The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  “I like that plan...good luck!” She stood next to the deck light controls. “Say when.”

  Pete walked across the pilot house, kicking aside spent shell casings and crunching broken glass underfoot.

  “Okay, Pete.... Be careful up there. It’s getting icy.”

  He set the timer. “Now!”

  She killed the lights.

  His overhand pass placed his homemade flash-bang grenade in the open wooden boat. Immediately, he stepped out onto the dark bridge wing. She heard his boots scratch against the metal rails as a bright flash was followed by a loud pop. She counted to three, then turned on the port deck lights. Immediate machine gun fire from the deck above indicated she had illuminated targets for her partner.

  “That’s right, Petey, leave me here alone with Machiavelli!” Sven yelled loudly enough for Pete to hear from above.

  “How’d you become so cynical?” Anna asked as she found a broom and swept some of the glass crystals and rolling casings toward the pool of blood seeping from the dead captain.

  “I’ve always been a cynic.” He grinned as she cleared a pathway. “You just had a different measure of men last year.”

  She put the broom against the wall, and spun his chair to face the rear. She checked his bindings. Her voice softened. “Sven, you designed your products to get out of control, didn’t you?”

  “Did I?” he mocked.

  “Sure, your moss broke loose and spread around the world. The aerial bacterium breeds in the clouds. Certainly after that little stunt you pulled spraying your phytoplankton into the ocean gyres, it’s become an invasive species....” Her eyes widened. “You planned all of this from the start...back when I hired you!”

  His grin and slow nod confirmed it.

  Her brow furrowed. “Why would an environmentalist like you want to damage the environment?”

  “For the greater good, and”—he sneered—“to...eliminate...humanity. Dear Anna, I am the antibody, and all the rest of you are the virus.” His boast turned into mockery.

  Her eyes bored into him. “But testing shows your plagues won’t lower CO2 enough to kill everything....” She lowered her tone. “The phytoplankton in the cylinders...is this the same species you released last year?”

  His smile turned mischievous. “Not exactly.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What makes it different?”

  Over the roar of wind blowing through the shattered windows, another a burst of gunfire rattled from up top. Anna’s eyes darted to the bridge wing door openings, her weapon pointed at one side, then the other. She kept in the shadows, away from the broken windows, always moving around the pilot house in a random direction. She knew not to make herself an easy target.

  Sven cheerfully proclaimed, “The products we released last year were designed to drop CO2 to about 180 ppm, but after a couple decades without rejuvenation, we knew they’d die off.”

  She stopped walking and stared. “What do you mean...rejuvenation?”

  “Their genetic programming will eventually deteriorate. I call it telomere stress. We would have had to reseed the world with revised strains.”

  She revealed a slight smile. “So you gave humanity hope?”

  “No...a warning.... Humanity will suffer with what we’ve released. Carbon dioxide levels have crossed the threshold and soon will start to drop. They’ll continue to do so over the next couple decades”—he sneered—“as they should.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How bad will it get?”

  “Bad?” he growled. “It’s a matter of perspective. What you think is bad, we think is necessary. We calculated the population will decrease to two billion in 20 years. Agriculture will plummet, and resource wars will decimate many who remain. But from death...comes renewed life.”

  “Who’s the ‘we’ you’re including in this madness?”

  He grinned. “Other Malthusians. You don’t think I’ve been doing this alone, do you?”

  “Not really.... Who are you working with?”

  “I won’t tell you.”

  She paused. “How long have you been working with them?”

  “You never caught on, did you?” He laughed. “Since graduate school.”

  “Since...graduate...school?” Her eyes widened with the realization that some things were set in motion before she became involved.

  “Your research on me missed that, didn’t it...Cornelia?”

  Anna scowled at the mention of her alias. “When did—”

  “Not soon enough,” he interrupted. “Actually, Thames recognized you. He had a thing for you back then.”

  She grimaced. “I’ll have to work on my ugly.”

