The Fusion Cage (Warner & Lopez Book 2)

by Dean Crawford

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?!’ Ethan snapped back. ‘Show me a country where the leaders follow the will of their people! It never happens! Half of America would like to see Israel out of Palestine and who knows what else, just the same as you! We’re people, not politicians, and killing me or any number of Americans won’t change the ways of any member of Congress or the Senate because they don’t damned well care! They’re all making too much money to give a damn about you, me or anybody else! So go ahead, kill me, blow some more innocent people into oblivion, because the only damned thing that’s for sure is that it’ll never fix any of our countries problems, idiot!’

  The militant held the blade still, transfixed by Ethan’s outburst, and then he abruptly stood up straight and nodded to his companion. The bearded man left the room. Ethan watched as his captor opened a bottle of water and drank deeply from it, quenching his thirst until the bearded man returned with another captive, likewise hooded and bound.

  ‘Release him,’ the militant ordered.

  The bearded man yanked off his captive’s bonds and pulled the hood from his head. Ethan saw an elderly man blink dust from his eyes and struggle to focus on his surroundings. He looked at Ethan in surprise.

  ‘Who is this?’

  The militant looked at Ethan. ‘Apparently, he’s looking for you.’

  Ethan stared at the thin and bespectacled figure, his features drawn and lightly touched with greying stubble.

  ‘Stanley Meyer?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Meyer demanded. ‘What do they mean you’re looking for me?’

  ‘I’m with the Defense Intelligence Agency,’ Ethan said, flushed with relief that he was finally talking to another American. ‘Amber is with us.’

  ‘Amber?!’ Stanley gasped in horror. ‘She’s here?! Where?!’

  ‘Huck Seavers has her,’ Ethan replied, and nodded toward their captors. ‘You can thank these guys for that.’

  Stanley glared at the militants. ‘My daughter, is this true?’

  The militant nodded. ‘She escaped us.’

  Ethan blinked in confusion as the militant moved behind him and began loosening the restraints from his wrists.

  ‘Is what this man has claimed the truth?’ the militant demanded of Ethan. ‘What was his device called?’

  ‘A fusion cage,’ Ethan replied as he stood and looked at Stanley. ‘We know what happened in Clearwater.’

  Meyer staggered sideways and propped himself against the wall. ‘My God, we had to flee, to leave Amber. We tried to find her but there was no time. I never thought that.., she would come so far.’

  ‘She held out,’ Ethan promised. ‘She’s okay. I don’t know what Seavers will do, but I don’t think that he has murder on his mind.’

  ‘Huck Seavers is a coward, a slave to greenbacks,’ Stanley snapped. ‘But you’re right, he’s no murderer. But it’s not him I’m worried about.’

  ‘Majestic Twelve?’

  ‘Who?’ Stanley asked.

  ‘Long story,’ Ethan replied as he glanced at their captors and took a gamble that they might be willing to listen to Ethan now. ‘You’re abducting the wrong people. Stanley’s work could cause the fall of the House of Saud, give you what you’re fighting for.’

  ‘That depends on what you think we’re fighting for,’ the militant growled. ‘The only reason you’re still alive is because you told exactly the same story as Stanley here. Either you are both equally insane, or you have something that I want.’

  ‘I told you,’ Stanley said wearily, ‘I don’t have a fusion cage, but I can build one for you. I just need the parts, and your promise that you’ll build more of them and distribute them to the people for free.’

  Ethan looked at the insurgent, who was frowning at Stanley. ‘So you’ve said, but why would you do this?’

  ‘Because we’re not all oil–guzzling megalomaniacs,’ Stanley replied wearily, Ethan guessing he may have been trying to convince his captors of this for some time. ‘If you’d only let me build the damned thing, you could have had a dozen of them by now.’

  The militant sighed and glanced at his companion as he left the room. ‘Americans, you are all insane.’

  ‘We figured you’d be abducted by insurgents eventually,’ Ethan said to Meyer. ‘Coming here was a bad idea.’

