The Storm (30 page)

He’d also measured out the confines, took a look under the hoods of the trucks and come up with several alternate plans of action. He’d even considered sabotaging the engines, pulling out distributor wires, tampering with the carburetors or attempting to loosen the oil plugs so the big rigs either wouldn’t start or would break down shortly after they got going.

He chose not to. If the trucks couldn’t go, he couldn’t get off the ship. If they moved and then broke down twenty miles into whatever land they were heading to, Joe might be stuck somewhere worse than Yemen—and surrounded by angry militants to boot.

He considered breaking out. The huge doors were still pinned shut, but Joe was pretty certain he could bash them open with all the horsepower he had available. But then what? Based on what he remembered about their entry into the freighter and the thick layer of tire marks on the floor, he figured he was near the back end of some kind of dedicated transport. Almost like an auto ferry.

It wasn’t a roll on/roll off ship because there was no front exit, but it was definitely designed for vehicles. From the way it wallowed and swayed he didn’t think it was all that large either, which meant they probably weren’t taking him too far.

He decided not to break out. The only thing that would lead to was going overboard. Instead he waited, took a nap in the bed of the lead truck and woke to the sound of shouting on the decks above.

It felt as if the ship was slowing and maneuvering in smaller increments.

The sound of horns and whistles from other ships suggested they were near a port or harbor somewhere. Joe sensed the time for action approaching. If the ship docked in this mystery port, he was finding a way off even if this wasn’t the truck’s final destination.

Finally the sound of rattling came from the rear doors. Someone was working a heavy padlock. Moments later light spilled into the hold as the doors began to slide open.

CHAPTER 40

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON. THE SUN WAS SETTING IN THE western sky. Jinn had secured his ownership of the floating island, bringing on board thirty men, heavy machine guns, RPGs and even a dozen ground-to-air missiles, minus the one he’d used against Kurt Austin.

The flying boat sat, fueled and waiting, in the marina in case he had to leave quickly. He felt safe, he felt secure. He would not have to concern himself with Xhou or the other members of the consortium here, nor would he face any repercussions from the Americans who were still in the dark as to his methods and goals.

Such success had put him in a boasting mood. He stood on the observation deck that jutted out from Aqua-Terra’s control room. The annoying Americans and the Italian billionaire stood near the edge, hands cuffed to the rail in front of them. Zarrina and a couple of Jinn’s men stood behind them. Otero sat just inside the door of the control room, his fingers on the keys of a laptop.

“I suppose you’re wondering why you’re still alive,” he said to his three most important prisoners.

“We’re alive because you need us to keep up the façade,” the tall man said, apparently speaking for the others. “To pretend everything is smooth as silk here if anyone calls in. Which will happen soon and which we’re not going to help you to do.”

A smirk crossed Jinn’s face. They weren’t stupid, but they were certainly not up on current events. Jinn approached the tall man from behind.

“Paul, is it?”

“That’s right.”

It bothered Jinn that this man Paul was so much taller than him. He remembered Sabah telling him that a king’s throne was always the tallest chair in the room and that the Shah of Iran used to hold court in a room with only one chair, his. All others had to stand while he sat a full head higher than them.

Jinn swung his leg, bringing the pointed toe of his boot across the back of the American’s knees, chopping him down.

The man let out a grunt of pain and surprise. He dropped straight down, hitting his chin on the rail as he fell. He bit a chunk from his lip, and blood filled his mouth.

“That’s better,” Jinn said, towering above the man now that he was on his knees. “Don’t bother to get up.”

“You bastard,” the woman said.

“Ah, the loyal wife,” Jinn said. “This is why I know you will do as I say. Because if either one of you disobeys, I will cause excruciating pain to the other.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Marchetti begged. “I’ll pay you for our release and the release of my crew. I can give you a fortune. I have millions, close to a hundred million in liquid assets, money that Matson and Otero don’t have access to. Just let us leave.”