  “Swanson knew I was a Malthusian. We had frequent discussions along those lines. He just thought he could control me and profit off my creations.” He smirked. “You weren’t quite the insider you thought.”

  She swept her hand in the direction of the cylinders. “So these cylinders are a rejuvenation of your original release?”

  Sven paused and glared at her. “No.”

  She stepped closer to him. “So what’s different about this phytoplankton?”

  His sneer broadened. “This phytoplankton reduces CO2 levels to 150 ppm.”

  “But, but that’ll suffocate most plants!” she exclaimed, aghast at his indifference.

  “So what?” He laughed malevolently for a moment. “There’ll be enough species remaining to reseed the world after mankind has been purged. A few of us decided last year’s warning wasn’t enough. Humanity would repeat its global rape.”

  “If you felt so strongly that humanity was evil, why did you bother with a warning and design the first batch to stop at 180?” Anna asked, then reflexively ducked and moved as a barrage of gunfire erupted from the forward main deck and pinged on the metal spray shield of the signal deck just above. None of the rounds entered the dark pilot house. Her finger lightly caressed her weapon’s curved trigger. Instinctively she glanced upward as three shotgun blasts answered the fusillade. She heard Pete’s footsteps above her as he frequently changed position to keep the few remaining guards at bay.

  Sven completely ignored the gun battle outside and continued the conversation. “Before...I wanted the prestige of having saved the environment from humanity.” He looked upward, as if in a dream. “The glory...the adrenalin rush that comes with being a global hero.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What changed?”

  “Swanson sent Jared to summon me to his yacht. I knew my life would be forfeited if I went to the Spider or if I stayed in the public eye. Swanson had what he wanted – money and power. He hated that I exceeded his parameters...and cost him hundreds of billions. His game wasn’t my game. After what I created, he no longer needed me. I became a liability.”

  “So, when did you come to Chile?”

  “I left Frisco the day after Jared appeared.”

  “And you brought your research with you—” she started.

  “As I had prearranged with my sponsor months earlier.”

  “We know about Paul Hopkins.” Anna looked in his expression for confirmation.

  “Then you know he’s wealthy and connected, and as ruthless as Swanson, but with a more progressive outlook on humanity.”

  “He’ll be exposed and stopped.”

  “How?” Sven grinned. “You’ll never escape this ship. Besides, I showed him your picture, and briefed him on your...capabilities.”

  Anna’s eyes narrowed as her finger nervously tapped the trigger. “And knowing the risk, he decided to work with you?”

  Sven looked at the overhead and the corners of his mouth turned up. “Well...he doesn’t exactly know you’re an assassin. I didn’t want him backing out.... He thinks you’re my vindictive ex-wife coming after my assets.”

  She grimaced at the thought. “I’m not sure which paints you as more insane, you trying to destroy humanity...or fantasizing I’d marry you.” Anna’s nerves were fraying at the realization of Sven’s plot and the outside gun b
attle, which didn’t directly involve her. She’d rather be on the firing line.

  “Why do you care, Anna? You were always in it for yourself. You didn’t need anybody else. Why do you care if humanity eventually dies, as long as you can live out your life with frivolity...and a lot of expensive wine?”

  “You wouldn’t understand, Sven.” She inhaled and let out a deep breath. Instinctively her free hand pressed her belly before calmly uttering, “Life...is precious—”

  “Since when?!” he interrupted harshly. “You’ve killed...how many people in the past 11 years?”

  “Too many, but it’s over”—She smirked—“well, maybe not just yet.”

  “How’s life precious to you? You’re a spinster! A beautiful one, but you’ll go out alone.”

  She laughed louder than she intended. Her expression softened to amusement, then she gave a rejoinder, “No Sven, I’m not alone, I’m not a spinster, and you’d have to be a parent to realize how beautiful life is.”

  Sven’s brow narrowed as he looked at her with a different perspective. “You? You’ve had a child?” Anna nodded with satisfied smirk.

