Rogue Command (The Kalahari Series) (9 page)

Rachel put her bowl down on the table and dropped the spoon nearby. She sat dejected on a stool and stared inanely at the green fruit and milky coloured banana and the glass of synthetic orange juice. The rare treat offered little solace and neither did her second cup of strong black coffee. For the second year running Richard was on duty on Christmas morning. The previous year he had volunteered for the role of duty officer and had manned the squadron’s front desk until early evening, saying that it was important that the pilots with children should have the time at home. Family time was important he had said – but evidently not theirs.

Married for four years and trying for a child for three of those – this last one in near desperation – it seemed that the joy of motherhood would evade her.
Was it their careers – time consuming and often stressful?
she mused.
Was it their relationship? Perhaps it was the environment?
But others were able – the colony’s birth rate was steadily rising. Another tear threatened; this time she absorbed it with a handkerchief.

This year would be different, she resolved. After breakfast she would make a determined effort. Richard had promised to be back by mid-morning, by which time the Christmas tree projector would be set in the corner and the life-size, 3D hologram, complete with tinsel decorations, flashing coloured lights and a shining star on top would have pride of place. Presents would be distributed liberally around its base. She had ordered a turkey from the poultry dome in good time and it would be presented with all the trimmings. They would have a Christmas to remember and leave this old year, with all its disappointments and frustrations, behind them.

London – simultaneous

Rothschild refocused his attention on Richard. “Now, where was I?” he asked.

“Your suspicions about Space Net.”

“Yes. Richard, it is essential that you understand the shortfalls of such a system and, believe me, despite what the primary sponsors say, there are some.” Rothschild looked tense. “The global interface between the military network and the International Space and Science Federation network will always be a weak spot and therefore the prime target for any hacker wishing to bridge the security programming. Military meets civilian; there have always been different protocols and different agendas. SERON is a multi-dimensional protective overlay trying to perform an impossible task in my view. It’s a programming umbrella, if you like, doing its damnedest to keep the water out. But it is faced with a torrent of differing opinions and different languages – verbally and binary – all attempting to access twenty-four seven. With all these anomalies, in my view, it’s just a matter of time before there is a breach, despite what our neighbours say.” Rothschild leaned forward to emphasise his point. “The findings of my department suggest that the world’s three major industrial multi-nationals, the three conglomerates we know only too well, are engaged in another concerted attempt to control global energy supplies.” Rothschild breathed in deeply. “I’m sure of it, but I’ve no proof. Now, with the recent news, somebody really must sit up and listen. My American counterpart, the Director of the Central Investigation Bureau, says it’s not possible. He says that the international restraining orders and raw material embargoes that were imposed a little over four years ago are sufficient to keep them and other corporations wishing to monopolise such resources in line. And that they were and are sufficient to stifle all industrial and financial growth and therefore any plans of dominating that sector again. My view is that these embargoes have just pushed the illegal activities of these conglomerates underground – in more ways than one!” Rothschild nodded. “Spheron, Tongsei and Epsilon Rio are more of a threat now than they ever were. But international politics, protocol, for heaven’s sake, means that I can’t mention it.”

“What evidence do you have?”

“I’ve had a few of my best people on the case for the last six or seven months . . . subtly, one might say. And they have uncovered some interesting information; information that taken in isolation would not arouse suspicion, but when one begins to look at the whole picture . . .”

“Run it by me.”

“There have been a number of disappearances over the last few years . . . reported, but never connected. We’re talking scientists, system engineers, propulsion specialists, people from the space and computing industry . . . They’re mainly from abroad, so difficult to correlate, but these people have never been heard of again. In a few cases there have been some financial incentives for relatives to keep quiet. I’ve been diverting resources from other areas to keep the investigation going – nothing dishonest, but not in keeping with current policies either, you understand. If I speak up with what I’ve got they will want to know my sources – believe me, in the present economic climate, that could open Pandora’s Box. And as far as international relations go, it could be a disaster.”

