by Randy Dutton
Dinner was served. Mac enjoyed the Salmón con Salsa de Jaiba (Salmon with crab sauce); Anna the Pollo á la Orange (Grilled chicken breast with orange sauce); and Pete, the typical beefeater, the Lomo de Res Grille con salsa de champiñon y esparragos (Beef tenderloin with mushroom and asparagus sauce).
They had just begun the main course when Pete noticed Anna’s eyes fixating at something or someone at the entrance. His eyes casually followed hers to a dumpy, balding, middle-aged man with an equally thick-set wife. The couple was now joining another table with two other couples. “Recognize someone?” Pete asked softly.
“Yes. It’s Eric and his wife.” Anna averted her eyes, looked at Pete, gently smiled, and softly said, “Jackpot.”
To keep his voice low, Pete leaned forward. “You sure it’s him?”
“Absolutely.”
“They’re rather ostentatiously dressed for this fairly conservative crowd, wouldn’t you say, Dear?”
“The nouveau riche often doesn’t know what too much means. They’re flaunting their wealth. I have to say the black dinner jacket isn’t cheap.”
“How can you tell?”
Anna’s head tilted while giving him a knowing smile. “It’s a bespoke suit. Milan I’d venture.” Seeing doubt in both their faces, Anna’s eyes crinkled as she added. “Seriously, guys? Were you both raised in a Walmart?”
Pete winked at Mac, then smiled innocently at his wife. “Maybe.”
“Alright,” Anna started. “It’s full-chested, has a V-shape, padded shoulders, slash pockets, and no vent. Someone’s neglected your wardrobe. We’re going shopping after this is over.”
“Show-off,” Pete said whimsically.
Anna rolled her eyes then turned to Mac who was chuckling. “Do they have an opera here?”
“Not that I’ve read. The closest is in Temuco, a few hundred klicks north. The best is in Santiago, at the Teatro Municipal. It’s a majestic opera house and, frequently hosts ballets and classical concerts.”
“Good to know,” Anna said.
“What of the dress, Paris maybe?” Pete speculated.
“Also Milan.” Anna’s eyes narrowed. “And bejeweling herself with diamonds around her neck, wrists, and dangling from her ears doesn’t work here. I’d say she’s bored living in an obscure Chilean city, and he’s trying to please her by playing dress-up.”
With that observation, Anna returned to her dinner. “This is delicious. Isn’t it?” She grinned.
Through the rest of dinner, Anna surreptitiously eyed Eric and his wife, trying to pick up clues.
They were mostly finished with dinner when Anna spied Eric’s wife pushing back her chair and standing. The husband and two other men at the table rose as a courtesy and then sat.
Anna dapped her lips and stood. “Mac, join me for a trip to the ladies room?”
Pete rose accordingly.
“Sure.” Mac stood and followed.
Once inside the powder room, Anna winked to Mac then spoke in Spanish, “So Esmeralda, were you able to take in the Pablo Neruda opera at the Teatro Municipal?” Anna watched to see if Eric’s wife reacted to the Spanish.
“No, what was it like?” Mac answered in Spanish.
“It was magnificent, some of his best work,” Anna exaggerated her gesturing while watching for any verbal recognition from Eric’s wife. Seeing none, Anna shifted into heavily Spanish-accented English. “Excuse me madam, do you perhaps speak English?”
“Why yes, I do,” the woman in her mid-fifties responded happily in an Alabama accent.
“Can you tell me if there is an opera here? You are dressed very beautifully.” Anna’s hand motioned to the woman’s full-length, gold brocade dress. “It makes me think there is an opera I not know about here.”
“Oh, I wish there was one here! I would love to go to it. The only opera we go to is in Temuco, and that’s 350 kilometers north. No, we’re just having dinner with some of my husband’s friends.”
“You are American?” Anna asked.
“Ah, um, yes, I am,” she said hesitantly.
“You are part of the Environmental Conference then?”
