The Carbon Cross (The Carbon Series Book 2)

by Randy Dutton

  “What worried Anna?”

  “The official had bought an expensive speedboat and had its picture on his desk.”

  “Didn’t she frame an oil company president for the murder...guy by the name of Heyward?”

  “Him and some mining executive. But the oil man initiated an independent investigation. Soon after, the Maldives imposed a news blackout. Then Interpol’s effort ceased and the press was misdirected to believing it was a boating accident.”

  Gabriel cocked his head and pressed his index finger to the side of his mouth. “I wondered why I hadn’t seen it in the press the past few weeks. I’ll check on that.” He sat at the table and wrote notes on a legal pad.

  “Gabe, don’t stir up a hornet nest,” Swanson cautioned. “I don’t want the media renewing their interest. Let it go.”

  “It’ll be discrete. It may help explain what’s unfolded here. I’ll be back with you in a couple hours. I’m going to check progress on the security search.”

  Chapter 5

  August 6, 1400 hours

  Oval Office, White House

  The Secret Service agent closed the door behind him. Only two men remained in the Oval Office.

  “Get me a gin and tonic, will you, Jack?” President Enrique Fernandez unbuttoned his dark blue suit jacket and plopped onto the gold brocade sofa.

  “Mr. President, your global warming solutions speech was magnificent!” Chief of Staff Jack Dowell said while walking to the wet bar.

  “Yes, I agree. Our base loves that I sold Alaska for $1.1 trillion to pay for the UN Carbon Law – especially since it keeps the flag intact by making D.C. a state.” He opened a lapis-decorated desktop humidor and picked out a Montecristo.

  “Wasn’t that a gift from Swanson?”

  “Yes.” His head motioned the proffered open box to Dowell – who shook his head.

  Dowell handed the president his drink, then sat in an opposing sofa. “Symbols are important,” he affirmed while leafing through his notes.

  “They certainly are.” The President lit his cigar, took a deep inhale, and after a moment’s pause, exhaled upward. He smiled and his eyes drifted down to the new oval rug. It now included quotes from famous progressives radiating from the presidential seal. One particular FDR quote caught his eye. ‘In history, nothing happens by accident.’

  “Sir, the UN Special Envoy dropped by earlier today. Said the Secretariat has more healthcare regulations he wants us to adopt.”

  “Let me guess,” the president’s enthusiasm lowered. “We’re to expand the death pathway provisions in the health care law from three years to include those likely to die within five?”

  “You are prescient, Sir.”

  Fernandez smiled, leaned back and put his feet up on the table. He puffed a smoke ring.

  Dowell continued, “They want us to expand the health care sterilization from menarche to menopause.”

  Fernandez’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, Mister ‘I’ve-taken-Latin’.... Spell it out. What does this do?”

  Dowell’s mouth momentarily tightened as he resisted a smug expression. “It expands free preventative services for women throughout their reproductive lives, beginning at onset of menstruation – around age 12 – without requiring parental permission. It’s the inevitable next step in reducing CO2.”

  The president nodded. “That should help us lower global population to the UN’s goal of two billion.”

  “Precisely. And every American we prevent being born reduces the global carbon footprint by 9,441 metric tons.”

  “That much, huh? Well then, I’m all for it.” Fernandez nodded. “Being part of the ‘open society,’ we’ve got to streamline our regs with the UN anywhere we can.”

  “With their ascending power, we mustn’t run afoul of it.”

  “I see it as...more personal.” The president pointed with his cigar. “We should save money in health care and welfare – particularly with minorities.”

  Dowell’s face scrunched. “Maybe not so much. The UN’s increasing the annual Millennium Development Goal Fund to two trillion dollars. Our share’s a quarter that.”

  “Ouch! How much of that comes back to the US in contracts?”

  “The GAO estimates half.”

  “I want only government-approved sources to get first shot on those.”

  “We’ll make sure that gets done, Sir. Our agencies will prescreen all companies for compliance with your directives.”