“What are you saying, Peter? If I’m hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you think that despite heavy restraint on the global activities of these three conglomerates they may be up to their old tricks again. You have intelligence, but nothing concrete, so you can’t go public?”

“Precisely!”

“So what do you propose to do?”

“I’m going to introduce some of our findings at the briefing.”

“And risk alienating the Americans?”

“I’m going to present some information, that’s all. They can take it or leave it, as can the Federation.”

Richard shrugged. “So what’s my part in all this? Christmas dinner gets fainter and fainter.” He checked his chronometer.

“You had better call Rachel, with my sincere apologies. I’m afraid that your shuttle is already on its way back; you can expect to be here in London for a few days at least, but also I want you to go and see Mubarakar. He is very ill by all accounts and cannot travel, but he’s got something to show us and he says it’s important. You know Mubarakar as well as I do – he would not waste our time. So when we are finished here, I suggest that you also call your second in command. You can expect to be away from your squadron for at least a week, maybe more.”

Richard cradled his forehead in his hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Christmas Day of all days . . . I’ve got a better idea – you call Rachel.”

“Um, I don’t think so.” Rothschild looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, more to the point, did you get any rest? During the transit I mean. We have almost an hour if you want some down time? Oh and by the way, what did you bring in the way of clothing?”

Richard looked up. “I’m fine; I had a few hours and used the facilities in the VIP terminal. They even gave us some breakfast. As for clean shirts, I brought a few, but I’ll need some toiletries if it’s going to be more than a week.” He paused. “Why don’t you establish a video-link with Mubarakar? Use a digital scrambler if it’s that sensitive.”

“He is old school – very. He does not trust the technology and he’s not well. In fact, he has not left Egypt for two years and apparently is now housebound in Alexandria. He’s gone back to his roots, Richard – always a bad sign. He has also resigned from the Supreme Council of Antiquities and as Executive Curator of both the Cairo and Luxor Museums and, of course, he is over eighty if he’s a day. I’ve a feeling that he wants to share some information with you specifically, while he can, you know, before . . . Anyway, we have arrangements in hand for you to visit his home.”

A brief look of surprise washed over Richard’s face. “Yes, well, it will be good to see him,” he replied.

“We may also need you to go to Mexico for a few days, the Yucatán Peninsula to be precise – also something for you to see. We need your expertise.”

Richard nodded. “Nice to be wanted,” he said. “Tell me! What’s the current travel situation? By air I mean. I’m a bit behind the drag curve. I know that there is very little scheduled airline traffic these days.”

Rothschild thought for a moment. “Actually, there are no longer any solvent airlines – at least not in the Northern Hemisphere. Most travel is now by sea or rail – and that’s becoming prohibitively expensive. Aeroplanes, cars, road haulage vehicles . . . they have no value any more. It’s the basics that are expensive these days, Richard.” Rothschild paused thoughtfully before continuing. “When an aircraft is required for official business the government normally charters – on a one-off basis you understand. Orbital Airlines are the preferred contractor. They have retained a small fleet for this purpose. Aviation fuel is a very scarce commodity – in fact, there is seldom any available on the open or spot markets. The Energy Department has occasionally had opportunity to bid for small quantities that are auctioned on the black market – mainly from Uganda – but that is rare now. However, I’m pleased to say that central government holds a utility reserve that is stored at a refining terminal near Southampton and piped to London using the old London Heathrow connection. There is, thankfully, the essential spur to London Main Airport – best thing Cameron did during his second term – against those violent planning demonstrations too . . . remember?”

Richard slumped in his seat. “I was eight and had other things on my mind.”

“And now you are what, forty-four?”

“You know exactly how old I am, Peter, you have my record in front of you!”

“Yes . . . quite so. I was sixteen you know, and I remember.”

Richard raised his eyebrows to forestall any coming lecture.

“Anyway,” Rothschild continued, “I may be able to secure sixty or seventy tons of aviation grade kerosene, but that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, the Stratocord is a bit of an overkill, wouldn’t you say? And it certainly isn’t the best on fuel economy, particularly in the lower atmosphere and that’s the only aircraft type Orbital operated. I’m guessing but I’d say seventy tons is enough to get me to Egypt and back and perhaps across the pond to eastern Mexico.”

