Journey Through the Mirrors (25 page)

Director Sully walked into the lab with several aides. “What’s the update? People are demanding answers.”

“No real update,” Valerie said, allowing some disdain to show in her voice. “We’ll be looking at this from top to bottom.”

“Starting with why Goshi began his testing early,” Sylvia added, sitting up and wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Are you suggesting something, Agent Brookes?” Director Sully asked.

“She’s not,” Valerie interjected, “but I am. Protocol is clear. The infectious disease team is supposed to quarantine and then clear all material before any investigation is allowed to be done.”

“I know the protocol, Agent Perrot,” Director Sully said. “It was my call. Sometimes you have to set aside protocols for expediency. We couldn’t afford any delays in finding out if the natural-gas disasters were a result of sabotage. Based on the nanites that were found, I would say we have the answer to that question. I’m sorry for your loss, Agent Perrot, I really am. But you’re not the only one who has been affected by this gas crisis. The body count is up to four hundred in the North African Commonwealth and even more at the Derby site.”

“What Derby site?” Valerie asked.

“You and your team are supposed to be leading this investigation. I would expect you to be aware of what is going on in the world.” Director Sully shook her head. “One of the Deep Horizon gas refineries in Western Australia imploded twenty-three minutes ago. Five hundred people are dead.” An aide showed Director Sully something on a PCD. She finished, “Get it together, Agent Perrot. Find out whoever is sabotaging these gas wells.”

“You’re the one who should have been promoted to director,” Sylvia said to Valerie when Sully and her aides were gone.

Valerie gave no sign of acknowledgment. “Have we got any more of that amber foam? I’d love to bury her in some of it.” Sylvia tried to smile. “She is right about one thing, though,” Valerie continued. “We need to figure out who or what is behind all this.”

Sylvia took a deep breath and slid her chair in front of a computer station. She pressed a few controls and brought up a projected image of
a round gray object. It was the same image they had looked at earlier, a sphere with six legs with a longer and thinner protrusion that looked like a tail. “Goshi was analyzing the fuel samples we received from the North African Commonwealth. This is a magnified image of one of the nanites that is causing all this chaos. This afternoon, after we were kicked out of the lab, I did some more analysis on these little monsters at home. This is a methanophiles cell. It’s classified as a prokaryote, a unicellular organism. The nanites appear to be a molecularly modified version of methanophiles.”

“Methano-what?” Valerie asked.

“Methanophiles are able to metabolize methane,” Sylvia explained. “We learned a lot about them during the 2010s, when the world was dealing with global warming. Some governments deployed forms of methanotrophs to reduce the release of methane into the atmosphere.”

“I remember learning about that in history class,” Valerie said. “Rice fields, landfills, and swamps were blamed for emitting huge amounts of methane. Several countries in Europe sponsored an effort to deploy methane eaters into the ecosystems in 2020. Are you saying this is what’s messing up the natural-gas supply?”

“I think so,” Sylvia answered. “Natural gas is seventy percent methane. As these nanites consume the methane, the natural gas is rendered useless.”

“You said these nanites were modified.”

Sylvia nodded. “In a couple of ways. First, as they consume the methane, they multiply profusely. In theory, you would only need a single nanite to take out a whole natural-gas field. But they don’t live very long, as we witnessed in the Bubble. All that gray soot in there is dead nanites.”

“And second?” Valerie asked.

“Second, these little things also consume oxygen,” Sylvia said. “But what’s even stranger is that when they absorb either gas, they don’t release anything back into the atmosphere. Unlike humans, who consume oxygen and release CO-two, these nanites hold on to whatever they
consume. That’s why a vacuum formed in the bubble. The more O-two we pumped in, the faster the nanites metabolized it and the faster the vacuum grew. The beasts consume, multiply, and die.”

“And we’re positive these were man-made?” Valerie asked.

