by L. Todd Wood
The sultan. “Because I think there is a connection to some information President Walker shared with me a while back. Let’s get together soon and talk, okay? Thanks for telling me all this, Eric.”
“Connor, you need to be very careful. This thing is not over. You’re on your own now.”
“Yes, I know,” responded Connor as he watched the two teams line up below to shake hands.
Connor sat at the bar in Manhattan and ordered a locally brewed beer. Now that I’m cancer-free and all, it will be nice to be able to have a drink now and then, he thought. I hope I didn’t just drink radiation. He looked into the liquid to make sure he didn’t see anything strange floating. Not that looking at it would make any difference. If they wanted to kill me, I’m sure they could. Well I am back in Gotham. What to do now? I’ve got to make some plans on where to go from here.
Peter would be there any moment. They had agreed to meet and discuss how to save the world. Perhaps together we can make a difference in all this. Connor wanted to move on with his life but also wanted to expose what was going on, as did Peter.
Connor looked up at the TV screen over the bar. The news of President Walker’s death was everywhere. It seems there was a heartfelt loss hanging over the nation. People were glued to their screens. There was no news yet of an assassination. It seems he had died of natural causes. Unfortunately, Connor knew better. Walker’s death made him angry. These bastards need to pay. At the very least, their attempt to influence our internal politics and future as a country needs to be defeated. They need to be exposed. He took another look at his glass almost unconsciously. If they knew what we are planning, they would kill me as well I’m sure.
A different story came on the news broadcast. It seems there was contamination of the local water supply in Bahia, Brazil due to fracking operations on newly discovered Brazilian shale hydrocarbon deposits. The angry street protests outside the headquarters of Petrobras, the Brazilian state-owned oil company, were becoming violent. Police and national guard were being called in to quell the uprising. Peter walked up to the bar beside Connor. “I’m going down there to find out what’s happening. Do you want to come with me? Nothing’s keeping you here now, is there?”
Connor turned to look at Peter, and a smile came over Connors face. “I’d love to. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow. I already booked your ticket, my friend. I read your mind.”
The smile on Connor’s face got bigger. Natasha.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Connor awoke early in the morning before daybreak. It was 3:00 a.m. and he couldn’t sleep. He took this as a sign he was getting stronger. His busy mind overcame his body’s need for rest. This was the way it used to be. Connor was never one for sleeping, especially during his Wall Street days. The stress was just too much. The mind was constantly working, working to find the edge, working to be better than the other guy, the guy on the other side of the trade. That meant following markets around the world all the time. Sleep is for losers.
He groggily reached over for his cell phone. He had bought the prepaid disposable phone recently. He was changing them rapidly now. He was planning to disappear again. This time, he wanted to be smarter about the whole process. He wanted to plan ahead. The world is just too dangerous.
After finding the phone, he switched on the bedside lamp while simultaneously closing his eyes to protect them from the flash of light. He fumbled his way to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on his face to wake up. Soon his pupils adjusted and he searched for his wallet. From there he pulled out a business card that was stashed under all of the other items he carried around constantly. There was a number on the card. It was an Israeli number. Once he was awake, he dialed.
The Russians were ostensibly in Brazil to research new pioneering hydraulic fracturing techniques, as the Russian energy sector was behind in developing this technology. The Americans were in the lead when it came to drilling development, but researching in America wasn’t an option for the Russians; hence, they came to Brazil to watch, where American technology was being tested. The Russians had discovered shale gas in their country as well. However, the worldwide discoveries were loosening their grip on the European gas market. Their monopoly, and therefore their national leverage and power, was diminishing. They had been in-country for months, meandering around rather freely, enjoying the Atlantic coast, enjoying Bahia. Of course, not everyone in the group of scientists knew something about fracking. Several of the men were just plain old spies, trained in the age-old stagecraft of the trade. Russia had them everywhere, always ready in case of need. This was one of those times.
Sergei, the leader of the research expedition, was on the beach in Rio de Janeiro, enjoying the view of the local female population when his cell phone rang. He was irritated. He didn’t expect any official business today; it was their down period. The group was to head back to Bahia in the morning. The last thing he wanted today was something to do. He answered. “Da?”
“Sergei, it’s the consulate in Rio. You have a cable. You need to come in and personally accept it. It’s from Moscow. Xarosho?”
“Davaie,” he responded. (I will do it) I will do it once I’ve had plenty to drink and have shown one of these pretty ladies my hotel room, he thought. Later, much later.
Connor and Peter found a quiet spot in the executive lounge of the airline they were flying prior to boarding. They had arrived at JFK early and were now through security. Their flight did not leave for another hour and a half, so they had time to kill. There was no way anyone could have known they would be coming to the lounge to talk, so they felt as if they could speak freely, albeit quietly. The only people in the lounge were flight attendants killing time between flights, and they were a ways away.
