I recalled what Beverly had told me about the nanomaterials. “Why are there so many different nanomaterials inside the CN-46 discs?”
“Actually, there’s just one. Each core consists entirely of engineered aluminum.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Not totally.” She cocked her head. “Why?”
“Beverly collected materials left by one of Simona’s planes,” I replied. “A lab analyzed them for us and found tiny disc-like structures. Each disc was bounded by metallic layers and contained a core of various nanomaterials.”
“That’s interesting. I didn’t see anything about other nanomaterials in the documentation.” Her face twisted in thought. “Simona uses a complicated system to track the CN-46 deposits. Maybe the nanomaterials have something to do with that.”
“Maybe.” I rubbed my jaw. “Can you think of any reason why Simona’s scientists would engineer CN-46 to degrade over a period of time?”
“From what I understand, the discs disintegrate due to UV radiation and interactions with oxygen radicals. I believe it’s a safety feature, designed to keep the particles from becoming a permanent fixture in the atmosphere.”
Another question popped into my brain. “How does Eco-Trek sustain itself?”
Carrie cocked her head.
“Drones, fuel, computing, personnel … it can’t be cheap.”
“I never got a chance to track down funding sources.”
“Okay, here’s another question. Why is Simona doing this?”
She shrugged. “For the greater good?”
“Her planes killed dozens of people in Israel. Her goons kidnapped homeless people. They attacked Benigno’s boat. They chased you. They shot our helicopter out of the sky.”
“I suppose she’s trying to keep this a secret. If people learned she was manipulating the climate, they’d shut her down.”
“I guess that makes sense. But how do the kidnappings fit in to her plans?”
“I don’t know yet.” Carrie waited a few seconds. “I don’t know if I should admire Simona or hate her. On one hand, she’s fighting climate change. On the other hand, she’s clearly hurting people.”
I knew how she felt. Simona’s geoengineering project gave her an incredible amount of power over the climate as well as over all of humanity. What gave her the right to wield that kind of power? And was she wielding it in a moral fashion? Was reducing climate change worth the nasty side effects? Was the greater good really all that good? Or was it something else?
Something evil.
Chapter 47
The woman rubbed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then she took two uneven steps and pitched forward, landing hard on her knees. She stretched out her hand, reaching for her daughter.
The little girl, about eight years old, slid to the nearest corner. Terrified, she watched her mother collapse on the concrete floor.
One the other side of the large one-way glass window, Simona Wolcott sipped her coffee. Cocking her head, she watched the life drain out of the poor woman. Then she glanced at the file in her lap. The woman was named Rowena. She was homeless. Her life, like so many others, had been nothing but a burden on the planet.
Simona shifted her gaze to the other isolation chambers. Men, women, and children, carefully selected by age, ethnicity, and other factors, sat quietly on concrete floors. Some chambers were full of people. Others contained just a single person. A few of the subjects appeared quite sick. Others, like Rowena’s daughter, were in perfect health.
Simona turned her attention to another glass enclosure just as a man crumpled to the ground. For a moment, he barely moved, caught between agonizing life and certain death. Tears welled up in his eyes as the chamber’s other occupants backed away.
Dr. Mychelle Besson, outfitted in a white lab coat, strolled past Simona. Carefully, she recorded observations on a long notepad.
Simona glanced back at the first chamber. A door swung open on the opposite side. Four people, clad in white hazmat suits, entered the space. They herded the daughter to the opposite end of the chamber. Then they gathered up Rowena and removed her from the area.
“Counting those two people, we’ve lost five of the forty-eight original subjects.” Mychelle cleared her throat. “The others will live, but with compromised immune systems.”
“How compromised?” Simona asked.
“If allowed back into society, I estimate an additional twenty people would die within six months, all from simple diseases.”
Simona nodded, impressed. “That’s in-line with your original estimates.”
Mychelle nodded.
“Any concerns?”
With a broad smile, she shook her head. “I don’t want to sound over-optimistic. But Miasma continues to act exactly as expected. I think we can safely move on to the next step.”
Simona took a deep breath, allowing the truth to wash over her. To bathe her in its wonderful waters. “You expect production to take four hours, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Very good.” Simona stared at the chambers. Years of labor and effort had led her to this exact moment. Now, she was ready to make the final push. “Initiate production of Miasma.”
Chapter 48
The ground was bone dry. A light wind swept against it, kicking dirt into the air. Thunder cracked in the distance. Dark clouds covered the evening sky.
Taking a deep breath, I clambered out of the fissure. Standing up, I took a few deep breaths. Dust grated against my lungs. The air felt unbearably warm. Sweat began to ooze out of my dirt-clogged pores.
Graham crawled out of the fissure. Pulling up his pant leg, he took a few moments to brush particles out of his artificial joints. From all appearances, the day of rest had done him good.
I scanned the area for paw prints. But time and wind had erased them from existence. Turning to the fissure, I saw cracks and deep puncture marks. The Grueler, whatever it was, was extremely powerful.
After everyone had crawled outside, I cleared my throat. “We’re circling west to Pagan Bay. Keep quiet and stay low. Any questions?”
Heads shook from side to side.
“When we reach the bay, we need time to study the station, ideally from a safe distance.” I glanced at Benigno. “Think you can find us a place?”
He nodded. “Sure can.”
Akolo raised his hand. “What if we see the Grueler?”
“Run.” My gaze hardened. “Run like hell.”
I drew my pistol from its holster. Unsheathed my machete. Weapons in hand, I walked up the hill facing the fissure. Setting a southwestwardly course, I began crossing the arid terrain.
After a short walk, I noticed Graham keeping pace with me. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
He grinned. “How do I look?”
“Like crap.”
He chuckled.
I hesitated for a moment. “So, my dad used to travel with you?”
Graham nodded. “Sure did.”
“Why? I mean he wasn’t an adventurer. He was a real estate tycoon.”
“True, but real estate wasn’t his entire life. He loved the outdoors. In fact, I’d say he preferred it to the boardroom, although he would’ve never admitted that to anyone.”
I nodded.
“You remind me of him,” Graham said. “In a lot of ways.”
My mouth twitched. For whatever reason, a surge of guilt swept through me. “Is that right?”
“He was smart and stubborn as hell, same as you. He even possessed the same skill set. But while you were born for this life, his true expertise was in the art of the deal. So, you’re similar to him.” He shrugged. “But still very different.”