The Cassandra Sanction (43 page)

‘And I should have kept my mouth shut, too. Is that the point of this little story of yours?’

‘Your gift was your devotion to
your science. Your curse was that there’s no longer any room in the world for idealistic seekers of knowledge. In fact there never really was. Because some kinds of knowledge just cannot be allowed to reach the ears of the ordinary people.’

‘Then you’re admitting that our climate predictions are right,’ she said. ‘You know it’s going to get colder.’

‘Of course we do,’ Braendlin replied.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Catalina just stared at him.

‘We’ve known it all along,’ Braendlin told her. ‘And a very great amount of effort and resources are expended to keep that information from becoming general knowledge. Hence the great pains we take to persuade the public of the very opposite belief, namely that human activity is causing global warming to occur. It makes for a very effective
smokescreen, as well as being a highly profitable fiction in its own right, as Grant here can testify.’

Braendlin stepped closer to her. He wet his lips with his tongue. It was grey and pallid, like his eyes.

‘Now, let me tell you another little story,’ he said. ‘This one, I doubt you’ll be so familiar with, for the reason that only a tiny handful of people in the world have ever been
made privy to it. The story goes like this:

‘In 2003 the Pentagon commissioned a secret report that outlines the possible worst-case scenario in the event of a major new cooling event, using computer models to predict exactly what might happen and how nations might cope – or not cope. According to the projections, within a decade of the beginning of this new cold era, global food, water and
energy resources are drained away. Massive shortages leave millions hungry and desperate. Panic and disorder are not restricted to the public, but extend to the level of government. Neighbouring European states, desperate to aid their populations, are forced to dispute access to shared rivers, oil reserves and whatever agricultural land is still capable of food production. As resources become increasingly
restricted and precious, competition sparks off tense rivalry that inevitably escalates into war.

‘At which point, the degenerating situation becomes the responsibility of the superpowers to take charge of. The USA radically steps up its role as the world’s policeman, declaring a state of emergency across Europe, and mobilising peacekeeping forces to quell conflict and distribute aid to the
struggling populations. Back on their own territory, the Americans suffer increasing problems as the US runs out of food and experiences mass migration from poorer countries south of the border. Meanwhile, China faces catastrophe as unprecedented famine begins to kill off the largest population on the planet by the tens of millions. The best efforts of the Chinese government to maintain control
of the nation fall apart as civil war breaks out. Desperate, the ruling forces threaten to invade Russia to seize its rich natural gas resources. Chinese warships clash with the US navy in the Persian Gulf over Saudi oil reserves both sides badly need to keep their nations running. Neither the Russians nor the Saudis take kindly to these actions. In Asia meanwhile, both India and Pakistan join the
fray, adding more weight to a volatile situation. As tensions continue to escalate, nuclear war between two or more of these rival nations becomes a real possibility, threatening to heighten the already catastrophic situation into an apocalyptic scenario of mutual destruction.’

Braendlin had related the whole account in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, like a science teacher describing some everyday
chemical reaction to his class. He paused to gauge Catalina’s reaction. She had none, because she was too horrified to speak.

Braendlin went on. ‘Perhaps now, Miss Fuentes, you begin to understand? It goes without saying that the public at large is completely unaware that these future scenarios are being seriously discussed behind the scenes. And it’s imperative that this situation be maintained
for as long as we possibly can. If even a hint of what you and I both know to be the real climate science of the future were ever allowed to reach a significant audience through the mainstream media, we would very quickly find ourselves faced with a situation of widespread disruption, unrest, even panic. Surges in crime, social violence, looting, riots, would all inevitably result.’

He gave
another dry, crackly smile. ‘Human beings are capable of doing many things very well, but they’re also very prone to irrational behaviour. Our psychological studies suggest that people would not respond well to the news that, within a century or less, humanity could be facing an unprecedented threat to its very survival. People believe in people. It’s a human need. They want to believe we’ll be
here forever – or at least, for a billion years, which is close enough to forever in the minds of ordinary citizens. They don’t want to think that their future children, or their children’s children, might be doomed to witness, first-hand, such terrible pain and suffering as their world is destroyed around them. For billions of people across the globe, the burden of that knowledge will simply be too
great.

