Gaia's Majesty_Mission Called Read online

  The communal grief was stunning. As the hours ticked by the villagers seemed to accept the reality of what had happened. Prayers were offered for each of their dolphin friends, and when they had returned all of them to the sea, they abandoned themselves to their grief. Men and women joined hands, sank to their knees and wept.

  These dolphins had been like family; they had made sure these people, their partners, had fish to eat and sell. The death of the dolphins was more than a disaster. The impact on the village would be profound.

  Avery’s head was pounding and she felt nauseous. Cortez and Luma approached. “You are ill, Senhorita?” Cortez knelt by her, his face etched with concern.

  Avery cradled her throbbing head in her hands, and curled into a ball on the sand. “I need to sleep,” she said as she caved into unconsciousness. Luma sat next to her and kept vigil.

  When she awoke, Avery’s exhaustion gave way to anger. Something had happened on this beach that didn’t make any sense. She turned to Luma, who still sat nearby, and said, “We have to find out what happened here.” She looked down at the video camera. “Did you film it all?” she asked.

  ~~~

  Avery abandoned any planned meetings. The business of the day was grieving. She did what she could to comfort people, then late in the day she knew it was time to return to Imbituba. Cortez handed her keys to the hotel. “Luma and I need to stay. We will catch a ride back in a few days.” Avery was touched by their trust.

  For a long time she sat in her Jeep staring straight ahead, before she finally started the engine. As she drove, her mind was scanning for something, anything, to explain what had happened, but there was nothing to guide her search.

  The moon was rising over the sea when she arrived at the hotel. She unlocked the front door, pulled a cold Brahma from the cooler in the bar, and climbed the stairs to the rooftop terrace. Taking a long pull on the bottle, she glared at the moon. All she could feel was anger but there had to be answers, she thought. If only I knew the questions!

  Then, creeping in from the edge of her memory, came a dim background noise … a deep moan or rumble that had come from the sea just before the pounding in her head began. At the time the cries of the fishermen and the distress of the dolphins had held her attention, but now she recalled the sound with an unsettling sense of foreboding.

  Beer in hand, she walked to the edge of the terrace from which she could see the town square. Couples walked hand in hand, and the warmth of human connection was briefly comforting. She felt a fleeting longing for someone with whom to share the day. Then she noticed something else. Around the edge of the square there were people with their heads bowed, holding out bowls to passersby. Beggars? She didn’t remember so many on previous visits. The economy of Brazil was troubled, she knew, and here was tangible evidence.

  Pain was pervasive—and unanswered questions. She felt an unsettling, ill-defined intuition. In her mind she scanned the chaos on the beach, the woman with luminous eyes in the surf, the rescuers who seemed not to belong in the village. Something was terribly wrong.

  Chapter 6

  What Is This Place?

  Miami, Florida

  Beck had seen himself as following in the footsteps of his successful father. After college the next step was to get an MBA. The job at Covel looked intriguing and he liked the idea of working in sunny Miami. But from the beginning, the atmosphere at work disturbed him.

  Today he took a break and decamped to Melanie’s office. Her door was always open. He walked in and dumped a large stack of papers on her desk.

  Melanie eyed the mass of paper, then raised her eyes to him.

  “These reports, all kinds of reports, end up on my desk. It seems I’m expected to read them and make comments. I send them back to Mr. Covel, and never hear another word.”

  “Your comments are noted. In fact, Mr. Covel has mentioned to me that he values your insights. He seems to trust you. Coming from him, that’s high praise.”

  “Being valued and trusted are good things, but I’m left wondering ‘why me’?” Beck said.

  Melanie leaned forward. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but Mr. Covel and your father are connected.”

  Beck stiffened. “What do you mean connected?”

  Melanie looked uncomfortable. “Surely you know they have close business arrangements.That’s part of the reason you’re being taken in as close as you are.”

  Beck crossed his arms. “No, I didn’t know that. Does that mean I was hired because of my father?”

  “No. Mr. Covel liked what he saw in your success at school and how you presented yourself. You got here on your own with maybe a little boost from your father. But what’s happening to you is because of your talents.”

  Beck sat down. “I hope. Because I want what I get because I earned it.”

  Beck was wondering what this meant about his father’s business activities.

  He was silent for a moment. “Let me change the subject. I’m concerned about a project I’ve been reviewing.”

  “The one about echolocation?”

  Beck nodded. “That’s the project Covel unloaded to you about. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes. And I’m hearing there are a lot of problems.”

  “That’s interesting because I’ve been hearing little about problems from the engineers.”

  As he left Melanie’s office he wondered why he didn’t know about the problems.

  ~~~

  A few days later on impulse he stopped by Melanie’s office. She had work spread out before her. A subtle bob of her head indicated he should close the door. The tension was obvious.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve never seen Mr. Covel like this. He looks like he’s near panic.”

  Beck threw his head back, eyes wide. “I hope you’re making that up.”

  Now Melanie looked angry. “You know better than that.”

  “Sorry. But that scares me. What’s up?”

