Текст книги "Blue Gold"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

Соавторы: Clive Cussler
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Chapter 33

The mood in the tenth-floor

NUMA conference room was as somber as a crepe hangers' convention. Admiral Sandecker hadn't expected Trout to attend the emergency meeting, given the dire reports from the hospital. The lanky ocean geologist looked like warmed-over spit, but Sandecker kept his thoughts to himself. Nothing he could say would dissuade Paul from joining the hunt for Gamay and Francesca.

Sandecker flashed Trout a reassuring smile and looked around the table. Flanking Paul in case he fell out of his chair were his NUMA colleagues Austin and Zavala. The fourth figure at the table, a slightly built, narrow-shouldered man whose heavy horn rimmed glasses gave him a professorial air, was NUMA operations director Rudi Gunn, second in command to the admiral.

Sandecker checked his watch. "Where's Yaeger?" His voice carried a hint of impatience.

Yaeger's special computer skills bought him latitude with the NUMA dress code, but not even the president would dare show up late for a Sandecker meeting. Especially one as important as this.

"He'll be along in a few minutes," Austin explained. "I asked Hiram to check out something that might have a bearing on our discussion."

A thought had been fluttering around like a butterfly inside

Austin's skull. He had allowed himself a few hours of sleep after coming in from Alaska. The rest must have refreshed his mind. On his way in from Virginia he caught the elusive notion in an imaginary net. Seconds later he was talking to Yaeger on his cell phone. The computer whiz was driving in from the fashionable section of Maryland where he lived with his artist wife and two teenage daughters. Austin quickly outlined his idea, asked Yaeger to follow through, and said he would cover for him at the meeting.

Sandecker got right down to business. "We have a mystery on our hands, gentlemen. Two people have been kidnapped and one attacked by unknown assailants. Kurt, would you bring us up to date?"

Austin nodded. "The D.C. police are investigating every possible lead. The city van was found abandoned near the Washing ton Monument. The vehicle had been stolen a few hours earlier. No trace of fingerprints was found. All the airports and train stations are being watched. With help from Paul, the FBI put together a composite of the leader of the gang, and it's being circulated with Interpol."

"I suspect they will get nowhere," Sandecker said. "The people we're dealing with are professionals. The job of finding Gamay and Dr. Cabral will be up to us. As you know, Rudi has been out of the country on assignment. I've kept him current as best as I could, but it might help if you quickly gave us a chronological summary of the situation."

Austin was prepared for the question. "This thing began ten years ago with the failed attempt to kidnap Francesca Cabral. Her plane crashed in the Venezuela rain forest, and it was assumed she was dead. Fast-forward ten years. Joe and I, quite literally, run into a dead pod of gray whales off San Diego. The whales died after being exposed to extreme heat emanating from an underwater facility off Baja California in Mexico. The facility blew up while we were investigating it. I talked to a Mexican mobster who was a front for the real owner, a California consulting firm called the Mulholland

Group. The mobster's lawyer confirmed that Mulholland in turn is part of a transnational conglomerate named the Gogstad Corporation. The mobster and his lawyer were assassinated shortly after they talked to us." "Rather spectacularly, as I recall," Sandecker noted.

"That's correct. These weren't exactly drive-by shootings. The murders were well planned, and the hit men used sophisticated weaponry."

"That would suggest well-organized assassins with extensive resources," said Gunn, who had once served as director of logistics at NUMA and was well acquainted with the difficulties in pulling together any operation.

"We came to the same conclusion," Austin agreed. "It was the kind of organization and resources that could be provided by a big corporation so motivated."

"Gogstad?"

Austin nodded.

"I'm not sure I understand the significance of the name Gogstad," Gunn said.

"The only connection I could find was the company logo. It shows the Gogstad Viking ship that was discovered back in the 1800s. I asked Hiram to see what he could dig up on the company. There isn't a lot. Even Max had problems finding information, but basically it's a huge conglomerate with holdings worldwide. It's run by a woman named Brynhild Sigurd."

"A woman," Gunn noted with surprise. "Interesting name. Brynhild was a Valkyrie, one of the Norse maidens who carry the fallen heroes from the battlefield to Valhalla. Sigurd was her lover. You don't suppose that was her real name, do you?"

