Pressure (29 page)

“Your men were sloppy. Two of the loose ends found out, and escaped. They're with me now.”

“Escaped?”

“That's correct. But as I said, they are currently with me.”

“I don't understand. Could you elaborate a bit more? How did this happen? Do you have any idea what tipped them off?”

“Yes,” Paolo replied. “As I said, it was a breakdown of operational discipline. Your men lacked the necessary discretion at a time when it mattered most.”

“I see.”

“Oh, you see? Well, I'm glad that you see. But I'm even gladder that I saw. Otherwise, I think we both know that I wouldn't be talking to you right now. I wouldn't be talking to anyone. I'd be another scientific curiosity—an experiment gone wrong.”

“Listen, about that…” Bevill sighed. His tone turned conciliatory. “You need to understand, your situation, while precarious, was unprecedented. We didn't know what would happen to you, but given your dire medical prognosis at the time, we had a scientific obligation to follow through and learn whatever we could about your condition.”

Paolo laughed. “So, it wasn't personal?”

“Absolutely. I assure you it was not. It was purely scientific. We had to make the most of things, given the situation. Remember, we didn't expect you to recover.”

“But I did recover.” Paolo was careful not to sound too forgiving, lest he show his hand.

“Indeed, you did. And I am very grateful for that.”

“As am I. And let me be clear—I expect to be well compensated for the medical limbo your people left me in.”

Bevill paused. “I think something can be arranged. What figure did you have in mind?”

“You tell me. I'll decide if it's fair enough.”

“I'm sure we can reach an agreement. However, before we do that, there are still other matters to attend to. I still don't have a clear picture as to what happened at the facility. I gave orders to bring everything to a conclusion. The lead agent was to transmit all of the current data, prepare the remains for shipment, and handle any outstanding … obligations.”

“Yes, I know,” Paolo reminded him. “I was one of those obligations.”

Bevill ignored this. “Several hours ago, the lead agent communicated that there had been a major security breach, and they were taking steps to contain everything. We've heard nothing since, and he never transmitted the final, conclusive report. We still need that data. It's absolutely essential. So, perhaps you understand why I'd be very grateful if you could fill in the blanks. What happened?”

“The lead agent didn't transmit the report because he was locked in the back of a delivery truck. Given that you have since spoken to him, I have to assume he got out, and took countermeasures to make sure your company wasn't implicated in anything. As far as I know, he still has the biological specimens, but as for the data? I have that now.”

“Say again?”

“The data is in my possession. I extracted all of it earlier yesterday, when I first noticed your operational procedures going into effect. When the private contractors began disappearing, it wasn't hard to figure out just what was going on. So I acted.”

“I see. And just how were you able to obtain all of that data without being caught?”

Paolo laughed, ignoring the pain it caused. “You really should have assigned more personnel to that facility, overall. They were so distracted and spread thin dealing with the freelancers and the staff, that they never noticed me slipping out of my room. As I said, they were sloppy.”

“So, you have all the data? Everything?”

“That's correct. I stored it on two hard drives. I have them in my hands right now.”

“I see.”

“Do you now? Then I can assume you also see just how valuable I am to you.”

“I think we can agree to double your compensation to account for the, uh, unanticipated biological data you are able to provide for us.”

“That is fair,” Paolo replied, “but there is still the matter of the past few days. You agreed earlier that I should be compensated for that, as well.”

Bevill paused longer this time. When he spoke again, he sounded tired.

“Yes, of course. I'm sure I can get approval for another fifty thousand to cover your … medical costs.”

“Fifty thousand? That's not at all satisfactory.”

“Well, what would be satisfactory?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of triple my original compensation.”

“Triple? Now, see here!”

“Given the sensitive nature of things, it's a small price to pay to ensure this data doesn't fall into the wrong hands—especially, the hands of one of your competitors … well, I think we both know what that might lead to.”

“Fine. Enough. Agreed.”

“Excellent.” Paolo smiled. “I was hoping you'd see things my way.”

“So, when can you deliver?”

“I'll be in touch to set a time and place for the hand off.”

“Understand something,” Bevill said. “While we still have the specimens under our control, that hand off has to include
everything
else…”

“The hard drives are yours.”

“And the other two factors, as well. Those two loose ends that are with you? They'll still have to be neutralized.”

Steam rose from the sink. Paolo stared at the condensation on the bathroom mirror, and thought of Carrie and Abhi. In the fog, it was almost easy to pretend that his reflection belonged to someone other than himself. He reached out and touched the glass, leaving his handprint behind. The moisture felt cool on his hand. The running water and the thrum of the exhaust fan both suddenly seemed very loud. With his index finger, Paolo slowly traced a smiley face in the condensation.

“Are you still there?” Bevill asked. “I need you to understand—there's no deal unless we have all three. That is non-negotiable.”

“Relax,” Paolo replied, finishing his drawing. “They'll be delivered with the hard drives. I guarantee it.”

*   *   *

Later that day, a representative from the embassy staff called for a meeting with Carrie, Abhi, Paolo, Jessamine, Hank, and Khem. They were led into a dark, secluded conference room deep inside the building. Two men were already seated at the large table. They stood up when the others entered. One introduced himself as Brett McBean, the Australian ambassador, and shook each of their hands, in turn. The other introduced himself as Mr. Brown, a member of Australia's Secret Intelligence Service.

Carrie thought it was strange that the ambassador had introduced himself by his full name, but the intelligence agent had only given his last name.

Brown verified that two soldiers were positioned outside the door before he closed it. McBean, meanwhile, directed them to a small buffet, which had been set up in the corner, with crystal pitchers of water and juice, a pot of coffee, hot water and tea bags, and a row of silver platters heaped with a variety of fruits, vegetables, finger sandwiches, and hors d'oeuvres. Abhi and Hank helped themselves to the food, but nobody else partook. Before the meeting started, the two men looked up from their plates, noticed that no one else was eating, and then shrugged sheepishly at each other.