  “It’ll certainly help the unions.”

  “Yes, Sir. They’re essential to our cause.... Sir, might I recommend we focus on implementing the death pathway first in states that vote conservative?”

  The president chuckled. “Kill off conservative voters? That’s rich!”

  “It could make a difference in swing districts,” Dowell pointed out.

  “Sure. Just...make sure no one knows of this conversation. Now, Jack, what of the campaign?”

  “Yesterday, our party leadership assured me there will be no challenge to your re-election bid. They’ve even created a new campaign strategy around selling Alaska back to Russia.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s about how a man with no prior business experience before becoming president closed the world’s greatest business deal with a 1,666 fold profit.”

  He leaned back. “Buffett, eat your heart out!

  “And that’s after adjusting for inflation!” Jack clicked glasses with his boss. “Your apologies to the world and Mother Earth for America having emitted so much carbon dioxide were particularly effective in rallying our base.”

  “Well, we are citizens of the world and Americans have made more than our share of mistakes. I know our actions will make others like us more. Oh, but it’s going to be a great year! First, the international community hails us for fully implementing the UN Carbon Law. Then, mostly American companies come up with the technologies to replace fossil fuels and to trap CO2 from the air.”

  “Well...technically, Sir...while Snath Genetics is a US company, it’s owned by the Snath Group, based out of Monaco.”

  The president picked up a silver photo frame from the coffee table. In its holographic image, he was embracing a distinguished silver-haired man at a fundraiser. “And Snath is wholly-owned by Alexis Swanson. Tell me...how in the hell does he operate his hundred-billion dollar company from Monaco? It’s not known for corporate HQs.”

  “As I understand it, all critical decisions ascend to him, whether he’s on his megayacht, his New York estate, or...wherever he’s traveling.”

  “I see.... Did I ever tell you I was on that yacht when I was VP?”

  Dowell leaned forward. “No, Sir. But I’d love to hear the details.”

  “He named it the Spider. It’s one of the largest in the world. God, I love that thing!” Fernandez grinned at the ceiling reminiscing. “Months before the primary, he helo’ed in several key politicians from Miami. We spent several days in the Caribbean discussing global policies with him and a few of his key executives.... Bit of a haze, though. I do remember one very striking blond among them. Alexis often deferred to her suggestions. Anyway, yacht’s a portable palace longer than a football field! It’s got the best food, the best liquor, and”—his eyebrow lifted—“great entertainment. Swanson has class, and employs quite an entourage of beautiful hostesses to serve him.” Silently he thought, and his guests!

  “Was your wife with you?”

  A twisted smile formed. “I’m smiling, aren’t I? No, Jack, she wasn’t. She gets seasick and avoids anything on water – not that the Spider has much detectable movement. But I wasn’t going to tell her the ship’s stable as hell.”

  “I hear he has quite the mobile office...usually patched in via satellite and, from there, monitors the work of his divisions.” Dowell said.

  “But why Monaco? Why can’t we get him homeported in the US?”

  “Tax avoidance, Sir. It’s the same with a lot of your supporters.”

  The president studi
ed the Snath logo in the photo background. “What’s Finis Justificat Media mean?”

  Jack pressed his lips together before responding. “The End Justifies the Means.”

  The president’s head pulled back and his eyes widened. “Really? He’s got guts to put that on his logo.” The picture went back on the table.

  “The media’s afraid of him, so they don’t question his eccentricities. Besides, he has his fingers in many of their editorial boards,” Jack added.

  “As you well know, I’ve had to hire of few of his staff myself,” the president quipped.

  “Damn annoying people too, Sir. They don’t follow the chain of command, and no doubt they’re passing information back to him. But the money he brings into your campaign makes it worth it.” Dowell nodded to the photo. “We should be able to get another big fundraiser at his mansion...maybe pull in another thirty mil, not to mention what we get from his foundations and contacts.”