“Yes, my husband is a scientist.”
“Oooh, he must be very good scientist to be able to take so good care of his wife,” Anna said motioning to the diamonds.
“Yes, he is, and yes, he tries to take good care of me,” Her voice was tinged with a sadness.
“Do you live here in town?”
“Yes, but I find it hard to adapt to the culture. He is always working, and I’m not sure I fit in here.”
“Why not you go where you fit in?” Anna asked.
“We may do that very soon. We’re celebrating.”
“Bueno.” Anna nods were exaggerated. “Celebrations are good for the soul!” Anna continued to probe. “You celebrate the end of a job or anniversary perhaps?”
“The end of a job, and of living here. Maybe.”
“You not know perhaps you stay or leave?”
“We should know tomorrow...I’m sorry, I’m probably saying too much...the wine does that to me sometimes. It was a pleasure talking to you, señora.” She left the room.
“Wow, you’re good!” Mac said.
“Thanks. And now I’m concerned.”
“Why?” Mac’s enthusiasm suddenly dropped.
“Because she said the project’s done. I feared Sven was working on another project that may make the scourge continue or worsen. My concern may have been validated.” Anna quickly looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“What’s wrong?”
Anna groaned. “It’s the first time an older woman has addressed me as señora, not señorita.... Come on, let’s go back to the table.”
Pete stood when they approached. “Well girls, did you learn anything?” His voice was hushed.
Anna sat. “Sven’s project apparently has been completed, or at least Eric’s part of it. I don’t know what was done, where, or what’s next. But I need you to do something, Pete.”
He cocked his ear.
“I need you to follow them.”
“Tonight?” He pulled back and his brow furrowed.
Anna’s eyebrows rose in a look he knew meant, Surely, you can’t be questioning me!?
He leaned forward and his expression changed to bemusement. “Right. Of course tonight. What was I thinking? Tell you what, Mac, you take Connor.” He handed over the sleeping child. “And I’ll go upstairs and change into better...operational clothes.”
He took a couple quick bites of what remained of his dessert that Anna hadn’t finished off. “Methinks it’s going to be a long night. I’ll grab one of our throwaway iPhones and will be waiting for your call when they leave.”
“Take some defense with you,” Anna said.
“Ah yes, from your Santiago hardware store run.”
“I don’t see any personal security, but don’t be surprised if he has someone assigned to him, maybe in the lobby or another car. Watch your back, Honey. Keep the ringer on vibrate only, and in a sensitive spot so you’ll feel it.” She smiled.
“You bet.” He kissed her on the cheek, and whispered, “I love you, Sweetheart. Let’s hope they don’t go to a show. That would make for a very long night.”
Twenty minutes later he was sitting in the rental SUV. He was dressed in dark clothes and a dark rain suit with a fabric that didn’t create a crinkly sound when rubbed together.
The call from Anna came soon after. “They’re leaving the restaurant, just the two of them.”
“I’ve scanned the parking lot... I don’t see anyone here. However, there were two burly men in the lobby reading newspapers. They look like guards.”
“They’ll probably follow Eric. Got the coins?”
“Got both...one in my pocket...the other in the bag. If I knew what car they had, I could tape one underneath the vehicle. I’ve also got your GPS compass to mark locations. If the guards follow Eric, I’ll tail them instead. It’ll be safer that wa
y.”
“Good idea. They may take us directly to Sven, then Eric would be irrelevant...at least for the moment,” Anna said.
“Tallyho! The guards just stood as the couple exited the elevator. Eric just said something to them, and the men are preceding them out the front door.... The couple is getting into a black Mercedes-Benz S400 hybrid. The guards are in a black 2014 Mercedes-Benz GL450. I’ll follow the guards.”
“Stay safe.”
“They’re nothing compared to you, Babe.”
Anna had just entered the hotel room when her cellphone rang. “Pete?”
“Hi, Babe.”
