clearing his throat, he motioned to the tablet. “So, my Dear, what have you learned from perusing your Internet contacts.”

  She chuckled. “Eager to get me back into the woods are you? First, I’ll have to decode, then unscramble, the message.” Her focus momentarily flicked to the entrance to catch a large man in his early 60s and his leashed dog walking past the café’s door.

  “All I see is the eBay photo you downloaded.” Pete pointed to her screen.

  She looked at what appeared to be a stock product photo and clicked open a program. “We’re using steganography.”

  “H
iding a message inside a picture?”

  “Yeah. Only Aspen and I have the crypto key.... This will take a while. Be a love and get us a couple sandwiches.” Her fingers were dancing across the keyboard.

  Halfway through lunch the words assembled on the page.

  “Voila!” Her lips pressed together as she studied the information. The next words rolled out slowly, “Well this is interesting.”

  Pete looked at the text. “What’s he mean ‘somebody else has altered you’?”

  “Means someone doesn’t want people looking for Anna Picard either.” Her brow lifted. “One guess.”

  “Gabriel?”

  She nodded, and added more seriously, “But my accurate facial recognition data points were assigned to Olga.”

  “Who never really existed, and now they think is dead.”

  “Which confirms Swanson put the bounty on me.”

  “You’re not surprised are you?”

  “Not with Gadget in charge. I’d have done the same. Besides, the client told Natasha I was psychotic,” she said calmly.

  “Yeah, but aren’t most assassins?”

  “Well, yes, as are most CEOs, politicians, and other successful people.”

  “You’re still vulnerable,” he observed.

  “No, I think we hit the jackpot.”

  His eyes narrowed. “How so?”

  “Aspen took the initiative and second guessed I’d want Olga’s data points altered. Since Gadget thinks I’m dead, maybe he won’t notice the files he uploaded were altered just days later. And Aspen gave me the instructions on how to check my data points without revealing myself.”

  “To see if anyone changes them back?”

  “Yep. Makes for a good advanced warning system.”

  “Wouldn’t Aspen think you’re dead as well?”

  “If Olga’s demise tracks back to the database, probably. He won’t find it from the press since there’s no second body.” She finished her sandwich and closed her keyboard. “But it doesn’t matter. As long as I don’t contact Aspen, it’s just affirmation.”

  “Won’t the absence of a second body in the investigation alert the Russians, or Gabriel?”