  He squinted. “With whom?” His eyes widened. “Petey? Ah...yes...I see. That’s why he got so testy...and that’s why you disappeared last year! Don’t tell me you got married, too?”

  Again, his ability to read people gave him his answer. “Well, well. I’ve got to give Petey credit. You’ve been together, what a year? And you haven’t killed him or left him, or the other way around. Does Swanson know about this?”

  Anna became uncomfortable with the conversational direction. “Shut it, Sven,” she said as the autopilot began beeping, indicating the ship had reached the waypoint. Anna walked to it and set a new course due east toward the coast. She dialed in the estimated distance. As the ship swung to port, the ship’s side-to-side rocking changed to a slow lifting from stern to bow as the sea swells seemingly pushed the ship toward the narrowing channels.

  Chapter 106

  June 13, 2000 hours

  Green Dream

  Canal Jacaf

  Canal Jacaf was dead ahead. The new easterly direction caused the prevailing west wind to nearly match the ship’s speed and dropped the wind’s roar appreciably. Now the constant flow of cold, fresh, salt-air through the pilot house ebbed.

  While occasional shots echoed from above, Anna pondered the satellite photos Mac had emailed for an idea of what was coming. The small pictures became increasingly difficult to use because of scaling issues. The lack of ventilation added to Anna’s increased discomfort. Her gut was warning her something was amiss. She peered outside at the dark horizon. Barely discernible islands bracketed the fjord entrance just five nautical miles straight ahead. Her next turn was in eight minutes. Brushing the wig’s black hair off her perspiring brow, she began overheating. Unzipping her jacket she grimaced at the odor now concentrating in the warming and calmer pilot house – the air reeked of blood and body fluids. Nausea finally overcame her, forcing her to discretely retch in a wastebasket behind the map table.

  A mocking chuckle came from the chair.

  God, I’ve never gotten seasick before! she thought, quickly walking into the Captain’s stateroom and rinsing her mouth. She filled the empty water bottle and took several swallows, then returned to the radar.

  “How about Jared?” Sven interrupted her thoughts of navigation. “I’m surprised Swanson’s MI5 guy hasn’t tracked you down, particularly since you seem to be leaving a trail.”

  “Jared’s dead,” she said casually. “Has been since early July.”

  “Is he now? With you getting a conscience and him dead, no wonder I’m still alive,” he laughed cynically. “Who did it? You?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Well, darling Anna, you really are wily. You took out Swanson’s head goon. And that opens many other questions as to why Swanson hasn’t sent someone after you—”

  “Ouch!” The water bottle bounced off the side of Sven’s head.

  “What part of shut up do you not understand? I’m busy!” she growled.

  She picked the rolling bottle off the deck and went back to deciding her next maneuver. The canal they had entered was narrowing. Its cliff walls angled steeper. Soon it would require sharper turns and a faster response than the autopilot could handle, and there wasn’t a chart. Memory and Mac’s texted Google Earth photos would have to do.

  “At this speed, you’re going to rip the bottom out of this ship,” Sven cautioned. “Why don’t you slow down?”

  She didn’t respond or look at him. Instead, her eyes nervously darted to the towering shadows outside.

  Sven tapped his fingers on the arm rest while considering the situation. His thoughtful expression turned to amazement.

  “Oh, you can’t, can you? You took out the engine room! And you did something that prevents the crew from getting inside to shut the engines down. That explains a lot! Oh, you are a hoot, Anna. You’re going to do a high-speed run through a winding fiord with a gauntlet of protruding boulders and sharp turns. Your only eyes are a broken radar and satellite photos. And you don’t know where the rock reefs are...and you’re seasick! This is ironic—”

  “I’m not laughing—”

  Anna instinctively ducked and moved sideways as gunfire erupted, first on the port side, then to starboard.

  Ping, ping, ping, ping... Bullets suddenly perforated the bridge door leading from the interior corridor, the slugs hitting the chair, the console beyond it, and shattering another pilot house window.

