Vapor (20 page)

“I’m not going to mince words.” Barney Samuels took a deep breath. “We’ve got a problem.”

Soft chatter halted as the room’s occupants fell silent. Despite the gravity of the situation, Samuels couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The Separative members liked to talk and more importantly, to be heard. It was rare to see them reduced to silence.

Samuels cast his gaze across the room. An overhead LED fixture shone brightly, sending blinding rays of light to all four corners. The room was on the small side, measuring just ten feet by fifteen feet. That was how the Separative preferred it. Debate and discussion called for intimacy, not ample space.

The room was located in his basement, near his office. It contained no windows. But otherwise, it was almost an exact replica of Simona Wolcott’s old living room. Even the furniture—two long couches, one rocking chair, one easy chair, two metal folding chairs, and a rickety coffee table—was the same, having been donated by Simona many years earlier.

Although deliberately designed as a replica, the room wasn’t entirely a sentimental gesture. Yes, the Separative had first met in Simona’s living room all those years ago. But they were also interested in retaining the lively energy of those meetings. And while none of them were interior designers, they suspected her original setup was no accident. Somehow, it had brought out the best in them.

Janet Baker, Secretary of Agriculture, broke the silence. “Does this problem have something to with that
gentleman
who showed up at your party?”

Samuels rubbed his eyes. It was early morning and he’d barely slept a wink since Hooper’s visit. “His name is Ed Hooper,” he replied. “He’s a special agent with the U.S. Secret Service.”

Janet looked genuinely puzzled. “The Secret Service?”

“Agent Hooper doesn’t deal with protection. He investigates financial crimes, specifically major fraud.”

Bert Bane, Secretary of Defense, lowered his hairless scalp to his hands. “What does he know?”

“Obviously, he knows about us. He also knows Patricia …” Samuels nodded at his wife, a tall woman with a clenched face, “… infiltrated the Columbus Project’s systems.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Patricia, CEO of Fizzter Computers, shook her head. “Our digital footprint is covered. I made sure of it.”

“And yet, he still knows.”

“But does he know?” Secretary of Transportation George Kaiser leaned forward in his easy chair. “I mean does he know about Pagan?”

“He didn’t mention it. But he’s threatening to go to the press. If that happens, it’s only a matter of time before the whole world knows about Pagan.”

“He wants money, I take it.” Carly Nadas, Executive Director of PlanetSavers, exhaled. “How much?”

“One million dollars,” Samuels replied.

“That’s it?” Casually, she waved her hand in the air. “I say we give it to him and move on.”

“If we pay him now, we’ll be paying him forever,” Patricia said.

“We could just kill him,” Bane suggested. “It wouldn’t be hard to make it look like an accident.”

Kaiser frowned. “No, we need to question him first.”

“Agreed. We question him. Then we kill him.”

“Are you two insane?” Kate Roost, Secretary of the Interior, shook her head. “We’re not killing anyone.”

“Yeah?” Bane glared at her. “So, we should just let him go to the press?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “A group of high-ranking cabinet officers conspired to transfer billions of dollars to an environmental group in the middle of nowhere? Who’s going to believe that? And even if he managed to get his story out, we have the power and resources to quash it.”

Bane’s face pinched. “I’ll have you know—”

“Hang on.” Samuels held up his hands. “Obviously, we need to make a decision on Mr. Hooper. But before we do so, I need to make you aware of a second problem.”

The room fell silent for a second time.

Samuels took another deep breath. “A few days ago, I sent Alan Briggs to inspect Simona’s model.”

Janet groaned. “I thought we voted that down.”

“We did.” Samuels paused. “I know how everyone feels about this issue. But look around. Half the world is living in dust, the other half is inundated with water.”

“Simona told us things would get worse before they got better.”

“People are starving, fighting, even dying. And we’re responsible for it.”

“It’s for the greater good,” Kaiser replied.

“I know that’s what Simona says.” Samuels swallowed. “I just want to be sure.”

“Get to the point.” Carly gave him a look of mild disgust. “Did Briggs find anything wrong?”

“I’m not sure. You see, I’ve lost communications with him.”

John Tipper, Executive Director of the United Nations Environment Programme, leaned forward. “As in, he’s not picking up his phone?”

“As in, I think he’s dead.”