  “You’ll know before I do. You’re included in an emergency meeting in his office this morning. And you should know we don’t do emergency meetings. I have to think it’s about the echolocation project. There’s a lot of chatter in the media about something that happened in Brazil. Do I need to say more?”

  Beck shook his head. “I did wonder about it. You think we’re responsible.”

  Melanie simply said, “I’m not talking about it.”

  When Beck entered the office, Covel was standing at a window, framed by the Miami high-rise buildings. He seemed deep in thought, then began to pace back and forth. His impatience, while people gathered, was clear. Beck looked around at the men. There were no engineers, only management. But for some reason he didn’t interact with them and instinctively kept his distance. He wondered why he’d been included and thought about Melanie’s statement about his father’s influence.

  Covel’s secretary was handing out a news story about the dolphin beaching at Laguna. No one was chatting.

  Covel turned away from the window and faced the group. His dark-brown eyes were narrowed and his normally well-groomed gray hair suggested he had been running his fingers through it. Beck read an agitation he had never seen before. Without any greeting Covel snatched up a copy of the story and held it aloft.

  “Someone needs to tell me what the hell happened in that ocean. I want answers.”

  Most of the men sat rigidly, staring ahead or with their heads down. Finally, one man said. “The incident was hundreds of miles from our test area. There should have been no effect from our system.”

  Covel snarled at him. “But it seems there was.”

  The man continued, a slight quiver in his voice. “From the engineering reports, it seems we can’t adequately modulate the output of the system.” The man sucked in a breath. “It’s having profound biological effects.”

  Covel walked over and stood in front of the man, leaned down and said, “No shit!”

  He s
wung around with dark clouds of rage sweeping across his face. “I’m not interested in excuses. The media is pounding on the incident. They’re trying to tie us to this story.” He beat a fist into his palm. “This is the most important system we’ve ever developed and it must be made workable. This incident must never be traced back to us. There must be absolute deniability.”

  Beck tensed as Covel turned and faced him. “I’m putting you in charge of the engineers. They’re to find out what went wrong and fix it—now. Melanie Martin will handle PR.”

  Covel turned back to the gathering at large. “You understand that you know absolutely nothing about what happened. Be clear. No leaks. Talk to no one, not friends, not family.”

  After the meeting, Beck went directly to Melanie’s office. He worked to hold his anger in check. “It seems suddenly I’m in charge of whipping the engineers into shape to fix the system that caused the Brazil problem. I’m not pleased. And Mr. Covel tells me you’re to handle deniability about what happened.”

  Melanie just nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Beck. I should have told you how I thought it would go. I knew about the PR but hadn’t thought you’d get the engineering problem dumped in your lap.”

  “Well it was, damn it.” He hesitated. “Hey, we don’t need to be at odds. Let me get the engineers into a meeting so we can talk about fixing something which may not be fixable.” He whirled, threw his arms in the air and stormed out.