“A long time ago I heard someone make a similar proposal,” Jinn said. “
All that I have for one child.
I now realize why the offer was denied. Your bid is a drop in the bucket. It is meaningless to me.”

Jinn turned back toward the control room, making eye contact with Otero. “The time has come. Signal the horde, bring it to the surface.”

“Are you sure about this?” Zarrina asked.

Jinn had waited long enough already. “Our ability to affect the weather had been limited by keeping the horde beneath the surface. To fulfill our destiny, not to mention our promises, we need to cool the ocean more quickly.”

“What about the American satellites? If the effect is noticed, we’ll have bigger problems to deal with than these people from NUMA.”

“Otero has plotted the paths, altitudes and transits of every spy and weather satellite that crosses this section of the ocean. By directing the horde from here, we can signal them to rise and drop back at far more precise intervals than we could from Yemen. They will appear when no one is watching. They will disappear again before the eyes of the world ever turn their way.”

“Sounds complicated,” she said.

“Less so than you would think,” Jinn insisted. “This is the open ocean. Aside from the occasional warship, there’s not much worth looking at. The world’s spy satellites are aimed a thousand miles to the north, watching the armies and oil of the Middle East. They study Iran and Syria and Iraq, they count Russian tanks and aircraft near the Caspian Sea or American battle groups in the Persian Gulf.”

He looked to Otero. “How long is the current window?”

Otero checked his computer. “We have fifty-three minutes before the next satellite comes in range.”

“Then do as I command,” Jinn ordered.

Otero nodded and brought up the control screen and typed in Jinn’s nine-digit code. The line-of-sight transmission would be broadcast all the way to the horizon. From there the bots would signal one another like dominoes.

He hit the enter key. “Signal processing now.”

Jinn stared out across the water, waiting to catch sight of the display. It took a minute before the first sign appeared, but then the ocean’s surface began to change quickly.

There had been no wind to speak of throughout the day, and the sea was glassy around them. But as the bots surfaced, the smooth appearance took on a grainy look, like a secluded bay choked with algae.

Jinn watched as the effect spread in all directions, running into the distance. It soon reached the limits of his vision, but he knew it went far beyond, at least fifty miles in every direction. Thinner wisps of his creation stretching for a hundred miles beyond that, spreading forth like the arms of a galaxy.

“Direct them to spread their wings.”

Otero began tapping away once again. “Order encoded,” he said. “Transmitting … now.”

Jinn slipped a pair of expensive sunglasses from his pocket. He expected the dark lenses would be necessary in a moment or two. He slid them over his eyes as the surface of the sea began to evolve once again.

A wave seemed to travel through it, almost like a tremor. The color went from a leaden gray to a dull gloss and then began to brighten until the sea around them shimmered with a mirrorlike finish. With the afternoon sun still high overhead, the effect was blinding even through the shield of polarized glass.

Jinn saw the prisoners staring in wonder and then turning away as the glare became painful to look at.

Jinn squinted and stared for just a moment, his chest swelling with pride.

Out on the surface of the sea, trillions upon trillions of his tiny machines had unfolded mirrored wings, hidden until then under shells like those on the back of a beetle. The act tripled the surface area of each microbot. The reflective surface of the wings quadrupled the amount of sunlight bounced back into the upper atmosphere and away from the ocean.

It was as if a reflective blanket had been pulled across five thousand square miles of the Indian Ocean.

Gamay made the connection first.

“The temperature change,” she said. “This is how it’s being done.”

“Yes,” Jinn said. “And the cooling trend will now accelerate. These waters are already four degrees colder than the coldest temperature ever measured here at this time of year. Based on my calculations, the surface temperature will drop another full degree by nightfall. Each day, the effect will deepen. Soon, a giant well of chilled water will occupy the center of this tropical ocean while in another section of the ocean the microbots are doing the exact opposite, absorbing heat, keeping the ocean warm. The temperature differential will create winds, for some it will bring storms, for others it will smash all hope of avoiding a monstrous famine.”