"We don't know much about the woman."

"I know megacorporations can be ruthless in their business dealings," Gunn said with a shake of his head, "but we're talking about gangland methods here."

"That's the way it seems," Austin said. He turned to Zavala. "Joe, could you fill Rudi in on your findings?"

"Kurt called me in California with the Gogstad lead," Zavala said. "I talked to a newspaper reporter from the Los Angeles Times. He knew Gogstad quite well. In fact, he was heading an investigative team looking into the corporation. He told me they were doing a story on what he called the water pirates. It would reveal how Gogstad is cornering the world's supply of water."

"I can't believe it's possible for one company to control the world's water," Gunn said.

"I was pretty skeptical, too," Zavala replied. "But from what the reporter told me it's not that far-fetched. Gogstad's companies have legally taken over the privatization of the Colorado River. Water is going from public to private ownership on every continent. Gogstad has muscled out the competition. The re porter said that there have been deaths and disappearances worldwide over the past several years. The missing or dead were all people who competed with Gogstad or opposed Gogstad takeovers."

Gunn whistled softly. "That story should cause quite a stir when it hits the headlines."

"That won't happen any time soon. The paper killed the Gogstad story for no reason. The other three members of the investigative team have disappeared, and my friend has gone into hiding."

"You're sure there's no mistake," Gunn said with alarm.

Zavala slowly shook his head. There was silence in the room, then Gunn spoke.

"There's obviously a pattern, then," he said. "Let me think about this." Gunn's unprepossessing appearance was misleading. His graduation at the top of his class in the Naval Academy was no accident. He was a sheer genius, and his analytical skills were uncanny. He cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger and lost himself in deep thought for a moment. "Something has changed," he said abruptly.

"What do you mean, Rudi?" Sandecker said.

"Their methodology has shifted gears. Let's assume that our basic premise is right and Gogstad is behind all this murder and mayhem. According to Joe, they have acted quietly. People quite simply vanished or were killed in so-called accidents. This changed with the murders of the Mexican and the crooked lawyer. I believe the word the admiral used to describe them was spectacular. "

Austin chuckled. "Those were love pats compared with the attack in Alaska. Joe and I had to contend with an all-out military assault."

"The attack on my house was on the heavy-handed side, too," Trout added.

"I think I see where you're headed with this, Rudi," Sandecker said. "Paul, how soon did word get out that Dr. Cabral was alive?"

"Almost immediately," Trout said. "Dr. Ramirez called Caracas from the helicopter that rescued us. The Venezuelan government lost no time making the news public. I would guess that CNN was broadcasting the story around the globe while we were still in the rain forest."

"Events accelerated shortly thereafter," Sandecker said. "The situation is clear to me. The catalyst was the news that Francesca Cabral was alive. Her emergence from the grave meant that her water-desalting process was again within the realm of possibility. With her expertise once more available, all that was needed was the rare substance that makes her process work. Dr. Cabral again planned to give her discovery to the world. The people who opposed this simply picked up where they left off ten years ago."

"Only this time they succeeded," Austin said.

"Okay, that explains Francesca's kidnapping," Trout said. "But why did they take Gamay?"

"This outfit does nothing at random," Austin replied. "Gamay may have been lucky. She might have been killed if they didn't have need of her. Is there anything else you can remember about the kidnapping, Paul?"

"I didn't see much after the first few minutes they were in the house. The leader, the guy in black leather, spoke with an ac cent I can't place. His pals had heavier accents."

Sandecker had been sitting back in his chair, fingers tented in front of him, listening to the conversational byplay. He snapped upright.

"These hoodlums are the small fry. We must go right to the top. We must find this woman with the Wagnerian name who runs Gogstad."

"She's a ghost," Austin said. "Nobody even knows where she lives."

"She and Gogstad are the key," Sandecker said firmly. "Do we know where their headquarters are?"

"They have offices in New York, Washington, and the West Coast. There must be a dozen scattered across Europe and Asia."

"Quite the hydra," Sandecker said.

"Even if we knew where their central office was, it wouldn't do much good. To outward appearances, Gogstad is a legitimate business. They'll deny any accusations we make."

