Darkness Falls (11 page)

"Don't try to handle me, Michael. You know as well as I do that you don't give a crap about me. You're just worried about yourself."

"That's nonsense, Jenna. I have unlimited funds and the ability to live as well as I want far from the eyes of the U. S. government. Do I want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder? No. But it will be a hell of a lot better than what you're thinking about dooming yourself to."

"Fuck you."

She shut off the phone and leaned her head against the steering wheel, turning it to look at Erin's photo on the front page of the Washington Post. She wasn't sure where it was taken, but he looked vaguely pissed off -- as though he was judging her. Again.

He'd been so angry when she joined Teague's organization. He'd seen Teague as an arrogant radical who embodied every-

thing that was wrong with the environmental movement. She still wasn't sure why she'd originally signed on with Teague. Fear, maybe. She'd never experienced feelings like those she had for Erin, and maybe the loss of control scared her. Maybe joining forces with Teague was a last pathetic attempt to hold onto the independence she was so happily allowing to slip away.

Not long after, Erin's book was published to a great deal of fanfare and even more controversy, but it was typically brilliant. It drained the idealism out of the environmental lobby and exposed the sloppy research, hypocrisy, and lack of credibility that he saw as plaguing the movement.

Predictably, everything in the book was exactly right -- exhaustively and methodically proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. But, in the end, it was like someone trying to convince you that there was no God. Even if they were right, was ripping the passion and mysticism from the world really a step in the right direction?

Of course, Teague's feelings on the subject had been much stronger. He'd seen Erin's book as an attack on him personally, and he was probably right. His reaction was predictable and incredibly stupid he set out to destroy Erin.

It soon became apparent to everyone but Teague that he was intellectually outclassed and that his attacks were just further publicizing Erin's theories. And as Energy and Nature rose up the bestseller list, Teague settled into what would have undoubtedly turned into a long, bloody, and ultimately pointless battle.

That is, until Jenna shifted the balance of power.

By the time Erin's book had been fully digested by a reluctant scientific community, she'd already agreed to help Teague with his ANWR plan. The escalating feud between the two men was the opportunity she'd needed to leave Erin, a break that had to be made if she was to go down the path she'd chosen.

And so she'd sided with Teague, attacking both Erin's book and his beliefs, trying to set fire to that famous temper of his. It had been the most painful thing she'd ever done, but she knew that if she could turn Erin's love to hate, it would be so much easier for him when he learned of her "death."

Of course, it had all gone horribly wrong. Instead of lashing back, Erin just stood there, unable to fully understand what was happening. She could still remember driving away for the last time, her belongings jammed into the back of her car, while he ran after her, trying to get her to tell him why she was doing it. She'd cried almost nonstop for two days. A lifetime's worth it seemed, because she hadn't been able to shed so much as a tear since.

But it turned out that wasn't enough. Now she was back from the dead to wreak even more havoc on a man who had been nothing but good to her. Just how would she do it this time? She could turn herself in and have him learn that she was alive from a television image of her shuffling along in chains. Or maybe she could just run for cover and leave him to his own devices. There was little doubt that Teague read the papers and would be extremely concerned with Erin's involvement in the government's investigation. Would he send Jonas? Would he figure out a way to heap any suspicion that might arise onto Erin's shoulders?

Would she ultimately be responsible for destroying the life of the only man she'd ever loved, not once, but twice?

Chapter
13.

It could have been worse, Erin Neal told himself. At least he wasn't standing in the middle of the Oval Office.

Neither he nor Beamon had been invited to sit, so they just stood near the wall, watching the seats around the conference table fill with men in suits and military uniforms. Erin shifted nervously from foot to foot as the men leaned into one another, talking in low tones, occasionally glancing in his direction.

He'd never been to the White House, and at that moment he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be less. On the long, sleepless flight back from Saudi Arabia, he'd tried to absorb himself with work, but had spent most of the time thinking about Jenna.

Jack Reynolds entered and was the first to make eye contact. He strode across the dense carpet and gripped Erin's sweaty palm. His smile was polite, but the intensity of his stare and the tone of his voice belied it. "Whatever you have, it better be good."

He started to pull away, but Erin clamped down harder on his hand. "Thanks, that helped a lot." And then he mentally added "Prick."

As the energy secretary retreated to his seat, Beamon leaned into Erin's ear. "Relax. They're just people and half of them are dumber than a box of hammers."

Erin snorted quietly, but then fell silent when President Dunn walked in and took a seat. He was shorter than he looked on television, but it didn't matter. He was still the President of the United States. The Leader of the Free World. The Guy With His Hand on the Button. The --

"Okay," the president said. "I don't have much time. Can we get started?"

"Yes, sir." Jack Reynolds indicated behind him. "This is Erin Neal. He's been working on the bacterial infestation problems at ANWR and just got back from Saudi Arabia, where, as you're aware, they've found a similar problem. Dr. Neal?"

He didn't move, forcing Beamon to give him a not-so-gentle nudge.

"Uh, yes. Thank you," he said, approaching the end of the table where he'd set up the laptop Mohammed Asli had given him.

"In fact, the infestation in Saudi Arabia isn't similar to the one in Alaska. It's exactly the same. The same bacteria."

"You're certain," Reynolds said.

"Yes."

"That seems like a long distance for it to travel. How did it get into those reservoirs?"

Erin took a deep breath. "Differently than in Alaska. In ANWR I suspect that it was introduced to the wells individually through the chemicals pumped into the ground during production. In the case of Ghawar, it appears to have gotten in through the water injection system about a year and a half ago."

