The Carbon Trap (The Carbon Series Book 1)

by Randy Dutton

  The corners of his narrowed eyes wrinkled in amusement. I’ll shelve this for later. After the rollout…perhaps.

  He took the proffered refreshed glass, closed his eyes and switched gears to issues of the heart. His fingers restlessly drummed on the armrest.

  With a dour expression he paraphrased Dickens. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of my foolishness…it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of my despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we thought we were all going to Heaven, instead, we are all going straight to Hell. He was filled with questions and few answers.

  On his fifth scotch, his clouded mind relived his initial meeting with Anna.

  It was the day he last stepped out the door of his former employer.

  Sitting on a short walkway wall, smiling up at him was a beautiful, young lady. Just beyond was a black limousine, the passenger door held open by the driver.

  He slowed his pace to engage in a conversation he knew she would initiate.

  “Sven Johansson, my name is Anna Picard. Interested in lunch?” Her voice was subtly seductive.

  Their blue eyes locked – his showed slight confusion as he tried to place a previous encounter, while hers displayed only confidence.

  She was elegantly dressed in a white blouse, a mid-calf knit skirt, and high heels – an outfit enhanced by toned and tanned arms and crossed legs. She was in her early-20s, yet exuded the professional image of a practiced attorney – charming, but on the clock. Her expression alluded to a secret she held and wanted to share – with him.

  Seconds passed before Sven decided they’d never met, but she intrigued him. He considered the proposal. I wonder if this blonde beauty is for real? Well, I’ve got the time and the curiosity. so why the hell not?

  Picking up a black Gucci briefcase laying on the wall next to her, she stood and motioned to the limo. Soon they arrived at an exquisite five-star restaurant in San Francisco, known for its contemporary cuisine.

  The maitre d’ immediately embraced her. “Welcome back to Gary Danko, Miss Picard.”

  “Andre, it is always a pleasure to see you,” she warmly replied as Sven listened with increased intrigue.

  Andre escorted the couple into a small, intimate room with taupe-colored walls and museum-worthy modern paintings. “You are our special guests, so today…you have this room to yourselves. Bon appétit!”

  Lunch was served promptly, and with finesse.

  Sven nodded his head. “So far, I’m impressed!”

  Anna sat, her hands clasped on the table. She was studying his face. “It sets a nice tone for our discussion.”

  The waiter brought a bottle of red wine and held it forward with the label facing Anna. “The chef recommends Peter Michael, Point Rouge 2006.”

  She nodded. “That will do nicely, and please give my regards to Gary.”

  “Very good, Miss Picard.” the waiter nodded deferentially. He bowed slightly, then poured.

  Next, the waiter wheeled in a granite cart and provided a sampling of award-winning artisanal cheeses from around America. Minutes later, a dish of caviar and little tiny crepe-like pancakes were added.

  Sven squinted at the offering. “I recognize the fish eggs. What’s this?”

  Her brow lifted, but she explained patiently. “Sven, the ‘fish eggs’ are Golden Osetra caviar, and these are buckwheat blinis.” She smiled. “They go hand-in-glove, like a great partnership.”

  “Oh, you’re smooth.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Thank you.” Her smile widened as she spread caviar on a small crepe.

  “You know the chef, and you come often enough the staff knows you. Are you local?”

  “Hardly, but I do visit here a bit.” She took a bite.

  The waiter returned, serving an appetizer: Risotto with lobster, rock shrimp, Shimeji mushrooms, peas, corn, and roasted tomatoes.

  “You did say your boss was paying for this, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sven.” She took a sip of wine, and watched.

  “This is a quality spread. Do you eat like this a lot?”

  “Often enough...And if we come to terms, you can too.”

  Sven’s brows lifted, then he looked around the room.

  She put down her glass of wine, leaned forward and asked with a thin smile, “Sven, what would make you happy?”

  “Lunch with you is a good start,” he quipped. I’m good at getting women in bed. She might be the easiest ever.

  “Seriously, what professionally would make you happy?” She maintained a simple smile and direct eye contact.

  “Are you a genie, whose bottle I can rub?” He smirked. Oh and what a fine bottle you are.

  Her full lips tightened a bit before she spoke more directly. “Once more...It’s time for you to take this seriously. If not, then I pay the bill and leave.... Maybe I have to make this simpler for you. What do you want professionally?”

  Now he was annoyed. Putting down his wine glass, he leaned forward. “How about my own genetic engineering company, with unlimited funding, and no oversight?” He leaned back, and crossed his arms. There, an impossible dream.

  Unfazed, she cocked her head, and leaned forward. “How about two out of the three?” Her smile was undiminished.

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s the deal? Is this a joke? Who’s putting you up to this?”

  “No joke, no put up, and the deal’s real.” She leaned back with her wine.

  “Which one do I not get?”

  “The oversight…but…you get a great deal of operational freedom. We just set up the parameters.” Her expression was enigmatic and her tone sincere.

  “Who are you, Anna Picard?”

  “I’m a lawyer, and I’m making an offer.”