  ‘It was all I could think of,’ he replied. ‘To come somewhere where even America would find it hard to track me down.’

  Ethan turned as Lopez was led into the room by a Saudi woman dressed from head to foot in a burqua, only her dark eyes visible. Lopez’s hair was in disarray where a hood had recently been removed. He saw the concern writ large across her face as she hurried to his side.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  Ethan nodded, felt warmth spread through his chest and down into his belly as he smiled at her.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, and then looked at Stanley Meyer. ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘This,’ Stanley said, ‘is the leadership of Saudi Dawn, a protest opposition group dedicated to exposing the corruption of the Saudi regime. They grabbed me two days ago.’

  ‘If the Saudi authorities knew what you’ve achieved and they got hold of you, that would probably be the last anybody would see of Stanley Meyer.’

  ‘I’m more than aware of that,’ Meyer replied, somewhat affronted. ‘But then I’m sure that Huck Seavers and all of the other bloodsucking corporate entities who would like to see my device eradicated from existence would also be unlikely to think that I would come here. It was a good idea, while it lasted.’

  Ethan glanced at the Saudi Dawn militants. ‘While you’ve been hiding out with these guys, Seavers has somehow managed to track you down. He abandoned us with the intention of us dying at the hands of enraged Saudi protesters, and it would have looked like nothing more than another tragic militant attack on Western journalists.’

  ‘You were nearly torn to pieces,’ the nearest militant said. ‘I might have been one of them, were it not for Stanley’s devotion to his cause. He kept saying that Seavers Incorporated was behind his woes, and so we checked them out. You showed up a day later.’

  ‘Along with Amber,’ Stanley said. ‘Is it possible to get her back?’

  ‘Our escort prioritized her safety at our request,’ Ethan admitted. ‘As soon as they got her clear, they took off. We inadvertently assured her capture.’

  ‘You were acting in her best interests,’ Stanley replied without the slightest hubris. ‘Which is more than can be said for Huck Seavers.’

  ‘We need to get her out of there,’ Lopez said. ‘There’s no telling what Seavers will do to her.’

  Stanley Meyer perched on the edge of a tired looking table and shook his head.

  ‘He won’t hurt her,’ he replied without concern. ‘At least I don’t think that he will. Huck Seavers is the archetypical corporate monster, the embodiment of the American dream. He inherited his fortune and empire from his father and, to his credit, he has successfully grown the business over the years and gained huge respect for his abilities as a businessman.’

  Ethan’s blinked in surprise. ‘You sound like you actually like the man.’

  ‘Like? No. Have respect for, have sympathy for? Yes.’

  ‘Sympathy?’ Lopez echoed. ‘He just abducted your daughter, a teenage girl who has travelled half way round the world to find you.’

  Meyer smiled fondly as he stared into the distance, clearly thinking of Amber.

  ‘Amber always was an adventurous soul, an outdoors woman and livewire. I’m constantly surprised that she wants to become a lawyer and not a soldier or a pilot or something. But you have to see this situation for what it really is. Huck Seavers is not a murderer, he’s a businessman and he’s way out of his depth. He’ll offer Amber money, and keep offering it to her until she takes it, which I dearly hope that she does.’

  ‘You want her to sell out?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Stanley said. ‘This is my battle to fight, my decisio
n. I’m an old man, Mister Warner. All the money in the world won’t keep me alive for long enough to really enjoy it, but Amber could live a life of luxury for decades and still enjoy my device should I ever get it out into the public realm.’

  ‘Damn it!’ Lopez cursed. ‘I knew we should have taken that offer!’

  Meyer looked at her curiously.

  ‘We both turned down twenty million bucks in favour of finding you and resolving all of this,’ Ethan explained. ‘It wasn’t easy.’

  The two militants stared at Ethan with sudden amazement and perhaps even a hint of respect.

  ‘You turned down twenty million American dollars?’ the militant asked.

  ‘This asshole did,’ Lopez uttered contemptuously as she jabbed a thumb in Ethan’s direction.

  Stanley watched Ethan silently for a moment with an admiring smile touching his old features, but then the gruff exterior fell back into place.

