Lethal Trajectories (11 page)

“What is he like as a person?”

“He was a regular visitor at our place, and I liked him from the first time we met. He has a brilliant mind and keen appreciation for the big-picture energy and environmental issues of our time. He’s entrepreneurial and not afraid to take risks. I also had the great pleasure of attending his wedding and have had an opportunity to see both him and his wife, Maggie, on two or three social occasions.”

“What about his business and political career, Peng?”

“Clayton made a fortune after going public and selling his company in 2009. He traveled, wrote, taught, and consulted, but from what I could see, he was bitten by the political bug. Americans, as you know, were disenchanted with the gridlock they saw in their two major parties. Clayton must have been one of them, because he was a mover and shaker in building a
new
Independence Party in California. They became the alternative party for disenfranchised voters from the two traditional parties.”

Lin continued to take notes as he listened attentively to Wang.

“As the oil crisis worsened after 2012 and climate-change issues appeared on voters’ radar screens, the independent movement grew by leaps and bounds in California and across the United States. The two major parties weren’t doing the job, and Clayton became the New Independence Party of California’s nominee in the 2014 gubernatorial race and was elected governor. He immediately embarked on a program to reduce California’s massive deficits and successfully instituted integrated, long-term energy, transportation, and environmental plans that were later adopted by several other states.

“In 2016 Lyman Burkmeister, a moderate Republican, tapped Clayton to be his running mate, and the rest is history. Jack told me that Burkmeister and Clayton became good friends as fellow governors of large states, and Clayton accepted the job under one condition: he wanted to restructure and consolidate the various federal energy, transportation, and environmental departments into one megadepartment with a full span of controls, similar to that in his California model. Burkmeister not only agreed to his request, he one-upped Clayton by making it a major platform issue. Like Clayton, he was deeply concerned with America’s energy dependencies and thought it might help address the challenge. It also speaks volumes for Burkmeister’s independent streak in getting a man outside his party to run with him—one reason I’m not totally surprised by his position on Chunxiao with regard to Japan.”

“As you can see by my pages of notes, Peng, your comments on the McCarty brothers have been most interesting. What else can you tell me about Clayton McCarty? How does he think?”

“Clayton McCarty is not the usual type of politician. He’s not taken in by the hype that goes with the office. In some respects, I see similarities in the ways that both of you view the world and approach its challenges. He looks first at the big picture and endgame he wants—at least that’s how I remember his approach in the discussions we used to have. He’s not afraid to go against the grain and is a man of personal courage, as evidenced by the medals he won as a combat officer in the Gulf War. He’s usually calm and dispassionate, though I’ve seen him riled by what he viewed as incompetence.

“He has an intense dislike for short-term, bureaucratic thinking, and my guess is he’s probably a little frustrated in his vice-presidential job, as he’s used to leading and not following.”

“Thank you for your observations, Peng,” Lin said. “You’ve given me a good insight on what makes Clayton McCarty tick, and who knows, it might come in handy someday.”

Lin looked down at his notes for a couple of minutes, and Wang could sense he had something else to say.

“Peng, I’d like you to consider accompanying Prime Minister Chen Shenglin on his upcoming trip to the United Nations in New York toward the end of September. Perhaps when you are there, you could re-establish your contact with Jack McCarty. If President Burkmeister is indeed ill, it is possible that Clayton McCarty’s role will be enhanced. If this is the case, it wouldn’t hurt for you to stay close to the McCartys. Would you be able to make that trip, comrade?”

Wang knew this was not a request. It all made sense now. Lin Cheng was a shrewd observer of people, and sensing there might be a change of command in America, he wanted to get a better handle on what he was up against. It made perfect sense.

“Of course, Mr. Chairman, I will do anything you ask.”

As he agreed, he was torn by the idea of crossing a boundary in his relationship with Jack McCarty. They had always managed to maintain their friendship by keeping political agendas out of the picture, and the thought of doing otherwise now was troublesome.

He said good-bye to Lin Cheng after advising him he would call to set up a “casual” visit with Jack McCarty.

A
lthough it was a Sunday, Jack McCarty and his team of IEE scientists spent the better part of the day poring over the raw diagnostic data delivered by the recently launched climate-change satellites. An air of tension and gloom hung over the room, for their worst fears were being systematically confirmed.

IEE had been heavily involved in designing the diagnostic software used in the climate satellites now beaming down their distressing signals. The project mission, sponsored by the International Earth Information Agency, was to assess the true state of Earth’s health and provide corroborative data for developing international climate-change policies.

They were horrified to find that Earth was far sicker than anyone had previously imagined. They also confirmed that the dreaded tipping point had been reached and crossed. For the first time ever, they could see how an array of negative feedback loops was overwhelming Earth’s fragile immune system—and with it Earth’s ability to automatically adjust and recalibrate to new atmospheric threats. Like a sick child with fever, Earth’s ability to counteract the fever diminished as it got sicker; and as it got sicker, the fever rose in a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle. The prognosis was bleak.

After breaking for the night at almost eleven o’clock, Jack and his friend Peter Canton, the new Secretary of the Department of Energy, Transportation, and Climate-change, sat down, exhausted, for a cup of coffee.

“What do you think, Pete? When should we go public with this information?”

“It’s frightening, Jack, and it’ll have to be documented, corroborated, and disseminated by the IEIA. But once unveiled, it will be like telling a person who seems perfectly healthy that they have terminal cancer.”

“You’re right about that. I bounced some preliminary stuff off Clayton and even mentioned it to Wang Peng—you remember him, you met at a couple of conferences? His people in China are also coming to the same conclusions.”