  “You’re what, 24? That’s young for a lawyer to be making a corporate deal.”

  “I’m a Harvard grad, and I’m empowered by my boss to make the deal.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “I can’t tell you unless you accept.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s how he wants it.”

  “Do you always follow his demands?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this a legal operation you’re talking about?”

  “The company certainly will be.”

  “Will be?”

  “It’s a start-up.”

  “What are the strings?”

  “We tell you the characteristics we want in certain genetically modified products, and you get it done.”

  “Do I get any ownership in the company?”

  “No. Ownership stays with the boss…but…you will be well-compensated, and you will get very nice annual bonuses based upon your deliverables.”

  “What’s the starting salary?”

  “What do you want?”

  He thought a moment. “How about a million per year?” He leaned back. Let’s see if my high ball offer cracks her facade.

  “How about two million?” She countered with a straight face.

  It was his cocky expression that cracked as he athletic build slumped in the overstuffed chair.

  She leaned forward. “And…we let you live in a house that you pick, we buy, and we own?”

  “Are you serious? I mean, you’re not a very good lawyer when you negotiate me up instead of down.”

  “Sven…I’m a very good lawyer, and we want your uncontested loyalty. Money isn’t an object here.”

  He leaned forward. “Why me?”

  “Because you have what we need.”

  Sven suddenly had an epiphany. “I get it! You want me to give you the secrets from my last employer. Yeah, that’s right, past tense. Sorry lady, I don’t work there anymore. They pushed me out…Damn, I could have used the dangled salary.”

  “Sven, we know you were tossed. We’re glad for it...waiting for it, in fact. It isn’t your previous
employer’s products we want. The reason they dismissed you is partly the reason we want you. And yes, the offer’s still open.” Her smile never wavered.

  “What do you know of me?”

  “You’re a gifted biogeneticist with great problem-solving insight and an innate confidence to experiment beyond normal caution. After graduate school, you joined your former employer, a biotechnology company in South San Francisco, where you pioneered revolutionary genetic attributes, but within three years quickly tired of lab work and the restrictive rules. You often presented radical ideas about field-testing new biological specimens, bypassing the regimen of regulatory approvals and the slow process of incremental testing. As a result, you ran afoul of corporate management, most of whom were much more cautious…thus, the reason for your dismissal.”

  “You’ve done your homework.”

  “There’s more. Your height and powerful build intimidated your bosses... not me, by the way…nor my boss. And by joint agreement, and with six months’ pay, you separated from your employer.”

  “That separation agreement was confidential. How did—”

  “We have our sources.”

  “Where would I work?” His smile was gone.

  “Where’s the best place to set up?”

  “South San Francisco, but it would take years to get an operation built and staffed. You have that much time and capital?”

  “Do we have a deal first? And before you accept, know this…” Her tone turned more serious. “We’ll take very good care of you, but if you try to screw us, you’re through! No arbitration, no compromising, no leniency.”

  Sven was startled. “That sounds…threatening!”

  Anna leaned forward and stared intensely into his eyes. “That’s life.”

  Sven paused before asking, “Do you need me to sign a non-disclosure and non-compete agreement before we go further?”

  “No…because I know you won’t screw the deal.”

  His brow furrowed. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because…I’ve studied you. I’ve known what you wanted before I asked. Why would you give up everything…to go back to nothing?” Still her smile didn’t crack.

  “I’ve never seen you before.” He evaluated her a moment. “I would have remembered seeing you…so, from where did you study me?”

  “How and from where I do my research is not your concern…so…do we have a deal?”

  Sven pursed his lips, looked closely as this siren’s expression, and gave a broad smile. “All right…Absolutely…I’m in.”

  “Good.” She suddenly broke into a beautiful smile, and her persona enlivened. Her left hand lifted her wine glass. “Then we have a deal.” She reached across the table with her right hand as to initiate a handshake. “And, for starters, you can pay for lunch…”

  “Hey wait—”

  “…with your new corporate credit card. Limit $200,000.” Suddenly, with a flick of her wrist, a black card appeared between her right thumb and forefinger.

  He took it from her elegant fingers and grinned at his name on the card.

  “Cheers!” Her glass clicked his. “By the way, his name is Alexis Swanson.”

  Sven’s eyes widened. “The billionaire? How’s he involved?”

  “He’s your new boss.” She slid a folder to him. “Now, I’ll tell you what we want you to design, and you find me the company, or companies, we need to buy, to make it happen.”

  “Hell, yes! Cheers!”

  At that point, the main course arrived: seared sea scallops with asparagus-pea purée, followed by a dessert of lemon soufflé cake with crème fraîche, panna cotta and raspberry sorbet.

  Lunch continued, uninterrupted, for three hours as Anna and Sven discussed the myriad details of setting up the new genetic engineering company to be called Snath Genetics Corporation.

  That was 10 years ago…

  Thump! The Boeing 747’s wheels touched down on the runway. Sven awoke with a start… and a pounding headache. A roar reverberated through the cabin as the jet’s reverse thrusters slowed the plane.

