Sea of Greed

Delivered to the yacht by the very security guard who’d attempted to tackle him, Kurt climbed aboard and saluted his nautical chauffeur. The gesture was not returned, but Kurt couldn’t really blame the guy.

He made his way up the aft stairwell, finding Joe and Priya on the top deck, grinning like a pair of Cheshire Cats.

Joe tapped his watch. “You’re well past curfew, young man.”

“Ignore him,” Priya said. “How was it? And don’t spare the details.”

“As missions go… it wasn’t the worst.”

Priya frowned. “Not the worst? How romantic. That’s just the way every woman hopes to be described.”

Kurt laughed. “Just trying to be a gentleman.”

“Too late,” Joe said, “we saw every move. You’re far smoother than I’d have expected, but did you learn anything?”

“Tessa is a very determined woman,” Kurt said, “with a plane full of dive gear, oxygen cylinders and a storage cradle the size and shape of our underwater flying object.”

“Interesting,” Joe said.

“Anything else?” Priya asked.

“Her corporate strategy seems heavily dependent on rising oil prices. And considering how aggressively she pushed me, they might not be rising fast enough.”

“Sounds like she’s our man,” Joe said. “Our woman… Culprit, I mean… But, it’s all circumstantial.”

“I know,” Kurt said. “Even if it wasn’t, there’s more here to figure out. There have to be other players. I want to know who they are and how they fit into this, starting with a trio of interlopers named Volke, Millard and Yates.”

“Who are they?” Priya asked.

“No idea,” Kurt said, “but they arrived just as I was leaving — ruining a perfectly good evening.”

She began tapping away on her laptop. “We can cross-reference the names with all Tessa’s known contacts. If anyone named Millard, Volke or Yates has been connected with Tessa or her company, we should be able to locate them.”

It took less than a minute.

“No link to anyone named Volke,” Priya said, “but Yates shows up. Brian Yates. He’s an engineer. Head of her development team. Seems to be the lead designer on the fuel cell project.”

Joe chimed in. “I saw his name on the letterhead at the conference. He was there, taking questions from a group of Tessa’s investors. The ones you didn’t interrupt.”

“What about Millard?” Kurt asked.

Priya went back to searching. It took a little longer this time. “Pascal Millard,” she said finally. “He’s a French scientist. Genetic engineer. Primary field, bacterial crossbreeding.”

Kurt’s eyebrows went up. “What’s his connection to Tessa?”

Priya read down further. “He worked for the French military and then for the civilian government in a scientific role. He was linked to a project that Tessa funded through charitable grants several years ago. Looks like he got into trouble shortly after that and was censured by the French Academy of Sciences. As a result, he was disciplined and then terminated from his government position.”

“Does it say what he did?”

After scanning several articles, Priya shook her head. “No details. Only that he left France and moved to Martinique, then settled in Bermuda four years ago.”

“What would a technology company need a genetic engineer for?” Joe asked.

“Nothing legitimate,” Kurt said. “But according to Gamay’s report, she and Paul found an unidentified strain of bacteria in the sediment beneath the Alpha Star. They suspect it’s the source of the toxic and explosive gas.”

“The trail is getting warmer,” Priya said.

“Yes, it is.”

Across the bay, the exterior lights surrounding Tessa’s compound dimmed. Kurt picked up the binoculars and scanned the property. An open-topped fishing boat was heading out. It was the same one that had passed him as he’d left in the Riva. There were several men visible on deck. “Can you find a picture of Millard?”

Priya tapped a few more keys and then turned the computer toward Kurt and Joe. On-screen was the photo of an unassuming man in his late fifties. He had wispy gray hair and narrow shoulders. He wore rimless glasses.

Kurt felt certain it was the same man. He handed the binoculars to Joe. “What do you think?”

“Looks like Millard,” Joe said. “A little thinner, but I’d say it’s him. I don’t see Yates down there, but I assume we’re more interested in the genetic engineer at this point.”

“You assume correctly,” Kurt said. “Let’s see where they’re going.”

32

KURT AND JOE went to the lower deck of the yacht and entered a compartment labeled Boat Hangar. Two Jet Skis were stored on one side while an aggressively designed powerboat was stored on the other side.

“Pavati 24,” Joe said. “Normally, used for towing water-skiers or people on wakeboards. I’ve seen these in competition.”

Kurt nodded his approval as he studied the craft. Its profile was jagged and angular instead of smooth and flowing. It had a wide, three-pointed bow, which the designers called a pickle fork. The hull was painted in a red and silver racing pattern, with the added touch of carbon fiber panels for looks and additional strength.

“Is our gear on board? If they go diving, we need to be able to follow.”