by David Meyer
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.”
Chapter 54
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.”
Chapter 55
“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 ca
me 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.”
Chapter 56
“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.”
Chapter 57
As quietly as possible, I stole down a steep slope. I moved in a crouch, staying low to the ground.
The two guards continued to work the soil while the third one kept a casual eye on their progress. They chatted quietly amongst themselves and seemed more interested in the ever-present dust storm than their surroundings.
Aren’t they worried about the Grueler?
According to Carrie, the guards knew about the Grueler. So, why weren’t they keeping a lookout for it?
East of the guards, Beverly snaked down a winding trail. Graham, taking a separate trail, descended west of them.
I stopped at a boulder. I was about ten feet above ground. Glancing east and west, I checked on Beverly and Graham. Then I drew my pistol. “Freeze,” I called out.
The men froze in place. Slowly, their faces turned toward me.
“Place the rifle and shovels on the ground,” I commanded. “Then back up and lie down.”
The two diggers looked to the third man. His brow furrowed as he studied me. “I saw your picture a few days ago. You’re that salvage expert. How the hell are you still alive?”
“I won’t ask again. I want—”
The third man lifted his rifle. His finger squeezed the trigger. Gunfire filled the air as I ducked my head.
The other two guards dropped their shovels. They ran to the truck. One of them yanked the passenger door open. The other one reached inside and grabbed a pair of rifles.
More gunfire, largely drowned out by the wind, rang out. Peeking over the edge of the boulder, I saw a stunned look cross the third man’s face. Then he dropped the rifle and collapsed to the ground. Blood poured out from the back of his head, trickling toward the half-dug grave.
The diggers whirled around, guns in hand.
Deafening blasts erupted. Their faces froze.
Then they collapsed into heaps.
Pistols drawn, Graham and Beverly emerged from their hiding spots. While I covered them, they crossed the burial ground and checked the guards.
“Dead,” Beverly called out.
“That was loud.” Graham glanced toward the research station. “Do you think anyone heard it?”
The wind stiffened as I made my way to the ground. It cascaded against the boulders, causing pebbles and dirt to break away and clatter against each other. It ripped small branches from nearby trees and stirred fallen ones up from the soil. They whirled about, passing over and all around us.
“The wind is pretty fierce,” I said. “Hopefully, it drowned us out.”
Rocks banged against each other. Spinning around, I aimed my pistol at the boulders.
Benigno appeared. Without hesitation, he half-ran, half-slid to the ground. He sprinted to the truck and hoisted himself into the cargo bed. The sound of ripping plastic filled my ears.
Akolo ran down the hillside. He started for the cargo bed, but Carrie grabbed his shoulders. He resisted. Then she whispered a few words into his ear. He frowned. But he didn’t go any closer.
I studied the guards. Unfortunately, their uniforms were covered with blood splatter. We’d have to look elsewhere for disguises.
Twisting around, I climbed into the cargo bed. Using my machete, I sliced through several layers of plastic. A man’s face appeared. He looked old and sickly.
I moved onto the other bodies, making quick work of the plastic. The remaining bodies belonged to four women. The youngest looked to have been about twenty-five years old. The oldest woman had been pushing seventy years. Their physical attributes—height, weight, skin color, body type, and other things—differed wildly.
I cut away more plastic. I saw no wounds or abrasions. They showed no obvious symptoms or other signs of sickness.
Benigno collapsed to his knees. He lowered his head to the ground, sobbing softly.
A small lump formed in my throat. Sheathing my machete, I cast a look at Beverly. She stood nearby, her eyes focus
ed on our eastern flank.
Dim light shone on her neck. Her hair danced in the wind. Her sweat-drenched shirt clung tightly to her body.
What would I do if something happened to her? She was everything to me. Everything and more.
Benigno took a deep breath. “I can’t believe it.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He wiped his eyes. Then he leaned back and looked at the sky. “She’s not here.” A soft chuckle escaped his throat. “She’s still alive.”
Chapter 58
Laughing loudly, Benigno climbed out of the cargo bed. Akolo ran to him, threw his arms around him. They hugged tightly.
Benigno’s laughter proved contagious. Akolo started to laugh. Beverly smirked. Her lips quivered. Then she started to laugh as well. Graham emitted a great big belly laugh, like a drunken Santa Claus. Only Carrie, now perched in the cargo bed, didn’t crack a smile.
As I hopped to the ground, I stared at the research station. It was hard to believe we’d been on the island less than two days. It seemed more like two years.
Carrie appeared at my side. “I found Rowena.”
I exhaled. I’d nearly forgotten about Carrie’s source.
“I didn’t know her all that well,” she continued. “But she didn’t deserve to die.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet.
She took a deep breath. “I had a soft spot for Simona. Even when her people tried to kill me, I didn’t hate her. How can you hate a person that’s trying to save the world?”
I cocked my head.
“I just thought … you know, the greater good and all that.” A frown crossed her visage. “But I was wrong. I see that now.”
The greater good.
The greater good was an attractive concept. But not to everyone. Someone always paid a price. The only way the masses could have their so-called greater good was if they crawled on someone else’s back to get it.
Maybe Simona’s research station would slow climate change. Maybe it would save lives. But was it okay to kill other people just to make that a reality? Did the needs of the many truly outweigh the needs of the few? When I was part of the so-called many, it seemed like the righteous thing. But viewing it from the other side was a whole different matter.
