Frozen Fire
Page 1
FROZEN FIRE
FORGE BOOKS BY
BILL EVANS AND MARIANNA JAMESON
Category 7
Frozen Fire
FROZEN
FIRE
BILL EVANS
AND MARIANNA JAMESON
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
FROZEN FIRE
Copyright © 2009 by William H. Evans and Marianna Jameson
All rights reserved.
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Forge® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Evans, Bill, 1960 July 16–
Frozen fire / Bill Evans and Marianna Jameson.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN-13: 978-0-7653-2008-7
ISBN-10: 0-7653-2008-8
1. Ecoterrorism—Fiction. 2. Terrorism—Prevention—Fiction. I. Jameson, Marianna. II. Title.
PS3605.V364F76 2009
813'.6—dc22
2008050416
First Edition: June 2009
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book is dedicated to everyone who recognizes
the importance of balancing earthly desires with Earthly needs.
And to my husband, as ever.
—MARIANNA JAMESON
We met on a blind date on Halloween. She didn’t own a television, so she had no idea who I was or what I did for a living. We stayed out all night on that first date, and I walked her home to the Lower East Side. She called me the next day and said, “Let’s go for a walk, I know a great Thai restaurant in the Village.” She called again the day after that. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Let’s go for a walk and get some ice cream.”
“Okay,” I said. This went on for months. Nice long walks and lots of talking. She wasn’t pushy. She certainly wasn’t a stalker, and she definitely wasn’t desperate. She’s smart and beautiful. So what in the world did she see in me?
I believe that God has a way of putting people in your life for a reason.
On that blind date I mentioned I would love to have four children. Years later when she was pregnant with our third child she said, “I know you wanted four, but this is the worst-feeling pregnancy ever, so maybe you should pray that number three is twins.”
Not long after that, I was driving home on I-95 when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“I’m at the doctor’s office, and I have only one word for you . . . twins!”
Indeed she was pregnant with twins. I am so grateful to her because she gave up her Wall Street career to raise our four kids.
She’s the ultimate in tough love. Sometimes she can push all my buttons in one easy stroke. But at the same time, she is the greatest companion. That’s how you know there is divine intervention. I couldn’t make it without her.
So what does she see in me? I’m not great looking, and I don’t have lots of money, but I make her laugh, and that’s what she loves about me.
When I wrote Category 7 with Marianna Jameson, I said to my wife, “Maybe I could speak to your book club.” She said, “Honey, they read literature.” I love her sense of humor. We both love to laugh, and we share the same sense of acerbic, or what might be described as sick, humor. That’s our biggest bond, along with our four beautiful children.
Dana, thanks for your love and support all these years. God put us together so you can enjoy this great work of literature.
—BILL H. EVANS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Holy Mother of Research! It all started with a little line in one of Clive Cussler’s books about this gas in an ice form called “methane hydrate.” I was intrigued, and once I started researching, it took just minutes to realize that with the astronomical cost of oil and gasoline, this could be an alternative fuel of tremendous interest.
My findings were tremendous. Until I scoured the U.S. Department of Energy’s Web site, I had no idea that millions of dollars had been poured into research on methane hydrate and that for years countries like Russia had been mining the stuff in the permafrost of Siberia. Methane hydrate is the world’s largest fossil fuel, eclipsing oil and natural gas by trillions of metric tons. You can heat your home with it, use it to propel your car, cook your dinner, fuel industry, and it burns completely cleanly without harming the environment. Wow! What a find!
You can find methane hydrate just about anywhere below the ocean floor and in the Alaskan and Siberian permafrost, but only minuscule amounts are readily available or have been mined. Mining methane hydrate is very tricky and expensive, plus there is one big inherent danger. Released in its natural state, methane hydrate is a greenhouse gas multiplier by a force of ten!
I got a tremendous amount of help from many people, but there are three folks in particular whom I would like to thank. First, Professor David Archer, who is a computational ocean chemist in the Geophysics Department at the University of Chicago. He was a fantastic resource on methane hydrate as well as global warming. He has written Global Warming: Understanding the Forecast, which is a great book on how global warming works. David also turned me on to John Barnes’s wonderful science fiction thriller, Mother of Storms, which is about a giant methane release that’s hell-bent on destroying the Earth. Mother of Storms is also published by Tor/Forge, which obviously has a great affinity for projects such as these!
My third resource came in the form of the sweetest, kindest, and most brilliant person when it comes to geophysics. Dr. Arnold Stancell has spent his career in the oil and gas business. He is currently a professor of geophysics at Georgia Tech University. He helped me to understand how methane hydrate would have to be mined, the danger, and the costs. As an alternative fuel, methane hydrate’s potential is unlimited, but getting it is very tricky and it could pose a tremendous danger to the planet if disturbed on a grand scale.