No one moved. No one spoke.

“Are you sure about this?” Janet asked.

“Briggs called me right before this meeting,” Samuels replied. “He was panicked. He said something about the model being fake. And then …”

“And then what?”

“Then I heard a loud blast. Like a gunshot.”

Tipper exhaled. “Did he say anything else?”

“Unfortunately, the line died.”

“Did you try to call back?”

Samuels nodded. “He didn’t pick up. So, I tried Simona. She didn’t pick up either.”

“It’s nothing.” Bane rubbed his scalp. “Briggs was probably just playing a joke on you.”

“Briggs doesn’t play jokes.” Samuels looked at everyone in turn. “I know no one wants to hear this. But maybe he found something. Maybe Simona killed him to cover it up.”

The room erupted with protest. Samuels sat back in his chair and waited for the initial furor to sort itself out.

Finally, Carly gained control of the floor. Her eyes glittered and she spoke with tremendous passion. “Admit it,” she said, practically spitting out her words. “You’ve been after Simona for months now.”

“That’s not true,” Samuels replied. “I just think—”

“You didn’t think,” Kate said. “Simona started the Separative. She taught us how to think, how to debate. But more importantly, she taught us how to be better citizens of the world. She’s not a killer. Not then, not now.”

Samuels exhaled. “But Briggs—”

“Never should’ve been on Pagan in the first place,” Janet retorted.

Samuels shifted his gaze across the room. “I know how all of you—all of us—feel toward Simona. And I understand why you disagree with my decision regarding Briggs. But he still claimed the model was a fake—his word, not mine—and he’s still disappeared.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Janet scrunched up her brow in thought. “Why would he call it fake?”

“Good question,” a new voice said.

Samuels’ heart sank. Even though his back was to the speaker, he still recognized the voice. “How’d you get in here?”

“It’s not my first time,” Hooper replied with a smile.

“Everyone, this is Ed Hooper,” Samuels said without turning around. “He’s the Secret Service Agent I mentioned.”

Heads swiveled toward the door. Eyes bulged. Jaws dropped.

Samuels waited for someone, anyone to speak. But when silence once again filled the room, he rotated toward the door. “I …” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of two figures. One, of course, was Ed Hooper. But the other figure caught him completely by surprise.

“Hello, Barney.” President Wade Walters strode into the room. His face, although devoid of expression, radiated with anger. “I think it’s time for a chat.”

Adjusting my goggles, I stared at the research station. The dust obscured everything, but I caught glimpses of the large building. It was close.

Tantalizingly close.

My throat was dry. My cheeks felt hot. I worked my tongue, trying to create some saliva. Instead, I ended up swallowing more grit.

I adjusted the goggles again, enhancing the loading dock. It consisted of a concrete platform, backed by a large set of metal doors. Several trucks and SUVs were parked outside it.

Lowering my gaze, I looked at Pagan Bay. It was beneath us, stretching away from our elevated position. Its shores were dark and lined with rocks. Its waters looked dull and blackish.

The bay was about fifteen hundred feet wide and maybe a thousand feet long. A couple of luxurious yachts were anchored just offshore. They sported gleaming rails and coats of fresh paint. I guessed their lengths to be in excess of thirty feet apiece. Even so, they looked small from my position.

“Not much of a view, huh?” Graham said.

“I’ve seen worse.” I whistled softly. “Look at those ships. Simona sure travels in style.”

“What’d you expect her to use?” Beverly grinned. “Rowboats?”

“Eco-Trek isn’t some gigantic conglomerate, swimming in cash. It’s a non-profit company.”

“Maybe those were the greenest boats they could find.”

“Sure. If by green, you mean money.”

Taking shifts, we’d watched over the research station for a couple of hours, taking care to keep an eye out for the Grueler as well. There were no patrols, so we’d observed the floodlights instead. Overall, the security wasn’t impressive. Apparently, Eco-Trek focused its efforts on keeping people from ever reaching the island rather than on protecting the station.

I scanned the boats for another minute. Then I turned my gaze back to the station.

One road led from the loading dock to the bay. The second road encircled the station. It connected to the first road as well as to the runway.

The runway was wide and stretched away from us, passing across the thin slice of land that connected the volcanoes to each other. Black sand beaches lay on either side of the runway.

