2042: The Great Cataclysm (11 page)

Worth remained still, with his left elbow resting on the desk, fingers caressing his mouth tapping out some rhythm only he could hear. Douglas laid down the file.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘No. Well some people think it is, but I think not.’

‘Who’s this Torrens character?’  He asked Worth.

‘Scientist. Fairly good one too from what I hear.’

Douglas turned to Anderson. ‘What about you Anderson? Do you believe this?’

‘Damned if I know. What I believe doesn’t count.’

‘What’s the President stance?’ Douglas said swivelling his head to each of them.

‘That bastard would accept anything if he thought it’d make him look good.’ Worth growled.

‘Then I take it he believes Torrens?’ Douglas said.

Worth stood and walked to the window, gripping his hands behind his back. He seemed distracted for a moment. ‘He’s calling another meeting today.’

‘Why did you call me here?’ Douglas asked.

‘You’re going to love this, but I don’t wanna hear about it outside this room?’

Bob Anderson pricked up his ears. He shared Worth’s dislike for President Walker and he thrived on intrigue of any kind. ‘You’ve got my word. What about you Douglas?’

Douglas nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘It’s no secret that I don’t get along with Walker, or Peterson either for that matter.’ Worth said. ‘I don’t trust either of them. They couldn’t run a goddamn ice-cream stand. Walker baulks me whatever way he can. I know it’s him stopping my rise in the ranks. Probably yours too Douglas. He’s got his favourites, the ones he can control. Cooper’s one of them. We need someone in charge who recognises our talents, or be persuaded to.’

‘Just who do you think that’d be?’ Anderson said.

‘Peterson perhaps.’

‘That shitbag!’ Anderson scoffed. ‘What makes you think he’ll be any different?’

Worth grinned and studied his fingernails. ‘I’ve got some dirt on him that’ll guarantee co-operation.’

Both Douglas and Anderson squirmed in their seats.

‘Why can’t you do the same with Walker?’ Douglas said.

‘Yeah, well. The worst I can get on him is that he beats his wife.’

Douglas leaned forward narrowing his eyes. ‘He beats his wife?’

Worth wagged his head. ‘Yeah, he beats his wife.’ He mimicked. ‘Yet that’s not enough to make him step aside. I’d have no proof unless the First Lady confirms it. He’d probably end up giving her a fatal blow to shut her up, then his henchmen would cover it up. Anyway it could be something I can use come the time.’

‘Come the time for what?’ Douglas asked.

‘There’ll be so much confusion in the ranks leading up to this event, it won’t be hard to see that Walker has an accident’.

‘You’re planning to kill the President?’ Douglas’s voice raised a few decibels. ‘I wont’ have any part of it!’

‘Who asked you? Did you hear me say that? I said an accident. Accidents happen.’

Anderson had been listening with growing interest. ‘Then Peterson steps in, the one you’ve got a shitload of dirt on. Goddamned brilliant! Yet I don’t see you risking everything for another three stars.’

‘Apart from money what do you think controls the people?’

Anderson shrugged and looked at Douglas.

‘Food! Control the food and you control the masses.’

‘So this’s about control?’

Worth sighed. He rose from his chair to pace the room. ‘What d’you think the future’s going to be like? All our technological advances won’t mean shit. We’ve been building alternative communities on government land for the past twenty years. A big majority of the people have taken up the interest-free loans to relocate, but they’re really pissed off about abandoning their cushy existences in the cities to live in substandard, basic roof-over-the-head homes. Millions have resisted the move, hoping the sea will stop rising, but guess what? If what Torrens says is true, none of that will matter, our major cities will disappear under a wall of water taking with it everything that everyone owns.

The ones that refused to evacuate will pay anything for food and shelter. We’ll control both!’ He banged his fist on the desk for added effect.

Douglas looked unconvinced. ‘What about us? Where do we get our food and shelter?’

‘Mt Rockwell. It was set up nearly seventy years ago for protection for the government leaders in case of a nuclear war. It’s been refurbished many times since then, just waiting for an emergency like this. Anyone who’s on my team will have as much food as they need, and the accommodation there is five star.’

‘My position’s secure.’ Anderson drawled. ‘Why should I help you?’

