Faye politely replied, “Yes sir, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He turned to Catalina, his tone less congenial. “I’m puzzled that your assistant didn’t react to the emerald. Any qualified geologist would recognize it as a treasure. Perhaps she isn’t really a professional. More of an … attractive traveling companion?”
Catalina said, “Well, I know enough geology to recognize the president of Consolidated Minerals, South America’s largest emerald mining company. I read your op ed in Mineral Journal about the market shift from gems to rare earth elements. It was …prophetic. I heard you’ve expanded into mining iridium.”
He smiled, his ego responding to her stroking. “Correct. As much as I love emeralds, rare earth elements are my new passion.”
Forcing a smile, Catalina said, “Sorry I didn’t recognize your emerald, it’s my first kidnapping.”
Cocking his head towards Faye, Micah whispered, “Let’s avoid using the ‘K’ word.”
Batista said, “She is correct though. It was, how we say in Brazil, a seqüestro, and completing the mission will be your ransom, with a generous payday to boot.”
Micah said, “But you don’t need me to help you mine emeralds.”
“This isn’t about emeralds.” He shouted, “Hans, bring in the sample!”
A thin, nervous looking man entered, sweating despite the air-conditioned room.
Batista said, “Allow me to introduce my senior mining engineer, Hans Maier. You’ll find his expertise extends to many things.”
Hans said, “Unfortunately planetary geology isn’t one of them.” He popped open a steel box and placed a finger length piece of twisted, blackened mineral on the table. “The surface carbonizing is from external sources that fused with it. The piece itself is pristine.”
Batista asked, “Does it look familiar?”
Micah studied the sample, transfixed. “Yes.”
“Similar to the shard you discovered in Peru eight years ago?”
“Yes, but this one is pristine.”
“Give him your report, Hans.”
With a slight Austrian accent, Hans said, “It appears to be a naturally occurring mineral, with the properties of a diamond, if a diamond were to be melted down and molded.”
Still staring at the sample, Micah said, “Which would mean the diamond was artificial.”
“That was my initial suspicion, so I performed a high-voltage chemical deposition test to look for traces of Boron in the lattice.” Hans turned to his boss, silently asking permission to continue.
Batista said, “Go on, we haven’t got time for secrets.”
Hans continued, “It did not conduct electricity.”
Micah said, “So no free electrons, meaning it’s an organic diamond.”
“Instead, the sample produced energy, at least ten orders of magnitude greater than what was being applied.”
Batista interjected, “A burst of energy that could have powered San Paulo.”
Micah just stared at them, dumbstruck.
Hans added, “Yet the sample did not suffer at all and would have continued producing energy as long as power was applied.”
Batista smiled. “Unfortunately, the burst of energy destroyed the machinery … and the building it was in. It was a magnificent sight. The sky glowed for hours.”
Hans said, “Yet the energy release produced no radiation or harmful emissions and barely a trace of heat. Just pure clean energy.”
Micah said, “It sounds like you’re talking about cold fusion.”
“That’s not a term I’d use in educated company, but its capability dwarfs any fuel, even helium three.”
Setting the sample down, Micah said, “But there’s nothing like this on Earth—”
Batista clapped his hands and grinned. “And that’s why I need a planetary geologist! This is a fragment of a meteorite, a huge one if the information I got was correct. I believe the sliver you discovered in Peru was a bit of airborne ejecta, released before the impact. But I’ve found the source. Intact. Something we’re calling the Anomaly.”
Micah looked incredulous. “Why me?”
“You sound surprised. I realize most people in the geological community don’t respect you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t—”
“Oh please, they call you a strutting pretty boy, spouting nonsense about ancient aliens to an ignorant fanbase.”
“I don’t know if they say that.”
Hans nodded. “Oh, they do.”
Batista stepped closer, putting his hand on Micah’s shoulder. “But I’ve read your old papers and believe you possess the knowledge and vision I require. This is what you’ve been hunting for these past years.”
“But how’d you find it?”
“I have to share credit with Mother Nature. She unleashed a .8 earthquake, opening the ground at the base of an unexplored tributary. I routinely send teams to survey such natural events. One never knows what treasures a quake might push to the surface. They returned with aerial photos that were … intriguing. Recalling your research, I financed an expedition to the site. Forty men, machinery, all supervised by a Vetlesen Prize winning geologist.”
Columbia University’s Vetlesen Prize was the highest award a geologist could receive. Micah’s father had been awarded it, often waving it around to punctuate his disappointment with his son.
Batista continued. “They radioed about finding a massive deposit. I originally intended to harvest it for the gemstone market, until Hans ran his test. We believe the deposit is large enough to power the world indefinitely.”
Micah said, “Possessing that would make you the most powerful man on Earth.”
“Only if I can get it. Sadly we’ve lost all contact with the outpost. My geologist made it back with that sample, claiming everyone else was dead. But he was delirious from malaria and insect venom, so most of what he said were probably ravings.”
“Can I speak to him?”
Hans said, “I’m afraid he’s—” He paused for a moment then, in deference to Faye, said, “Permanently unavailable.”
Batista looked surprised. “When did this happen?”
