Leap - 02 (15 page)

30

It was on the floor. 

The soldier kept his rifle pointed into the darkness of the truck while he examined the area around the crate.  He then carefully climbed up through the door.  Leaning his rifle against the metal wall and with a heave, the soldier grabbed and lifted the crate back up on top of the others.  He calmly wrapped the end of the loose strap around his hand and pulled hard, ratcheting it back down firmly.

In the cab, the driver felt the door slam shut behind him.  A moment later, the passenger door opened again.  His comrade jumped back in next to him and pulled his door closed with a bang.

As the truck lurched forward and continued down the hill, Caesare dropped his trigger finger and exhaled.  He pivoted his barrel and scope, searching.  After a few minutes, he saw Clay’s black outline rise from some nearby bushes and look around.

Neither of them moved for a long time, until well after the truck was out of sight.  Clay listened carefully before stepping back out onto the road, still under the watchful eye of Caesare’s scope.

It wasn’t until Clay made it back up the hill and sat down next to him that Caesare relaxed.  “That was exciting.”

“And painful,” replied Clay.  He examined his pants at the knees, fingering some tears in the material.

“You’re not going to go on about your bad knees again, are you?”

“Well, that sure as hell didn’t help!”

Caesare chuckled and pushed himself up onto his own knees.  He slung the M4 over his right shoulder.  “So, any luck?”

Clay nodded and stood up.  He ripped the Velcro top of his jacket open, then reached inside and pulled something out.

Caesare merely stared at him.  When Clay failed to reach into his jacket for anything else, Caesare squinted disappointedly.  “Wait, that’s it? 
That’s
what was inside?”

Clay nodded silently.

Caesare shook his head.  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Lieutenant Chao stormed down the corvette’s gangway under the bright lights toward one of the Typhoon trucks.  One of the men had found something on the last truck and called out to the others.

Several had gathered around the tailgate by the time Chao arrived, and he pushed his way through, yelling for them to get out of the way.  He lifted himself up into the back where one of his men was examining a crate.

“What is it?”

“Sir, one of the crates is damaged.”  The man stepped back allowing Chao a closer look.  “The driver said they had one fall off the top just a few kilometers back.”

Chao could see the corner where some of the wood had been severely chipped.

“Sir,” the man replied.  He silently fingered the edge and raised the top of the hinged crate for Chao.

Chao looked inside.  He instantly whipped around and jumped back down, out of the truck.  “We have a breach!” he yelled to the others.  “Three kilometers! GO!”

Chao’s top men immediately scrambled for the truck, piled in around the crates, and unloaded them as fast as possible.  Once empty, the rest climbed in and closed the metal door.  The driver jammed the stick into first gear and watched Chao climb in next to him.  He released the brake and the vehicle jerked forward.

The giant engine roared as it accelerated, forcing Chao to scream over the noise and into his radio.

Clay and Caesare stopped in their tracks.  They were halfway down the mountain when they heard a sudden commotion.  They ran to the top of a small hill and looked out over the clearing.  The trucks were headed back uphill, and
fast
.  They were coming for them.

Caesare turned to Clay.  “What did you do, leave them a thank you note?”

Clay buckled his pack around his waist and cinched the straps down tight.  “I guess that was a mistake.”

Together the two men broke into a run, zigzagging eastward through the dark trees.

They found the spot not far from where the truck had stopped earlier.  The vegetation was matted down, indicating where someone had been lying in wait.  Chao’s men quickly fanned out but couldn’t find any tracks.  Not surprising in the dark.  It would take several hours before there was enough light to discover Clay and Caesare’s tracks further down the road.

Chao examined the area with his flashlight.  Nothing else was left behind.  Just the matted flatness.  He climbed back up the short embankment to the road and walked around the back of the truck.  He shined his light over the door, then down lower and along the bumper.

Chao peered closer at something small stuck in the crevice between the bumper and the truck’s back panel.  He reached down and wiggled it forcefully until it came free.  He examined it carefully, rubbing it between his fingers before looking back at the truck.  He was familiar with the fabric.

General Zhang Wei awoke, peering sleepily at the small stand next to his bed and his cellular phone lying on top of it.  The phone rang a third time before he reached out and picked it up.  The screen was painfully bright in the dark room, causing him to squint as he tried to make out the incoming number.  It was Chao.