“It’s only been 20 minutes,” she said with a slight concern. “Where are you?”
“Eric and his wife are in their very nice ranch-style house three klicks to the west southwest. They followed the coast southward then turned inland past the docks. It’s one of about four houses in a compound. It’s not too shabby. They have a heated outdoor pool and a cabana. The guards are in a neighboring house, and I see three cars outside.”
“Good work, Honey. Can you place one of the coins on their car now?”
“There’s a safe approach from the north, but their car’s in the garage. I’ll check it out.”
Pete returned to the hotel around midnight. “Mac asleep?”
“Yes, she decided someone needed to be rested tomorrow.” Anna lowered the yawning infant back into the crib. “How’d it go?”
His head shook. “I couldn’t get into the garage.”
Anna smirked.
“Okay, so I’m not as good at breaking in as you. We Marines are more used to blowing holes through walls or knocking doors off hinges when we want in.... We’re not so subtle.”
“We’ll work on that, Dear,” she quipped.
They both chuckled.
He moved to the open laptop and inserted a flash drive. “Anyway, after a while, one of the guards’ vehicles pulled out and drove to a dock. I took several recon photos. There’s a freighter along the dock that will interest you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s loaded with big steel cylinders on the aft deck.... Possibly more below.”
Her eyes lit up.
He leaned forward. “Guess what it’s called?”
Her brow lifted.
“Verde Desea,” he said with smug satisfaction.
“The Green Dream.” She let the name slowly roll out. “Figures.”
“And there’s more. Next to the dock, there’s a facility with two large storage tanks that I think are big enough to fill the cylinders.”
Anna gave him a big kiss. “This may be easier than I thought. Now all we have to do is study his facility, determine what he’s got, how vulnerable it is, and then call in the Marines...I mean authorities—”
“We may not have much time.” His tone was more serious.
“Why?”
“Because the ship’s loaded down to near the water line. It doesn’t have much freeboard.”
“Then, if the phytoplankton’s already onboard, that means each cylinder has its active systems turned on to keep the critters alive. Pete, when you studied the phytoplankton, did you determine how long they can live in captivity, and under what conditions?”
“Yes. We also studied the cylinders he had used to originally transport them. Quite sophisticated.”
“Under what conditions would the plankton die the quickest?”
“Well, this species won’t propagate in fresh or very cold water. Satellite photos show plankton growth rates diminish as it approaches the fresh and salt water mix of river deltas. There’re many areas between the islands and the coast of Southern Chile where the plankton have little or no concentration because of the glacier runoff. It also hibernates without light, which allows it to survive under the ice.”
“So if it doesn’t have light it will live for a very long time?” Her eyes were bright.
“Correct. And that means if it runs out of food and the lights go out, it won’t die. I’m not sure why that excites you.”
“What if...” She paused to consider her question, “what if it continues to get light and heat, but no food?”
“Then it would be in a much higher state of activity and would starve to death. Much like giving a person amphetamines and no food.” Pete started to smile.
“So if someone maintains the circulation, the agitation, the heater, and the lights in the cylinders, but prevents CO2 and nutrients from getting to them, they’ll die faster?”
“Much faster.” His smiled broadened at what he realized his wife was considering.
“How soon until we could be sure of their death?”
“Depends on the current concentration in the cylinders and the temperature and duration achieved.” Pete squinted at some of the cylinder photos. “Under tolerable heat, maybe 48 hours. With very high heat, maybe just a couple.”
Having enlarged one of the photos, Pete’s brow narrowed.
“Pete, what’s wrong?
“Something’s different.... What do these look like to you?”
“Feed lines to the cylinders...because they come in through the top. Looks like a valve from a feed line that’s probably saltwater. You can tell by the brass.”
“Why would he feed salt water to the cylinders?”
“I don’t know,” Anna frowned. “He couldn’t do that the first time because the cylinders were just cargo on ships.”
“So this is his ship, which means he has more control.”
