The Swarm (56 page)

‘So, if I understand you correctly,' Johanson said slowly, ‘you're suggesting it's terrorism.'

‘Give that man a medal! You see, mass destruction is the hallmark of two types of terrorism. The first seeks to achieve political and social revolution, no matter what the cost, even if it means killing thousands in the process. Islamic extremists, for instance, think oxygen's too good for unbelievers. Type number two is fixated with Doomsday, and spreads the word that mankind is evil - we've outstayed our welcome on God's
fair planet and deserve to be destroyed. The more money and technology these people can get their hands on, the more dangerous they become. Take killer algae, for example. Someone out there must be capable of breeding that stuff. Everyone knows how to train a dog to bite. 4gene technology lets us tamper with DNA, why can't we use it to modify behaviour? Think about it…So many mutations in so little time. How does that look to you? If you ask me, someone's been very busy with their test-tubes. We've got an unknown shapeless organism out there too. Why is it shapeless? Everything's got a shape! Maybe it doesn't need one for its purposes. Maybe it's a kind of protoplasm, an organic compound, a sticky mess that channels itself in tiny strands like molecular chains, setting up home in whale brains and lobster shells. You know, folks, this definitely isn't coincidence. This is design. And if you want a motive, just think what the collapse of the European oil industry will do for the Middle East.'

Johanson stared at him. ‘You're crazy, Vanderbilt.'

‘You think so? There haven't been any accidents or collisions in the Strait of Hormuz - or in the Suez Canal, for that matter.'

‘But why the plagues and tsunamis? Why annihilate people who would otherwise pay good money for Arab oil and gas? It doesn't make sense.'

‘Oh, I agree,' said Vanderbilt, ‘it's crazy. I never said it made sense, only that it adds up. The Med's been spared, you know. There's a clear route all the way from the Persian Gulf right through to Gibraltar. But take a look at where the worms are - all over the oilfields belonging to South America and the West.'

‘They're on the American slope off the north-east coast too, don't forget. A tsunami on the European scale would be disastrous for your oil-trading terrorists - their clientele would be washed right out of the market.'

‘Dr Johanson.' Vanderbilt smiled. ‘You're a scientist, and in science you're always looking for logic. The CIA gave up on that years ago. The laws of nature may make sense. People don't. We all know nuclear war could mean the end of our race, but the threat's still there, hanging over us like the Sword of Damocles. The thing is, Dr Johanson, those Bond-film baddies who hold the world to ransom really do exist. It's Bond who doesn't. When Saddam set fire to the Kuwaiti oil wells in 1991, even some of his own advisers predicted it would trigger a nuclear winter that
could last for years to come. They were wrong. That's beside the point, though: their warnings didn't stop him. In any case, why don't you ask your friends in Kiel what would
really
happen if all the underwater methane escaped into the air? It's all speculation, you see. Sure, the sea level would rise, Europe would be finished, and Belgium, the Netherlands and northern Germany would be one helluva watersports resort, but what about the barren areas of the Middle East? Maybe the deserts would come into bloom. You'd need more than a few tsunamis to wipe out the Western world entirely. There'll still be enough people to buy the Arabs' oil. And maybe the campaign of terror isn't intended to bring about the apocalypse: maybe it's designed to weaken the West and lead to a redistribution of world power, without anyone having to fight for it. And as for the planet - I'm sure it will sort itself out in the end…The monsters might be rising from the ocean, but you can bet your bottom dollar that their master's on dry land.'

Li switched off the projector. ‘I'd like to thank the diplomats and the international intelligence community for enabling us to hold this summit,' she said. ‘I know some of you will have to return home later today, but the majority of you will be our guests here for the next few weeks. I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the same conditions of confidentiality apply to us
all
. Our work and our findings must be kept under wraps. It's in the interest of all our governments.'

She paused.