“Now that Walker is dead, I have some things to tell you,” Connor informed Peter. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Obviously, please enlighten me, sir.”
“This is much bigger than you can imagine. There are unknown forces involved. I’m not going to tell you how I got this information, but let’s just say it’s from some good sources.”
“You’ve got my attention, go on please.”
“There has been a concerted effort to undermine the development of hydrocarbon extraction technology in the United States. Specifically, the effort has focused on stopping America from harvesting its shale oil and gas reserves, as you have experienced. As you told me, hydraulic fracturing is key to getting this stuff out of the ground. Therefore, fracking has been the main target. Stop the fracking, you stop America from extracting its energy. The end game is that petrodollars continue to flow to powers in the Middle East.”
“So who is directing this?”
“All I know is that it’s someone called the sultan. And there’s more to it. He wants to continue to reap these monetary profits to enable the resurrection of a Muslim caliphate globally. I didn’t know if I seriously believed all this, but with Walker being poisoned, I now have no doubts.”
“Walker was poisoned? By this sultan?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Shit.” Peter paused as the news sunk in. “So how do they plan to stop the continued fracking on U.S. soil? It’s fairly well advanced now and growing.”
“They are trying by whatever means available. Primarily they have co-opted the environmental movement. The money is flowing into their coffers for demonstrations, political involvement, et cetera. In addition, I think by hook or crook. There are obviously lots of covert operations underway as well.”
“Like killing an ex-president.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think he was killed?”
“For helping us, I believe, in addition to a history of supporting drilling efforts.”
“Something has to be done about this!”
“I agree. But what?”
“The world needs to know. This is too important. We can harvest enough energy to easily feed the world for hundreds o
f years. The opportunity is too great for mankind. We can provide cheap, reliable energy and literally change billions of lives.”
“Agreed. We need to discuss some next steps. You and I are in a unique position here.”
“But what about the U.S. government? What are their plans to deal with this?”
“That’s just the thing. I don’t know who we can trust. Walker thought there were more people involved than just Skinner. Who knows in what far-flung agency of the U.S. government they are lurking. Who knows what levers they are pulling or permits they are blocking. I think we are on our own.”
“Could they be operating in other parts of the world as well?”
“I’m sure that’s a highly probable possibility.”
“I’m thinking of the contamination in Bahia. Ever since it was announced a few days ago, I’ve been wondering. It just doesn’t make any sense. That’s one reason we are going to investigate.”
“Well now you have more information.”
“Yes, the question is what can we do?”
After a frustratingly long and slow taxi ride through traffic, Sergei passed through security without incident and entered the Russian consulate in Rio. Just like that, he was back in Russia. The voices, the sounds, all reminded him of Moscow. He stiffened as the beach mentality disappeared quickly. Now he had to worry what people thought of his actions. He was immediately taken to the in-country chief of the FSB. The door closed behind him.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Sergei?” asked the older, Russian colonel, rather menacingly.
“Da, da, da, ochen. (yes, very) We have not been very busy. Mostly we have been lying on the beach for several months. It would be nice to have something to do.”
“Yes, I would think for a man of your talents that would be very frustrating indeed. But I’m sure you’ve found ways to enjoy yourself, have you not? Well I think I have an opportunity for you to have some more fun.”
“How is that exactly, Colonel?”
“I have a job for you.”
“Go on.”
“Do you remember several years ago when our little princess Natasha disappeared, grabbed by the CIA, whom she had apparently been working for?”
“Da.”
“I’m sure you can understand that people very high up in our government are, shall we say, still very upset about it? Well, she’s here in Brazil, we think.”
Sergei sat up in his chair. The colonel had his attention. “The president’s long lost girlfriend? Is here?”
“Yes. I want you to find her. And when you do, I want you to make her feel pain. Then I want you to kill her and her boyfriend.”
Sergei smiled.
The sultan was happy, everything was going according to plan. A few problems here and there but nothing he couldn’t handle. The momentum was too great. The forces in motion could not be stopped. He had scared this Murray character. The man had run away. His friend Peter was scared as well. It was as if Allah himself had made them go away. The American people for the most part have no idea what is happening. And many of them don’t care. They are too busy watching television and adoring mindless celebrities. They are dependent and lazy and becoming illiterate, illiterate to culture, to science, to education, to the world. The Russian president was right about that. They are becoming soft. They are ripe for the picking. It is time for Islam to rise. It is time for all of the prophecy to come true. He looked at the painting on his office wall again. There was a scene in the corner of a Christian knight putting a small child to the sword. So their children will feel this pain, this death as well. They will feel the storm of fire. It will consume them all, and they will wail and scream and cry but it will be too late. The will of Allah will be done.
He had just been told the Russians knew where she was. That was a good thing. They were much better at doing what needed to be done. In fact, they enjoyed it. He would leave the messy details to the tsar. Then Murray and his friends would no longer be a problem.