Worth smiled revealing perfect teeth glistening with gold caps. ‘You know Walker will call a state of emergency which means the military take over. Martial law!’

‘Yeah, but that’ll only be temporary.’

‘Of course, but then there’s a tragic accident and Peterson becomes President.’

Anderson saw his position as Secretary of State dissolving before his eyes and quickly calculated his choices. ‘Count me in. What do I do?’

‘Feed me information. Walker and his cronies will only tell us what they think we need to know. I want to know everything!’

‘In return for what?’

‘A guaranteed executive position in the new government.’

Anderson slid down into his seat like a snake curling back into it’s lair. He had no intention of being left out in the cold by either party, and he concluded that it wouldn’t hurt to hedge his bets.

The many fine surface veins on Douglas’s face turned brighter crimson. ‘Where do I fit in?’

‘Back me up. There’ll be some heavy shit going on and I’ll need someone I can trust. I don’t want to have to watch my back every second.’

Douglas was not flattered by Worth’s statement, as he knew it was induced by the control Worth exerted over him, backed by certain information contained in his personal dossier that ensured his total co-operation.

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s it. Are you in?’

‘Sure. Why not.’ Douglas’s hand flew to his chest.’How do you plan to get rid of the President?’

‘The less you know about that the better.’

Worth looked at Anderson and grinned. ‘What d’you think Anderson?  Can we do it?’

‘If anyone can, you can.’ Anderson replied.

‘Okay.’ Worth said rubbing his hands together jubilantly. ‘Then let’s get to this emergency meeting.’

Chapter Thirteen

Tuesday, May 30

Smoke fogged the air, the non-smoking sign on the door blatantly ignored in the President’s office. Dirty cups, empty take out food cartons and overflowing trash cans littered every table surface. Ten men occupied a long conference table, most wore jacksuits and had removed their jackets, some propping their heads on hands, others studying papers, two men stood by a window speaking in hushed tones. Maps lay in disarray among screwed up balls of discarded paper, while three display screen continually beeped on one wall. Every man wore eye phones concertinaed beside their ears, and the buzz of agitated conversation paused the second Josh and Nick appeared through the door.  After introductions were over the air crackled again with animated talk, intermingled with the shrill of six sat-phones that constantly buzzed from the President’s desk and the conference table.

Nick didn’t recognise many of the faces. President Walker glanced at his watch. ‘Begin conference.’ He commanded, and two other walls of the office began displaying screens one by one of the leaders of the World Government. Every country in the United Nations was represented along with scientists and respected experts in the fields of oceanography, nuclear, earthquakes and marine science.

For the next hour the Swiss Chief Executive Leader of the World Government and the respective country leaders listened gravely while President Walker, Nick and Josh explained the coming emergency. The responsibility for the dumping of nuclear waste was not pointed at any one country, only the need for the urgent evacuation of all those in the path of the peril. All impending World Government business was placed on hold, and every nation agreed to act immediately. It was ruled that a press ban should be imposed for six days to enable each government to implement evacuation plans before pandemonium broke loose.

Nick argued that to wait six days would be dangerous, but the World Government insisted it would take that long to set up more alternative accommodation on higher ground, before each country attempted to move any of the remaining refugees. They pointed out the logistics involved. For example, they would need time to source and put in place the sudden requirement of millions more tents and sanitary facilities, gather all the food supplies and more. They also strongly suggested that each government should consult it’s own experts to validate Nick’s findings, before undertaking such a huge task.

Nick was requested to send all his records and explanations to the World Government immediately. He expected this and had already prepared copies of his reports that had been given to the US government.

The conference over, the screens dissolved and President Walker rose to his feet and picked up the bundle of papers Vice President Peterson had placed in front of him.  Glancing briefly at them he threw them back on the table.

‘Hell. I’m not going to wade through all that paraphernalia. You can all read this later. There’ll be a committee to co-ordinate this special operation, it will report back to me. Our highest ranking military leader - General Cooper, will be in charge of all the forces. We’re going to have to make some tough decisions, and some of you won’t agree with them, but I want everyone’s co-operation.

We have to get the people to safety quickly. Then we’ll have to work out how and where the survivors will live. The relocation project has placed refugees in foreign countries over the past fifteen years, but once this is announced those countries will refuse to take more, which is to be expected. The only option will be to move our people to higher ground.’