‘As for the scientists, please rest assured that we'll be doing everything in our power to help you. From now on we would ask you to use only the laptops provided. There are Internet connections all over the hotel - in the bar, in your rooms, in the health club - so you'll be able to log on no matter where you are. Transatlantic communication is up and running again. The hotel roof is covered with satellite dishes and everything's back in business. Telephone calls, faxes, email and Internet et cetera will all go via the NATO III satellites. They're normally reserved for communication between the NATO governments, but now they're at your disposal too. We've built in a closed network, a
secretus in secretum
, which only members of the working party will be able to access. You can use it to communicate with each other and to view confidential data. To get in, you'll need a personal password, which you'll be given once you've signed your non-disclosure forms.'

She looked at them sternly. ‘Please take it as read that the password
should not be shared with unauthorised individuals. Once you've logged in, you'll have access to recon and Earth observation satellites, to data from NOAA and from SOSUS, to archived and current telemetric material, and to the CIA and NSA's databases on international terrorism, bio-weaponry and gene technology. We've given you summaries of our current capabilities in terms of deep-sea technology, and you'll also find geological and geochemical information. There are catalogues of different organisms, deep-sea charts courtesy of the navy and, of course, all the details of today's presentation, including the stats and figures. New developments will be forwarded to you immediately and automatically. We'll keep you informed, and we expect you to do the same.'

Li smiled encouragingly at her audience. ‘Good luck to you all. In two days' time we'll meet again, same time, same place. If anyone needs to compare notes before then, Major Peak and I are available for consultation at any time.'

Vanderbilt raised his eyebrows. ‘I hope you'll be a good girl and tell everything to Uncle Jack,' he said softly, so that only she could hear.

‘Just remember,' she said, as she packed up her things, ‘I'm your superior.'

‘I'm sorry, honey, you can't have heard right. We're partners now, equals.'

‘Oh, I wouldn't say that. Not intellectually…'

She left the room.

Johanson

Most of the crowd headed for the bar, but Johanson didn't feel like joining them. Maybe it would have been a good opportunity to get to know a few people, but he had other things on his mind.

He'd barely made it inside his suite when there was a knock on the door. Weaver walked in without waiting for an answer.

‘You should give an old man the chance to put on his corset before you burst in like that,' said Johanson. ‘I wouldn't want to shatter your illusions.'

He picked up his laptop and wandered around the cosily furnished sitting room, looking for the modem. Weaver opened the minibar and helped herself to a Coke. ‘Above the desk,' she said.

‘Oh, so it is.' Johanson plugged in the laptop and booted it up.

Weaver watched over his shoulder. ‘What do you think of the terrorism theory?' she asked.

‘Makes no sense.'

‘That's what I thought too.'

‘I can't say I'm surprised by the CIA's schizophrenia.' Johanson clicked on a series of icons. ‘They're trained to think like that. And Vanderbilt was right about one thing: scientists do tend to forget that people don't operate with the reliability of natural laws.'

Weaver leaned over and auburn curls cascaded over her face. She pushed them back. ‘You've got to tell them, Sigur.'

‘Tell them what?'

‘About your theory.'

Johanson double-clicked on an icon and entered his password: Chateau Disaster 000 550899-XK/0. ‘Ta-ra ta-ra,' he hummed. ‘Welcome to Wonderland.'

Nice password, he thought. A castle populated by scientists, intelligence operatives and soldiers, all trying to save the world from monsters, floods and catastrophic climate change. Chateau Disaster was exactly right.

More icons appeared on the screen. Johanson studied the titles of the folders and whistled softly. ‘My God, we really have got access to the satellites.'

‘Seriously? Can we guide them?'

‘Hardly. You can download the data, though. Look, GOES-W and GOES-E…the entire NOAA fleet's on here. And see this one? It's QuikSCAT - not bad either. And all the Lacrosse satellites too - that means they've really bitten the bullet, if they've let us have these. And over here we've got SAR-Lupe, it—'

‘I get the picture. You can come back down to earth. Surely they haven't really given us unrestricted access to state information and intelligence resources?'

