Arctic Drift Part 7

"A shame it ended up in such a pristine location."

"There was a lot of dissent in the department, but the natural resources minister ultimately signed off on it. In fact, I'm told he is one of the guests visiting the official grand opening today."

"And you didn't make the cut?" Summer asked.

"My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail. No, wait, the dog ate it." He laughed. It was the first time Summer had caught Trevor in a light moment, and she observed a sudden warmth in his eyes.

They sped on into Kitimat, Trevor easing the boat to berth behind the docked NUMA vessel. Dirk could be seen inside the research vessel's cabin, typing on a laptop computer. He closed the computer and stepped out with a morose look on his face as Summer and Trevor tied up the other vessel, then walked alongside.

"Back before three, with room to spare," Summer greeted, eyeing her wrist.w.a.tch.

"I think the police chief's visit is the least of our worries," Dirk replied. "I just downloaded the lab results from the water samples we sent to Seattle yesterday."

"Why so glum?"

Dirk handed the printout to Summer, then gazed across the waters of the sound. "The pristine-looking waters lying off Kitimat are threatening to kill anything that swims through them."

8

MITCh.e.l.l GOYETTE DRAINED THE GLa.s.s OF Krug Clos du Mesnil champagne with a smug look of satisfaction. He placed the empty crystal flute on a c.o.c.ktail table just as the wash from the helicopter's rotor rippled the tent overhead.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said in a deep voice. "That would be the Prime Minister." Extricating himself from a small group of province politicians, Goyette exited the tent and strode toward a nearby landing pad.

A large and imposing man, Goyette had a polished demeanor that bordered on slick. With wide eyes, greased-back hair, and a permanent grin, he had the look of a wild boar. Yet he moved in a fluid, almost graceful manner that belied his simmering arrogance. It was the conceit of a man who had ama.s.sed his wealth through shrewdness, deceit, and intimidation.

Though not the product of a rags-to-riches story, Goyette had parlayed a family land inheritance into a small fortune when a power company solicited a portion of the site for a proposed hydroelectric project. Goyette astutely negotiated a percentage of the power revenues for use of the land, correctly predicting the insatiable power demands of a booming Vancouver. He leveraged one investment after another, acquiring mineral and logging rights, thermal power resources, and his own hydroelectric plants. A powerful publicity campaign carefully focused on his alternative energy holdings and painted him as a man of the people in order to increase his negotiating strength with the government powers. With his a.s.sets privately held, few knew of his major holdings in gas, coal, and oil properties, and the complete hypocrisy of his carefully cultivated image.

Goyette watched as the Sikorsky S-76 hovered briefly, then touched its wheels down onto a wide circular landing pad. The twin engines were shut down, then the copilot climbed out and opened the side pa.s.senger door. A short man with shiny silver hair stepped out and held his head low under the swirling rotor blades, as two aides followed him close behind.

"Mr. Prime Minister, welcome to Kitimat and our new Terra Green facility," Goyette greeted with an extrawide smile. "How was your flight?"

"That's one plush bird. I'm just glad the rain let up so we could enjoy the view." The Canadian Prime Minister, a polished man in his own right named Barrett, reached over and shook Goyette's hand. "Good to see you again, Mitch. And thanks for the lift. I didn't realize that you were also abducting one of my own cabinet members."

He motioned toward a droopy-eyed man with a receding hairline who stepped off the chopper and approached the group.

"Natural Resources Minister Jameson was instrumental in approving our facility here," Goyette beamed. "Welcome to the finished product," he added, turning to Jameson.

The resources minister didn't return the exuberance. With a forced grin, he replied, "I'm happy to see the facility operational."

"The first of many, with your help," Goyette said, winking at the Prime Minister.

"Yes, your firm's capital planning director tells us that you already have a site under development in New Brunswick." Barrett pointed back toward the helicopter.

"My capital planning director?" Goyette asked in a confused tone. He followed the Prime Minister's gaze and turned toward the helicopter. Another man exited the side door and stretched his arms skyward. He crinkled his dark eyes at a fleeting burst of sunlight, then ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. The tailored blue suit he wore failed to hide his muscular build but pa.s.sed the mark for corporate executive attire. Goyette had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping as the man approached.

"Mr. Goyette"-he grinned with a self-confident smile-"I have the papers on our Vancouver property divest.i.ture for your signature." He tapped a leather satchel held under one arm for effect.

"Excellent," Goyette snorted, regaining his composure at the sight of his hired hit man strolling off his private helicopter. "Why don't you wait in the plant manager's office, and we'll attend to it shortly."

Goyette turned and hurriedly escorted the Prime Minister into the white tent. Wine and hors d'oeuvres were served to the accompaniment of a string quartet before Goyette led the dignitaries to the entrance of the sequestration facility. A droll-faced engineer identified as the plant manager took charge of the group and led them on a short tour. They walked through two large pump stations, then moved outside, where the plant manager pointed out several mammoth holding tanks that were partially concealed in the surrounding pines.