Words cannot express my thanks to the wonderful people at Tor/Forge for their confidence and vision in my work. I cannot understand why they have such confidence in me, but they obviously see something I don’t and I really appreciate it! I want to thank Tom Doherty for taking me on as a rookie with Category 7 and giving me another great opportunity with this book. He had the guts to introduce me to the big leagues with such backing that it would be impossible to fail. I owe a big thank-you to Linda Quinton for her undying support and trust. The two have been so supportive that it makes me want to go to the ends of the Earth to sign and sell books. To the greatest editor in the world, Melissa Ann Singer, I owe you more than I could ever repay. You are such a talented editor who knows how to tell a story. Your editing on this work was phenomenal. You have quite a gift. Thank you for sharing your gift of writing with me. I have learned so much from you.
Finally, I want to thank my coauthor, Marianna Jameson. You have done such a great job on this work! You are a great partner and a great writer. The sky is not the limit for you! Thank you for sharing your wonderful talent with me!
—BILL H. EVANS
In the course of writing Frozen Fire, I received the help and support of many and would like to thank them now.
First thanks must go to my coauthor, Bill Evans, for his great ideas, unflagging enthusiasm, upbeat outlook, and boundless energy and, of course, for his fascinating contacts in the scientific community. The many talented and wonderful pe
ople at Tor/Forge have my deepest thanks for their hard work and immense talent.
Thanks to Scott and Ellen Jones, who were very generous with their time and knowledge and taught me about chemistry and microbiology, respectively. Michael Rowan, CDR, USN, retired, helped immeasurably with everything naval and/or underwater, and did so with much laughter and gusto. (I hope you realize this means you’ll be hearing from me again.) My favorite cop, Mike Hutson, was, as always, extremely helpful—this time with his knowledge and insight regarding weaponry and “riding the lightning.” My favorite former spook, Joanna Novins, was again invaluable for her willingness to share some insights into the world of capital-I intelligence. Richard Smith provided his usual stellar technical support and expert advice on all matters electronic and/or digital. Thanks, too, to Kappy Revels for letting me see what the world looks like through night-vision goggles. Now I know what to put on my Christmas list.
Despite all the generous help from all of the subject-matter experts mentioned above, I know there will be errors. All mistakes are my own.
A little closer to home, I have to thank my usual peeps: my writing posse, Jody Novins, Karen Kendall, Deirdre Martin, Alisa Kwitney, and Liz Maverick, who are always available for a daily dilemma or odd question, and whose biting wit and infinite wisdom make writing a much less solitary, much less serious endeavor. Deb Dufel, Thea Devine, Sharon Sobel, Jenna Kernan, and Mary Beth Bass, writers all, who unquestioningly share with me whatever they have and whatever I need. Nancy Mitchell and Carol Smith, who pick up the pieces and always have and hopefully always will. New members of the crew deserve a mention for their much-appreciated support: Debbie Marsh, Vicki Rowan, Pam Taeckens, and Francene Venesky.
Special thanks to Elaine English for her expertise and assistance. Most especially, this book would not be what it is without the talent, insight, and deeply appreciated patience of Melissa Ann Singer, editor extraordinaire and all-around fabulous woman. Thank you times a million.
Last on the list but first in my heart are my husband and children, for whom I am very, very, very thankful.
—MARIANNA JAMESON
FROZEN FIRE
PROLOGUE
5:50 A.M., Wednesday, October 22, Off the western coast of The Paradise of Taino, Eastern Caribbean
The equally high-risk parallels of probable success and possible failure sent twin feeds of adrenaline streaming into Micki Crenshaw’s veins as she watched her shadow gradually stretch less and less far across the gently pitching deck of the research ship and submersible tender Wangari Maathai. The sun had crept above the horizon and around the low swell of Taino’s lone volcanic peak. That small tip of light was gilding the waters of the eastern Caribbean and expanding the roseate glow that hung low in the sky. The soft hum of the engine throbbed beneath her feet. The slap of small waves against the hull and the screams of the seabirds overhead broke the early subtropical stillness. The flag identifying the ship as part of the fleet of The Paradise of Taino—her home and her target—flapped randomly in the cool, quiet air.
It was a beautiful morning in paradise.
A morning more beautiful than this paradise deserves.
Micki glanced over her shoulder at the ship’s captain, who she knew was only pretending to be absorbed by the contents of the clipboard in his hands. He was young, handsome, ex–Royal Navy, and nobody’s fool, and he’d been gently flirting with her for the last few weeks. There was little else to do on such a small island and, although the difference in their rank made it a bad idea, she’d allowed it. Actually, Micki had encouraged it. She’d never had any qualms about using anything in her repertoire if it would help the cause. And being on Captain Simon Broadhurst’s good side, and having him think he was on hers, could help.
“Captain Broadhurst, the sun is up. Can we get under way?” she asked quietly, even though there wasn’t a crew member within earshot.
“I’m English, Micki. The proprieties must be observed,” he’d said earlier, giving her that smile. She’d wanted to roll her eyes but had stopped herself.
“In a few more minutes. I’m still reviewing your dive plan.”
She turned to face him full on with a mildly amused expression on her face and one slim eyebrow cocked. Deploying her silkiest Alabama drawl, she answered him. “I know it’s unorthodox, Captain. But, as we’ve discussed, that unorthodoxy is necessary. Vital.”