Hiram Yaeger slipped quietly into the room and settled into a chair. "Sorry," he said. "I had to run some stuff off for the meeting." He looked expectantly at Austin, who took the cue.

"I was thinking about something Hiram showed me earlier. It was a hologram of a Viking ship. The same ship is the centerpiece of the Gogstad corporate logo. I reasoned that this ship must have some significance to be given such a prominent place. I asked Hiram to start playing around with Gogstad, to go beyond the scant corporate stuff Max dug up for us."

Yaeger nodded. "At Kurt's suggestion I asked Max to go back and brush over the historical and maritime links I had pretty much ignored before. Tons of material on the subject exist, as you might imagine. Kurt had said to look for a California connection, perhaps with the Mulholland Group. Max picked up an interesting newspaper story. A Norwegian designer of antique ships had come to California to do a replica of the Gogstad ship for a wealthy client."

"Who was the client?" Austin asked.

"The article didn't say. But it was easy to track down the Norwegian designer. I called him a few minutes ago and asked about the job. He had been sworn to secrecy, but it was years ago, and he didn't mind saying he built the replica for a big woman in a big house."

"Big woman?"

"He meant tall. A giantess."

"Sounds like a Scandinavian folktale. What's this about the house?"

"He said it was like a modern-day Viking compound on the shores of a large lake in California surrounded by mountains."

"Tahoe?"

"That was my conclusion."

"A big Viking house on the shores of Lake Tahoe. Shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Already done. Max linked up to a commercial satellite." Yaeger passed around copies of the satellite photos. "There are some big places around the lake, trophy homes, resorts and hotels. But nothing like this."

The first picture showed the icy blue waters of Lake Tahoe viewed from a high altitude as if it were a puddle. In another photo the camera had zoomed down on a dot alongside the lake, enlarging the details so that the sprawling building and the nearby helicopter pad were clear.

"Does this hovel have an owner?" Austin said.

"I was able to tap into the local assessor's office and tax data base." Yaeger grinned. If he had a tail he'd be wagging it. "It's owned by a realty trust."

"That doesn't give us much to go on."

"How about this, then? The trust is part of the Gogstad Corporation."

Sandecker looked up from the photos. He had kept his famous temper in control throughout the meeting, but he was furious at the kidnapping of one of his favored staffers and the wounding of another. He was enraged, too, after all she had suffered, at the abduction of the lovely Dr. Cabral. Once again a discovery with lifesaving implications was being kept from the world.

"Thank you, Hiram." He glanced around the table with cold, commanding blue eyes. "Well, gentlemen," he said with a voice as sharp-edged as a razor. "We know what we have to do."

Chapter 34

The men watching Francesca were either twins or some mad cloning experiment gone bad. The most terrifying thing was not their repulsiveness. It was their absolute silence. They sat a few yards away, one on either side, leaning on the backs of chairs that had been turned around. They were identical in every way, from their troll-like ugliness to their preference for black leather.

She tried not to look at the dark, red-rimmed eyes under beetling brows, the metallic dental work, and the bloodless pallor of the psychopathic faces. They were looking at her hungrily, but there was nothing sexual in their leers. This was not the ignorant savagery she was used to with the Chulo. This was pure animal lust, hunger for blood and bone. She glanced around the strange circular white room with the plain walls and uncomfortably cool temperature. At its center was a computer console. She was thinking how absurdly big the furniture was and wondered whether the outsized chairs, like the low temperature, were a psychological ploy to make people brought there feel small and inadequate. She could be anywhere in the world.

Francesca had no idea how she had come to this sterile chamber. She was vaguely aware of being moved from one place to the other. At one point she thought she heard jet engines, but she was injected with drugs again and slipped off into black unconsciousness. She had seen no sign of Gamay, and that worried her, too. She had felt a pinprick in her arm and awakened quickly as if she had been injected with a stimulant. As her eyes fluttered open she saw the twins. No one had spoken for several minutes. She was grateful when the door hissed open and the woman entered and waved the grotesque twins away.

Francesca wondered if she had blundered into a freak show or the set of a Fellini movie. She knew the reason for the out sized furniture. The woman dressed in the dark green uniform was a giantess. Settling into a big sofa, she smiled pleasantly but without warmth. 'Are you well, Dr. Cabral?"