  Anna dodged to the door’s edge. She quickly opened it and fired down the passageway: pop, pop, pop. Just as quickly, she shut and locked the door and immediately inserted another magazine. Looking at the perforated door, she fished out the small roll of duct tape and started slapping pieces over the holes.

  Ignoring the sporadic gunfire outside, Sven laughed mockingly. “Do you even know where you are? I do. This is Canal Jacaf...in case you’re lost. It gets narrower...there’re rocks ahead...and it’s really tough to negotiate by radar...at night.”

  Anna squinted ahead, quickly turned the autopilot off and grabbed the ship’s wheel, adjusting the vessel’s course between two narrowing and indistinct shorelines. Both were only blurrily delineated by the broken radar. The sky was completely dark. The few deck lights the guards hadn’t shot out provided minimal lighting outside and cast fleeting shadows onto the bridge wings. Only the radar and some glowing gauges faintly illuminated the interior.

  “Anna, I’m curious, which way will you turn when you get to Canal Moraleda? To the left is the Canal Costa...and it’s a dead end. To the right is the Estero Elefantes. It goes to the Gulfo Elefantes, and back towards the ocean.”

  His banter was wearing her down.

  “How about straight, Sven?!” she snarled sarcastically. “Shall I just end it by plunging straight into the cliff?!” She rubbed her tired face.

  “Sure.” He laughed sarcastically. “I doubt I’ll live past tomorrow, anyway. Either you or my sponsor will finish me off. I’m expendable now that my research is done. But killing me won’t save Swanson...or you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think I’m naïve? I’ve put aside insurance.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Insurance...for what?”

  “In case Swanson sent you to eliminate me.... I’ve detailed exactly what he really intended, which was to manipulate the global financial markets by keeping CO2 levels balanced between emissions and his controls. He didn’t really want my ultimate solution.”

  “That doesn’t threaten me,” she scoffed.

  “Oh, but his means do. I detailed what I knew, or guessed, you and others had done on his behalf....”

  Her small gasp was unintentional. “You weren’t privy to what I did,” she said.

  “You know, Anna, after I returned home after our last weekend together, it wasn’t really hard to put the pieces together: the assassinations, the bribery, the silencing of
critics.... All I had to do was recall Swanson’s glee every time you and he got together, and match it up with some nefarious news that had just occurred and benefited him.” He chuckled. “There may be a little creative writing on my part. But of course, I thought you’d always be his willing henchman. I never realized you and I would both be hiding.”

  She gulped from the realization her anonymity would vanish. There wouldn’t be anywhere she could hide for long, not with a child, and a husband with a bionic leg.

  “I’m not afraid of dying you know,” he continued. “Far from it. My phytoplankton are my progeny. It’s them I bequeath to Gaia—”

  Boom, boom. Two shotgun blasts from above preceded Pete calling out, “Coming down!”

  Anna turned off the deck lights, quickly put the autopilot back on, and moved to the doorway with her pistol to cover his descent.

  Seconds later, he stepped inside. “I used up the shotgun ammo.”

  Anna turned the deck lights back on, raced to the helm and reasserted control. She was breathing faster and strands of black hair draped over her face as she muscled the ship’s wheel.

  He saw the corridor door with a dozen scraps of tape and the shattered glass in front. “Problems in here?”

  “Not in here...Dad,” a grinning Sven said mockingly. “You must be quite the guy to have bedded and knocked up our girl.”

  Pete looked questioningly at Anna.

  She shrugged. “He guessed most of it by our conversation. Maybe a little slipped out. He’s infuriating!”

  Pete walked over and kissed her cheek, picked up her tape, moved to Sven, and roughly slapped a strip over his mouth.

  Anna smirked.

  Pete’s nose wrinkled. “Wow. Really stinks in here!”

  “Tell me about it.” Her voice was flat, her energy mostly spent.

  “Chilly up topside. Cold air’s flowing down from the mountains.” Pete held out his hand. “May I borrow your mirror?”