Clive Cussler - Arctic Drift

“I still worry about the political trouble. There’s talk of anti-American legislation that could spill over and impact our business with China. Some of the more rabid members of Parliament are practically ready to declare war.”

“I can’t control the idiocy of politicians. The important point was to remove the Americans from the Arctic while we expand our acquisition of gas, oil, and mineral rights. We happened to get lucky with the Melville strike, but the strategy is clearly working quite nicely so far.”

“The geophysics team is close to identifying the necessary tracts to encompass the Melville gas field, as well as some other promising locations. I just hope that the natural resources minister continues to accommodate our requirements.”

“Don’t you worry about Minister Jameson, he will do anything I ask. By the way, what is the latest from the Alberta ?”

“She arrived in New York without incident, took on a commercial shipment, and is presently eastbound to India. There appear to be no suspicions raised.”

“Good. Have her sent on to Indonesia for a repaint in new colors before she returns to Vancouver.”

“It will be done,” the attorney replied.

Goyette sat back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. “Have you seen Marcy about?”

One of a handful of ex-strippers Goyette kept on the payroll, Marcy usually wandered the boat in revealing attire. The aide shook his head firmly, taking the cue that it was time to leave.

“I’ll inform the Chinese that we have a deal,” he said, taking the signed contract from Goyette and quickly exiting the office.

Goyette drained his glass, then reached for a shipboard phone to call the master stateroom, when a familiar voice froze his movements.

“Another drink, Mitchell?”

Goyette turned to the far side of the office, where Clay Zak stood with a couple of martinis in one hand. He was dressed in dark slacks and a taupe turtleneck sweater, nearly blending in with the room’s earth-toned walls. Casually walking closer, he set one glass down in front of Goyette, then took a seat opposite him.

“Mitchell Goyette, King of the Arctic, eh? I must say, I have seen photographs of your oceangoing barges and am quite awed. A stirring display of naval architecture.”

“They were specifically designed for the task,” Goyette said, finally finding his voice. A look of annoyance remained etched on his face, and he made a mental note to have a word with his security detail. “Fully loaded, they can sail through a Category 2 hurricane without risk.”

“Impressive,” Zak replied, between sips of his martini.

“Though I suspect your environmental worshippers would be disappointed to know that you are raping the country’s pristine landscape of natural resources strictly to make a buck off the Chinese.”

“I didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” Goyette replied, ignoring the remark. “Your project to the States was accomplished with success?”

“Indeed. You were correct in taking an interest in the lab’s work. I had a remarkable conversation about artificial photosynthesis with your research mole.”

Zak proceeded to describe the details of Lisa Lane’s work and her recent discovery. Goyette felt his anger at Zak diminish as the magnitude of Lane’s scientific breakthrough sank in. He peered out the window once more.

“Sounds like they could build an industrial carbon dioxide conversion facility that could be easily replicated,” he said. “Still, they’ve got to be talking years or decades in the future.”

Zak shook his head. “I’m no scientist, but according to your boy on the inside that is not the case. He claims the actual working process requires little in the way of capital resources. He suggested that within five years, you might have hundreds of these facilities built around major cities and key industrial emission sites.”

“But you put an end to such possibilities? ” Goyette asked, his eyes boring into Zak.

The assassin smiled. “No bodies, remember? The lab and all their research materials are history, as you requested. But the chief researcher is still alive and she knows the formula. I’d venture there’s a good chance plenty more people know the recipe by now.”

Goyette stared at Zak without blinking, wondering if it had been a mistake to rein in the assassin this one time.

“Your own mole is probably off selling the results to a competitor as we speak,” Zak continued.

“He won’t live long if he does,” Goyette replied. His nostrils flared as he shook his head. “This could kill my carbon sequestration plant expansion. Worse still, it would permit the Athabasca refineries to come back on line, even expand. That’d drive down the price of Athabasca bitumen, it’d ruin my contract with the Chinese! I won’t have it!”

Zak laughed at Goyette’s greed-induced anger, which drove the mogul to more fury. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small gray pebble and bounced it across the desk. Goyette instinctively caught it against his chest.

“Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell… You are missing the big picture. Where’s the grand environmentalist, the King of Green, the tree hugger’s best friend?”

“What are you babbling about?” Goyette sneered.

“You’re holding it in your hand. A mineral called ruthenium. Otherwise known as the catalyst to artificial photosynthesis. It is the key to the whole thing.”

Goyette studied the stone with quiet regard.

“Go on,” he replied curtly.

“It is rarer than gold. There are only a few places on earth where the stuff has ever been mined and every one of those mines has gone kaput. This sample came from a geology warehouse in Ontario, and they might well be the last source of the stuff. Without ruthenium, there can be no artificial photosynthesis, and your problem is solved. I’m not saying it can be done, but whoever owns the supply of the mineral will own the solution to global warming. Think how your green friends would worship you then?”

It was the perfect tonic of greed and power that made Goyette tick. Zak could almost see the dollar signs light up in his eyes as he digested the possibilities.

“Yes,” Goyette nodded hungrily. “Yes, we’ll have to explore the market. I’ll get some people on it at once.”

Staring back at Zak, he asked, “You seem to have a bit of the bloodhound in you. How would you like to visit this warehouse in Ontario and find out where this ruthenium came from and how much of a supply is left?”

“Providing Terra Green Air is operating a scheduled flight,” Zak replied with a smile.

“You can use the jet,” Goyette grumbled. “But there’s another matter of minor importance that requires your attention beforehand. It seems I have a small annoyance in Kitimat.”

“Kitimat. Isn’t that near Prince Rupert?”

Goyette nodded and handed Zak the fax he had received from the natural resources minister. Reading the document, Zak nodded, then gulped down his martini.

“I’ll take care of it on the way to Ontario,” he said, stuffing the fax into his pocket and rising from the chair. He moved toward the door, then turned back toward Goyette.

“You know, that research mole of yours, Bob Hamilton? You might consider posting him a nice bonus for the information he provided. Might make you a bit of money down the road.”

“I suppose,” Goyette grunted, then he closed his eyes and grimaced. “Just knock next time, will you please?” he said.

But when he opened his eyes, Zak was already gone.

The true die-hard members of the Potomac Yacht Club had already capitalized on the sparkling Sunday-morning weather and taken to the river in their sailboats by the time Pitt stepped onto the main dock at nine o’clock. An overweight man toting an empty gas can trudged toward Pitt, sweating profusely in the muggy morning air.