‘We are in the business of maintaining order,’ Braendlin continued in an emphatic tone. ‘Whatever the world’s rulers – and I am not referring to democratically elected leaders, but the
actual
rulers – might be discussing behind closed doors, as far as the public are concerned, it’s business as usual for the next billion years. The future must appear relatively stable and predictable,
or else the very fabric of social order will unravel at the seams and we will descend into chaos, rapidly followed by the global economy. The effects at all levels could be catastrophic, the human cost untold. Do you really want to be responsible for that, Miss Fuentes?’

‘But what about the truth? I don’t care what you say. People have a right to know about their own future.’

‘The truth,’
he said, shaking his head. ‘What was it Winston Churchill said? “In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.” And we are at war, always. Truth is a virtue we can’t afford, and seldom have done throughout history.’

‘So you would murder innocent people in cold blood, just to keep that information quiet.’

Braendlin said, ‘By the middle of this
century there will be an estimated nine billion people on the planet. A handful of lives is a small price to pay for long-term global political and social stability. Our job is to protect the greater good, by whatever means necessary, in a practical and expeditious fashion. Don’t take it personally.’

‘You people are nothing more than vermin,’ Catalina said.

For the first time in Braendlin’s
presence, Grant spoke up. ‘For all your cleverness at sniffing out the truth, Catalina, you still haven’t the first idea what’s really going on. Kester Holdings, for instance. Not ringing any bells? Didn’t think so.’ He chuckled. ‘I don’t just make wind turbines, you know. And it’s not only the so-called sustainable energy technologies that stand to do well out of the war on fossil fuels. Whether
they’re aware of it or not, our little Green friends are a great boon to the nuclear industry. As a matter of fact, what you and your kind would never cotton onto in a thousand years, because you’re all so utterly clueless, is that the current Green fad was devised only as a long-term strategy to promote nuclear power to all the same people who kicked up a stink and thought they were being clever
getting rid of it years ago. For now, let them think they’re saving the world with their electric cars and their solar panels and their windmills. When we’ve milked that for all the billions we can get, we’ll turn around and say, “Sorry, folks, this whole renewable energy idea isn’t working, because we’re going to need ten million more turbines to provide enough energy for Europe’s population
alone, and there isn’t enough battery power available on the planet to store all the terawatts of juice. Still want to keep sucking up all that electricity? Fine, let’s build you a bunch of nice new nuclear plants instead.” By then, yours truly will have made a gigantic pile of money out of these fools. Then when we dismantle all the wind farms and go back to building power stations in their place,
I’ll
still
be making more money than ever before with Kester Holdings, because we’ve just spent the last twenty years becoming the go-to guys for companies with a mountain of radioactive waste to dispose of on the cheap, nice and easy, no red tape, no questions. The nuclear gold rush is a-coming, and we are waiting with open arms.’

It took a moment for Catalina to grasp the enormity of what
Grant was saying, and understand the deeper game. ‘All this time,’ she said. ‘You were working both sides. Playing the big environmentalist while you were filling the earth with poison.’

‘It all has to go somewhere, doesn’t it? It’s the cost of doing business, and business is excellent.’

She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You hypocritical bastard. Even you couldn’t be this immoral.’

Grant laughed. ‘A mere ninety grams of CO
₂
per kilowatt hour of electricity produced, immoral? What do you mean? Didn’t you know that nuclear energy is the last great hope of mitigating man-made climate change? I’m a bloody hero. But enough about the rich, philanthropic Mr Grant,’ he said, seriously. ‘Let’s talk about the late, lamented, and soon to be even more so, Miss Fuentes.’ He looked at
his watch. ‘Four hours from now, there’s a shipment of waste scheduled for disposal eighty kilometres off the Italian coast, north of Naples. Only a small cargo, bread and butter stuff, a little over five hundred barrels that will soon be sitting pretty on the ocean bed. And, as much as it pains me to say it, you, my lovely, will be sealed up inside one of them. Your final journey will be to the bottom
of the Tyrrhenian Sea.’