The General accepted the call but continued watching the screen with one eye closed to make sure the encryption was established.  Finally, he held the phone to his ear.  “What is it?”

Chao’s words were clear and unmistakable.  “The Americans have found out.”

The fog immediately cleared from General Wei’s head, and he sat up on the edge of his bed, thinking.  He wasn’t surprised.  It was inevitable once the science vessel had arrived.  They were smart not to send a warship.  Wei instinctively reached for his glasses and slid them on.  “But do they know?”

On the other end, Chao held his own satellite phone to his ear and peered into the darkness beyond the glaringly bright glow from the truck’s headlights.  “They don’t know yet, but they will.  They took a sample.”

“Dammit,” Wei growled.  It would take them some time to understand what they had, just as it had taken Wei’s men in the beginning.  But it wouldn’t be long.  Maybe days.  “How much do we have now?”

“About sixty percent.”

Wei nodded silently in the dark.  He’d hoped for more, a lot more, but they would have to take what they had.  He hesitated, wondering if there was any other way.  Maybe the Americans wouldn’t figure it out.  Or maybe it would take them longer than he expected.  Maybe the politicians would get wind of it and turn it into one of those bureaucratic fights for which the Americans were famous.

Damn it!
  He shook his head again.  He couldn’t take any chances.  Those Americans had no idea just how
lucky
they were to have sent a science vessel.  They would soon.

Wei gave a resigned sigh.  “Three more days,” he said.  “We have at least that long.  Then destroy what’s left.”

Chao acknowledged the instruction and hung up, leaving Wei solemn and thoughtful on the edge of his mattress, holding his phone.  He finally lay back down on his bed.  The other side was empty.

He couldn’t take any chances.  It was a once in a lifetime discovery. 
No,
he thought to himself,
it was bigger than that, much bigger.
 

31

Captain Krogstad stepped through the door and onto the bridge, still fastening the last button on his shirt.  He gazed out over the shoulder of his Quartermaster of the Watch.  An early morning fog surrounded the ship, giving a strange feeling of isolation.

“Where is it?” Krogstad asked.

The Quartermaster nodded straight ahead.  “Just a few degrees to port, sir.”

“How fast?”

“Just a poke, really.  Maybe five knots.”

Krogstad relaxed slightly, still staring out through the giant window.  If someone was attacking the Bowditch, it was a ridiculously slow attack.

The communication's officer turned around.  “Sir.  I have a call coming in for you over satellite.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s John Clay, sir.  He says it’s them on the boat.”  The officer then smiled, “And not to shoot.”

Krogstad rolled his eyes. 
Yeah, like what was he going to shoot with?

Ten minutes later, the strange boat slowly emerged from the fog.  When Krogstad saw what it was, he almost laughed.  A small fishing trawler.

The old half-rusted trawler slowed its engines and slid past the Bowditch’s bow as the skipper expertly brought the two vessels almost within reach.  The trawler’s bumpers were down, but they wouldn’t need them.  Instead, they glided closer and closer until they approached one of the Bowditch’s maintenance ladders running down the outside of its hull.  With a rumble, the trawler’s engines were thrown into reverse, which slowed the boat to a virtual standstill.  The tip of its own bow crept closer.  Clay and Caesare turned and acknowledged the skipper before jumping from the front of the trawler onto the Bowditch’s exterior ladder. 

When they reached the top, Captain Krogstad was standing over them with arms folded, along with his Officer of the Deck and the Quartermaster.  “Nice ride,” he commented, with a smirk.

Clay cleared the ladder and unbuckled his bag, giving the Captain a salute.  “We had to leave rather quickly.  I apologize for the dramatic entrance.  I had some trouble getting routed to you through satellite.”

Krogstad’s lip curled.  “What the hell.  I don’t get many wake-up calls like that anymore.”  He turned to Caesare as he joined them.  “I presume your grand return means you found something.”

“You could say that.”

Thirty minutes later, Clay, Caesare, Captain Krogstad, and Will Borger sat around a small metal table in a semicircle.  All four men sat facing the monitor.  The conference capabilities onboard a ship while underway were much more limited, having to bounce the signal off a satellite first.  But all technical limitations aside, the picture was still surprisingly clear.  Aside from some occasional pixilation, they could see Admiral Langford and Secretary of Defense Miller quite well.  In another window on the screen were National Security Advisor Griffith and Secretary of State Bartman.  However, Clay and Caesare were both surprised to see Dr. Kathryn Lokke from the U.S.G.S. in a third window.  They had met her the year before in what turned out to be one of the most memorable meetings they’d ever had.