  ‘Idiots, both of you,’ he uttered. ‘There’s no good reason for you to have not sold out. You could have taken the money and run, that would have been the smart thing to do. No sense in getting heroic about it.’

  ‘I think I’m going to faint,’ Lopez mumbled.

  ‘It’s done now,’ Ethan replied. ‘Tell me what you’re hoping to achieve out here.’

  Meyer gestured to the militants watching them in silence.

  ‘What it turns out, clearly, that I couldn’t in Clearwater. These people live in the greatest oil producing nation on earth,’ Stanley explained, ‘and their Royal Family takes the lion’s share of that wealth while they live in poverty. They are sick of the inequality, of the arbitrary use of Sharia Law to silence dissidents, of America’s support for a Kingdom whose leaders are essentially corrupt and greedy. I was wrong to trust the people of Clearwater, because they did not truly appreciate what I was doing, and they sold out at the first opportunity.’

  ‘Twenty million dollars,’ Ethan replied, ‘so we heard.’

  ‘Hard to blame them,’ Stanley admitted, ‘but they could have had so much more. But these people here in Saudi Arabia and others like them, the poor and the weak and the abused, are those who would most appreciate what it is that I’ve managed to create. It will be these people and others like them who will spread the word of my device with glee, because they understand what it’s like to have nothing. They know that passing on my device for free, so that nobody can profit financially from it, will benefit others like them across the world.’

  Meyer smiled as he looked at the heavily armed militants.

  ‘The meek truly shall inherit the Earth,’ he said finally, ‘for they outnumber the strong by billions. They will ensure that my Fusion Cage is distributed among the masses, for it is in their own interests to do so, and the act of kindness will also cause the collapse of the House of Saud.’

  Stanley looked at Ethan, the smile still broad on his features.

  ‘This is where the end begins, Mister Warner. The end of greed, the end of corruption, the end of energy wars and pollution: right under the noses of those who most want that all to continue. All I ask of you now is to help me protect my daughter. I will shoulder any further burden of risk alone.’

  Ethan glanced at the militants, who had watched the exchange in silence.

  ‘You guys really want to get back at your royal leaders?’ he asked. ‘If we can liberate Amber Ryan, then Stanley here will be able to give you the device that will render them powerless. Do you have any idea where Amber is, right now I mean?’

  The lead militant nodded slowly.

  ‘I know where she is,’ he replied, ‘and I know what will happen to her next.’

  ***

  XVIII

  Urayarah, 100km west of Damman,

  Saudi Arabia

  The desert was cold in the pale light of pre–dawn, the horizon a sharply defined line of blackness against a flawless deep blue. Ethan rode in silence alongside Lopez, following a line of militants making their way across the trackless wastes like shadowy demons traversing the barren plains of hell. Stars sparkled above them in the vault of the heavens, and the silence was broken only by the occasional snort from one of the splendid Arab horses as they climbed a dune at a gentle gradient.

  As Ethan’s mount crested the dune’s ridge he could see in the distance a feint line crossing the endless expanses of the desert, a metalled road linking Riyadh and Damman, both cities beyond sight but marked by the glow of their lights against the horizon.

  The plan was simple. Huck Seavers always travelled as part of an armed convoy, the cautious American always mindful of the risk of abduction for ransom. The militants would set up a staggered ambush, attacking the convoy from both in front and behind and pinning the vehicles in a cross fire. Amber would then be extracted and spirited away into the lonely deserts, far from the reach of Huck Seavers. Or so the militants figured, with the brash arrogance of those fighting with a god supposedly on their side.

  Ethan had extensive experience of the ability of the US military to probe deep into even the most inhospitable of terrain using UAVs, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, capable of deploying Hellfire missiles and staying aloft for days at a time. With Saudi Arabia such a close ally and themselves deploying US military aircraft and drones, the idea that anybody could simply vanish into the wilderness was fast becoming a thing of the past.

  ‘You know we’re going to have to high–tail it out of here, even if we do get hold of Amber?’ he whispered to Lopez as they rode.