  “Let’s lock that in while we’re riding high.” The president held up his whisky in salute. “The Hollywood crowd and media love us.”

  “Will do.” Dowell looked at his notes. “Sir, I’ve set up an appointment with your National Science Advisor day after tomorrow.”

  The president’s smile faded. “What’s he want?”

  “He wants to brief you on the carbon-trapping technologies that have been released. Says there are some glitches.”

  The president motioned with his fingers. “Give me an overview. What problems?”

  “Well, he’s saying the Snath Genetics’ carbon-trapping moss is out of control and proliferating around the world.”

  “Isn’t that the CO2 filtering material we touted to the global media July first?” Fernandez asked as he rose from the sofa.

  “The very one. Fragments are breaking off and going aloft. The wind’s scattering them far and wide.”

  “I didn’t think moss went airborne.”

  “Well, it’s not really a moss but a genetically engineered angiosperm, closer to a bromeliad or ‘air plant.’” Dowell shrugged. “It looks similar to a delicate Spanish moss, so moss is what everyone’s been calling it.” He emitted a slight chuckle. “Our Science Advisor heard a reporter call it ‘Fuzz.’”

  “Catchy name.” The president nodded then turned and looked at the window. “Is that this grayish green stuff outside this window?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The President shrugged. “So, what of it?” His face moved up to the glass to get a better look. “It’s kind of pretty.... How’s the Fuzz grip the window muntins?”

  “I’m told it grows tiny barbs.”

  “So it clings to most anything?”

  “That’s right, Sir – buildings, trees, shrubs, rocks. It’s propagating exponentially, and in broader environmental conditions than we were briefed.”

  The president turned back to Dowell and growled, “So Swanson lied to us?”

  “Not that we can admit. Back when you were vice president, we let Snath skip most of the Department of Agriculture testing—”

  “Why’d the hell we do that?!” The President sat at his desk and leaned forward, his penetrating eyes staring at his chief of staff.

  “To accelerate the schedule. It’s why we passed the Genetic Products Assurance Program to keep the courts from overriding USDA decisions. We needed to ensure your future presidency could claim the credit for solving global warming,” Dowell answered.

  “Didn’t we hold a bioethics commission years ago?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And?”

  “Here’s the upshot. Our experts determined biogenetically designed life-forms presented ‘limited risks’ and had little chance of surviving in the competitive natural ecosystem. Those that might present a risk would include a suicide gene so they die without chemical support.”

  “Michael Crichton premised the same thing in Jurassic Park. That dinosaurs could be designed to be controlled by holding back—” He stumbled for the chemical term.

  “Lysine, Sir.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. But the dinos found a way around it.”

  “That’s fiction.”

  “But hasn’t fiction become reality here?”

  Jack looked up in thought, then nodded. “It appears so.”

  President Fernandez steepled his fingers and pondered the issue. “Okay, this stuff’s out now. So, what’s the downside?”

  Dowell’s brow furrowed. “Sir, we’ve introduced an invasive species that our experts say may spread around the world.”

  “Over what period?”

  “Months.”

  The president leaned forward. “Stuff absorbs CO2 doesn’t it?”

  He hesitated. “Well, yes.”

  “Does it recycle carbon back into the atmosphere?”

  “Not really, Sir. Its remnants are nearly pure carbon, kind of like char.”

  The president’s mouth curved into a sly grin. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Theoretically, yes.”

  The President’s smile expanded. “And now it’s free?”

  Dowell nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then, if it’s out of control, we don’t have to pay Snath, do we?”

  Dowell mimicked his boss’ grin. “No, Mr. President, I guess not. We save money.”

  “And won’t CO2 levels drop faster?”

  “That’s the presumption.” Dowell nodded with a broader smile.

  “Spin it that way!” President Fernandez announced. He held his index finger in a professorial pose and spoke in a softer voice, “But Jack, spin it gently so we don’t antagonize Swanson too much. I still hope for that fundraiser with him.”