“Or it belongs to his benefactor.”
“And he can put salt water into them, which means salt water is coming out as well.”
“What are you getting at?” Anna asked.
“That when he shipped the cylinders last year, he put in just enough phytoplankton to ensure that they would propagate and develop a full load by the time they reached the release point. But by controlling his own ship, he can start with a full load, release some as he travels the oceans and continue to grow the phytoplankton. Technically, this ship can cruise indefinitely, growing and releasing the plankton, and just refueling and restocking food and fuel when necessary.”
“Then if you’re right, the cylinders could be filled to capacity now with phytoplankton and could start dying if not released soon.” Anna’s were wide.
“Precisely, but that’s assuming he’s about ready to ship out. We really don’t know yet,” he cautioned.
Anna considered the increased urgency. “Let’s get some sleep and discuss it in the morning. You’ve got a conference to attend so you can maintain your cover.” She inserted a thumb drive into the laptop. “But first, there’s something I want to check.”
Chapter 97
June 13, 0600 hours
Puerto Montt
The early morning was cold, gray, and drizzly. Their mood was equally somber as Mac, Pete, and Anna ate the room service breakfast. It saved time and reduced exposure. While eating, they discussed what each would do.
Taking the last bite of her breakfast, Mac said somberly, “I came here thinking spying would be fun. Now I worry about potential consequences.”
Connor was snuggled against Anna’s chest. She embraced the child tighter, pursed her lips, then handed the stressed younger woman a legal document.
Mac’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this?”
“Mac”—Anna kissed the top of Connor’s head—“We’re counting on you. If something happens to us”—Mac’s eyes widened in alarm—“you would have temporary legal guardianship of Connor.”
The paper in the younger woman’s hands quivered. “What are you trying to tell me, Anna?”
Pete put his hand on Mac’s arm, and interjected, “It’s just a precaution, Sis.... Nothing bad’s going to happen and we’re not confronting anyone. Contingencies are part of any plan. We’ve already talked with Paula about her raising Connor if something were ever to happen, but this document prevents Connor from being taken by Chilean officials. And Patrick’s got our financial inf
ormation, so money’s not a problem.”
They quickly prepared for their separate assignments. Pete dressed in a dark suit for the conference. He was to see who might know of the geneticist’s whereabouts or be the financial backer for Sven’s operation. Anna had briefed him on Sven’s likely neo-Malthusian sponsors.
Now wearing dark coveralls, Anna put her hand on Mac’s shoulder. “While you’re taking care of Connor, are you comfortable using the laptop to watch my location with the Krugerrand-monitoring software and the telephone GPS tracking software?”
“Yeah.”
“I might also be emailing photos or relaying instructions.”
“I’ve got it. I don’t know why it matters. You’re only going to be gone an hour or two aren’t you?” Mac was irritated.
“That’s the plan but I’m going to turn the coin on when I get there and leave it at the facility.”
“Why?”
“For the FBI and Swanson...just in case my former employer is still monitoring them.”
“But I thought you didn’t want Swanson to find you?”
“I don’t. When they investigate they’ll find Sven instead.... Problem solved.”
Pete handed Mac a disposable iPhone. “This one’s yours, and the numbers for our two are plugged in.”
Anna held out another sheet of paper. “As added insurance, here are written instructions for contacting the FBI Director in case everything falls apart.”
Mac lifted the gurgling infant from the cradle and rocked him. “Everything falls apart? You’re just going to look around. How could the FBI possibly help?”
“Trust your instincts, understanding, of course, that any direct assistance could take 24 hours.” Anna picked up a manila envelope.
Pete put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “That’s if the Director honors his pledge, Babe...a big if.”
Mac’s breathing was rapid and her voice stressed. “Anna, why does the FBI owe you a favor?”
“That’s something we’ll talk about later. Just know that they do.... Don’t worry, Pete and I have memorized the instructions.” Anna stepped to the makeup table and started putting on the black wig.