After uploading a picture of what they found in the Chinese truck, Clay waited for the Admiral’s response.  The picture was now onscreen and Langford’s reaction was exactly as Clay expected.

“You can’t be serious?!” exclaimed Langford. 
“A goddamn plant?!”

“Yes, sir.”

They could see Langford and Miller look at each other with disbelief.

“Are you saying,” Miller spoke up, with a look of incredulity, “that all of this is over some PLANTS?!”  The other three officials on the screen simply looked on, speechless.

Clay replied again, simply.  “Yes, sir.”

Langford shook his head and wrapped a hand over his mouth, while Griffith cut in.  “All this time.  All this secrecy.  The black trucks, the midnight runs, everything…is over a bunch of plants.”  His tone was rhetorical.

Lokke’s expression was the only one that had moved on from surprise to curiosity.  “Commander,” she said to Clay.  “Are you sure the rest of the crates had the same things in them?”

“I am.  There were a few gaps, allowing me to see inside.  They were all carrying the same contents as the one I opened: giant plants wrapped in plastic.”

Lokke raised her eyebrows.  “How much of the plants were in plastic?” 

“The whole plant, including the roots.  It all appeared to be wrapped in some kind of special medium.  As you can see from the one I retrieved, the plants are pretty large.  I estimate they had about two dozen packed into each crate.”

The picture Clay had uploaded to the screen was of a very thick and very green section of leaf, appearing to come from a much larger sample.  In truth, it seemed to everyone to be a big and otherwise ordinary looking leaf.  They had all seen larger leaves before, particularly palms.

“What in the hell would they want with a bunch of plants?” Langford asked.  The others remained silent until Langford addressed Krogstad.  “Rog, we need to get your people to look at this, ASAP.”

“They already are.  Clay gave the sample to our science team shortly after arriving back onboard.”

“Good,” replied Langford.  “So far, I see two possibilities.  One, there’s something unique about these plants.  Two is that the plants are somehow not the main objective of our Chinese friends.”

“Or a ruse,” added Miller.

Langford turned to him.  “What do you mean?”

“Maybe these plants are part of the objective and maybe they’re not.”  He paused, thinking.  “The Chinese know we’re here, and unless they’re idiots, they know that we’re here to find out what they’re doing.  And there’s only one way to do that: get a look in those trucks.”

Langford nodded.  “So they’re expecting us to show up, and instead of what they’re really bringing out of the mountains, they pack the crates full of plants as a ploy.”

“Exactly.”

Langford considered it.

“Except,” piped in Griffith, “they don’t know
when
we would sneak in.  A lot of these shipments would then have to become ploys, not just one.”  He spread his arms in a questioning manner.  “And how long do they keep that up?”

“I agree,” added Bartman.  “Whatever it is they have, they’re pretty serious about their extraction.  I can’t imagine they would suddenly start packing all their trucks with plants, hoping to throw us off.  They would have to know a ploy is the first thing we would suspect.  It’s what we would do.”

“Okay,” replied Langford.  “Scenario two then.  The plants are only one of the things they’re after.”  He noticed Clay shaking his head.  “Clay?”

“It’s possible, sir.  But that whole truck was filled with them.  Even if it were only part of the extraction, a whole truck full would mean it’s a
big
part.  It’s possible, but more often than not, the simplest answer is usually the right one.”

“That would mean these plants are, in fact, what they’re after.”

“Correct.”

Next to Clay, Will Borger cleared his throat.  “If I may, sir.  I think Clay is right.  I’ve been studying the satellite video, and it’s clear to me, given how quickly they’re unloading these crates, that they don’t appear very heavy.  It also supports the likelihood that all of the crates contain the same thing.”

“Dr. Lokke?  Any thoughts?”

Lokke slowly shook her head.  “I’m not sure.  I’d have to confer with some of my staff, but on the surface, it’s certainly possible they found something of extreme interest.  Taxonomy has arguably contributed more to modern society than anything else.  Everything from glues to fabrics, to antibiotics, almost everything has roots back to…well, things with roots.”

“So what kind of plant-based discovery would warrant this kind of secrecy?” asked Miller.

Lokke blinked, thinking.  “God, it could be almost anything.  My first guess would be something medicinal or biological.”