“You’re insane. You’ll kill millions of people.”

“The
famine
will kill them,” he corrected.

She fell silent. Neither of the other two spoke. All three of them kept their eyes turned away from the blazing reflection.

Jinn bathed in the crystalline light as if it were glory itself. Certainly it was vindication, and proof of the godlike powers he now held in the palm of his hand.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Paul said.

“And just who is going to stop me?”

“My government, for one,” Paul added. “The Indian government, NATO, the UN. No one is going to let you starve half a continent. Your little force here won’t last long against a squadron of F-18s.”

Jinn stared at Paul. “You operate from a fundamental misunderstanding of power,” he said. “True, I and my people are inconsequential in the global scheme. But power does not exist only in your nations. It exists in balance all around the world. Once the rainfall begins to feed Chinese mouths, the Chinese will not allow the UN or your government or the men in New Delhi to redirect their newfound bounty so quickly. They will veto any resolution to act, frustrating your desires to proceed. They will be joined by the countries of the Middle East and Pakistan and the Russians, all of whom will benefit from what I’ve wrought and who will pay me and protect me for what they receive. It will be an easy thing to play them against your nation. If you believe otherwise, you are hopelessly naive.”

“You risk war,” Gamay said. “Enough to engulf the whole world, you included.”

“More likely, just a bidding war.”

He relished the moment. In little over twenty-four hours he’d crushed his enemies, both internal and external. He’d proven his brilliance and now he would reap the rewards. Money would pour in from China and new partners he’d take on in Pakistan and Saudi Arabia. Counteroffers from India and other lands would follow and the bidding would rise.

“They’ll still come after you and your vile creation,” Paul said.

“Of course they will,” Jinn replied. “But they will never find me, and they will prove to be no more capable of destroying what I have built than they are of eradicating the world’s insects or bacteria. So they kill millions of the horde. The trillions that remain will continue to reproduce. It will be a simple matter for the microbots to take the remnants of their dead and use the same materials to build new ones. That’s what they do. That’s what Marchetti designed them to do.”

Marchetti looked away, shaking his head in anguished regret.

“And there will be consequences if anyone challenges me,” Jinn added. “The horde will spread to the far corners of the world. The seven seas will soon be under my control. If any nation is foolish enough to defy me or simply refuses to pay the tribute I will demand, they will suffer. Their fishing grounds will be destroyed, their food sources consumed before their very eyes, their ports will be overrun and blockaded, their ships attacked in transit.”

“They’ll come after you in person,” snapped Paul. “You’re the snake, all they have to do is cut off your head.”

“They will be well advised to leave the snake alone,” Jinn insisted. “For I have already programmed a doomsday code into the horde. Should I die or be forced to activate it for other reasons, the horde will go from a weapon wielded with precision to a scourge of unimaginable proportions, consuming and growing and attacking everything in its path. Like the locusts of the desert, it will leave nothing but death behind it.”

The two Americans looked at each other. If Jinn measured the look right, it was one of defeat. The silence that followed confirmed this for him.

He wiped his brow. He was beginning to sweat as the air temperature around the island began to rise with all the reflected energy. A breeze began to blow across the deck, the first one in days, but it wasn’t cool and refreshing. It was a hot wind caused by the differential heating. It marked the beginning of the storm.

CHAPTER 41

AFTER SEVERAL HOURS OF FLOATING, LUCK HAD SHOWN Kurt nothing but contempt.

The sun beat down on them, blocked only by the makeshift tarp of the parachutes. The rear air chamber was so far down now that it made little sense trying to keep it from deflating further. The boat was tilted over, awash in that right rear corner like a car with a flat tire. And despite Ishmael’s valiant effort, the right front cylinder was looking weaker all the time.

Kurt gazed out through a small gash in the parachute the way a child might look through holes cut in the bedsheet of a ghost’s costume.

“Anything?” Leilani asked.

“No,” he said. The word came out hoarsely. Despite the water he’d guzzled on the airplane, his throat was getting dry once again.