"What did you do with Gamay?"

"Your NUMA friend? She is comfortably quartered in her room."

"I want to see her."

The woman lazily reached over and tapped her computer screen, and Gamay appeared on the monitor, lying on her side on a cot. Francesca held her breath. Then Gamay stirred, tried to rise, only to fall back onto the cot.

"She has not been given the drug antidote as you were. She will sleep it off and awaken in a few hours."

"I want to see her in person to make sure she is all right."

"Later perhaps." The answer was uncompromising. The woman touched the screen, and it went dark.

Francesca looked around. "Where exactly is this place?"

"That's not important."

"Why have you brought us here?"

The woman ignored her question. "Did Melo and Radko frighten you?"

"Do you mean the human mushrooms who just left?"

She smiled at the comparison. 'A clever metaphor, but you would do better to compare them to poisonous toadstools. De spite your bravado, I can see the fear in your eyes. Good. They should frighten you. During the ethnic cleansing campaign in Bosnia the Kradzik brothers personally killed hundreds of people and planned the deaths of thousands. They destroyed entire villages and engineered numerous massacres. If not for me they would be sitting in the prisoners' dock at the World Court in the Hague, charged with crimes against humanity. There is no war crime they did not commit. They have absolutely no conscience, no morals, no sense of remorse for anything they do. Maiming and killing are second nature to them." She paused to let her words sink in. "Am I making my point?"

"Yes. That you have no scruples yourself about hiring murderers."

"Exactly. Their murderous character is precisely why I hired them. It is no different from a carpenter buying a hammer to drive nails into a board. The Kradzik twins are my hammer."

"People aren't nails."

"Some are. Some aren't, Dr. Cabral."

Francesca wanted to change the subject. "How do you know my name?"

"I have known and admired your work for years, Dr. Cabral. In my opinion, your fame as one of the world's leading hydro engineers easily eclipses your more recent notoriety as a white goddess."

"You know who I am, but who are you?"

"My name is Brynhild Sigurd. Although your name is better known than mine, we are both accomplished in our chosen field, the movement of the earth's most precious substance, its water."

"You're a hydro-engineer?"

"I studied at the finest technological institutions in Europe. After I finished my studies I moved to California, where I started my consulting company, now one of the biggest in the world."

Francesca shook her head. She thought she knew everyone in the water engineering fraternity. "I've never heard of you."

"I prefer it that way. I've always operated behind the scenes. I'm nearly seven feet tall. My stature makes me a freak, subject to derision from those very much inferior to me."

Despite her predicament, Francesca felt a slight pang of empathy. "I had my share of harassment from idiots who don't like the idea of a woman excelling in their field. I never let it bother me."

"Perhaps you should have. In the long run my resentment at having to hide from the public has been an asset. I directed my anger, retooling it into an unstoppable ambition. I acquired other companies, all with an eye toward the future. There was only one fly in the ointment." The cold smile again. "You, Dr. Cabral."

"I've never considered myself an insect, Ms. Sigurd."

"My apologies for the label, but the analogy is precise. Some years ago it became clear to me that in time the demand for the world's water would exceed the supply, and I wanted to be the one with her hand on the tap. Then I heard about your revolutionary desalting process. If you were successful it would torpedo my carefully laid plans. I couldn't allow that to happen. I considered making you an offer, but I had studied your personality and knew I could never get through your impractical altruism. I re solved to prevent you from giving the process to the world."

Francesca felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Her voice came out in a hiss. "You were the one behind my attempted kidnap ping.'

"I had hoped to persuade you to work for me. I would have set you up in a laboratory to perfect your process. Unfortunately my plans went awry, and you disappeared into the Amazon. Everyone thought you were dead. Then I read with admiration about your adventures among the savages, how you became their queen. I knew that we were both survivors in a hostile world."

Francesca had gotten her initial fury under control, and her reply was in measured tones. "What would you have done with the process if I had given it to you?"

"I would have kept it secret while I consolidated my grip on the world's water."

"I was going to give my findings to the world free of charge," Francesca said disdainfully. "My goal was to relieve suffering, not profit by it."

"Laudable but self-defeating. With you apparently dead, I set

up a plant in Mexico to duplicate your work. It was destroyed in an explosion."