“Or technological,” interjected Caesare.

Langford turned to him.  “Technological?”

“Maybe?” Caesare shrugged.  “What is China most dependent on?  Oil.  Maybe there’s a relationship.”

“Synthetics!” exclaimed Borger, seeing where Caesare was headed.  He looked back to the monitor.  “That is a possibility, sir.  And it might explain why the Chinese are trying to grab it.”

“What are synthetics?”

“Synthetics are pretty much any compound that we’ve been able to duplicate from its original, organic source.  Which, as Dr. Lokke pointed out, is usually some derivative of biology.  “Synthetics” is mankind creating a superior product through more modern means, say through a chemical process.  Oil is one of these products.  In fact, synthetic oil goes all the way back to World War II.  When the Nazis were running out of real oil, Hitler ordered an investigation into a synthetic alternative.  And they found one.  They were able to create huge amounts of oil and rubber synthetically to keep their armies moving.  Even fuel.  But the process wasn’t all that sophisticated and required much more energy to create than they got from it.  Which, of course, can only go on for so long.  We’ve come a long way since then.”

“Meaning?”

“Biofuels,” Borger answered.

“Biofuels?”

Borger looked back and forth between Caesare and the screen.  “Biofuels is a much more natural and cleaner process than synthetic fuels.  There are all sorts of companies and governments working on it.  The main problem is that even biofuels aren’t as efficient as we need them to be.  The plants just don’t produce a high enough concentration of organic oil.  What we really need is a plant source that produces at least twenty percent more to really achieve a self-sustaining biofuel.”

“Are you suggesting this plant the Chinese have found in Guyana has more oil in it?”

“It’s a possibility.  If oil really is the focus here.  But like Dr. Lokke said, it could be anything.  Heck, maybe its photosynthesis.”

“You mean as in light absorption?”

“Yes.”  Borger stopped to think and suddenly got an excited expression.  “Actually, if it’s photosynthesis, that could be huge!”

“Will,” the Admiral said.  “Focus.  You’re losing us here.”

“Sorry, sir,” he replied sheepishly.  “Photosynthesis, as you know, is a plant or tree’s ability to absorb sunlight and turn it into energy.  It’s a biological process that is still far more efficient than we can achieve with things like solar panels.”

“And?”

“China just happens to be the largest manufacturer and exporter of solar products, by a long shot.”

Miller frowned.  “So?”

“So,” continued Borger.  “What if the Chinese found a plant whose photosynthesis is ultra-efficient?  Better yet, what if it allows them to better understand or
copy
the organic process?!  There would be no other solar product in the world that could compete with that.”

“Which might allow them to reduce their dependence on oil at the same time,” offered Caesare.

“Oil is a finite commodity,” agreed Lokke.  “Some of the biggest oil wells in the world are beginning to run dry, like Cantarell in Mexico.  The world is being forced to turn to shale.  Eventually, the sources will either run dry or become so difficult to tap that only the richest countries will be able to afford it.  And with a population of one and a half billion people, the Chinese are no doubt acutely aware of the importance of real, tangible resources.”

Langford frowned.  Wars were fought over resources like these.  When resources become scarce, the only predictable human reaction is to fight for what is still left.  Energy is the lifeblood of modern society.  Without it, any nation on the planet would perish.  And whoever controlled it over the long term became the victors.

“So, oil or photosynthesis,” Langford said.

“Well, those are just possibilities, sir.  To be honest, if it is some kind of biological discovery, it could be almost anything.”

Langford glanced at Miller before leaning back in his chair.  “Okay,” he said, turning to Krogstad.  “Roger, keep your people on this.  We need some answers.  We need to understand exactly what we’re talking about here.  Mr. Borger, I want you to see if you can pinpoint where these trucks are going.”  He then looked at Lokke’s image.  “And Dr. Lokke, I’d like you to start getting a small team of experts together just in case we need a task force on the ground.  Bring them in from wherever you need to but have them ready within a few days.”

Lokke nodded.  “Absolutely.”

Langford and Miller looked at each other again.  This time they shared the same weary expression.  If this “discovery” were as important to anyone else as it apparently was to China, things could get very ugly.  They hoped it wouldn’t, but their expressions were telling.  If the simplest explanation was the right one, then the message was clear.  The Chinese had gone to a lot of trouble and expense over these plants, which meant they were probably ready to fight for them too.