“Miss Wheatley,” McBean began, after they were all settled, “I have to insist that this conversation be strictly off the record. Is that acceptable to you and your crew?”

“Everything, or just what you and Mr. Brown say?”

“Mr. Brown and I can only speak on behalf of the Australian government. What is said in this room during this meeting is off the record. If anyone would like to repeat it to you elsewhere, well, that would be up to them.”

“Then yes,” Jessamine replied. “Of course.”

“Very good. Well then, it is our position that the Australian government owes each of you safety, and I'm happy to report that we are approving your request for asylum.”

“Even though not all of us are Australian citizens?” Carrie asked.

“Of course, Miss Anderson. At this point, your nationality is no longer important. You are, after all, whistleblowers to a major crime being perpetrated on the Indian Ocean. Granted, it is occurring in Mauritian waters, rather than our own, but given the current social uncertainty and upheaval here, we feel that our government is better positioned to respond to this. Mauritius has its hands full, to say the least. They don't have the resources to tackle this. Not to mention that these allegations, if true, will potentially impact our country, as well. It has become an Australian problem.”

“However,” Brown added, “you have to understand that this is a short-term arrangement. While our initial intelligence lends some credibility to your story—satellite imaging of the trench, for example, which confirms the widespread hypoxia—we still need proof of these allegations regarding Alpinus Biofutures' involvement in the collapse. Without that, the asylum grant will be reversed.”

“Did you check out the facility here on the island?” Carrie asked. “All the proof you need should be there.”

“We did investigate it,” Brown confirmed, “but first responders got there before us.”

“First responders?” Jessamine asked.

Brown nodded. “The clinic burned to the ground early this morning. It is estimated that the fire started around the time you got here. We found no one inside, and recovered nothing of any intelligence value so far. The ruins are still too hot to comb through, but our chances of salvaging anything useful appear to be slim indeed. Apparently, the blaze was aggressive. There is very little left standing. It was almost certainly arson, and expertly conducted, but that's all we know.”

“Son of a bitch,” Carrie exclaimed, slapping her palm on the tabletop. “They're covering their tracks! I should have taken a sample when we left.”

“It's not your fault, Carrie.” Abhi sipped his water. “It's not like we had the time. Let's just be glad we made it out of there alive. A lot of other people didn't.”

“But we've got no proof,” she argued. “I mean, what do we have, Abhi? We've got Paolo's word of the conspiracy, our own experiences, the wreckage of Takenaka's ship, and yes, maybe—maybe—we can prove the collapse was engineered, but there's nothing to link it to Alpinus. They've got the egg, the remains of the creatures, and all of the data. This would never make it to court, let alone the nightly news.”

“Unfortunately, you're right,” Hank said. “We'd need concrete proof before we could ever air these allegations. I'm not saying I don't believe you folks. I do. But the network is going to want this extensively corroborated and vetted. Otherwise, they're just going to laugh at me and suggest you take the story to Infowars or one of the other conspiracy sites.”

Carrie sighed in exasperation. “Maybe we'll have to. Maybe we'll take it to Alex Jones.”

“You
could,
” Hank replied. “But you might find your story discredited just by appearing there.”

“Then we'll take it to Ben Swann, Jesse Ventura, Gardner Goldsmith—anybody who will listen.”

“But, Carrie,” Jessamine cautioned. “Any legitimate news outlet, even amongst the alternative media, is going to need proof. And even if they didn't require it, without documentation to back it up, Alpinus will sic their lawyers on them when they ask for comment. The story would get killed long before anybody saw it.

Hank and Khem nodded in agreement.

“So we're screwed.” Carrie sounded close to tears.

“Not yet,” Jessamine replied. “Not by a long shot. We just need to think. Is there another way to get the proof we need?”

Carrie snapped her fingers. “The nest!”

McBean frowned. “Um, a nest?”

Carrie turned to Paolo. “When you stole the egg, were there others like it?”

He nodded. “Yes. They were strung up like octopus eggs. But Alpinus would have destroyed them by now.”

“Maybe,” Carrie agreed. “But maybe not. We've made them act fast. Whatever their original timetable was, our actions made them speed things up. They could have gotten careless as a result. If there are still more eggs in the Mouth of Hell, and we can get them, then that's a good start at providing physical proof. And the remains of the creature Captain Takenaka killed might still be down there, as well. We could get samples from that.”

“But it still wouldn't tie things back to Alpinus Biofutures,” Jessamine insisted.

“It might,” Brown said. “If you are correct about their use of nanotechnology, there might be certain identifiers that would indicate their involvement in the manufacturing of these robotic units. It would take time, and there is a possibility nothing could be determined, but it sounds to me as if your other options are slim.”

There was a brief silence as all of them glanced around the room at each other. Eventually, all eyes settled on Carrie.

“Well,” she sighed. “That settles it. I guess I'm diving back down there again.”

“And here I thought we might finally get a few days off work,” Abhi complained.

“No, you still get time off. You're not going with me this time.”

“Try to stop me, Carrie. I've followed you out there how many times now?”

“We'd like to come along, too,” Hank said. “I can't imagine the network vetoing that idea. We won't get in the way.”

“I'm not going out there,” Khem murmured. “Haven't you been listening? There are monsters in that trench. People died! You heard what happened to those mercenaries.”

“They're dead,” Hank reminded him.

“Then I'd better get paid double-time.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “You're salaried, Khem. You don't get double-time.”

“Well, then this would be an excellent time to discuss a raise.”

“I hear GNN is hiring,” Hank quipped.

Khem folded his arms across his chest and pouted.