Past the runway, I saw the second volcano, covered with sparse vegetation. It was tall and quiet, a silent guardian of the island’s many secrets.

A bit of movement caught my eye. “We’ve got activity,” I said. “The loading bay doors are opening.”

Graham stared through his binoculars. “I see people. They’re carrying guns. Must be guards.”

I shifted my gaze. “See those two in the back? What are they carrying? Is that plastic?”

He pushed the lenses closer to his eyes. “The outer part is plastic,” he replied tightly. “But the thing inside it? That’s a body.”

“I count eight guards.” I frowned as a puff of dust whirled around my face. Waving it away, I stared at the loading bay. “Four are watching the doors. Four are handling the bodies.”

“Give me those.” Benigno snatched at Graham’s binoculars.

Graham swatted his hand away.

“I need to see.” His breaths came fast, like he was hyperventilating. “I need to know if Rizzalyn is one of them.”

“You won’t be able to tell,” Graham said. “There’s too much plastic.”

“What are they doing now?” Beverly asked.

“They’re loading a truck.” I watched the guards toss the plastic-wrapped bodies into a cargo bed. Then three of them climbed into the front seat. “Okay, they’re in the cab now.”

Beverly glanced at Carrie. “Is this how it happened last time?”

“I never saw any bodies,” Carrie replied. “I never even reached the graveyard.”

The sound of igniting engines drifted into my ears. The truck started to vibrate gently.

“What kind of arms are they carrying?” Beverly asked.

“Rifles.” I watched the trucks rumble onto the road. Moments later, they drove toward Pagan Bay. “They’re heading this way.”

“Good.” Benigno’s jaw clenched. “What’s the plan?”

I heard the worry in his voice and saw the tension lines on his face. He was understandably petrified that one of the dead bodies belonged to his wife. “We get in position,” I said. “Then we strike.”

“If you’re too scared, give me a gun.” Benigno passed the binoculars to Beverly. “I’ll kill them for you.”

“We’re not scared,” Beverly said. “But we’re not going to rush into this either.”

He glared at her.

“She’s right,” Graham said. “We have to wait for an opening.”

I cast a fleeting glimpse at the research station. From our elevated position, I could see its walls, its blinking lights. I was nearly positive the reliquary lay somewhere inside that building. And if all went well, we’d be looking at it within the next hour.

Sweat gushed from my pores. Wiping it away, I took a quick drink of bottled water. Unfortunately, it did little to alleviate my thirst, my dehydration.

Shifting my gaze, I took in the scene below me. Three guards stood next to their truck at the bottom of some large rocks. They wore bulletproof vests. One guard leaned against the truck, a rifle clutched in his hands. The other two held shovels, which they stabbed repeatedly at the earth.

All around them, I saw disturbed dirt, marked by rocks.

Graves.

I did a quick count. Twelve rocks. Twelve corpses.

The burial ground was located next to the winding road. Curiously enough, small stones lined three sides of the burial ground, hemming it in to the road. They looked exactly like the ones lining the trail near the hatch. Even stranger, those weren’t the only stones in the area. Up close, I saw similar stones lining both sides of the road.

I slid backward, down a gentle slope. Then I spun around, casting a wary eye at the rocks and boulders. Seeing nothing, I looked west, toward Pagan Bay. Its dark waters shimmered in the distance.

The Grueler’s earlier disappearance still bothered me. Its retreat, while fortunate, didn’t change things. It was still dangerous, still deadly.

Where are you?

One by one, the others followed my cue. Sliding down the gentle slope, they joined me in a small circle.

Graham looked at Beverly. “What’s our play?”

“That depends.” She glanced at me. “Are we taking prisoners?”

It was a tough call. We were heavily outnumbered. Our ammunition was limited. Our only real advantage was surprise.

Maintaining that element of surprise was already a difficult task. And it would be near impossible if we had to deal with prisoners. We lacked proper restraints. So, we’d have to knock them out and hope they stayed unconscious or I’d have to leave someone behind to guard them. Neither option appealed to me.

But I knew from experience that killing people, even murderers, tarnished one’s soul. Not right away. But later, when things had quieted down. The guilt stuck in the brain and in the heart. There was no escaping its relentless assault.

“We’ll give them a chance to surrender,” I said. “But if they go for their guns, kill them.”