Connor and Peter waited for their hired car in a bar at the Salvador International Airport in Bahia, Brazil. The City of the Holy Savior of the Bay of all Saints was also quaintly known as the Brazilian capital of happiness. This was due to their countless street parties and carnivals. Although the north of Brazil was less wealthy than the industrial south, Salvador was the most prosperous of the northern cities. The population exceeded three and a half million, and the city was known for its architecture, history, and music. Salvador was also one of Brazil’s most important ports, servicing the northern half of the country.
The Afro-Portuguese dominant culture of Bahia was apparent as Connor surveyed the local population waiting for their relatives to leave baggage claim and find their rides home. I’m not in Kansas anymore, he thought to himself. Women dressed in period African dress handed out trinkets to the arriving passengers. A salsa band played jubilantly near the taxi stand. There is definitely happiness here, energy.
Connor’s phone rang. “Hello?”
“This is your friend calling. We took a walk together. Do you remember? We even shared a kiss.”
“How could I forget?”
“My people said you may need some help—that you called.”
“That is correct.”
“I want you to call back the number I gave you with a new phone number. Do you understand? One that cannot be linked to you. Then we will talk. Goodnight.” She hung up.
“Should be easy enough,” Connor said aloud. She loves me, she loves me not. Stop it! You’ll be with Natasha soon enough. But a little sexual tension never hurt anyone, right?
The sultan was watching the newscast in his office. He appreciated when something was done for him, and he liked to return favors. He enjoyed watching the announcement out of Bahia, Brazil very much. The event played out exactly how he had wanted. The Russians had done their job very well. Yes, they tended to be very good at things like that. How coincidental that the girl was there now, and Murray was there as well with his analyst companion. I think it is quite likely they will try and contact the girl. Yes, that is what Murray will do. He will try and be sneaky about it. He can run but he cannot hide. Perhaps the Russians would be interested in this little tidbit of information. He picked up the phone.
Peter looked through the lab reports he had received from the local Brazilian government. Nothing made sense. He was analyzing a water sample taken from the aquifer that had been supposedly contaminated by the hydraulic fracturing efforts in Bahia. There was an abundant amount of hydrochloric acid as well as glutaraldehyde. The acid was typically used to help fracture the rock by dissolving minerals. The glutaraldehyde was used to eliminate bacteria in the water to reduce corrosion. It made perfect sense for these chemicals to be there. What didn’t make sense was the chemicals that were not there in the lab report of the sample taken. There were a myriad of substances used in the fracking process. There were carrier fluids, other anti-corrosion agents, product stabilizers, thickeners, oxidation preventers, ph adjusters, and so on, and so on. None of these other chemicals were detected.
If the aquifer was contaminated by the runoff water from the fracking operation locally, the chemicals would be there as well. In addition, Peter had spoken to the drilling operating company, and there was no indication of a release of chemicals through the wellbore. The steel casing was solid and had no perforations. The chemicals were purposefully released into the rock, but that was thousands of feet below the water table. Peter smelled a rat.
This discovery brought up another issue. Whoever was culpable in contaminating the water supply had no qualms about affecting the health of millions of people. The irony was the environmental movement was supporting someone intentionally contaminating the environment. The sultan was a sociopath at the highest level. We’ve got to get this issue out to the public, and fast. The Brazilian people need to know what is happening. The American people need to know what is happening. We have to discredit this contamination incident to allow safe hydraulic fracturi
ng to continue as well as to shine a light on the sultan’s subterfuge. I’ll show this to Connor.
Connor bought a prepaid cell phone from a local phone dealer in Salvador. It was not hard, they were readily available. It seems most of the local population worked this way as well.
They both had rented rooms at a four-star hotel in the city, using assumed names. Connor wanted to start the process of disappearing again. He didn’t know Peter’s intentions. He walked out of the hotel lobby onto the busy street. Several blocks away there was an Indian restaurant. He walked in, took a seat near the bar, and ordered a drink. Then he called the numb
A man answered. “Yes.”
“This is Connor. I think you know who I want to speak to.”
“Wait.”
“Hello, Mr. Murray. I have been waiting for your call.”
“Yes, I had to get situated here in-country. I’m in Brazil.”
“Yes, I know where you are. Let me say we were all saddened by what happened to President Walker. He was a friend and a friend of Israel. What can I do for you?”
“I was saddened as well. Let me explain what I want to do. I have a colleague who is an expert in the energy business with me here in Bahia. What we want to do is nothing short of exposing the sultan for what he is and what he is doing. We are going to put together an irrefutable statement of proof and then broadcast it to the world. What I need from you is some sort of proof, something I can show the American people. Something that will convince them. Something that will show them how the environmental movement is being co-opted, that will show them they are being lied to. Can you do that for me?”