“You ought to have briefed me before we left port,” he replied.
Tradition and the law of the sea gave him absolute authority on his ship. However, both Micki and the captain knew that, as the second in command of Taino’s security forces, she outranked him on land, and that’s what she was leveraging out here in the soft predawn light. And that’s why the censure in his tone was more mild than it would have been had she been anyone else.
“Your dive plan flouts protocol, and may thereby endanger yourself and my crew,” he continued in his starchiest, high-street voice. “You’re not to dive alone without tracking capabilities. I shouldn’t allow it.”
Micki looked down and made her lips twitch as though they were concealing laughter, then looked him in the eyes as she let loose a smile that left him a bit dazzled, as intended.
“But you will allow it, Captain, despite its unorthodoxy, won’t you?” she said softly. “This is a high-priority mission and one that will be over quickly. I’ve tried to make it clear that we have to place this equipment this morning.”
Simon let a silent moment slide by, then folded his arms across his broad, uniformed chest, all the while maintaining eye contact. “I’m not certain you understand the risks, Ms. Crenshaw. They’re substantial.”
“Oh, I understand them, Captain. I also understand, to a degree that you can’t, that the risk faced by not executing this mission is one that will be felt by everyone connected with Taino. I thought I’d made it clear that the placement and purpose of this equipment is top secret, and that’s why I have to do the dive alone and without you tracking my movements.” She let her voice fumble, stopping short of overdoing the emotion. “The accountability for undertaking this mission is mine and mine alone, Captain, and I willingly accept that.”
“Ms. Crenshaw—”
“Captain Broadhurst—Simon—please don’t make me get all official on you,” she said, interrupting him with a near-whisper. “Darlin’, this little dive of mine is a national security issue and your failure to assist me with it would be a grave violation of the oath you took when you became an officer of the Taino Security Force. As a senior official, I wouldn’t be able to overlook something like that.” She paused and gave him a sad smile. “You really only have two options, Simon. You can help me execute this mission, or you can refuse to help.”
Her quiet words hung in the air, as did the words she didn’t have to say. Under Taino’s laws, if he didn’t help her, she could relieve him of his command and have him secured to his quarters. Then she’d carry out the mission anyway.
Clearly displeased at having his options so neatly delineated, however softly Micki might have done it, the captain gave clipped orders to his crew, his now-cool gaze never leaving Micki’s face. She acknowledged his surrender with a nod that held a convincing hint of feminine contrition, but inside triumph reigned. Then she turned her attention to the approaching crew member who would help her into the one-atmosphere diving tube. She was going down. That’s all that mattered now.
In one easy movement, she pulled off the wind pants she wore over her swimming suit, then slid the matching anorak over her head. She reveled for a moment in the cool breeze that brushed her bare flesh and pretended not to notice the surreptitious looks Simon and the small, all-male crew were giving her almost-naked body.
A few feet way, the crew was doing their final checkout on the dive tube they’d christened Flipper. It was sleek, gray, and highly maneuverable underwater, but that’s where the resemblance to everyone’s favorite dolphin ended. It was just another useful high-tech toy, as far as Micki was concerne
d. She’d trained in it, as all the security personnel had trained in this and all the other high-tech dive equipment her commander in chief, Dennis Cavendish, kept acquiring. Despite never having actually used the tube for any purpose other than training, Micki was confident that she could carry out her duty and be topside before anyone could learn that the entire mission was a fabrication.
This dive was an extremely daring act, but it was a necessary part of the plan. It was a heady feeling to know that the years she’d put into gaining her boss’s trust and into learning everything there was to know about the nation of Taino—and the reality behind its clever façade—would soon pay off. All the condescension she’d endured at Dennis’s hands was a small price to pay to ensure that the money and energy Dennis and his minions had put into achieving his megalomaniacal dream of controlling the world’s next-generation energy source would be wasted. The world would be shown once again, vividly, that greed and arrogance led inevitably to incalculable damage to the Earth and all Her inhabitants.
Yes, Dennis, in a few days, you will have changed the world forever. For the worse.
Fully ensconced in the one-person diving tube, Micki mentally counted the clicks and hisses as the crew secured the seals that would keep her separate from the sea and safe from its frigid pressures. As she waited for the dive master to speak to her through the headphones, she kept her eyes trained on the small black boxes she’d carefully secured to the platform at the front of the tiny vessel.
When she’d approached Simon about this unscheduled trip, Micki had told him the twin units were a pair of new, state-of-the-art surveillance devices made by a boutique firm in Switzerland. With a deprecating roll of her eyes, she’d added that they were being deployed as a favor to the company’s owner, a business associate of Dennis’s. The boxes were beta units and Dennis had agreed to let Taino be their first real-world test bed because he believed the technology held promise and would provide them with useful data if it worked as planned. Micki had added, as offhand as ever, that even she wasn’t entirely sure what the devices were meant to do; she had been told only that she was to place them in specific secure locations without her movements being tracked.