"The carbon dioxide is pumped as a liquid from Alberta and received into the holding tanks," the manager explained. "It is then pumped under pressure into the ground beneath us. An eight-hundred-meter well was dug here, driving through a thick layer of caprock until reaching a porous sedimentary formation filled with brine. It is the ideal geology to hold CO2 and virtually impervious to surface leakage."

"What would happen if an earthquake should strike here?" the Prime Minister asked.

"We are at least thirty miles from the nearest known fault line, so the odds of a large quake occurring here are quite remote. And at the depths we are storing the product, there is virtually no chance of an accidental release from a geological event."

"And exactly how much of the Athabasca refineries' carbon dioxide output are we sequestering here?"

"Just a fraction, I'm afraid. We'll need many more facilities to absorb the full output from the oil sand fields and allow them to operate at peak production again."

Goyette capitalized on the line of questioning to insert a sales pitch. "As you know, Alberta oil production has had to face serious cutbacks because of the tighter carbon emission mandate. The situation is equally dire for the coal-fired power plants back east. The economic impact to the country will be enormous. But you are standing at the heart of the solution. We've already scouted more locations in the region that are suitable for sequestration facilities. All we need is your help to move forward."

"Perhaps, but I'm not sure I like the idea of British Columbia's coastline being a receptacle for Alberta's industrial pollution," the Prime Minister said drily. A product of Vancouver, he still had a homegrown pride in his native province.

"Don't forget the tax that British Columbia imposes for each metric ton of carbon transferred across its border, a fraction of which goes back to the federal coffers. The fact is, it is a safe moneymaking play for the province. Plus, you may have noticed our dock facility." Goyette pointed to a huge covered building across the grounds that sat adjacent to a small inlet. "We have a five-hundred-foot covered dock capable of accommodating tanker ships that can carry liquid CO2. We're already receiving shipments and intend to show that we can process carbon waste from Vancouver industry, as well as logging and mining businesses up and down the coast. Allow us to build similar facilities across the country and we'll be able to manage a large portion of our national carbon quotas. And with excess capacity built into the new coastal facilities, we can even bury American and Chinese carbon at a nice profit."

The politician's eyes glimmered at the prospect of additional revenues flowing to the government's ledgers.

"The technology, it is perfectly safe?" he asked.

"We're not talking nuclear waste here, sir. This facility was built as a prototype and has been operating flawlessly for several weeks now. Mr. Prime Minister, it is a no-lose proposition. I build and operate the plants, and ensure their safety. The government just gives me the go-ahead and receives a cut off the top."

"And there is plenty left for you?"

"I'll get by," Goyette replied, roaring like a hyena. "All I need is the continued site and pipeline approvals from you and the resources minister. And that won't be a problem, will it, Minister Jameson?"

Jameson looked at Goyette with a beaten subservience. "I should think there is little to interrupt our trusting relationship," he replied.

"Very well," Barrett said. "Send me your draft proposals and I'll run it past my advisers. Now, where's some more of that fine champagne? "

As the group made their way back to the refreshment tent, Goyette quietly pulled the resources minster aside.

"I trust you received delivery of the BMW?" Goyette asked with a sharklike grin.

"A generous gift that my wife is quite ecstatic about. I would prefer, however, that future compensations remain less conspicuous."

"Not to worry. The contribution to your offsh.o.r.e trust account has already been made."

Jameson ignored the comment. "What is this nonsense about building new facilities along the coast? We both know the geology here is marginal, at best. Your so-called aquifer at this site will reach capacity in just a matter of months."

"This site will run indefinitely," Goyette lectured. "We have solved the capacity issue. And as long as you send me the same geological a.s.sessment team as before, there will be no problem with our coastal expansion plans. The chief geologist was quite amenable to revising his conclusions for a rather nominal price." He grinned.

Jameson grimaced at the knowledge that corruption flourished within the department well beyond his own dirty hands. He could never recall the exact day that he woke up and realized that Goyette had owned him. It was several years past. The two had met at a hockey game, when Jameson was making his first bid for a seat in Parliament. In Goyette, he had seemingly found a wealthy benefactor who shared a progressive vision for the country. The political campaign contributions grew as Jameson's career advanced, and somewhere along the way he had foolishly crossed the line. Campaign contributions progressed to jet rides and free vacations, ultimately leading to outright cash bribes. With ambition in his heart and a wife and four children to support on a civil servant's salary, he blindly took the cash, convincing himself that the policies he promoted for Goyette were just. It wasn't until he was appointed natural resources minister that he saw the other side of Goyette. The public perception of him as an environmental prophet was just a cleverly designed facade, he came to learn, disguising Goyette's true nature as a money-hungry megalomaniac. For every wind farm he developed with public fanfare, there were a half dozen coal mines he operated, his actual ownership buried in a laundry list of corporate subsidies. Phony mining claims, forged environmental impact statements, and outright federal grants to Goyette's holdings were all jury-rigged by the minister. In return, the bribes had been steady and generous. Jameson had been able to purchase an elegant house in the upscale Ottawa neighborhood of Rockcliffe Park and acc.u.mulate more than enough cash in the bank to send his kids to the finest schools. Yet he had never intended for things to slip so far, and he knew there was nothing he could do to escape.