“A short while ago. I was about to inform you.”
Micah said, “I’m very sorry.”
Batista looked nonplussed. “It was to be expected. Frankly I’m shocked that he hung on this long.” He turned to Santos. “I need you to make the final arrangements. Oh, and please be … respectful.”
Santos nodded and left.
Faye picked up the fragment, eying it curiously.
Catalina said, “Don’t play with that, honey, it might—”
Batista said, “No, let her. It has no radiation or harmful properties.” He watched Faye for a moment. “How interesting that she ignores a priceless jewel yet is fascinated by a burnt piece of gemstone. She’s definitely, how do you say, Daddy’s little girl.”
Something about Batista’s tone chilled Micah.
#
Santos slid open the infirmary door. The widow still sat at her husband’s bedside, clutching his hand, sobbing softly. After maintaining a respectful silence, Santos coughed softly to get her attention.
He said, “I’m sorry to intrude at such a difficult time.”
The widow quickly collected herself, assuming a dignified posture.
Santos stepped into the cabin. “With your permission, I’d like to remove the IV needle so we can move the body.”
“Of course.”
Santos leaned down over the dead man.
The widow watched him work, gradually building up the courage to say, “When I was brought here, Mr. Batista promised that, as long as my husband did what he asked, I’d be released.”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
“So, can I go home now, and may I take Ian with me?”
Santos slid the three-inch needle out of the cadaver’s arm, replying, “A promise is a promise.”
Without warning, his left hand shot out, gr
abbing the widow by her hair. He yanked her onto her feet while shoving her face against his chest, muffling her screams. With his right hand, he drove the IV needle forward, sending three inches of steel straight into her ear canal. The needle tore through her eardrum before piercing her brain, instantly shutting down all higher functions. Santos felt her body stiffen and her breath coming in short, ragged pants. By twisting the needle clockwise, he shut down her brain’s basic functions. As soon as she went limp, he turned her body around, clamping his right hand over her mouth and nose for three solid minutes. Confident that she was dead, he removed the needle.
Placing his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “You’ll leave tonight, together,” and flopped her down on the bed next to her late husband.
A stream of saline solution dribbled out of her ear, but there wasn’t a drop of blood. Her death had been painless and instantaneous.
Or, as Batista had phrased it—“Respectful.”
#
Batista continued his pitch. “This expedition is the culmination of all your research. I’ve already assembled everything required.”
Micah said, “Including your own private navy?”
“Ah, you saw my gunboats. Amazing craft. You know, I had to outbid the Peruvian Navy to get them. Hopefully they won’t be necessary, but the Amazon is full of pirates. Most of them just rob tourists and drug smugglers, but if it was pirates or angry bugre that attacked my outpost, we’ll need to eliminate them.”
Bugre was a Brazilian racial slur for indigenous river tribes.
Faye put down the sample and leaned against Micah, yawning. Micah stroked her hair as she dozed off.
Batista asked, “Is something still nagging at you, Doctor?”
Micah said, “This sample would have enticed any planetary geologist to come along willingly, with bells on. So why go to the trouble of kidnapping me?”
“Because time is short. My geologist is dead, but the expedition is ready. Postponing would be expensive and dangerous to my interests. But you’re ideal for another reason.”
“How so?”
“You’re a brilliant man who’s been forced to shill television rubbish to a dwindling audience of morons. Very soon, you’ll be broke, with zero respect from your peers and equal job prospects. But, if you do what I ask, I’ll provide you and your daughter with financial security.”
Micah pondered that and asked, “Just how much financial security are we talking here?”
“Three million dollars, plus that emerald.” Turning to Catalina, he added, “I hadn’t anticipated your assistant’s involvement, but I can add another million US dollars for her participation.”
Micah asked, “And if I say no?”
“I think you’ve lived long enough to know that desperation and opportunity are rivers that rarely cross.”
Micah looked down at his sleeping daughter, knowing that he was right.
Batista said, “Shall we drink to our new partnership?” He waved to a waiting steward who wheeled in a chilled bottle of champagne and filled three glasses. “A toast, to a new world of clean energy for all.”
They took a sip.
Setting his glass down, Micah gently stroked Faye’s hair. “I’ll need to send my daughter back to New York before we leave.”
Batista shook his head. “Given our time constraints that’s quite impossible. I’m afraid she’ll have to accompany us.”
“What? This is a dangerous expedition. You can’t expect me to let her—” Micah tried to stand, but his knees felt weak.
Catalina dropped her glass and muttered, “Aw shit,” before slouching over on the couch.
Micah shouted, “You drugged the champagne!”
Batista took a sip, saying, “And waste Dom Perignon? I coated your glasses. Sleep well, we have a great deal of work ahead of us.”
Micah tried to protest but couldn’t form words. His vision blurred. All he could do was sit, listening to the echoing voices around him.
Batista turned to Hans, asking, “How long?”
“The drug should last six hours, but I’ll inject them with a second dose to keep them under until we reach the tributary.”
“Yes, well past the point of no return.”
Micah slumped over, unconscious.
Santos entered the saloon, barely acknowledging the three unconscious people, and said, “It’s done, sir.”