  “Welcome to San Francisco International Airport, where the time is 4:10 PM and the temperature is a balmy 72 degrees…” continued the jet announcement system.

  He was home, yet he felt a part of him hadn’t made the trip.

  Chapter 29

  July 1, 0630 hours

  Snath Genetics, South San Francisco

  The car whipped around the high-rise shadowed corner. Sven had just pulled his BMW ActiveE out of the St. Regis Residence building garage for the 15 mile drive to work. With hardly a whisper from its all-electric synchronous motor, the car surged onto the street. The eerie quiet only amplified his thoughts.

  This is the big day – the grand public rollout of our CO2 removal products that will save the world from global warming. I’ve got it all – great place, great company, great income, women when I want them – what’s to regret? So why am I in a funk?

  For the drive to Snath Genetics, Sven decided to play the mystery CD he had found when unpacking.

  How does that woman manage to hide her actions so well? Anna must have slipped it into my bag some time before I left the villa, but when did she have the opportunity? I’ve never heard of Rondó Veneziano. Scaramucce...what the hell does the album name mean? And then there’s the attached note saying ‘Sven – you should listen to this at least three times – the first time you’ll like it, the second you’ll love it, the third you’ll be addicted to it – Anna.’ That’s an odd suggestion.

  He inserted the disk. Immediately, a baroque chamber orchestra filled the car, and within a minute, Sven couldn’t help feeling a little more inspired. The wordless music was full of energy, passion, and even genius. Its rhythm section of drums, percussions, bass, and synthesizers seemed to celebrate life. It set the tone for the rest of his day.

  His parking space awaited him. Sven was in good spirits when he arrived at Snath Genetics. It was 7 AM, three hours before the planned product rollout. Already dozens of workers were busy unloading numerous vans, and placing catered food and equipment, a public announcement system, and 500 comfortable chairs for VIPs clients and the press.

  Sven looked at the floral display. There must be a million flowers here. Swanson’s idea, for some untold reason...or Anna’s.

  A dozen TV station vans and numerous foreign correspondents were jockeying for position, with perhaps a hundred of their own crewmen rolling out cable, and setting up lights and cameras. Some were already filming backup material for their later broadcasts. A very large screen was positioned high behind the center of the podium.

  Sven’s VP of Public Relations, Charles Smith, rushed up. “Glad to see you made it. I half expected you yesterday; we were here until midnight getting the testing chambers ready for the demonstration.”

  “I was dead tired. I decided being fresh today was more important than second guessing you. Everything set?”

  “All in hand,” an ebullient Charles confirmed. “The guys really are jazzed that we’re going to full production.”

  “Well, don’t burn out, Charles. This shindig doesn’t start for three hours. Where do you want me?”

  Charles handed Sven a thin notebook. “Here’s the agenda. It includes the Secretary General of the United Nations, a short speech from the President of the United States and, most importantly, Mr. Swanson speaking from Davos, Switzerland.”

  “And my script?”

  He flipped to a tabbed page. “I only tweaked it a little since you emailed it last week during your travels. Sven, where were you when you sent this?”

  “Offshore Alexandria, Egypt. Swanson had me to join him on his yacht.”

  “Tough life! Someday you’ve got to get me onboard that ship. I hear it’s got submarines!”

  While still perusing the script, he replied, “Yeah, Swanson, a few others, and I took one of them out before the UN conference to look at some of the Maldives reefs.”

  “Wow! That must have been
something!”

  “It was, but I’d rather have been on scuba than looking through a window…except for the sharks.” Sven grimaced.

  “You were up close and personal with sharks?”

  “Yep, that’s when having a submarine window between me and the wildlife makes me glad I chose the right tour.” His smile hid his thoughts. He doesn’t need to know that I spent half the time watching Anna looking out the window. Her bright eyes, her sense of wonder, her…oh stop it! God, why did I think back to that? A little funk sobered his mood.

  An hour later, several limousines started arriving with officials from around the world. The paparazzi photographing various celebrities who suddenly appeared for some face time.

  At the appointed hour, Charles stepped to the podium.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, and members of the press, please rise and join me in reciting the ‘Prayer to the Earth’, which celebrates its fourth year in the Global Student Textbook.”

  The crowd stood excitedly and joined in the recitation, knowing the words by heart. Years ago the ‘Prayer to the Earth’ had replaced the standard prayers and blessings in most global sporting events and political conferences.

  "The earth is not dead matter. She is alive. Now begin to speak to the earth as you walk.

  You can speak out loud, or just talk to her in your mind.

  Send your love into her with your exhalation.

  Feel your heart touching upon the heart of the planet.

  Say to her whatever words come to you: Mother Earth, I love you.

  Mother Earth, I bless you. May you be healed.

  May all your creatures be happy.

  Peace to you, Mother Earth.

  On behalf of the human race, I ask forgiveness for having injured you.

  Forgive us, Mother Earth"

  “Thank you, please be seated,” Charles said. “Next we will hear an address by the Under-Secretary General and Executive Director of the UN Environment Programme (UNEP), Dr. Porter Gulluth.”