‘I hope you get cancer.’

‘Dear me, what an ugly thing to say. I’m not offended, though. I’m still going to leave it up to you whether you want to take the last plunge dead, or alive. A quick bullet in the head before they stick you in the barrel like so much garbage? Or a slow, tortured asphyxiation alone in the darkness, in return for a little extra time in this
world? Your choice. No need to decide this minute – you’ll have a few hours to think about it on the road. Just tell my men which it’s to be, when you get there, and they’ll make sure that your final wish is honoured. You have my word on that.’

The meeting was over. They escorted her outside. Braendlin led the way, Grant walking behind Catalina with a heavy hand on her shoulder as they followed
the path from the house, through the archway flanked by the stone lions and into the walled courtyard. A plain black panel van had pulled up to park beside the stately Rolls-Royce. The van’s engine was running. Two of Grant’s men were sitting in the front, and two more waited nearby, holding large automatic weapons. It looked as though they were set to accompany her on the drive north. At Grant’s
signal, the men opened the van’s rear doors.

Catalina started to shake.

Seeing his employer emerge from the villa, Braendlin’s pilot had started up the helicopter. The turbine was building up speed, its wind scattering the autumn leaves that had drifted over the lawn.

They paused in the courtyard. Braendlin turned to Catalina with a curt nod. ‘Goodbye, Cassandra. I wish I could bid
you farewell. But that would be inappropriate, under the circumstances.’

Catalina said nothing. She looked into the old man’s eyes and wondered where that kind of cold evil came from.

And then, right in front of her, Braendlin’s head burst apart.

Chapter Sixty

Ben left the hot, ticking Lamborghini at the roadside and checked the GPS one last time. The little red dot still hadn’t moved. Its location was almost exactly the same as his own. Whatever else that meant, this was definitely the place.

Judging by the length of the perimeter wall, there was a very sizeable estate on the other side. Ben walked over to the tall iron gates.
They were locked shut. He thought about getting back in the Lamborghini and using that to ram his way through. But lightweight mid-engined sports cars with flimsy carbon-fibre bodywork didn’t make the best assault breacher vehicles. Plus, he couldn’t think of a noisier, less unsubtle way to telegraph his arrival to the people inside.

He walked along the wall, inspecting it for ease of climbing.
That wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was not being seen. Which was what drew his eye to the trees a few metres the other side of the gates, screening part of the wall from the road. The perfect place to scale the wall. And Ben now realised that someone else had had the same idea. A leather travel bag was lying there in the grass. It looked expensive, and familiar. He unzipped it, felt in
the lining and found the homing device still exactly where he’d hidden it.

Ben started climbing. When he reached the top of the wall, he guessed that the same someone who’d left the bag had also used some kind of tool to chip away all the shards of broken glass set into the mortar. The butt of a pistol would do the job fine. There were specks of dried blood on the stonework. He could only
hope nothing worse than a cut finger had happened to her since.

On the other side of the wall, Ben dropped down among the trees that lined the estate’s perimeter. He stood very still, listening. He could hear the sound of a helicopter motor in the distance, the unmistakable rhythmic whoosh-whoosh of rotor blades beginning to spin and the rising note of the turbine powering up in preparation
for takeoff.

Then Ben heard another sound, this time much closer by. The crack of a twig. He wasn’t alone among the trees.

Ben saw the guard before the guard saw him. He was in his thirties, nondescript, dressed in dark clothes. His main feature of interest, as far as Ben was concerned, was the Colt M4 carbine dangling from his shoulder on a tactical sling. Ben wondered if Maxwell Grant
always had armed men patrolling the perimeter, or whether this was a special security measure that might have something to do with Catalina being there. And the chopper, possibly.