Chagrined, Peter asked, “What could we have been thinking? How could we ever have let the climate trajectories get so out of hand that tipping points would be reached?”

Jack sipped his coffee slowly and looked despondently at the wall for an answer.

“The signals were all there. We had the data, and the last two IPCC reports made it abundantly clear that climate-change was anthropogenic and escalating. But the lobbyists and their backers got people to believe that the ‘data wasn’t all in yet,’ and we shouldn’t rush to conclusions. Same stall tactics as the tobacco industry used so effectively to forestall tobacco warnings for years.”

“I agree,” Peter said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “I remember how disheartened the climate science community was after Copenhagen in 2009. They were pounded for practicing ‘junk science,’ and climate-change was labeled a hoax. To their credit, they learned from it and made a real effort thereafter to take on the naysayers and make their scientific processes more transparent. You could see the pendulum start to swing—after all, we got funding for the satellites we’re listening to now—but by then it was too little and too late.”

“Do you think we could’ve made a difference, Peter, if we’d gotten on it sooner?”

Peter had spent many sleepless nights wondering about this very same thing. He took his time before answering.

“My answer is yes and who knows? Yes, we most definitely would have had a better chance of mitigating climate-change had we not wasted all those years, but who knows if we could have totally prevented it? All I know is we would’ve been far better off if we’d taken the IPCC seriously back at the turn of the century. The irony is that with the Chunxiao thing in full bloom and the president in the hospital, our observations tonight, if known, might only make the second page.”

“Sad but true,” Jack replied with a note of dejection in his voice. “Energy and the environment are integrally related, and you can’t tackle one without addressing the other. In medical terminology, I suppose you’d call energy the acute problem and climate-change the chronic illness, but over time it’ll be the climate issue that’s most likely to do us in and not energy.”

They quietly left the building and walked to their cars. Looking up at the cloudless sky, Peter observed, “It’s funny, Jack, you look up at the stars on this perfect night and wonder what could ever be wrong with the good planet Earth, and then you wonder if people will believe us when we tell them the news.

Peter Canton looked out the window of his office in the Forrestal Building at the morning traffic on Independence Avenue. Jittery from an overdose of coffee to overcome his sleepless night, he was haunted by the climate discoveries he had confirmed last night with Jack McCarty. He was more convinced than ever of the need to quickly launch the ETCC department and perplexed by the push-back he was getting from Senator Tom Collingsworth and associates on its development.

But despite the powerful people opposing him, he was comforted to have the McCarty brothers on his side. His company, Clayburn Electronics, had acquired McCarty’s company in 2009. Then a fifty-six-year-old MIT graduate and CEO of a
Fortune
500 company, he was a burnout candidate when Governor-elect McCarty asked him to head up a new energy and transportation department in California—a challenge he had gladly accepted at a salary of one dollar per year. It was déjà vu when he came to Washington, at McCarty’s request, to create a federalized version of the California model.

He was pleased when his secretary interrupted his reverie to tell him Clayton McCarty was on the phone.

“Good morning, Mr. Vice President,” Peter said, in deference to the position his friend held.

“Oh, c’mon, Peter, will you knock off that ‘Mr. Vice President’ crap and just call me Clayton like you always have? You’ve come to my rescue so many times I should be calling you ‘Mr. Secretary,'” he said with a laugh.

Peter chuckled and said, “Thanks, boss. What’s up?”

“Well first of all, let me apologize again for canceling our meeting the other day. As you can imagine, the Chunxiao Incident has consumed us all, and we’ve put a number of things on hold until we could get it stabilized.”

“What kind of progress are we making on it, Clayton?”

“It seems to be stabilizing, but we’re not out of the woods by a long shot. As a matter of fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m calling you now. I’m afraid the meeting we had scheduled to go over your re-org plans tomorrow will have to be put on hold. I’ll be tied up with an NSC meeting the president wants me to chair in his absence.”

“How’s the president doing? The rumor mill is in high gear, and I don’t quite know what to believe.”

“Strictly confidential, and I mean confidential,” replied McCarty, “his health problems may be far more serious than the flu-and-exhaustion line we’re giving the media.”

“Mum’s the word, but please give him my best when you talk to him.”

“Glad to, Peter. There’s something I want to ask you. I talked to Jack the other day, and he told me we were picking up some nasty signals from our climate-change satellites. What’s your take on it?”

“Jack has every right to be concerned. We met last night at the IEE, and the satellite data is incontrovertible—the tipping point has been reached, and Earth is far sicker than any of us imagined.”

“Ouch,” said the vice president.

“Ouch is right. The only positive in this news is that maybe we can use it as an imperative for the formation of the ETCC department. I’m getting a lot of flak from Tom Collingsworth and company and need a little help.”

“I’ve got your back, Peter, and will do whatever I can to run interference. Could you put together a brief summary on your climate-change findings I can use as talking points? Maybe you can write it up in layman’s terms in case I want to share it with someone.”

“I’ll put something together this morning. It’ll be a rough draft, but I’ll try to give you an overall sense of the data we’re looking at.”

“Thanks, Peter. Take care of yourself, and give my best to Dianna and the kids.”

“You too, Clayton, and good luck at your NSC meeting tomorrow.”

After hanging up, Peter reached over to his credenza and removed a red-covered file labeled “Tipping Points.” He poured another cup of coffee, put on his reading glasses, and instructed his secretary to hold all calls. He reviewed the contents of the file, then began typing out his summary for the vice president. He spent the better part of the morning working on it and then read it over for accuracy. He felt like a family doctor reading the chart of a terminally ill patient he had grown to love. It read: