An unctuous smile crossed Grimley’s face. “Disregard my earlier comment,” he said. “Please go on.”
“I’d be happy to,” Brynhild said. “As you know from my monthly reports, our plans have been moving smoothly but slowly. Every day we have acquired another water source, but it has taken time to build up our tanker fleet. The huge storage bags that would be used to transport water across oceans have been a problem. Only now has the technology to construct the bags been achieved. And most recently our project has elicited interest from the National Underwater and Marine Agency.”
An American real estate baron named Howes was the first to pounce on the significance of her last sentence. “NUMA? How did they come to know about us?”
“It’s a complicated story. You will all be provided with reports detailing NUMA’s interest. Suffice it to say for now that their people are very persistent and lucky.”
“This is serious,” said the American. “First the newspaper investigation, now this.”
“The newspaper will not be running the story, nor will any one else. All the investigative records have been destroyed. In regard to NUMA, that situation, too, has been neutralized.”
“It’s still damned worrisome,” Howes said. “We’ve spent mil lions keeping our activities secret. This whole thing could un ravel in no time.”
“I agree wholeheartedly,” Brynhild replied. “We have done everything possible to preserve our privacy, but an operation of this size and duration could not go undetected forever. The facade we erected to hide our activities from public view is be ginning to crack. It was only a matter of time, so I’m not surprised, but it did suggest the need for haste.”
“Are you saying that you are rushing our plans because of NUMA?”
“No. Only that there has been a fortunate turn of events.”
A German banker named Heimmler was the first to catch on. “There is only one way the plan can be advanced so dramatically,” he said with the expression of a boa constrictor presented with a live rabbit. “You have perfected the Cabral desalting method.”
Brynhild waited for the buzzing around the table to die down. “Better still,” she said triumphantly. “Dr. Cabral is perfecting the process for us.”
“Cabral,” the German said. “I read press reports that she was still alive, but-“
“Alive and quite well. She has agreed to work with Gogstad since we control the only supply of anasazium. At this moment she is in our laboratory where she is preparing a demonstration. In a short time I will show you this miracle. I spoke to Dr. Cabral before our meeting. She said she would be ready in an hour. In the meantime you are invited to enjoy the refreshments we have prepared for you in the dining room. I must check on transport arrangements and will see you shortly.”
As the directors filed out of the Great Hall, Brynhild went to the front entrance of the main complex. Several dark green Suburbans were lined up in front of the spacious porch. A driver and armed guard stood next to each vehicle.
“Is everything ready?” she asked the guard standing by the lead vehicle.
“Yes, ma’am, we can move the guests whenever they are ready to go.”
The underground tram was the fastest way to get to the lab, but it was built mainly to shuttle small parties of technicians back and forth. It was quicker to transport a large group, such as the board of directors, in vehicles. Brynhild left nothing to chance. She got in the passenger side of the lead vehicle and ordered the driver to take her to the lake. A few minutes later the SUV pulled up at the edge of the low hill that overlooked the water. She descended a short stairway to the pier and went in side the boathouse. The structure was actually a cover for the elevators that serviced the lab. She walked past the fast egg-shaped lift and into the large freight elevator. Moments later she was striding across the lab toward the main core. There was a discernible air of excitement in the dome-shaped structure.
Francesca was working at the control console. When she saw Brynhild she said, “I was just about to call you. I can perform the demonstration earlier than I anticipated.”
“You’re absolutely sure it will work?”
“I can give you a preview now if you’d like.”
Brynhild considered the offer, then said, “No, I can’t wait to see their faces when they observe how our process works.”
Francesca ignored the use of the plural possessive in describing ownership of the process. “I’m sure they will be surprised.”
Brynhild used her small belt phone to order the shuttles to start transporting the directors. In less than half an hour the en tire board was gathered in the lab around the core container. Brynhild introduced Francesca. There was a murmur of admiration when the lovely Brazilian scientist stepped forward. Even as she smiled at the hard- faced men gathered around her, Francesca thought how much they resembled hungry reptiles gathered around a water hole. She didn’t have to remind herself that their quest for more power and money was responsible for her years in the rain forest. While she lived with the Chulo awaiting rescue, possibly millions of people who could have benefited from her work died from thirst.
Francesca had never seen so much evil gathered in one room, but she covered her loathing well. “I don’t know how many of you have a scientific background, but technical knowledge is not necessary to grasp the basic principle behind what you are about to see. While my process is difficult in execution, it’s rather simple in concept. Desalting methods have been around since the time of the ancient Greeks. But those techniques always used a physical process, heating the water to steam, treating it with electricity, pushing it through membranes to screen out the salt the way a child sifts through shells at the beach. I reasoned that it might be easier in some respects to change the molecular structure of the chemicals in salt water at an atomic and subatomic level.”
The smooth-faced German banker said, “Your process sounds somewhat like alchemy, Dr. Cabral.”
“That’s a very appropriate analogy. Although alchemy never achieved its goal, it set the stage for the science of chemistry. Like the alchemists, I, too, was trying to transform a base metal into gold. In my case it was blue gold. Water. More precious than any mineral on earth. I needed a sorcerer’s stone that would make that possible.” She turned to the anasazium core. “Contained here is the catalyst that makes the process work. The salted water is brought into contact with this material which purifies the water.”
“When will we get a demonstration of this miracle?” said Lord Grimley.
“If you would step this way,” she said, leading the way to the console. Her hands danced over the keyboard. There was a muffled growl of pumps and the sound of rushing water. “That’s the salt water coming through the main over your heads. It is flowing into the container. It takes a few minutes.”
Francesca herded the group to the other side of the catalytic container. She said nothing for several moments as the suspense built. Then she checked a gauge and pointed to another main. “This is the outtake pipe that carries the fresh water. You can feel the heat produced during the transformation.”
The American said, “As I understand it, that heat can be used to produce energy.”
“That’s correct. Right now the water is being pumped into the cold waters of the lake where the heat is dissipated, but with a few adjustments this facility could be modified so the heat comes back as power to run the plant. There would even be surplus energy that could be exported.”
There was a murmur from the board. Francesca could almost feel the aura of greed that emanated from the men as they tallied the billions to be made, aside from the water, by producing cheap energy.
She went over to a vertical set of coils that hung down from the freshwater pipe. At the base of the coil was a tap and beside it a stack of paper cups. “This is a cooling unit that removes heat from the water,” she explained. Turning to a technician, she said, “What has been the quality of the water produced by the process before today?”
“Brackish at the very best,” the technician said.
Francesca opened the tap and filled one of the cups. She held the cup to the light like a wine connoisseur, took a sip, then downed the contents. “A little warm still, but quite comparable to any spring water I’ve had.”
Brynhild stepped forward, poured herself water, and drank it.
“Nectar of the gods,” she said triumphantly.
The directors pushed their way to the tap like thirst-crazed steers. There were cries of amazement with each cup sampled. Before long everyone was talking at once. While the directors gathered around the tap as if it were the fountain of youth, Brynhild guided Francesca away from the babble of voices.
“Congratulations, Dr. Cabral. It seems that the process is a success.”