“I found mutations that do not occur naturally. There were also what we call watermarks in the DNA of the nanites. Watermarks are genome sequences added to DNA so that the synthetic organisms can be differentiated from the normal ones. They’re not easily accomplished. These things are man-made, I’m certain of it.”

“What about the mutations?” Valerie asked.

Sylvia rotated the image and zoomed in. “You see this thing that looks like a tail?” she asked. “I think it’s some kind of antenna. One of the big questions is how you turn these organisms off once they come alive,” Sylvia said. Valerie gave her a quizzical look. “Once these things start consuming oxygen, if left unchecked, they wouldn’t just stop at one gas well. They would keep going until the air on the whole planet was consumed.”

“You could freeze them like we did,” Valerie said.

“It would take a tremendous amount of nitrogen to do that. The only nitrogen in the samples we received from the Commonwealth was put there by the North African WCF lab technician for transportation. There has to be another way to turn them on and off.”

“And you think this antenna has something to do with it?” Valerie considered that possibility for a moment. “I wonder if Goshi accidentally activated one during his testing.”

Just then, a call came in on the HoloPad next to Sylvia, projecting an image of Alex. “Hey, Val,” he said. “Just heard about Western Australia.”

“What’s the update from the Commonwealth?” Valerie asked.

“Tensions are pretty high over here. The politicians are bent on blaming this whole thing on the Republic of South Africa. They’re convinced that the RSA is attempting to destabilize their country. I’ve had a tough time getting anyone to consider any other possibility.”

“Not surprising, considering the escalating tensions between the
two countries since the first President Jabral was assassinated,” Sylvia said.

“There are very few leads here,” Alex said. “No one saw anything out of the ordinary. I’ve talked to at least thirty people, and none provided anything more than what the technicians said. This is all pointing to someone on the inside. Which is not hard to believe with the political atmosphere around here.”

“I’d agree with you if it wasn’t for the Australian site,” Valerie said. “They’re not embroiled in any power struggles. And the fact that two different companies were attacked makes a disgruntled employee less likely.” She thought for a moment. “Why destroy the energy supplies around the world? Who benefits from that?”

“Terrorists,” Sylvia suggested, “or a competitor.”

Valerie nodded. “Alex, I need to you to go to Western Australia as soon as you can. Since that attack just happened, there might be fresh evidence there.” Alex nodded, and the call ended. Valerie grabbed a chair and sat down next to Sylvia. “Bring up a list of all the companies in the world that are in the natural-gas business.”

Sylvia did so quickly:

NAF Atlantic, Inc.

North African Commonwealth, LLC

South America Holdings

Kimberly Gas

Harlen Oil and Gas

Siberian Drilling and Exploration, Inc.

“Siberian Drilling and Exploration is the one heavily invested in the Western Australia site,” Sylvia said. “Not a very long list.”

“I’m not surprised,” Valerie said. “With all the regulations put into place after the Great Disruption, energy exploration is a capital-intensive business and not easy to get into.”

“All of these companies emerged right around the same time. About
twenty years ago, after they figured out how to fracture rock by using sound. Little-known fact, but sound is an underappreciated science. If you find the right frequency of sound, you can break apart anything.”

“What about alternative energy companies?” Valerie asked. “Wasn’t there a company trying to deploy a solar collector in space?”

Sylvia manipulated her display. The list in front of them tripled in size:

NAF Atlantic, Inc.

Oceanic Breeze

The Tripod Group

Solar Navigation

South America Holdings

Arbatro of India

Kimberly Gas

Harlen Oil and Gas

NovaCon International

New Light Wind and Power

Siberian Drilling and Exploration, Inc.

“Not sure that helps us,” Sylvia said.

Valerie’s eyes widened. “What about those DNA watermarks you talked about? Is there any way to trace them?”

