“We have to do something.”
“She’s right.” Beverly appeared at Carrie’s side. “You both are.”
I stared at her. “How do you figure that?”
“We can’t take down Eco-Trek, not by ourselves. But we can’t just forget they’re here.” She paused. “Once we’ve got the reliquary, how are you planning to leave this place?”
“I figured we’d steal a boat.”
“And then Simona will send her fleet after us. She’ll blanket us with chemtrails. She might even crash a drone into us.”
“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m listening.”
“We need to find a way to keep those drones grounded for at least twelve hours. That should give us time to reach Saipan.”
“How do we do that?”
She turned toward Carrie. “Cy told me about the geoengineering project. Is it true that Simona’s model controls the drones?”
Carrie nodded.
“Then it’s settled.” Beverly looked at me. “We’ll take down the model.”
Chapter 59
What’s that?
I cocked my head. To the southwest, I saw something large and shiny. But between the darkness and dust, I couldn’t identify it.
I withdrew my pistol. Hunched down.
We’d made the decision to leave the vehicle at the burial ground. The blood splatter lining its side was too noticeable. Plus, not enough time had passed. Surely, the other guards would expect the three men to take at least a few hours to dig the graves.
We’d decided to stick close to the road, walking in the narrow path between the pavement and the stones. If any lookouts were watching the area, they’d focus their attention on the open ground. They’d never expect intruders to take such an obvious route.
But I couldn’t ignore the shiny object.
Veering away from the road, I passed through some leafless trees and stepped onto a patch of dead grass. My body relaxed as I caught sight of the object or rather, objects. They were the remnants of an old plane crash, one dating back to World War II from the looks of it.
I walked forward, dry grass crackling under my boots. I passed by the tail and stepped carefully over a detached wing. Then I walked past the fuselage and pulled up next to the propeller, which was partially covered with dead bushes.
The plane was a Mitsubishi A6M Zero, better known as a Japanese Zero. The Zero was a long-range fighter aircraft, flown by Japanese pilots during World War II. For a short time, its maneuverability and range had terrified the Allies.
I laid a hand on the three-blade propeller. The Zero had most likely crashed while attempting to land on the runway. Someone had come along after the fact and reassembled the pieces, laying them out as a sort of monument.
“Cy,” Beverly’s whisper nudged my earlobes. “What are you doing?”
I heard her, but only in a distant part of my brain. For a brief moment, I found myself transported back in time. The Zero was an incredible artifact from World War II. It had a history all of its own. But I knew that its history was perilous. Left in its present position, the aircraft would continue to rust. Eventually, it would succumb completely to the elements.
Beverly cleared her throat. “Cy?”
This time, her voice jarred me awake. “Yeah?”
“Come on.”
My initial instinct was to take charge of the scene. To preserve the aircraft, to keep it safe. Scholars could learn much from the Zero, from its wreckage. Still, it was a foolish notion. There were other Zeros for historians to study. Why would I put this one above the lives of my friends?
Why would you put anything above them?
I exhaled. “Okay, I—”
Scratches erupted from nearby, cutting me off. A deep hissing filled the air.
My blood froze. I whirled to the south.
Dust swirled everywhere. Then a mass appeared. It lay on the ground between two trees.
The wind shifted directions. The dust cloud cleared for a split-second and I got my first good look at the Grueler. I saw its face, its grinding jaws.
My blood ran cold. It was impossible, inconceivable. And yet, the truth stood before me.
The Grueler … it’s a machine?
Chapter 60
Placing his hands on his armrests, Barney Samuels started to stand up. But a chilling look from the president froze him in place.
President Walters walked to the center of the room. Twisting around, he faced the Secretary of Energy. “It’s your turn, Barney.”
Samuels sat perfectly still.
President Walters studied the man. He appeared agitated. His eyes were puffy. His normally immaculate attire was creased and wrinkled. “I’m tired and pissed off. Do me a favor and start talking.”
Samuels’ eyes flitted from the president to Ed Hooper and then back again. “I don’t know where to begin.”
The president heard resignation in the man’s voice. He gritted his teeth. All along, a small part of him had hoped Hooper was wrong. But the truth now stared him directly in the face. Samuels, along with the others, had robbed the Columbus Project.
What now? Would he announce his support for Senator Gar? Or would he endure public humiliation?
“Why’d you do it?” the president asked in an angry tone.
“To fight the battle no one else would fight.” Samuels gained confidence as he spoke. “Climate change threatens to destroy this planet. Rather than sit around, we chose to do something about it.”
“What exactly did you do?”
“We spearheaded the world’s first global geoengineering project.”
The president remained quiet.
Samuels frowned. “You know?”
The president sat down. “We’ve set up interrogation rooms throughout your house. The others have been fairly open about Eco-Trek.”
Samuels stood up and walked to a wall. Folding his hands behind him, he stared at an old photo. “Over the last hundred years, the earth’s average surface temperature increased by one point four degrees Fahrenheit. More than two thirds of that warming occurred within the last thirty years. Thanks to modern science, we know it was caused by increased levels of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere.”
The president waited silently.
“Greenhouse gases absorb and emit radiation, allowing heat to be trapped near the earth’s surface,” Samuels continued. “Under ordinary circumstances, that’s a good thing. Life couldn’t exist if sunrays were earth’s only source of heat. However, with the advent of the Industrial Revolution, mankind began to burn fossil fuels and cut down forests at incredible rates of speed. Over the last few centuries, enormous amounts of carbon dioxide and methane have entered the atmosphere. Those gases keep radiation from escaping, causing temperatures to warm over time.”
President Walters decided to throw some cold water in Samuels’ face. “That’s a bad thing?” He grinned. “Warmer temperatures mean fewer pants, more skirts.”
“They also mean melting glaciers, rising sea levels, heat waves, extreme weather changes that disrupt agriculture, and ocean acidification. Suffice it to say the impact from climate change is projected to be far more negative than positive.”
Hooper shook his head. “How can a bunch of drones change the climate?”
“Have you ever heard of Mount Pinatubo?”
“Sure, it’s a volcano in the Philippines.”
“Back in 1991, it erupted, injecting seventeen million metric tons of sulfur dioxide into the stratosphere. The aerosols reacted with water, forming sulfuric acid particles. Those particles stayed in the stratosphere for three years, acting as a sort of cloud cover and reflecting sunlight back into space. As a result, global temperatures dropped by about one degree Fahrenheit.” Samuels paused. “We used money from the Columbus Project to build a small research station in the Northern Mariana Islands. Secretary Bane provided it with the military’s latest drone technology. As we speak, those drones are distributing aerosols into the upper atmosphere, essentially duplicating the effects of Mount Pinatubo.”