  ‘I know,’ she replied. ‘We can’t trust the natives as far as we can throw them. The question is, where? Can Jarvis deploy anything to get us out of the immediate area? Can we even get hold of him out here?’

  Ethan rested one hand on his satchel, which contained a satellite phone Jarvis had supplied them with before they had left Chicago.

  ‘Probably, but I don’t doubt that the Saudis will detect the call. There won’t be much time before they vector military assets onto our position, and we won’t be able to get far before jets arrive.’

  Lopez nodded and glanced at the militants. ‘They’ve survived out here for long enough with the Saudi authorities breathing down their necks. Maybe they’ve got something up their sleeves that we don’t know about?’

  Ethan shrugged as they rode on toward the metalled road. It was true that despite having tremendous firepower behind them the combined might of the US Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines had effectively failed in Iraq and Afghanistan in quelling an enemy familiar with its terrain and fuelled by an unholy determination to repel the “infidels”. Numbers and local knowledge had effectively trumped superior technology and firepower even on the modern battlefield, the ephemeral nature of militant groups hard to combat, tough to bring out into open battle. Where one force was struck down, three more emerged in their place. The brutality of the suicide bomber was impossible to predict, the cruelty of the Islamic militants so terrifying that few military folk could predict just what their limits were, knowing only that they would not stop, ever.

  Saudi Dawn had planned an armed attack on a convoy belonging to an American company, and Ethan was acutely aware that he was effectively assisting them. It was only his knowledge of the corruption at the heart of Seavers Incorporated that compelled him to continue with the mission.

  ‘I don’t care,’ he said finally to Lopez. ‘We need to break off from these guys as soon as we can and get the hell out of Saudi Arabia.’

  ‘Done and done,’ Lopez agreed.

  Ethan spurred his horse up alongside Stanley Meyer’s. ‘So, are you going to tell me that this is all worth it, that we’re doing the right thing, that the world will be powered for free if this device of yours goes public?’

  ‘I’m hoping so,’ Stanley replied. ‘Things aren’t going exactly to plan though.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard about cold fusion, they never have.’

  ‘It’s not cold fusion,’ Stanley uttered angrily. ‘It’s Low Energy Nuclear Reactions.’

 
‘If you say so.’

  ‘Look,’ Stanley persisted, ‘cold fusion has become a byword for pseudoscience, but they clearly witnessed something or the scientists behind it would not have dared to go public. Those still researching the subject think that rather than nuclear fusion, what Fleischmann and Pons really observed was the conversion of one element into another, a transmutation that releases energy in the process: a low energy nuclear reaction.’

  ‘You mean like alchemy, lead into gold? You can’t be serious?’

  ‘I’m serious,’ Stanley said, ‘and so is NASA. Both their Langley Research Center and the Jet Propulsion Laboratory are studying the conversion of stable elements like nickel, carbon, and hydrogen to produce stable products like copper or nitrogen, along with heat and electricity. They have already demonstrated the ability to produce excess amounts of energy, cleanly, without hazardous ionizing radiation and waste.’

  ‘And that’s the same process your fusion cages uses?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Precisely the same, except I’ve added a fuel cell that massively increases the yeild,’ Stanley explained. ‘I’ve calculated that just one percent of the nickel mined each year around the world could produce the entire world’s energy requirements at a quarter of the cost of coal, if my fusion cage was adopted globally.’

  Ethan blinked, surprised at how plausible the whole thing sounded.

  ‘Doesn’t that mean you’re in a race against NASA?’ he asked.

  ‘In a sense. They’ll wish to commercialize the technology, whereas I wish to give it away. The science isn’t even that radical. NASA researchers rely heavily on the Widom–Larsen Theory published in 2006, which speculates that low energy nuclear reactions already occur on Earth in lightning, and may be responsible for occasional fires in lithium–ion batteries, which highlights that even low–energy nuclear reactors can produce dangerous amounts of energy. I’ve heard of several explosions in laboratories researching this LENR technology, which is another danger.’