“Good. Wait until we’re in caiman country before you dump the bodies. Now move these three over to the Valentina.”
Santos said, “You know, I could have just drugged them at the hotel and delivered them downriver.”
Eyeing Micah’s inert form, Batista said, “No. I needed to meet him in person to judge his expertise. Now I’ve confirmed he’s brilliant, desperate, and will do anything to protect his daughter. An ideal combination.”
Santos asked, “And what do we do with them when we’re finished?”
Draining his glass, Batista said, “The caimans will still be hungry on our return trip.”
Chapter Five
Micah’s eyes snapped open, but his thoughts felt like they were being filtered through mud. Gradually, he pieced together that he was lying on a cot, still wearing the same sweat-soaked clothes. He tried to sit up fast, but it felt like someone was hammering a nail into his forehead. A second, gradual attempt was more successful. After a few more seconds he pieced together that he was on a boat. His suitcase was lying on the floor nearby, unopened. Faye’s open bag was next to it. The cabin was large and reasonably clean with one wall-mounted cot and several hammocks stowed against the bulkhead. It was a first-class billet on Batista’s cargo barge, the Valentina.
The memories all came flooding back to him—the flotilla, the yacht, and his meeting with Batista.
A man sat at a folding table playing solitaire. He paused his game, eyeing Micah suspiciously.
Micah yelled, “Where’s my daughter? What’ve you done with her?”
Without a word the man went to the cabin door and leaned out, shouting something in Portuguese. Without glancing at Micah he returned to his card game.
Micah was about to yell again then noticed the man’s shoulder holster and elected to stay silent.
Moments later, Santos appeared in the doorway, gesturing for Micah to follow him.
Micah asked, “Where’s my—”
Santos cut him off. “The kid’s safe with your lady friend.” He turned to the guard, shouting in Portuguese.
Through his mental fog Micah caught something about informing Batista he was awake.
The man scrambled out the door.
Santos said, “Let’s go.”
Micah groped around until he found his boots. He turned them over and shook them—standard procedure in an environment full of scorpions and centipedes. Something tumbled out and rolled across the floor. It was the large, uncut emerald Batista had offered him.
Okay, he thought, at least Batista’s holding up his side of the deal, if you consider kidnapping to be a deal.
Santos yelled, “Move it!”
Micah stuffed the emerald in his pocket and pulled on his boots.
They exited onto a side deck, the humidity and heat smothering Micah like a wet blanket. He gazed out at the river, searching for any landmarks. All he saw was churning brown water and an endless canopy of fog-shrouded rainforest. The waterway was too narrow to be the Amazon proper, meaning they were cruising down a wide tributary. That narrowed it down to a few hundred possibilities. Batista’s yacht cruised along behind them, flanked by gunboats. The other vessels were scattered in a loose formation. He didn’t see any trace of local river traffic, meaning they’d passed even the remotest settlements.
Santos shoved him forward, pointing to a gangway leading down.
From there, Micah was herded through the ship’s lower level deck—an open space with floor-to-ceiling screened windows. The deck was crammed with supplies and fuel drums. Deckhands sat on crates, arguing over card games, while the night crew snored
above them in suspended hammocks. Despite the large screened-in windows the area still reeked of diesel fuel and sweat.
After navigating the maze of supplies and humanity, they exited onto the sixty-foot-long front deck. It was like stepping into an open market place. Suspended wicker baskets of fruits and vegetables hung just beyond the reach of six pigs, straining against rope leashes. Crates of live chickens were stacked on either side, while a few luckier birds patrolled the deck, pecking at insects. A pair of braying donkeys was tied to the railing. At the far end of the deck, long barbecue grills roasted slabs of pork and chicken slathered in dende oil. The roasting meat shrouded the deck in a thick haze of citrus-fused smoke. A tape deck blared distorted Sertanejo music, forcing the men to shout over it in Portuguese, Spanish and a few dialects Micah couldn’t place. It was exactly the kind of sensory overload you didn’t want while nursing a Rohypnol hangover. But then a shrill voice rang out over the cacophony, and his pain was forgotten.
“Daddy!”
Micah saw Faye at the far end of the deck, waving excitedly with one hand while holding Catalina’s with the other. Both wore clean clothes and looked unharmed.
He pushed through the crowd, sweeping up the little girl in his arms. “Oh baby, I was so worried.” He hugged her tight. “Are you okay, princess?”
“My head hurt, but it’s getting better now.”
Micah looked over at Catalina and asked, “How’re you doing?”
Catalina said, “Considering I got roofied and shanghaied, I’m doin’ okay.” She cocked her head towards Santos. “Tall, dark and ugly’s been giving us the evil eye, but so far nobody’s tried to hurt us. Hell, they even laid out our clothes for us.”
“How long were we out?”
“I woke up about two hours ago, so you’ve been out for at least twelve. Screwy thing is that I didn’t swallow any of that champagne, ’cause Mama taught me never to accept drinks from kidnappers. Faye didn’t drink any either.”
“Batista coated the glasses and dosed those cookies with something.”
Primeval Waters Page 4
