Sea of Greed

“As long as she’s discreet and trustworthy, I’m game.”

“Misty’s a lot of things,” Joe said with an odd look on his face. “I can’t exactly explain her to you. But she fits your requirements and she’s an electronics genius.”

“Perfect,” Kurt said. “Pack this up. We’ll leave on the helicopter that’s bringing in Paul and Gamay.”

14

GULF OF MEXICO

GAMAY TROUT peered through the bubble canopy of the Hughes 500 helicopter as it traveled across the Gulf at an altitude of five thousand feet. She had her seat pulled so far forward that the curved acrylic of the windshield ran up above her head. She could see sky and horizon above and around her. She could see past the rudder pedals at her feet to the shimmering sea below.

“When I lean forward, it feels like I’m flying an invisible jet, like Wonder Woman.”

“Glad you’re enjoying this,” a voice said from behind her. “When I lean forward, I hit my chin on the back of your chair.”

“So, lean back.”

“Then I hit my head on the ceiling.”

Gamay twisted around to see her husband, Paul, having folded himself into an area that was far too small for an individual only a few inches shy of seven feet.

Gamay turned to the pilot, who was a member of the NUMA aviation division. “How long before we arrive?”

He pointed across his body to a column of smoke in the distance. “We had to swing wide,” he said, “so we could come in upwind and stay out of the smoke. But we’ll be landing in five minutes.”

The pilot’s estimation proved spot-on as he set the egg-shaped helicopter down directly on top of the H precisely five minutes later.

Gamay unlatched her seat belt and waited for the rotors to stop before popping open the side door. She climbed out, pulled a helmet off and shook out her red-wine-colored hair. She couldn’t see the fire in the distance, but from the sheer volume of smoke being produced, it was obvious that the fires were still raging.

Paul climbed from the helicopter behind her, arched his back and stretched. Several audible cracks accompanied his realignment. “Ahhh…” he said. “That’s better.”

“About time you two got here,” a voice said from the hatchway beyond the helipad.

Both Gamay and Paul turned to see Kurt standing there. His silver hair was tucked under a NUMA ball cap.

“Where’s the Alpha Star platform?” Gamay asked. “We couldn’t see it from the air.”

“It went down late last night,” Kurt said.

He walked up, gave Gamay a hug and then shook Paul’s hand.

Stepping up beside her once again, Kurt offered to shoulder one of their bags. Gamay noticed the raw color of Kurt’s palm. It looked like a bad sunburn. She assumed it came from the fire.

She pulled her backpack up onto her shoulder. “That’s okay,” she said. “We packed light. Now, what exactly is it you need us for?”

Kurt waved them toward the hatch. “Your job is to collect samples of the gas that’s venting down below, figure out what it is and where it’s coming from. All we know about it at the moment is that it’s toxic, explosive, and it burns hot enough to melt steel. And the unsavory fact that it reacts with water, igniting upon contact.”

“So you said,” Paul replied. “That’s rare. Especially for a gas. Are you sure it’s not another liquid or a solid dissolved in the flow of liquids?”

“We’re not sure of anything,” Kurt said. “That’s why you’re here and why Joe and I are leaving it in your capable hands.”

“You’re not sticking around?” Paul asked.

“We have something else to take care of,” Kurt said.

At that point, Joe appeared in the passageway carrying a pack and some large items that had been hastily boxed up in cardboard and wrapped in an overabundance of duct tape.

“Souvenir,” Joe said, heading to the helicopter.

Kurt took Paul and Gamay inside, showing them to their quarters. “One other thing,” he said. “You need to pretend that all you’re doing is studying the environmental impact of the fires. FEMA and the Coast Guard are technically in charge of everything else.”

“Why not let them handle this as well?”

“Because someone very high up wants us to do it and they want it done in secret.”

Gamay stared at Kurt as he explained what Rudi had told him. “They’ll never keep this quiet for long,” she said.

“We’ll let them worry about that,” Kurt said. “Just find out what you can.”

“And what will you be doing in the meantime?” Paul asked.

“Meeting one of Joe’s ex-girlfriends,” Kurt said.

Kurt’s sly grin did nothing to ease Gamay’s sense that she and Paul were getting the short end of the stick, but she also knew Kurt would never take the easy road out. “Good luck with that.”

“You, too,” Kurt said. “Keep me posted. And watch your backs.”

15

NUMA VESSEL RALEIGH

EIGHT SHIPS from different sources clustered in the sea west of the fires. Two Coast Guard ships, two tugs, NUMA’s Raleigh, one tender operated by the Navy and two other ships chartered by FEMA.

To make the mixed fleet work together, the head of FEMA had put representatives with satellite phones on each boat to coordinate with the captains and crews. Derrick Reynolds had come aboard NUMA’s boat.