Sea of Greed

“Of course we would have,” the Admiral said. “Do you think we want our enemies earning three hundred dollars a barrel for their oil while our allies and our own economy suffer?”

“Then why can’t you help?”

The Admiral stared off into the distance, contemplating a decision, then rose from his seat. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ll show you why.”

55

A LONG HALLWAY led to an elevator with no interior controls. Once both men were inside, Admiral Natal gave a voice authorization that got the car moving. It descended to a floor several stories below ground level before stopping.

When the elevator doors opened, they entered a dimly lit hallway with stainless steel walls.

A checkpoint at the front of the hall was manned by two enlisted sailors and a lieutenant, all three of whom snapped to attention with the Admiral’s appearance.

The Admiral looked the officer in the eye. “Take a break, Lieutenant. Take your men with you.”

The order was so unorthodox that it took a moment before the lieutenant could process it. “Yes, sir,” he said finally.

The men left their post and entered the elevator. Once the doors had shut, the Admiral moved behind their desk, where he began flicking through a series of switches. “Shutting off the cameras,” he told Rudi. “Can’t have a record of this remaining after we’re gone.”

With the surveillance system shut down, the Admiral took Rudi to another desk before disappearing into a labyrinth walled with numbered and locked cabinets. He returned with a metallic container, sealed with rubber around the edges.

“I’ve looked at this record several times myself over the last week. I should have destroyed it. But perhaps it’s best someone like you sees it. You’ll understand.”

Rudi nodded.

“What I’m about to show you cannot be spoken about outside this room,” the Admiral added. “Not without doing irreparable damage to my nation. I hope you understand that.”

Rudi nodded. “You have my word that I’ll keep the information to myself, and that anything we do use will not be sourced back to you or Israel.”

The Admiral opened the container and pulled out several envelopes made of a fireproof material. “The program was known here as Jericho,” he said, breaking the seal on the first envelope. “I’m not sure what the French called their portion, probably Joan of Arc or something. The idea was dreamt up in 1965 and launched early the next year. As you’ve already surmised, it was a biological weapon designed to eat oil and create dangerous waste products.”

“Was the plan to use it as a deterrent?”

The Admiral nodded. “The Arab nations seemed willing to sacrifice untold numbers of lives to destroy Israel. By ’68, they’d already attacked us three times. Despite heavy losses in each war, they simply retreated and rearmed, using oil money to rebuild their forces. Our leaders knew something had to be done or they’d overwhelm us. Some wanted nuclear weapons — which they eventually got — but others wanted a weapon that would render the threat moot without obliterating cities and killing millions. A panel of our scientists suggested genetically engineering a strain of bacteria that would take their wealth away from them before they ever pulled it out of the ground.”

“They obviously succeeded.”

“Not at first,” Natal admitted. “Genetic engineering was in its infancy back then. What could and could not be done were complete unknowns. After a year with little progress, we were at an impasse. The problem was, expertise and equipment. The French had both and they had already helped us develop our nuclear reactors. Indeed, in the early days the French were one of our strongest allies.”

“So, you made a deal.”

Natal nodded. “The joint operation was undertaken. Two teams would work on the project, one from Israel and one from France. They were sent to the island of Jaros, in the Aegean.”

“Why there?” Rudi said. “Jaros is neither Israeli nor French.”

“You’ve answered your own question, my friend. It belonged to neither country, but is barren, uninhabited and not worth a visit from anyone. It served as a neutral spot, not quite halfway between our nations.”

“Trust was already an issue,” Rudi said.

“Isn’t it always?” the Admiral said.

Rudi didn’t respond, but said, “What happened?”

“The first year was uneventful but productive. The second year brought us stunning success, including several strains of bacteria that could live in the heat and pressure of the oil fields. We found the strongest and most voracious and crossed it with another strain of bacteria that consumes hydrocarbons — similar to the bacteria they use when trying to break down oil spills today. The results were spectacular. When the bacteria were exposed to crude oil, it grew at a phenomenal rate. It also produced a highly viscous sludge that acted to seal the wells, blocking them up like caulk. A final by-product was an explosive gas that, once released, would react instantly with air or water.”

“My people have seen it in action.”