yacht and the other visiting boats had all disappeared.
“No harm in collecting a few samples to make sure they’re honest,” Dirk countered.
Seconds later, a dark speedboat came roaring out of the covered dock and headed directly for the NUMA vessel. Dirk ignored the boat and held his course and speed.
“Somebody’s awake,” he muttered. “We’re not even within a mile of the place. A tad touchy, aren’t they?”
He watched as the speedboat veered off when it drew near, circling around in a loop before pulling alongside the research boat. There were three men seated aboard, dressed in innocuous brown security uniforms. But there was nothing innocuous about the Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifles they each held across their laps.
“You are approaching private waters,” barked one of the men through a bullhorn. “Turn away immediately.” One of his partners, a stocky Inuit wearing a crew cut, waved his rifle toward the NUMA boat’s wheelhouse for added emphasis.
“I just want to fish off the inlet,” Dirk yelled back, pointing toward the waterway that led to the covered dock. “There’s a deep hole off the mouth teeming with coho.”
“No fishing,” blared the voice through the bullhorn. Crew Cut stood up and pointed his rifle at Dirk for a moment, then motioned with his barrel to turn away. Dirk casually spun the wheel to starboard and pulled away, feigning ignorance of the threat on his life as he tossed a friendly wave at the speedboat. As the boat turned away, Summer nonchalantly leaned over the stern deck gunwale and scooped up a vial of water.
“What’s with the heavy security?” Dirk asked Trevor, as they sped the last few miles to Kitimat.
“They claim they’re trying to protect their proprietary technology, but who knows for sure? The company has shown signs of paranoia from the first day that they broke ground. They brought in their own team of construction workers to build it and have their own team of people to run it. They’re mostly Tlingit, but not from around here. I’ve heard that not a single local resident has been hired for any phase of the operation. On top of that, the employees have their own housing on the grounds. They are never even seen in town.”
“Have you been through the facility?”
“No,” Trevor replied. “My involvement was upfront, with environmental impact statements and the like. I reviewed the plans and walked the site during construction, but was never invited back after they received all of their building approvals. I made several requests to make an on-site review after they went operational, but never got the backing from my higher-ups to press the issue.”
“A powerful guy like Mitchell Goyette can incite a lot of fear in the right places,” Dirk noted.
“You are exactly right. I heard rumors that his acquisition of the building site was accomplished by a great deal of coercion. His building and environmental approvals breezed through without a hiccup, which is nearly unheard-of around here. Somehow, somewhere, there were some skids greased.”
Summer interrupted the conversation by entering the bridge with a vial of water held up in front of her. “Acidity level is normal, at least from a mile outside the facility.”
“Too far off to tell us anything for sure,” Trevor said, looking back at the facility with a contemplative gaze.
Dirk had his own deliberate look about him. He liked to play by the rules but had little tolerance for authoritarian bullying tactics. Summer liked to joke that he was a jovial Clark Kent, who always gave a handout to a beggar or held a door open for a woman. But if someone told him he couldn’t do something, he was apt to turn into the Tasmanian Devil. The confrontation with the security boat rattled his sense of propriety and alerted his suspicions, while silently elevating his blood pressure a few millimeters. He waited until the boat was docked and Trevor waved good-bye, agreeing to meet for dinner in an hour. Then he turned to Summer.
“I’d like to take a closer look at that sequestration facility,” he said.
Summer stared at the first lights of Kitimat shimmering on the water as twilight approached. Then she replied, answering in a way that Dirk least expected.
“You know, I think I would, too.”
16
It was after six P.M. when Loren and Pitt arrived at Georgetown University Hospital and were allowed into Lisa Lane’s room. Given her brush with death earlier in the day, she looked remarkably robust. A mammoth bandage covered her left shoulder, and her broken leg had been set in a cast and elevated. Beyond a pallor from loss of blood, she appeared fully lucid, and perked up at the sight of her visitors.
Loren rushed over and gave her a peck on the cheek while Pitt set a large vase of pink lilies next to the bed.
“Looks like the good folks of Georgetown patched you up nicely,” Pitt observed with a grin.
“My dear, how are you feeling?” Loren asked, pulling a chair up alongside the bed.
“Pretty good, under the circumstances,” Lisa replied with a forced smile. “The pain medication isn’t quite keeping up with my throbbing leg, but the doctors tell me it will heal as good as new. Just remind me to cancel my aerobics class for the next few weeks.”
She turned to Pitt with a serious look. “They’ve given me six units of red blood cells since I arrived. The doctor said I was lucky. I would have died from blood loss if you hadn’t found me when you did. Thank you for saving my life.”
Pitt winked at her. “You are much too important to lose now,” he said, brushing off his actions.
“It was a miracle,” Loren said. “Dirk told me how devastated the lab was. It is amazing that no one in the building was killed.”
“Dr. Maxwell stopped by earlier. He promised to buy me a new lab.” She smiled. “Though he was a little disappointed that I didn’t know what happened.”
“You don’t know what caused the explosion?” Loren asked.
“No. I thought it came from a neighboring lab.”
“From what I saw of the damage, it appeared that the blast was centered in the room where I found you,” Pitt said.
“Yes, that’s what Dr. Maxwell told me. I’m not sure he believed me when I told him that there was nothing in my lab that could have caused that large of an explosion.”
“It was a pretty powerful bang,” Pitt agreed.
Lisa nodded. “I’ve sat here and pictured every element and piece of equipment in that lab. All of the materials we have been working with are inert. We have a number of gas tanks for the experiments, but Dr. Maxwell indicated that they were all found intact. The equipment is basically benevolent. There was simply nothing volatile I can think of that would have caused such a thing.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Loren said. “Maybe it was something with the building, an old gas line or something.”
They were interrupted by a stern-faced nurse who came in and propped up Lisa’s bed, then slid a tray of dinner in front of her.
“Guess we better be on our way so that you can enjoy the hospital’s epicurean delights,” Pitt said.
“I’m sure it won’t compare to last night’s crabs,” Lisa said, struggling to laugh. Then her face turned to a frown. “By the way, Dr. Maxwell mentioned that an old car parked in front of the building was severely damaged by the explosion. The Auburn?”
Pitt nodded with a hurt look. “Afraid so,” he said. “But don’t worry. Like you, she can be rebuilt to as good as new.”
There was a knock on the door behind them, then a lean man with a ragged beard entered the room.
“Bob,” Lisa greeted. “I’m glad you’re here. Come meet my friends,” she said, introducing Loren and Pitt to her lab assistant Bob Hamilton.
“I still can’t believe you made it out without a scratch,” Lisa kidded him.
“Lucky for me I was in the cafeteria having lunch when the lab went boom,” he said, eyeing Loren and Pitt with uncertainty.
“A fortunate thing,” Loren agreed. “Are you as stumped as Lisa by what happened?”
