The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  “You’d need that shelter with all the rain you get.” His dad squinted at the photo. “Son, that doesn’t look like a hunting rifle. What’s she shooting?”

  There was a pause as Pete’s eyes lowered. “It’s an M110.”

  Tom’s brow furrowed. “Military?”

  “A civilianized version of the Army’s sniper rifle.”

  “With a silencer?”

  “They’re legal in Washington. She doesn’t want the river valley to take notice, nor to expose Connor to loud noises.” Pete’s finger pointed to a meter-tall wood box. “See the open top crate in the corner? Connor’s inside listening to classical music.”

  “And the rifle next to her with the odd three-barrel scope?”

  “A TrackingPoint XS1 chambered to the .338 Lapua Magnum.”

  “Seriously? Another sniper rifle?!” Tom’s eyebrow lifted.

  Pete nodded. “Still legal.... She wanted a tactical rifle with a scope that uses lasers to automatically adjust for trajectory variables. Damn expensive, too.”

  “I won’t ask whether she’s rebuilding her arsenal, but how is she planning on using the shooting practice?”

  “Hunting, and just plain fun. Having a weapon in hand comforts her. Just last month, she swore she’d have a weapon within a couple paces of wherever she is. She almost always carries.”

  Tom leaned back and sipped his beer. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

  “No. But I insisted her weapons be legal...none of that black ops stuff that can get her in trouble.”

  “All under your name, I hope.”

  “Of course. And we’ve childproofed the house. Frankly, I’m glad she has something to focus on. I tell you, she’s hard to keep up with. I married a woman who only seems to need about five hours of sleep.”

  “Must be disconcerting.”

  Pete nodded. “At five AM, I’m sleeping and she’s doing weight training or running.”

  “Why so early?”

  “So I can monitor Connor, and she says it boosts her metabolism for the rest of the day.”

  “Hmmm, maybe I should try that.... So why’s she down?”

  “The plague. It’s spreading rapidly and weighing heavily on her. She won’t relinquish the guilt. And I may have chosen the wrong place to live.”

  “How so?” Tom put down his beer and leaned forward.

  “Fuzz is proliferating rapidly in our area. The temperate climate and rain feed it. The trees are draped with it...like thick curtains. Wind drifting Fuzz covers the ground up to half a meter in places. It’s smothering many of the native plants.”

  “It’s getting pretty bad all across the South, too.”

  “Guess I’ve been away too long.” Pete sipped his tea.

  “Son, don’t get me wrong, I love the girl as a daughter, and Connor’s a wonderful grandson, but she really is partly at fault for this,” Tom said cautiously.

  Pete scowled. Then, rubbing his jaw with his left hand, relaxed. “Yeah, I know. But she also did several things right. Recently, she compensated some of the people she hurt most.”

  “Really? From the money she made off Swanson?”

  “Uh huh. She considers it blood money. Said not everyone she went after was innocent. That several were pretty bad actors she was glad to take down...and would do it again.”

  “Several?” Tom scowled. “Never mind. I don’t want to know how many.”

  Pete shrugged. “I don’t know the number. But some people she really regrets having hurt. She’s put about half her millions into anonymous, blind trusts for some of her victims and their descendents, including one particular financier she helped destroy.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “She won’t tell me details, just that the guy went bankrupt.” Pete hesitated then added uneasily, “She said he was her first...that it’s a pittance to what he lost, but at least his last years will be comfortable.”

  “I guess that’s a decent step. But the things she did right were undoing tasks that she initiated.”

  Pete bristled, but tamped down his irritation. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Perhaps she won’t feel better about herself until she can help stop something bad that she didn’t initiate.”

  “In other words, check something off the ledger to mitigate what she’s done but can’t change?” Pete asked hopefully.

  “Something like that,” Tom responded. “And quite frankly, I don’t know how many nefarious plots she feels she has to atone for.... Do you?”

  Pete shook his head.

  “For that matter, does she?” Tom added.