Lowering his voice he continued. ‘The government won’t be able to function immediately after the event, so I’ll be forced to declare military rule. We’ll need a band of tough men able to administer what we have left. General Cooper would you outline your plan?’

General Worth flinched at the mention of Cooper’s name. He had been writing furiously, and although he appeared not to be listening to the President, his mind was rapidly processing every word, particularly the part about General Cooper being in charge.

Cooper flushed and leaned back in his chair. ‘As the President just said, we’ve been relocating people successfully for fifteen years, but that was done in stages, this will have to be done all at once, and now! We’ll activate Operation Star Flight immediately.’

He paused and picked up some papers in front of him. He hesitated, shuffling the papers. ‘Star Flight will be slammed by the press, because we’ll need to commandeer all airlines and airports. We’ll stop all international flights and use those planes to move people and supplies to higher ground. I’m afraid we’re going to have millions of stranded tourists.

Mt Rockwell’s already set up and has large stores of non-perishable food. We just need to increase those supplies and check out all the facilities up there. Of course there’s not enough for everyone, so we’ll be setting up other centres wherever we can and ship in supplies to them on an emergency basis. Other commanders will be co-ordinating similar operations in their areas.

You all heard the ruling for a press ban. You Mr. President will give that conference, and I’ll outline our evacuation procedures.’

Vice-president Peterson interjected. ‘You’re talking about mounting the biggest operation in peace time, possibly ever. In what? A few days, weeks. Can we trust these predictions? What if they’re wrong?’

The secretary for the navy glanced briefly toward Nick before addressing General Cooper. ‘Admiral Deakin and I feel the same. How do we know for sure?’

‘Our scientific experts are working on it right now.’ Cooper said. ‘We won’t act until they confirm Nick’s findings.’

The hairs on Nick’s neck prickled and he pulled at his collar for a moment. He couldn’t blame then for their scepticism, it is a frightening scenario they were all facing, maybe worse than he had told them.

‘Look, if you can’t believe the evidence, then at least prepare to take all your ships to sea to ride it out.’

‘How can they be safe at sea with waves like you’ve predicted?’ Bob Anderson asked.

‘I don’t know if they’ll be safe, but I’m guessing only large ships will survive. Tsunami at sea are rarely more than two metres high, it’s only when come ashore they’re dangerous, when they hit the continental shelf and slow down. The front slows and the massive sea following behind builds up to form huge walls of water that dump on the land. With this I think they will be high at sea too, and not a place you would want to be, but they will have a better chance at sea than docked by the land.’

Nick’s fingers pulled at his shirt neck again and he wished he was back on board the Platypus.  Every man in the room had loosened their collars, some had pushed up their sleeves. Nick could smell his own body odour. There was a feeling of panic creeping into the atmosphere. These were the men who were running the country, selected from the best leaders, yet they all seemed unable to comprehend the scale of the disaster ahead.

Nick continued. ‘It’s impossible to predict the impact of these waves. Tsunami usually travel at eight to nine hundred kilometres an hour. These will be much faster, so we won’t have much warning before they’re on us. Just get the people out of the cities!’

Each statement from Nick increased their apprehension, and started another heated discussion. The hours wore on and Nick listened to the arguments back and forth and he began to switch off.

He felt like the Doomsday Prophet, and was even starting to frighten himself. He had tried to push some of these terrors from his mind in the bustle to inform everyone, but now that he had said it all, his own questions began to put up their hands. It was time to make his plans, what was he doing here helping a foreign country prepare for their survival? What about the survival of his family and friends in Australia? It was time to go home, but would they let him walk away? Surely they wouldn’t hold him to his contract
.
Let them try
,
he thought.

Then General Cooper’s words sank in
.
They’ll stop international flights in six days
!
Nick instantly realised the enormity of the situation. He had six days before all hell breaks loose. He would have to move fast and get back to Australia now! His thoughts flew to Graham who’s airline was based in Canberra. He had an office in Hawaii, but if he knew his best mate, he’d want to be in Australia when this happens. He needed to warn him before the press conference, as his international landing rights would be rescinded and his planes would be commandeered. The next conundrum would be how to get to Hawaii?

