Mike Maden: River of Gods

Myers felt no guilt breaking her agreement with Diele and Greyhill to keep the incriminating audio under wraps in exchange for the pardon and release of Ian, Rao, and the others. Both men had committed a federal crime by agreeing to the deal in the first place. It would only add to Diele’s time in prison and put Greyhill in the center of the firestorm. Her calculation was dead-on. Both men kept their mouths shut. And they didn’t renege on the pardons— You can’t unring the bell , Diele told Greyhill—because Myers would release that audio conversation, too.

Myers reveled in the ruin of Diele and Fiero. But as far as she was concerned, it was only the beginning.

Myers feared for her country. It had been seized decades before by career politicians, an entrenched class of professional extortionists skilled in the art of the shakedown, and worse, of stealing money from future generations to buy votes. They enriched themselves and their families at the expense of the country. The greater crime was that their self-serving policies contributed to America’s rapid decline. Chronic unemployment, failing schools, endless wars, massive trade deficits, and crumbling infrastructure could all be laid at their feet, and yet, they were never held accountable.

Knowledge was power, but secret knowledge was the most powerful. The permanent political class continued to rule virtually unopposed despite the fact that the majority of Americans held them in contempt, as every public opinion poll confirmed year after year. What voters lacked were specifics. Regarding flagrant violations of the law, prosecutors lacked evidence. Myers was determined to change all of that.

Every member of the House was up for reelection in 2016, and one-third of the Senate. The Fiero and Diele exposures were an earthquake, but Myers wanted to create a political tsunami that would wreck the permanent political class that had bankrupted the nation and betrayed the Constitution.

Fiero and Diele were quickly pushed off the front-page headlines as fresh sacrificial goats fell victim to the media knives. The new revelations were bigger than WikiLeaks, the Watergate tapes, and the Pentagon Papers combined. Dozens of veteran politicians suddenly found the urge to “be with their families” rather than continue in public service before any incriminating data was released against them, hoping to avoid expulsion or conviction in order to maintain their lucrative, full-salaried retirement packages.

The ones that didn’t quit were clean, because they had nothing to hide. Men like Rep. David Lane, the only Democratic presidential candidate still qualified to run in all fifty states.

The data dump continued. So much quality information was released that newsrooms had to rehire entire staffs previously let go. Those newsrooms and editorial boards that tried to protect political favorites were quickly bypassed by the New Media outlets willing to tell the truth. Federal, state, and local prosecutors geared up for a series of high-profile trials.

Myers couldn’t be certain where all of it would lead, only that the power of entrenched incumbents might soon be broken.

Everything was about to change.

Galápagos Islands

Pacific Ocean

18 October

Jasmine Bath had a long bucket list. That was part of the reason she had needed to amass so much cash for her permanent retirement. She hadn’t quite reached her ultimate goal, but twenty-eight million dollars would go a long way, particularly the way she had invested it, spread out over twenty hedge funds in ten countries under as many different aliases.

She arrived in Ecuador under one of her many false identities, in this case a Swiss passport, and paid for everything in cash, including the hotel where she was staying, the air flight out to the islands, and the private Galápagos snorkeling tour—item number one on her list.

The October water around the archipelago was brisk but more than manageable in her wet suit. She had snorkeled and dived on numerous occasions in Hawaii, the Caribbean, and Fiji, but these ancient, pristine islands in the middle of the vast Pacific held a particular allure for her, thanks to Darwin. In her mind, this place was the origin of species. That wasn’t true, but no matter. It was her dream, and she was finally here.

Jasmine knew all about the wide variety of marine species she was likely to encounter. Seafaring iguanas, gentle whale sharks, and eagle rays were particularly interesting to her, but she was most excited about the sea turtles. She had a lifelong love of the magnificent, gentle creatures. She had swum with green turtles all over the world, and had recently donated a large monetary gift to a Florida turtle habitat—anonymously, of course. Swimming with the turtles in the Galápagos would be the ultimate experience.

Her private guide boat took her out to a favorite turtle haunt off of Roca Redonda, one of the smallest islands that made up the volcanic archipelago. The tiny western island was actually the top of a volcano. Deepwater marine life as well as mammals flourished in the nutrient-dense dark blue waters on this side of the archipelago thanks to the Humboldt Current. Captain Girondo—a young, muscular Argentine—would remain on the yacht to fix a gourmet lunch and, if her plans worked out, take a deep plunging dive into her unexplored regions later in the afternoon. There was one other boat in the area. Captain Girondo said it was a research vessel. No fishermen were allowed in these waters.

Today she decided to free dive without benefit of tanks. She’d take more time tomorrow and go deep. Thirty minutes into her paddling Bath managed to encounter several schools of harlequin wrasse, steel pompanos, bumpheads, surgeonfish, and sea horses among the coral. She swam with a red-mottled underwater iguana for a while and watched a yellow-bellied sea snake swim past. A dozen dolphins rocketed by her, and two curious sea lions came right up to her and played with her for a while. She’d read that the animals in these waters had no genetic memory of humans and were naturally fearless of visitors like her. She was utterly delighted. But she was also growing disappointed. Where were the turtles?

She continued swimming in lazy circles, bobbing on the surface until something caught her eye. In the distant murkiness of the deeper waters to the north she saw a cluster of movement, slow and deliberate. She took a deep breath in her snorkel and dived deep into the water to get a better view. She felt her ears pop as she descended twelve feet or so. No question. A bale of green sea turtles was stroking its way in her direction. She was thrilled. They were moving deceptively fast. They were less than three hundred feet away. She was tempted to surface again and catch another deep breath, but she was afraid her movements might be too jerky and send them off in another direction. She decided to sit tight and remain motionless, knowing she could easily hold her breath for another thirty seconds. On their current path they would swim right past her. With any luck, she’d be in the middle of them. Maybe even catch a ride.

The first great parrot-faced turtle approached. It cast a wary eye at her but decided she was no threat and swam past. A strong eddy brushed against her from the force of his powerful flippers.

A wall of enormous green turtles zoomed in right behind the first, dropping below her feet, merging to either side of her, skimming above her head, flippers stroking. Glorious.