Francesca almost laughed. She knew the reason for the blast and was tempted to throw it in this woman's face. Instead she said, "I'm not surprised. Working with high pressure and extreme heat can be tricky."

"No matter. The main lab here was working on another aspect of the process. Then came the happy announcement of your escape from the Amazon. Again you disappeared, but I knew of your ties to NUMA. We've been watching the Trouts since they returned."

"Too bad you're wasting your time once again."

"I don't think so. It's not too late to put your talents to work

"You have a strange way of recruiting employees. Your first kidnapping attempt was the reason I spent ten years in the wilderness. Now you drug and kidnap me again. Why would I want to do anything for you?"

"I can offer you unparalleled support for your research."

"A dozen foundations would be glad to fund my work. Even if I were inclined to work for you, which I'm not, there is a major obstacle. The desalting process involves a complex molecular metamorphosis that works only in the presence of a rare substance."

"I know about anasazium. My supply of the material was destroyed in the blast at the Mexican facility."

"Too bad," Francesca said. "The process can't work without it. So if you'll be so kind as to allow me to leave . . ."

"You'll be pleased to know that I have all the anasazium you'll need to develop your process. When I heard of your re turn I acquired a substantial amount of the refined material. Just in time, I might add. NUMA had dispatched part of its Special Assignments Team on a similar mission. Now I can carry out my full plan to control the world's fresh water. You alone would appreciate the simple brilliance of my scheme, Dr. Cabral."

Francesca feigned a reluctant agreement, as if she were secretly pleased at the compliment. "Well, of course, as a water scientist I would be curious about such an ambitious endeavor."

"The world is entering one of the most serious droughts in its history. This dry spell could last a hundred years if the past is any indication. The first impacts have been felt in Africa, China, and the Middle East. Europe is beginning to experience a thirst that cannot be quenched. I simply plan to accelerate the process of drying out the world."

"Excuse my skepticism, but that's absurd."

"Is it?" Brynhild replied with a smile. "The United States is not immune. The great desert cities of the Southwest, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Las Vegas, draw their water from the Colorado River, which is now under my control. They rely on a tenuous network of dams, reservoirs, and river diversion. The water sup ply hangs by a thread. Any disruption in the water supply would be disastrous."

"You're not going to blow up a dam?" Francesca said with alarm.

"Nothing so crude. With their regular water supply at the breaking point, the cities have been depending more and more on private sources. Gogstad's straw corporations have been buying up water systems everywhere. We can create a water shortage wherever and whenever we want to simply by turning the handle of the tap. Then we will sell only to the places that can afford it, the big cities and the high-tech centers."

"What of those who can't afford it?"

"There's an old saying in the West: 'Water flows uphill to money.' The wealthy have always been assured of a cheap water source at the expense of others. Under my plan water will no longer be cheap. We will be doing this on a worldwide scale, in Europe and Asia, South America and Africa. It will be capitalism at its purest. The market will determine price."

"But water isn't a commodity like pork bellies."

"You've been in the jungle too long. Globalization is nothing more than the promotion of monopolies in communication, agriculture, food, or power. Why not water? Under the new international treaties, no one country owns its water resources anymore. They go to the highest bidder, and Gogstad will be the highest bidder."

"You will deny water to thousands who will be forced out of the market. There will be famine and chaos in countries that can't afford to buy water."

"Chaos will be our friend. It will prepare the way for Gogstad's political takeover of weakened governments. Think of it as water Darwinism. The strong will survive."

The icy blue eyes seemed to bore into Francesca's skull. "Don't think this is retribution for all the slights I have received because of my stature. I am a businesswoman who realizes the proper political climate is necessary to do business. This has required no small investment on my part. I have spent millions building up a fleet of water tankers that would transport water from places that have it, towing it behind them in huge ocean going bags. I have been waiting years for this moment. I have not dared to move because I feared your process. It could destroy my monopoly within weeks. Now that I have you and the anasazium, I can strike. Within days the entire western half of the country will run out of water."

"That's impossible!"

"Is it? We will see. Once the Colorado River is finished as a supplier, the rest of the pieces will fall rapidly into place. My company controls most of the fresh water supplies in other parts of the world. We will simply turn the faucet off, so to speak. Gradually at first, then more forcefully. If there are any com plaints, we will say that we are producing as much water as possible."