A sharp dig in his ribs from Josh brought his mind back to the present.

‘Nick? Admiral Deakin asked you a question.’ Josh said.

‘Sorry Admiral.  I need some air.  Josh would you mind taking over?’  He collected his papers together, rose from his chair, paused as though he had another thought then scraped his chair back and headed for the door before anyone could voice their objections.

It was six-fifteen in the evening and the constant throb of his headache refused to give up. The air outside the Capitol was cool as the day died, a slight wind ruffled the spring leaves of the American Elms in this City of Trees. Nick glanced around and pulled the collar of his jacket up to his ears. He noticed a slight tremble in his hands. Wanting to walk and think, but eager to get things happening, he made his way to a Trancab station instead and headed back to Laura’s apartment. He didn’t notice two men take the cab behind his.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Nick arrived at Laura’s apartment at around 7pm to find it deserted. Maxime padded down the stairs from the rooftop and joined him in the kitchen meowing excitedly, her usual disdain abandoned as she nudged his shins persistently. ‘Okay missy, but you’ll have to wait till some meat thaws out.’ He told her.

His stomach rumbled and he realised he hadn’t eaten all day and decided to prepare some food while he waited. He swallowed some aspirin, and after taking a quick shower he busied himself in the large stainless-steel kitchen. It took him some time to master the voice commands for the stove, as that was the chef’s job
on board the Platypus
. He had attained some quite acceptable culinary skills by working on occasions with the chef, one dish in particular he had mastered, was Bolognese sauce. He chopped tomatoes and onions and scratched around in the pantry for some herbs and spices spending an inordinate amount of time fussing while he waited. Maxime devoured the raw mince he offered her, and signified his sauce was a success by lapping up a generous serving. By eight forty-five, after a few glasses of Black Label he began to feel human again, but was worried.  Where was Laura?

Between pacing and planning he scanned the television for news reports, making sure there had been no leaks. Nick had lost his appetite, and the spaghetti he had prepared so carefully remained untouched. The clock read ten thirty!  Reaching for the phone, he began calling Laura’s friends but no-one knew her whereabouts.

On impulse he placed a call to his friend Graham in Hawaii, but was unsuccessful, his secretary said he’d taken a flight to Los Angeles. Graham was like that, although he employed several pilots he still loved to fly now and then; said it kept him up to date with everything, and he often frustrated everybody wishing to contact him by turning off his eye-phone. Graham said he wanted to choose whom he talked to and when. Unfortunately this was one of those times, and Nick swore as he placed another call to Los Angeles airport and left an urgent message for Graham to contact him.

Time crept on and he brooded in a lounge chair the entire night, switching channels on the television, with Maxime curled up at his feet, until finally he drifted off to sleep around five am.  The intercom buzzed insistently at six, jerking him from a troubled dream. ‘Who’s there?’ He grumbled. He unfolded his long body from the chair and ran his fingers through his loose and dishevelled hair.

‘It’s Josh.  Let me in!’  Rumbled from the other side of the door.

Nick opened the door slowly to find Josh red-faced and dressed in jogging clothes. His usual neat appearance was absent and his dark ebony skin glistened with perspiration. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’  He gasped pushing his way inside. ‘The CIA have got Laura and it’s my fault!’

‘What! Bloody Hell Josh!  Why?’

‘I saw how agitated Laura was yesterday when she came to my office, and I guessed you’d told her everything. I know her, she has such strong ideas and I thought she might spill the beans before the press conference, apparently so did the CIA. You know what she’s like! Always looking for the truth. Anyway, I let it slip when I was talking to the head of the CIA at the meeting yesterday.’

‘You let what slip?’

Josh’s face darkened. ‘That Laura was in the know.’

‘Christ, Josh! She wouldn’t have said anything!’ Nick ran his fingers through his hair again.

‘I know that! I didn’t think…’

‘How did you find out?’

‘’Um, Bob Anderson called me last night and warned me to shut my trap.  I’m sorry Nick, I…’

‘What did he say? Where is she?’

Josh shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.’

Nick paced back and forth. ‘Shit! Shit! I wanna know who’s in charge. Who ordered this?’

‘Won’t do any good. No way. Maybe it’s their way of keeping you in check. Figured you’re no threat while you’re looking for her.’