  “She won’t divulge much. Global domination can be pretty complicated, it seems,” Pete mused. “I’ve tried probing, but she clams up...says it’s better I don’t know.... Does she have a number?” He took a bite of steak and slowly chewed it as he considered his answer. “Probably not. There are so many gray areas, she might have boxed them up and put them away and mostly forgotten about them without going back to evaluate what’s bad and what’s not so bad.”

  “Boxed them up?” Tom’s eyes narrowed.

  Pete grimaced. “Her term for archiving events. She has a ‘high self-complexity personality.’ Keeps each mission or significant experience or relationship separate. Doesn’t want the good experiences mixing with the bad...says it’s for her psychological survival.”

  “Has she seen a psychiatrist?”

  Pete shook his head. “Said she’d never trust one to keep a secret. Also, that she’d probably have to kill the shrink afterward.”

  Tom’s brow narrowed. “I see.”

  Pete looked up. “I think she was joking about that last part.”

  “Let’s hope.... That boxing technique...makes sense in a way.... You know, I doubt Susie Tremaine would have been so complex.”

  “Don’t go there, Dad!” Pete warned. “Despite Anna’s issues, I love her in ways I doubt I could have loved Susie. And, Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  Pete grinned. “I checked. Susie’s been divorced...twice....She’s on number three.” He leaned back and finished his drink.

  “Got it,” Tom grinned back. “You’re idealistic and faithful to the end. Those, Son, are probably two of the many traits Anna fell in love with.” His hand touched Pete’s. “Please don’t take this wrong, Son, but is she stable?”

  Pete’s expression hardened and he pulled his arm away. “Are you asking me if she’ll get violent with me or Connor? Is that what you’re insinuating?”

  “Your mom and I worry that someday she may lose the distinction between protecting her family from a real, versus an imaginary, threat.”

  Pete leaned forward and slammed his hand on the table. “That will never happen! She knows the difference between right and wrong. She’s cautious, and her instincts are extremely good.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

  Leaning back, Pete lowered his voice. “Sorry.... Let’s focus on how to alleviate her anguish, shall we? I’m asking for your help. Any suggestions?” He looked expectantly at the father he knew could solve most any problem.

  Tom thought for a while. “Perhaps she can help us research how industry can adapt to this new reality, maybe even consult on implementation. She’s helping you already, isn’t she?”

  “Well sure. She always gives me great advice,” Pete acknowledged.

  “Take her off defense and put her on offense. As you’ve said, she likes missions.”

  “Join the team?” Pete’s tone lightened.

  “Officially.”

  “Think the others would agree?” Pete smiled.

  “Art would, the others needn’t know her past.”

  “Sounds good.” Pete nodded then looked at his watch. “Dad, in case I haven’t told you recently, I always appreciate your counsel. Lunch’s on me.”

  Chapter 90

  May 28, 1300 hours

  Profit Oil HQ

  Dallas, TX

  Father and son walked into the conference
room. They were talking baseball when Sam interrupted, “Hey Pete, congratulations! How’re your wife and son doing?”

  “Catherine and Connor are both doing great,” Pete responded, cautious to use her middle name since everyone had heard her maiden name during the previous summer’s investigation. Both Art and Tom bemusedly watched that conversational thread.

  “Will we ever meet her?” Sam continued.

  “Only if you visit our rainforest,” Pete jibed, lifting the artificial flower centerpiece. He started turning it over and poking into its stems.

  “Trust me, Sam,” Art cut in. “Catherine’s beautiful and brilliant. I had the pleasure of meeting her last year. I’ve no doubt she’s a great mother as well.” He turned to Pete. “Tell me, how’s your rainforest environment coping?”

  Pete saw his father’s narrowed brow, so put the vase down and sat. “Fuzz is accumulating. I see thin layers around Dallas, but in the northwest, we get so much rain and wind that it’s growing faster than in most places.”

  “Can the forest accommodate the invasive species?”