"You know the results," Francesca said levelly. "You're talking about turning much of the world into desert. The consequences would be terrible."

"Terrible for some, but not those who control the world's water. We could get any price we ask."

"From desperate people. You would soon be exposed as the monster you are."

"To the contrary. Gogstad will say that we are ready to move water from Alaska, British Columbia, and the Great Lakes to other parts of the world in the tanker fleet I have been building. When Gogstad's beautiful tankers appear off the coast we will be hailed as heroes."

"You're already apparently rich beyond the dreams of many. Why do you need more wealth?"

"This could benefit the world in the long run. I will prevent wars from being fought over water."

"Apax Gogstad, imposed by force."

"Force will not be necessary. I will reward those who bend to my will, punish those who don't."

"By letting them wither and die."

"If that's necessary, yes. You must wonder where your desalination process fits in."

"I assume you would never allow it to spoil your mad plot."

"To the contrary, your process is an important part of my scheme. I don't intend to keep my tankers at sea forever. They are only a stopgap measure while the world builds the fantastic infrastructure that will run water down from the polar ice cap. Vast agricultural areas that have gone to desert will have to be invigorated with huge-scale irrigation."

"No country could afford that. Whole nations will go bankrupt."

'~11 the better to snatch them up at a fire sale. Eventually I will build desalting plants using the Cabral process, but I alone will control their output."

"Again to the highest bidder."

"Of course. Now let me present my new offer. I will place you in a lab with everything you need at your command."

"If I say no?"

"Then I will turn your NUMA friend over to the Kradzik brothers. She will not die quickly or pleasantly."

"She's an innocent. She has no part in this."

"Nonetheless she is a nail that must be hammered down if necessary."

Francesca was silent for a moment. Then she said, "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't trust me, Dr. Cabral. You should know that you can never trust anyone. But you are intelligent enough to see that you are far more valuable to me than your friend's life and that I am willing to trade. As long as you cooperate, she lives. Do you agree?"

This woman and the deeds hatched in the dark recesses of her brilliant mind revolted Francesca. Brynhild was obviously a megalomaniac and, like so many of her ruthless predecessors, was impervious to the sufferings of the innocent. Francesca had not survived ten years among savage headhunters, blood-sucking bats, and stinging insects and plants without inner resources. She could be as Machiavellian as the most devious. Living in the jungle had given her the quiet ferocity of a stalking jaguar. Since her escape she had been consumed with the desire for revenge. She knew it was wrong and misplaced, but it sustained and helped maintain her grip on her sanity. She pushed her thirst for vengeance aside for the moment. This woman must be stopped.

Suppressing a smile, she bowed her head in submission and with a feigned catch in her voice said, "You win. I will help in developing the process."

'Agreed. I'll show you the facility you'll be working in. You'll be quite impressed."

"I want to talk to Gamay to make sure she is all right."

Brynhild punched a button on the intercom. Two men in dark green uniforms appeared. Francesca was relieved to see that they were not the Kradziks.

"Take Dr. Cabral to see our other guest," Brynhild ordered. "Then bring her back to me." She turned to Francesca. "You have ten minutes. I want you to get to work immediately."

Flanked by the guards, Francesca was led through a labyrinth of passageways to an elevator that dropped several levels. They stopped in front of an unmarked door opened by punching out the code on a keypad. The guards stood outside while Francesca entered the small windowless room. Gamay was sitting on the edge of her cot. She looked groggy, like a fighter who has taken one too many punches. She brightened and smiled when she saw Francesca. She tried to rise, but her legs buckled and she had to sit again.

Francesca sat on the cot and put her arm around her friend's shoulders. 'Are you all right?"

Gamay brushed her straggly hair aside. "My legs are wobbly, but I'll be fine. What about you?"

"They gave me a stimulant. I've been awake for some time. Your drugs will wear off soon."

"Did anyone mention what happened to Paul? He was up stairs when the kidnappers broke in."

Francesca shook her head. Putting aside her worst fears, Gamay said, "Do you have any idea where we are?"

"No. Our host didn't tell us."

"You mean you've spoken to someone I can thank for these glorious accommodations?"