  As he walked down the hall, he was no longer having doubts about his job. He was considering exit strategies.

  ~~~

  Beck arranged a meeting with the engineers within the hour. When he walked into the room he saw people who looked like they had been watching the construction of gallows and were just waiting for the nooses to be placed around their necks.

  He sucked in a breath and began. “I’ll put it straight out. I just came from a meeting with Mr. Covel. He’s demanding that the problem with the echolocation system be fixed at once.” The stirrings of discomfort in the room were almost audible. “What went wrong?”

  He looked around the room at the tense and anxious faces. Being counselor and motivator in this kind of crisis was not part of his life plan.

  “Hal,” Beck said, “You’re the lead engineer on this project. Bring me up to speed.”

  Beck thought Hal did an admirable job of looking assured. “As you know, it’s a weapons system meant to overload the eyes and ears of enemy vessels. It emits a high-energy pulse designed to damage sensing instruments in ways never thought possible before.”

  “I thought the project was functional and on schedule,” said Beck.

  Hal answered, “Schedule isn’t at issue. We needed a test, but the data shows that this system is unstable and more powerful than we thought.”

  Beck’s mood sank. “What does that mean?”

  “That means we can’t be sure of a stable output or what the range is.”

  Beck found Hal’s matter-of-fact tone strange but under the circumstances admirable. “So, we’re blasting away into the water with no idea what damage we might do to what or whom.” He hoped putting it that way would stir Hal’s emotions.

  “I prefer to think of it as needing further refinement,” insisted Hal.

  Another engineer spoke up, his face grim, his tone angry. “I’ll be direct. We were pushed into real-world testing too fast. We asked for more time, but didn’t get it. Our goal is to cripple enemy defenses but we’re doing a lot of other things as well.” The pain displayed on the man’s face was palpable. “The dead dolphins at that village are probably the tip of an iceberg.”

  Beck appreciated the man’s honesty and the risk he took in stating his opinion.

  Another engineer raised his hand. He took a deep breath and managed a level and reassuring tone. “We need time and a way to evaluate the program. We have to scale it down for more controlled testing. The high-energy work in the open ocean has to be abandoned. With a more controlled system we can probably get it under control soon.” He smiled in response to the murmured support from his fellow engineers. His confidence and willingness to be forthright cheered everyone, and broke the downward trend of the mood.

  Beck kept his response muted. “I totally agree. You guys know what you’re doing. Can you get back to me in two days with a plan? I’ll need to keep Mr. Covel apprised.”

  He looked around at the still glum gathering. He continued, knowing he had to. “Let me emphasize. Publicly nobody knows anything about this system. Right? You need to be clear about that fact. Don’t talk to your wife, your kids, or the person running on the treadmill next to you at the gym.” Heads nodded.

  Now Beck needed someone to give him a pep talk. He returned to his office and sank into his chair. Steepling his fingers in front of his mouth, he stared out at the urban landscape and felt his anger rising. What the hell has my father gotten me into?

  Chapter 7

  Assembly of Lords

  St. Lucia, West Indies

  The helicopter circled volcanic peaks on the eastern Caribbean island of St. Lucia. Inside, Jorge Ramos, the Honduran drug lord, was paying no attention to the stunning rain forest scenery below. As usual he was preoccupied with his business. Finally the helicopter began its descent toward the landing pad near the luxury villa he maintained for purposes such as this meeting. The spinning rotors sent gusts of air into nearby vegetation, and alarmed birds rose into the blue sky.

  Housekeeper Grace Monplesir stood on the front verandah of the villa. Behind her clustered the carefully chosen and trained villa staff, their hands folded in front of them as instructed. She watched as Señor Ramos walked toward the villa surrounded by several well-muscled, armed men. Ramos was not a man to her liking, but she was a professional housekeeper, paid to ensure that villas such as these met the expectations of extremely wealthy patrons. She tried not to listen to the rumors about him; drugs were one thing, but lately the gossip had been about people-trafficking, which she found disturbing. She hid her agitation with a pleasant smile as she greeted him. Such men could be difficult and troublesome, and she had not worked with him previously.

  “Good morning, Señor Ramos.” She held out her hand.

  He brushed it aside as he strode into the villa. “Is everything ready for the guests?” His voice was loud, his tone harsh.

  Grace hurried after him. “Yes, sir. I think you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.”

  Ramos walked out onto the terrace and eyed the crystal-clear lap pool, an extension of the main pool area where guests could relax together. He inspected the area and its inviting clusters of seating, then each of the spacious bedrooms indoors. He questioned the staff about the kitchen and what they had prepared.

  Grace was relieved when he indicated that everything was acceptable and left. He was to return to a separate villa he maintained for himself and his security staff. Such men never made themselves vulnerable in a diverse gathering, and Ramos knew what was required. Grace had not really expected any appreciation. The staff gathered around her for final instructions.

  “Señor Ramos is our host and requires complete discretion. You’re not to react to anything you see. You will never talk to anyone about what happens here. You hear nothing and see nothing except requests and instructions. Is that clear?”

  Some of the staff looked fearful. They knew the expected guests were men of great wealth and power who would have their own heavily armed security and service personnel for nighttime. The villa was a remote and well-defended compound, but Ramos left nothing to chance.

  The guests arriving were people focused not just on amassing power, but great wealth, as well. They represented one side of the latest contest which would severely affect the future of humankind.

  Throughout the day helicopters landed on the pad near the villa, Escalades brought guests who had arrived by private jet, and a boat in Soufriere harbor ferried people in from several magnificent yachts anchored in its d
eep water.

  Evan Covel and Brigid Lynch were the first guests to arrive by private jet. Rather than taking a helicopter to the villa, Evan had chosen to have them driven. He enjoyed showing Brigid the island’s lush tropical scenery.

  Sergey Volkov, a Russian entrepreneur, was an impatient man and the helicopter was more to his taste. His companion was Nicole Cloutier, a striking Haitian mulatto.

  These two couples arrived at the villa simultaneously. Brigid and Nicole openly greeted each other warmly, having met before at similar gatherings. The staff efficiently saw the guests to their rooms while other staff took drink orders. The two women, deciding that the inviting pool was just what they wanted, shed all their clothes and plunged in.

  The tempo of arrivals picked up throughout the day. The men were the center of attention and service and heartily greeted each new arrival. The male house staff was delighted at the beauty and sensuality of the female contingent but kept their eyes downcast. Surreptitious looking was tolerated but touching was punishable by a terrible beating or death.

  Later in the day, several playthings arrived, imported by Ramos from Martinique. With their mixed French and African heritage, the women of Martinique were among the most graceful and beautiful in the world. The men would choose companions from among them for various activities over the next days and nights. The men expected all manner of service, and their wealth meant they got whatever they wanted.

  African Mohammed bin Mazin’s wealth came from blood diamonds. American Gary Cohan’s from investment banking. Romero Ortega, oil; Calvin Baker, global manufacturing; Carlos Herrera, commodities; and Barnard Laurent, European Union investment banking.

  This meeting was more than a holiday. The men had nominal citizenship in different countries but were more accurately citizens of a rarified world of immense wealth. They had allegiance only to one another and their business interests.

  Gary Cohan had brought a fetching companion, who had short spiky hair, elegant mannerisms, and an enchanting laugh. He would be the life of any party, and all the men in the room, no matter what their sexual orientation, entertained at least a brief fantasy about a ménage à trois including this boy toy.