“We may not be able to trace the watermarks, but . . .” Sylvia thought a moment, then began to manipulate her display. “There is only one company in the world that makes the equipment to insert watermarks of this kind: BioGen, Inc. They have a device called a DNA spectrometer. We may not be able to track the watermark itself, but we can see who has purchased one of these devices.” Sylvia brought up another list:

SimCon, Inc.

Albiet Research

Kilakore Pharmaceuticals

The Tripod Group

Bentley Pharma, LLC

NovaCon International

Zolton Five

Medi-Tech, Inc.

“In theory, each of these companies has the capability to create those killer nanites,” Sylvia said.

Valerie nodded, scanning rapidly. Suddenly, she stopped. “Tripod,” she said softly, placing her hand on Sylvia’s shoulder. The name was on both lists. “That’s twice in the last three days I’ve heard that name. The Tripod Group is behind the excavation of the pyramid Logan and I visited in Mexico. Mr. Montez, the archaeologist at Teotihuacán, said Tripod is funding his work.”

“Did I hear you mention the Tripod Group?” Chetan asked, as he arrived at his desk. “I almost went to work for them. They are one of the world’s leading think tanks. Rigel Wright is an impressive man.”

“Impressive or not, he might be behind what’s been happening at the gas wells,” Valerie said.

Sylvia projected her findings for Chetan. “Man-made methanophile nanites,” she said. Chetan shook his head in disbelief.

“What do we know about the Tripod Group?” Valerie asked.

Sylvia brought up a picture of a short man with beach-blond hair and a confident smile that showed off his pearly white teeth. “This is Rigel Wright. He is forty-seven years old and a billionaire many times over. He started the Tripod Group eight years ago after he sold off his interests in his stem-cell organ replication company.”

“He is a genius,” Chetan said. “I heard that the Tripod Group holds thousands of patents.”

“Twenty-two thousand five hundred forty-four, to be precise,” Sylvia read. “He’s not married, he has an older sister, and both of his parents are dead.”

“Where is the Tripod Group located?” Valerie asked.

“They have offices all over the world,” Sylvia said. “But their primary office is in London.”

“Well, then, looks like we’re going to London,” Valerie said.

“Mr. Wright is not there,” Chetan said, shaking his head. “He lives on a boat. A two-hundred-meter yacht called the
Water Shadow
. He travels around the world doing pretty much whatever he wants.”

“Where is his yacht now?” Valerie asked.

“It’s currently docked in Southampton, United Kingdom,” Chetan answered.

“Why in the world would you know that?” Sylvia asked.

“I read that Mr. Wright is retracing the path of the RMS
Titanic
. He had a special submarine constructed that is going to attempt to raise the ship from the bottom of the ocean. He is going to start in a few days. I’ve been tracking the expedition for the last year.”

“Well, then, looks like you and I are going to Southampton,” Valerie tried again. Chetan nodded. “I’m also arranging a little side trip for us.”

27

Move past the roadblocks of your own expectations. Only there will you find something new.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

NEW CHICAGO, 7:20 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 22, 2070

After supper, Ms. Sally took the children to a movie, and Logan used his time alone to listen to more of his mother’s recordings. He hoped to come across one that revealed what she and her music teacher knew about the Munch painting and the voice of the earth. Based on Jamie’s reaction to the picture that afternoon and her telling him that it represented what happened to people when the earth lost its voice, Logan suspected that his mother’s music teacher possessed a deep understanding of Munch’s work, and he wanted to gain more insight into it before he and Mr. Perrot returned to Mexico the next morning with the restored whistling vessel. He had much to discuss with Mr. Montez, especially now that Valerie had told him of her suspicions concerning the Tripod Group.

Logan didn’t hear anything related to his line of inquiry until the third recording on a chip dated February 15, 2036, at 3:34
P.M.
He heard his mother say:

’Bye, Madu . . . You know I’m going to get Nadine to tell me what you and Sumsari are working on.

There were male voices laughing and talking in the background, followed by the sound of a door closing. Logan’s mother continued: