David Dun - The Black Silent

"But who says you can use this methane?"

"That's a good point," Sam said. "Gempshorn might know something about that."

"It's probably not relevant, but Gempshorn had cancer."

"What do you mean had?"

The windows were fogging, reducing visibility. Sam started the motor and turned on the defrost. Twenty minutes was forever.

"I don't know. He's still alive. In fact, that day I saw them, Nelson had an IV plugged into his arm. Said it was for the cancer, but said not to tell anyone because his family didn't know. He didn't want to worry them."

"Do you know for a fact he was treating cancer?" Sam asked. "Doesn't that seem odd, doing chemotherapy at a friend's home?"

"Ben's a biologist, but, yeah, I suppose it does."

"What if they were panicking in part because you saw the IV?"

"God, you have a suspicious mind. On the other hand…" She stopped.

"They told you nothing about the IV?" "They said it was doing good things, working, whatever, and they asked that I keep it confidential."

"And, of course, this cries out for the possible conclusion that they were giving him some kind of antiaging formulation. Would that be a huge leap?"

"I think it would," Haley said. "I never knew Ben to experiment with people. It's completely unethical without an approved trial, and he had no approved drug trials that I know about."

"At any rate this document is amazing," Sam said. "And Gibbons was just sitting on it."

"The question's whether it has anything to do with long life."

"I see more pages," Sam said.

Haley read for a minute, while Sam studied a couple men parking a car in the marina.

They had a big anchor in the back of their pickup. He doubted Frick would do anything that subtle, but he wished Rachael would hurry.

"Oh, my God." Her voice startled him. "Here's something else altogether. One of Ben's colleagues shows that this methane could explode up from the ocean floor." Sam looked around, watching for Rachael, watching for deputies.

"They think methane explosions have caused catastrophes a number of times already.

Some of this looks like a literature review to substantiate the calculations," she said as she flipped through the pages.

"According to this, it could have caused the mass extinction at the end of the Permian Era. Ninety-five percent of the marine species and seventy percent of land animals and plants. Gone."

"That's scary, but it's just a guess." "It says, 'Methane was also involved in precipitating a giant underwater slide off Norway…' Man, we're talking a massive one. Sam. It was eight thousand years ago, but it created tsunamis sixty-five feet high. Compare that to Indonesia. An earthquake triggered the methane release, and that caused the landslide."

Sam nodded, his eyes still on the parking lot. "Oh, my God. They think that in prehistoric times the atmosphere itself lit on fire as a result of a methane release. Or even if there wasn't enough to burn, this says, oxygen could get so thin it would be like living on top of a sixteen-thousand-foot mountain."

That one Sam could imagine, having climbed Mt. McKinley as a teenager with his father. Sixteen thousand feet was substantial. He could imagine someone sitting in their living room unable to breathe except in gasps, nauseated, head aching… incapacitated.

"Listen to this conclusion," she continued. '"The world slumbers not realizing the great peril of an unstoppable chain reaction methane release.'

"'The seafloor methane cycle is part of earth's carbon cycle and exercises a great influence over climate shifts that has not been sufficiently studied. Vast quantities of methane have been stored in ocean sediments and there are various potential mechanisms for catastrophic release.' But there is a note here that Ben wonders if this would happen over time, threatening a crisis round of global warming, rather than asphyxiation in your living room."

"Astounding, perhaps deadly either way," Sam said. "I get Ben's meaning now. 'One sigh and we all die.'"

He checked his watch. "It's time."

A fter what Gibbons said, Sam had altered the escape and diversion plan to allow for a return into the Sanker Foundation facility. It was worth taking one last look inside to find Ben or more of his research. Then, depending on what he found, or didn't find, they'd leave the island and go to Lopez Island across the channel, per the original plan.

Haley appeared as stunned on the review of the plan as she had the first time. She bore a significant responsibility in the scheme to keep Sam alive while they went after Ben.

Sam could see that she appreciated being trusted to this degree. The problem was, though, that what she would be doing was very dangerous, and he wasn't sure she could do it and survive. A bond had been growing between them, and Sam realized that he was probably more concerned about Haley's safety than she was worried about herself.

The parking lot was well-lit, but the mist blowing through left halos everywhere, the fog sending an extra chill down the backbone, especially when one contemplated extreme boat maneuvers in the black of the night.

Sam turned to her. "There's something I need to tell you. It's about the work I've done."

"I know it's been ugly. You've told me enough to know that."

"It's not just that. I've lost a lot of people. Some were people I loved. So far, I haven't lost me. But what works for me doesn't always work for my fellow travelers. And here's the thing, Haley: I might be able to hit Sanker and do the rest without you. Would you consider walking to a friend's house and just hiding until this is over?"

"Absolutely not," she said. "Your plan depends on diversion, on rattling Frick and making him look weak in front of the deputies. I see how it works-Ben's life, our lives, depend on it-and I'm going to do it."

"I know how important Ben is to you. And stopping Frick." "That's right. Thanks to Ben, I'm an experienced pilot, and thanks to growing up in these islands-and my ex-boyfriend and Ben-I know a lot about fast boats.

"I need to live long enough to see my heel on Frick's neck," she said. "If I die, I swear I won't hold it against you."

At that, he struggled to smile but couldn't quite pull it off.

"We can't let Frick hurt Ben," she continued. "You just need to trust yourself. I don't know what those people did to you, to your legs, but I know you're here, and so one way or another you beat them."

He looked at his watch. Rachael was due. "If we assume that Ben discovered something that would slow aging, or prolong youth, how long ago do you suppose he did it?" Sam said.

"I'd say quite a while. Frick came to Sanker nine months ago, so it was probably at least three months previous that Ben somehow tipped his hand to Sanker that he had something of value working. It must have been years in the making."

"So Ben has kept his work to himself a long time."

"Yeah," she said. "And let's not forget Glaucus, the youngest old octopus in the world."

"Right. How old's he?"

"Now I have figured out that he is probably seven. And it seems like Ben could have had something five years ago, if that's the case. Or maybe even seven if he genetically altered Glaucus at conception."

"There she is," Sam said. A car had pulled in behind them.

"What now?"

"I've got to go down to the dock with her and help her find a hiding place until you come by with Frick's boat. I'll get a portable VHF radio from a friend's boat. I'll leave her there and she'll get ready. Then we've got to go park her car."

"Was this sort of thing routine for you during the great silent period?" Haley asked.

Sam opened the door. "Regrettably, it was."

It had come to Frick at a moment of frustration. McStott was droning on, taking a long time to say nothing, and something triggered a memory of Sarah James. Her mention of the safe-deposit box had seemed choreographed-another of Ben Anderson's precautions. She lived on Lopez Island and commuted daily to Friday Harbor on her speedboat. As his assistant she knew Anderson's comings and goings, and she was also his close friend. Frick suspected that they had become lovers, or at least that they thought about it.