  “Yes, Sir! Perhaps you can give him a gift.... Something for his ego.”

  The president’s brow arched. “Is there a big enough gift?” He chuckled. “Okay, what do you have in mind for the world’s richest man?”

  “A Presidential Medal of Freedom.”

  Fernandez leaned back while nodding thoughtfully. “A bit of metal, a swatch of cloth, some pomp and circumstance.... Sure...why not! Should we wait for the Fourth of July?”

  Dowell shook his head. “He’s not a US citizen and you have the discretion to award it anytime.”

  “Good. Set it up, and quickly, before we cancel his carbon dioxide filtration contract. Next?”

  Dowell put down his pen and looked up at his boss. “The Science Advisor will highlight a similar possible environmental problem.”

  “And what would Dr. Edson brief?” The president’s smile faded once again.

  “A phytoplankton species is spreading across the oceans.”

  “Isn’t plankton endemic in salt water?”

  “Yes, Sir, thousands of species. But Edson says this one’s different, that you need the details. I put him on tomorrow’s schedule...before your weekly golf game at Camp David.”

  “All right.... Now, what of Alaska?” the president asked expectantly.

  “Since you announced selling Alaska, their shootings are up eight-fold. The violence is mostly against, or by, your Ready Reserve Force—RRF—personnel flown in from the lower 48 to seize control of infrastructure and the media.”

  “How about calling out the National Guard?”

  “The governor won’t do it, at least not to put down fellow Alaskans. She has them on alert though. Personally, Sir, the Guard might side against the RRF. That could start a civil war.”

  “What’s this report about lasers being used?”

  “Yes. Those present a problem. Seems the protesters are arming themselves with green and red lasers. They’re shining them on surveillance aircraft and drones, at RRF forces, and anyone countering their protests. It’s a daunting tactic.”

  “Didn’t we make laws against laser use?”

  “Yes, Sir. But any time a protestor’s being arrested, he’s already passed the laser farther back into the crowd.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “There’s increased Internet buzz regardi
ng sympathetic hackers threatening to attack the US and Russian infrastructure.”

  “Damn. Last thing we need are anarchists weighing in on this.”

  “Our sources claim thousands of people are flooding into Alaska from the ‘Lower 48’, and several English speaking countries. They’re offering their financial and personal support to the resistance.”

  “Give me the details....”

  The Chief of Staff spent 30 minutes going through specifics.

  Dowell looked up from his iPad notes. “Sir, last item. What of the over 12,000 protesters across the continental US you had arrested after the Sell Alaska Bill announcement?”

  “What of them?” The president smirked then glanced at the wall clock.

  “They’re still in jail and haven’t been arraigned. Most haven’t even been told what laws they’ve broken. Their 48-hour limit for due process expired a few days ago. The media’s support could chill,” Dowell said.

  “If they were civil charges we might have a problem. Since they were arrested by the RRF enforcing Homeland Security laws, technically, we can hold them indefinitely without filing charges. That’s the values of having the National Defense Authorization Act loophole....”

  “Section 1032, Sir.”

  “Right. It doesn’t exempt US citizens from being detained. In fact, it says it’s not required.” President Fernandez grinned. “We don’t have to afford them due process, a speedy trial, habeas corpus, or a jury trial....”

  “I’m more worried about the future,” Dowell cautioned.

  The president glanced out the window and pondered the grayish green threads of moss clinging to the trees. “Yes...I recognize the long-term ramifications.”

  Jack grinned. “You mean the election?”

  “Of course I mean the election! There’s nothing more imperative than that. It’s the ultimate validation that I’ve satisfied the voters’.” He glanced upward in thought, then spoke imperiously, “I think I shall be magnanimous. I’ll pardon them all—”

  “That would show everyone how great—” his Chief of Staff started.

  The president gave Dowell a stern look usually reserved for members of the press who asked unacceptable questions. “...with a warning never to cross me again.”