"My understanding," Reynolds said, "is that the water is specifically treated to prevent this kind of contamination."

"That's right," Erin said, grateful for Reynolds's prompting, even though it was almost certainly self-serving. "And the treatment is pretty effective. But it assumes a naturally occurring bacteria and not one that was introduced on purpose."

Dead silence. It lasted for a good ten seconds before the president spoke. "You're saying this is a terrorist act?"

The image of Jenna in full Arab garb, complete with a belt made of dynamite, flashed across his mind. "I'm saying . . . I'm saying that it was deliberate."

"Now hold on," Reynolds said, suddenly finding himself in the uncomfortable position of not knowing the answers to the questions he was asking. "Just a few days ago, you told me in no uncertain terms that this was a natural phenomenon."

"Yeah, it never occurred to me that someone would do something like this, so I was biased toward a natural explanation. But I know now that I was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole."

"How sure are you?" the president asked. "Pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent."

Dunn turned toward Jack Reynolds. "And is there any way to corroborate this?"

Reynolds tapped the table nervously. "We can have our people look over the data, but I think everyone agrees that Dr. Neal here is the world expert by a fairly wide margin."

"Jesus Christ, Jack. We first heard about the Saudi problem, what? Over a month ago? And we're just finding out about this now?"

"Sir, I --"

The president held up his hand and turned back toward Erin. "What kind of damage are we talking about?"

"I've made some assumptions and created a simulation," Erin said, pulling a stack of folded 3-D glasses from his back pocket and sliding them to the center of the table. "Put these on please."

He tapped a few commands into the laptop and a three-dimensional map of the Ghawar reservoir came up on a screen behind him. The lights dimmed automatically and that, combined with the cardboard glasses now perched on the faces of his audience, created a scene eerily reminiscent of Dr. Strangelove.

"The purple stain you see spreading through the reservoir represents the bacteria. You'll notice that the date counter at the top started about thirteen months ago, which is when we determined the bacteria was introduced."

He paused the simulation on the current date. "So here we are now. You can see the wells that have gone down and get an idea of which are next." A tap on the ENTER button started the stain moving again until it covered the entire field.

They all just sat there staring until a pale man with slicked-back hair finally broke the silence. "Are you telling us that the rest of the Ghawar field will go down within the next four months?"

"Four months-ish," Erin said. "I don't know if it will be completely down by then, but I'm absolutely certain that there won't be a significant amount of oil being produced there."

"And just how much oil is produced at Ghawar?"

"It's by far the largest field ever discovered. It accounts for about six percent of the world's supply and ninety percent of Saudi Arabia's production."

"Let me get this straight," the president interjected. "You're telling us that in a few months, we're going to have a six percent drop in oil availability?"

"Worldwide, yes. But keep in mind that Ghawar actually accounts for more like thirteen percent of U. S. imports."

Another long silence.

"If this is true," the president started, "can we get the Saudis to ramp up production at their other fields to cover the shortfall? They've already agreed to make up for the reduction in Alaska."

Erin wasn't sure that the question was aimed at him, but no one else seemed particularly anxious to answer. "Unfortunately, Ghawar accounts for most of their useful excess production capacity. So, in a word, no."

"Then it's your opinion that we're going to see a sudden thirteen percent drop in our oil imports," the president said, clearly having a hard time getting his mind fully around the ramifications of what he was saying. "And that there's nothing we can do about it?"

Erin didn't answer.

"Dr. Neal?" Reynolds prompted when the silence became uncomfortable.

"That may be . . . well, it may be optimistic," Erin said. "As I said, this appears to have been done quite a while ago. Now, if I'd gone through all this trouble -- to create a highly sophisticated bacteria and to get it into reservoirs, I wouldn't have only hit Alaska and Ghawar. I'd . . . well, I'd have hit them all."

He punched a few commands into the laptop and a color-coded list replaced the map on-screen.

"Because there are thousands of oil-producing fields in the world, most people think we're pretty diversified. But actually, twenty percent of the world's oil comes from just four giant fields. Another thirty percent comes from a hundred more fields, and the last fifty percent comes from about four thousand small fields. The list you're looking at shows fields in the logical order someone would target them based on size and how easy it would be. So, as you can see, you'd start with Ghawar in Saudi Arabia, then move on to Burgan in Kuwait, then Kirkuk in Iraq, and so on. Keep in mind that all the water-injection systems that I'm aware of are unprotected -- meaning the security on them is limited. No one really anticipated this threat."

"How much oil is represented by that list?" Reynolds asked.

"About a third of the world's production and reserves."

Everyone began talking at once. The general tone hovered between skepticism and outrage, all aimed directly at Erin.

The president raised his hand again and everyone fell silent. "Who stands to gain from this?"

"What?"

"I notice Iran isn't on your list. Why not?"

Erin was suddenly aware that what he said here had the potential to ripple through the world in ways he'd never considered. If he gave the wrong answer, could he wake up to news of the bombing of Tehran and all the innocent people who lived there? "Sir, I'm a biologist. That's not really my area."

"Then make it your goddamn area," the president said. "Why isn't Iran on that list?"

"Because they don't use water injection.

They keep their reservoir pressure up with natural gas."

"Then they wouldn't be affected by the problems we're talking about."

"No, but --"

"And would you say that it's likely the shortage you're describing will cause a massive increase in the price of oil, which could potentially make them one of the wealthiest countries in the world?"