  “I think it’ll eventually envelope the smaller plants. Some fast-growing plants, such as knotweed, may continue to rise above it. But I don’t know about the long-term effect on the trees. Fuzz is collecting heavily on branches, and covering the needles and leaves. The added weight and wind resistance are breaking the more fragile trees. I’ll show you guys some photos in a minute.”

  Leaning to Pete, Tom asked softly, “What was that about?”

  “Huh?”

  “What were you doing with the arrangement?”

  Pete shrugged. His voice was equally low. “Anna told me to check for listening devices.”

  Tom rolled his eyes.

  “And”—Pete cleared his throat—“she recommended—”

  “Let’s get started guys,” Ed interrupted. “Pete, why don’t you start by telling us what research you’re doing at the university?”

  “Sure.” He put his cell phone on the table. “First, as a precaution, would everyone please turn off their cell phones.”

  “Why?” Ed’s brow narrowed.

  Pete let out a deep breath. “There are organizations against what we represent. We need to be careful what information gets out.”

  “Fair enough.” Ed put his phone on the table and the other followed suit.

  Pete started. “Okay then. Mostly we’re testing the effects of the plagues on the local flora and fauna and trying to find weaknesses. These species had a lot of genetic tinkering.”

  “What kind of tinkering?”

  Pete put up a comparative chart of DNA on the screen. “It seems the genome of all the plague species was winnowed down.”

  “Meaning what?” Ed asked.

  Pete pointed to the difference in strand lengths. “The DNA was stripped of all redundancy and anything that wasn’t critical to basic functions. Then they inserted genomic clusters.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “They wanted to create a basic genetic framework – a scaffold some would say – on which to attach certain features. Each feature was incorporated in a genetic cluster, which then was installed on the chassis. The goal was to focus the species’ energy on the basics – environmental survival, resistance to predation, CO2 absorption, macronutrient release upon death...the same stuff we discussed last year.”

  “Find any weaknesses yet?” Sam asked.

  Pete flipped to another frame. “It’s not exactly a weakness, but a limitation. The CO2 absorption cluster is the same for all three plagues. When the CO2 concentration drops to about 180 ppm, they hibernate. That level begins the biotic yellow zone – when some plants really start withering.”

  “Most of our crops haven’t been tested to that low of a CO2 concentration,” Ed interjected. “In the past couple decades, the agriculture industry always tested to higher CO2 levels to see how plants would cope.”

  “What did you discover?” Sam asked.

  “Almost universally, plants love higher CO2 levels. Some plants more than double their growth rates and mass when the CO2 concentration doubles. Food crops also tend to become more nutritious. Our agricultural research studies also have shown that higher CO2 concentrations increase the concentrations of several valuable components such as Vitamin C, anti-oxidant scavengers, flavonols, phenolic acid, and others.”

  “CO2 really does make a good thing better,” Sam quipped.

  “That may be good for fruit, but how about for wheat and other field crops?” Tom asked.

  “With higher CO2, wheat and soybeans were found to increase flavonoid concentrations moderately under low temperatures, and significantly under higher temperatures,” Ed said.

  “So axiomatically, less CO2 makes food becomes less nutritious,” Art said.

  “Yes.”

  “So Ed, how’s this research going to help you?” Art asked.

  “With forewarning that CO2 may crash, not only do we have to test most agricultural products at low CO2 levels, we have to look at genetically designing crops to be more efficient at those levels. Society may have to switch its basic foods to ones that can survive, so we need to prepare now.”

  “How about growing technology?” Tom asked.

  “My company’s designing new, super greenhouses that will allow us to control CO2 and temperature at a scale and efficiency never before considered. I’ve invited the industry to cooperate with us.”

  “Are most participating?”

  “No. Most agricultural CEOs are skeptical that CO2 levels will drop much. If Pete’s right and CO2 levels plummet, we’ll have to consider CO2 as a scarce resource. We’ve started research on very long-lasting, clear greenhouse plastics designed to be impermeable to CO2.”

