‘And is that so bad?’
‘Well, it’s not a great fuel. It’s expensive to make, it’s not as efficient…’
He had to cut her off. ‘But it’s no danger in groundwater, and does make gas burn cleaner, right?’
Bree grimaced, hesitated.
‘What? Tell me.’
‘We don’t need either of them. The whole additive industry is basically just one giant, greedy scam. The oil companies, as we know, are making billions on MTBE. But that’s not all. Have you ever heard of SKO, the farming conglomerate?’
Valens felt his head go light. ‘Of course.’
‘Well, it’s making zillions, too, in subsidies for ethanol. They can’t make the stuff profitably, but somehow they’ve convinced the government that it’s in the national interest that we keep making it.’
‘Maybe it is. Maybe-’
But she cut him off. ‘No. No, it’s not, Al. Listen to this. Did you know that it takes more energy to produce ethanol than the stuff generates as a fuel?’
‘I don’t think so, Bree. How is that possible?’
‘Tractor fuel, cost of shipment, storage, refining, like that.’
Well…‘
‘Well nothing. And since it has less fuel energy than gas, it guarantees worse gas mileage, which affects everybody who drives. Plus,’ she continued, having worked herself into a high dudgeon, ‘do you realize that every dollar of SKO’s ethanol profits costs the American taxpayer thirty dollars? And I’m leaving out all the science here. This is just the crappy business stuff. It’s just awful.’
Valens had no response to any of this. He didn’t know if any of it was true or not, and didn’t care, but it was clear that she had come to believe it and might take her message to Damon. That was the issue. That s what he had to deflect.
He kept his voice under control. ‘But Bree, almost all businesses-’
‘But Damon isn’t involved with almost all businesses. He’s involved with this one. And this ethanol thing isn’t even the worst of it.’
He waited, hardly daring to breathe. What could be worse than what she’d already come to? ‘So what is?’ he asked.
She leaned forward, and her zealot’s eyes locked into his. ‘We don’t need either of them.’
‘Either of what?’
‘Either MTBE or ethanol, or any other gas additives for that matter. The EPA has mandated them, but the whole thing is a scam. The whole thing, do you realize that?’ Her voice went up several decibels with her outrage.
‘I.. . I’m afraid I don’t understand,’ he managed to stammer.
‘No, no. I know you don’t. How could you? Nobody does. Wait a minute.’
Suddenly she was up, nearly running, disappearing into a hallway across the kitchen area. In another moment, she reappeared carrying a large handful of papers. ‘Look,’ she began without preamble. ‘I don’t expect you to understand the science,’ she said, ‘but let me try to explain some of this.’
He listened for what seemed an eternity as she went over the salient points of the report she’d been working on for the past month or six weeks. It contained a great deal of data – graphs, equations, analyses of comparisons in burn rates, emissions, efficiencies of gasoline – and gradually even Al Valens began to see what Bree had assembled.
Culled from patent applications, lawsuit transcripts, internal memos, executive summaries, and expert testimony of dozens of combustion engineers, Bree s report detailed a startling truth – that the oil companies had discovered a way to formulate gasoline so that it burned cleanly without the addition of oxygenates, without any additives at all. ‘So you see, Al, it’s what I was telling you. The whole additive question is a scam. Damon’s got to be made aware of this. I’ve got to tell him.’
When she finished, Valens gathered his thoughts. It wouldn’t do to alienate Bree now. If she did go running to Damon with this, if she convinced him to start talking about it, it would be a disaster. He sighed histrionically. ‘This is terrible,’ he said. ‘Just awful. I wonder why it hasn’t made the news in a big way?’
But Bree knew the answer to that one. ‘It’s a bunch of individual papers, experiments, opinions. That’s how we scientists work – on small problems, little tweaks here and there, which are fascinating and challenging in themselves.
‘Like with me and MTBE. At the beginning, in layman’s terms, my job was to prove it made for cleaner air. And every way I tested it, it worked. And then somehow my job changed and gradually I wasn’t really a scientist anymore. I was a spokesperson defending what I’d done, what Caloco believed in, what I believed in. So I wasn’t interested in groundwater, in cleanup, even in this reformulated gas. My job, my life, was MTBE. The rest of it wasn’t my problem.’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you understand at all?’
He nodded. ‘Of course. Of course I do.’
She squared the pages of her report, and sat back with it in her lap. ‘But I was wrong.’
‘No. I don’t think so. I think you trusted your employers.’ Valens reached across and touched her knee with his fingertips. Quickly. Even through the jeans, it burned. ‘Bree, you did the right thing calling me about this. I want you to know that.’
She let out a long breath. ‘I didn’t know what else to do. Part of me feels like I should tell Damon, but he has so much on his mind already….’
‘Exactly.’
‘But if I don’t…’
Valens interrupted with the answer she needed. ‘If you don’t, he’ll understand. In fact, after the election, he’ll thank you for it. The issue at this point in any campaign, much less a squeaker like this one, Bree, is focus. If he loses focus, the voters get confused, he s dead. And this stuff, you’ve got to admit, it’s a little complicated.’
She broke a small smile. ‘A little, I suppose.’
‘Don’t suppose. Believe me on this one! Now they were more than allies – they were really pals. It was time to make his pitch. ’Bree, that report, you got it on your computer too?‘
‘Yes.’
‘You know, it’s pretty volatile stuff. It gets in the wrong hands, maybe your husband’s…’
What?‘
‘He could delete it maybe. Shred the hard copy. And then where’s all your hard work? If he connects it with you and Damon…’
‘No,’ she said, ‘Ron would never do anything like that.’ She hesitated. ‘Ron accepts the situation.’
He shrugged. It wouldn’t do to push. ‘Well, it’s your decision, but I could take all that stuff – your disks, everything. Keep them someplace safe till after the election.’
But she was firm. ‘It’s safe here. I don’t want Damon to see it until I tell him, until we have time and I can explain it, and also why we decided not to tell him sooner.’
‘After the election?’ Valens wanted it nailed down, although what he really wanted was all copies of the report or, better yet, for Bree to disappear along with it.
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘As we’ve decided.’