‘Of course not. We've got access to whatever they'd like us to see.'

‘Why didn't you tell Vanderbilt what you think?'

‘It's too soon.'

‘We don't have much time, Sigur.'

Johanson shook his head. ‘People like Li and Vanderbilt need convincing. They want hard facts, not conjecture.'

‘We've got hard facts!'

‘The timing was all wrong. Today was their moment of glory. They'd put together all that information and turned it into an all-singing, all-dancing catastrophe fest. Vanderbilt had the chance to pull his big fat Arabian rabbit out of the hat, and did you see him? He was
proud
of it, for God's sake. If I'd said anything it would have sounded like a challenge. I want them to start doubting their neat little theory of their own accord, and that'll happen sooner than you think.'

‘OK.' Weaver nodded. ‘How certain are you?'

‘Of my theory?'

‘I mean, you are still certain, aren't you?'

‘Sure. But after today we're going to have to find a way of convincing the American intelligence service that it's wrong.' Johanson looked at his screen. ‘In any case, I get the feeling Vanderbilt's not that important. Li's the one we need to work on. From what I've seen, I bet she does what she wants, regardless.'

Li

Her first priority was to get on the treadmill. She set the speed to nine kilometres per hour, and settled into a comfortable trot. It was time to call the White House. Two minutes later the voice of the President sounded in her headphones. ‘Jude! Good to hear from you. How're you doing?'

‘I'm running right now.'

‘You're running. Good Lord, Jude, you're the best. You're an example to us all - except me, of course.' He gave a chummy guffaw. ‘You're too sporty for my liking. Well, did the presentation go to plan?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘And did you tell them our suspicions?'

‘Regrettably, sir, they're now aware of what Vanderbilt suspects.'

The President was still chuckling. ‘Oh, Jude, you've got to stop this vendetta against Vanderbilt.'

‘He's an asshole.'

‘But he's good at his job. Besides, I'm not asking you to marry him.'

‘If it made America safer,' Li said irritably, ‘I'd marry him right away. But nothing could induce me to agree with him.'

‘Of course not.'

‘I mean, would
you
have picked today to start parading your suspicions? There's no evidence yet for the terrorism hypothesis, and now it's at the forefront of their minds. We wanted the scientists to
come up
with a theory, not go chasing after one.'

There was silence. Li could hear the President thinking it over. He didn't like people taking matters into their own hands, and Vanderbilt had done just that.

‘You're right, Jude. It would have been better to keep it to ourselves.'

‘I quite agree, sir.'

‘Good. Have a word with him about it.'

‘Oh, no, sir,
you
should have a word with him. He won't listen to me.'

‘Fine. I'll talk to him later, then.'

Li smiled to herself. ‘Listen, er, I don't want Jack getting into trouble…' she added dutifully.

‘Sure. No problem. But enough about him. Tell me about your scholarly panopticon. Are the scientists up to the job? Any thoughts so far?'

‘They're all highly qualified.'

‘Does anyone stand out?'

‘A Norwegian. Sigur Johanson. He's a molecular biologist - marine science, of course. I'm not sure what's so special about him, but he's got his own way of looking at things.'

The President called to someone in the room. Li upped the speed on the treadmill.

‘I spoke to the Norwegian foreign minister earlier,' he said. ‘They're at their wits' end. I mean, they're pleased about the EU initiative, but it seems to me that they'd be a good deal happier if the US came on board. The Germans think the same - they want to pool our know-how and so on. They're calling for an international commission with a proper mandate that would unite our capabilities.'

‘Who do they have in mind to run it?'

‘A UN-led committee, according to the German chancellor.'

‘Uh-huh. I see…'

‘Not a bad idea, I thought.'

‘Oh, it's a good one.' Li paused. ‘Only didn't you say recently that the UN had never had such an ineffectual secretary general as the present incumbent? It was at that embassy reception three weeks ago, and then we came under fire from all the usual corners. Do you remember?'