“I am aware of that, Richard. Planning has it in hand and has asked the Mexican Government for help, but by all accounts they haven’t got anything left either. Their reserves are quoting zero, but the military might spare some in an extreme case. That will take a call from the PM – I haven’t gone there yet. I certainly do not think it sensible to rely on local sources.”

“What about the Americans?”

“We know they found a small pocket recently in southern Texas – enough to keep the state going for another month, perhaps two. It’s likely the Government took a share and we heard that there may have been a little gas too. The Federal Energy Commission is distilling some domestic oil from their remaining coal stocks and perhaps some kerosene. Problem is, with this briefing coming up I’m loath to ask them. The PM may authorise a flight with NetJets Global using a Royal Flight allocation. You flew with them before, you may recall. Apparently, they have a little bio fuel remaining in Germany.”

Richard nodded. “And elsewhere? Stocks around the planet?”

“South America dried up a year ago to all intents and purposes. They were not very good at saving for a rainy day. What little coal and oil they had at the beginning of this year was sold to international buyers on the black market – quite amazing really. Actually, we bought about three hundred thousand barrels ourselves.”

Richard shook his head. “Unbelievable!”

“Europe and Africa are the same. Canadian and Alaskan oil shale stocks are depleted and their Kerogen holding is almost exhausted too. Apart from that there are some isolated pockets of gas and oil here and there, but they aren’t really anything to speak of; nothing of note has been reported for some time. South Africa rushed into constructing a new fission reactor eighteen months ago, near Port Elizabeth, but the technology they are using is forty years old. Nothing has progressed in that field since the New Geneva Convention banned nuclear power stations. They are on a road to nowhere in my opinion. Even under normal environmental conditions it would take six or seven years to complete a facility like that. Their plan was just two years, and without the cooperation of the international community. Not a chance. I am beginning to think that a blanket ban on all nuclear power was a mistake – then and now.”

“Yes, but two major accidents in as many years and half-a-million square miles of pollution gave a lot of weight to the ‘greens’. It was a lobby that gathered pace across the globe . . . It was ‘save the planet and not worry about humankind’ back then. Now it seems to be the other way round. Anyway, Peter, what about the East?”

“Japan is trading some of its territories west of Nagasaki and the home island of Kyushu to China in exchange for an undisclosed quantity of light fuel oil – again mainly distilled from coal stocks. Japan is saying that it is necessary in order to keep the central government and local administration in operation. How long that will last, God only knows. While the Chinese are keeping tight-lipped about what they actually have left, we do not think it can be much. Total global stocks were declared three years ago as part of an international pooling protocol; it was mandatory to declare all holdings and a satellite monitoring programme was agreed. Based on that data they simply cannot have much remaining – maybe six months. Their agenda is as inscrutable as ever. Exchanging land for fuel and so depriving their own people of heat and light – how can you put a value on those commodities?”

“You know the Chinese, Peter, always long-term.”

Rothschild considered that remark for a few seconds. “Um, yes, long-term,” he said. “What do we mean by that phrase these days I wonder . . . ? What do
they
know that we don’t?”

Richard shook his head.

“There are a lot of deals going on at the moment between various states,” Rothschild continued. “Trading this. Trading that. Pushing. Pulling. I’m not sure where it’s going to end. Everyone wants what’s left. It doesn’t bode well for the future.” Richard saw him grimace.

“And the Pacific Rim?”

“Dry! Several months ago in fact. The forests are gone of course. Manila is reporting a dry spell, almost two weeks now. Temperatures are said to be up by eleven degrees Celsius – positively warm by global standards. As a result the Japanese have reduced their electricity quota from the Katsuura reactor by fifteen per cent. That hasn’t gone down well with the government of the Philippines, as you can imagine.” Peter half-laughed. “Unlikely to boast about their weather again . . .”