  “How’s that possible?”

  “With graphene, which allows pure water to pass but not CO2. Research also has dramatically reduced plastic degradation by ultraviolet light, making it more economical. So a covered field may last 20 years before having to be re-skinned, and the framing may last over 100 years.”

  “You’re going to grow field crops under plastic?”

  “Eventually,” Ed replied. “Some of the new carbon fiber technology will allow extremely strong support structures that never corrode and don’t bend in the wind or under a heavy snow load. With the right design, we can inexpensively put an acre under cover. Then it’s a matter of scaling up to thousands, then millions, of acres. By enriching the trapped air with CO2 and controlling moisture and other nutrients, we should be able to dramatically increase the yield, and have a nearly year-round growing season.”

  “Millions of acres?” Sam’s eyebrows lifted.

  Ed nodded. “There are 413 million acres of cultivated land in the US. Most of that’s for growing seasonal crops, meadows or pasture, gardens, and land left fallow for less than five years. The rest is for permanent crops, such as orchards. It doesn’t include timber. So, yes, millions of acres.” Ed scrunched his face. “Of course, a good portion of the acreage is being used to grow biofuel feedstock.”

  “Certainly America couldn’t put all 413 million acres under a tent?” Tom asked.

  “No. We’ll have to increase efficiency to make the CO2 we have go further. We can minimize covered agricultural requirements by enhancing seeds, protecting crops from pests, improving harvesting and storage, and reducing food loss during food production and transportation.”

  “What about vertical growing?” Art asked.

  “It’s getting pretty sophisticated and allows us to grow food in the cities. So, yes. That’s a significant future player.”

  “Will you be able to expand fast enough, Ed?”

  “Art, we’re talking trillions of dollars of infrastructure, and we can’t do that by ourselves. But we can establish the science and designs, and get demonstration facilities up and running.”

  “How about franchising greenhouse operations?” Sam asked, scribbling a note to himself.

  “That’s a good idea,�
�� Ed said excitedly. “It should give investors a safe return.”

  “Unless the government seizes them for...the public good,” Art added sarcastically.

  “It’s that type of asset confiscation risk that blocks human progress. The mere inkling that the government may try to control agriculture is enough to prevent investment,” Ed agreed grimly.

  Pete was grinning. “Well Ed, if you want to install a demonstration plant in the Pacific Northwest, I know an investor who probably would love to buy a large greenhouse franchise.” He winked at his dad.

  Catching Pete’s amused look, Tom suddenly smiled and nodded.

  Sam, not quite understanding Pete’s inside meaning, continued with the prior topic. “Ed, will wheat combines be able to fit under the field shelters?”

  “No, not the existing combines. We have a couple choices. Either the fields can have supported covers during the growing season that can be removed just before harvesting, or, much of the equipment must be redesigned for automation, and run on electricity, natural gas, or propane. At commercial scale, the market will respond and build them.”

  “What about winter snows?” Pete asked.

  “That’s an argument for removing covers before harvest,” Ed observed. “I think we’ll have to do some test plots.”

  “Think the market will be allowed to adapt?” Art asked. “This government has a propensity to interfere. It may dictate how many workers must be involved in farming per acre just so they can create jobs.”

  “Until the government changes, expect interference!” Ed slammed the point of his pen into his yellow legal pad.

  “If I may make a suggestion, secure your sources of carbon,” Pete advised. “Locking in a long-term natural gas supply will give you the security of feeding your greenhouses the CO2 and heat they’ll need. You may want to partner with an energy company.” His head tipped toward his dad.

  “I hadn’t considered that. Good idea.... Tom, you interested?”

  Tom chuckled. “Sounds like a good investment to me. Sure. We might be able to cheaply procure the natural gas fields that have gone inactive under Fernandez. Ed, let’s match up resources – where you want to grow crops and where energy supplies are available. I think we’re going to have to get some pipeline companies involved too.”