“That’s going to make an unsuspecting mine owner a rich man,” he said.
“Only if the stuff can be found,” Pitt replied. “Which makes me wonder, Max, where would I go to purchase a bulk quantity of ruthenium?”
Max looked up toward the ceiling. “Let’s see… there are one or two Wall Street precious-commodities brokers that would be able to sell you some for investment purposes, but the quantities available are quite small. I’m only finding a small platinum mine in South America that has trace by-product quantities for sale, which would require further processing. The present known stocks of the mineral appear to be quite meager. The only other publicized source is the Ontario Miners Co-op, which lists a limited quantity of high-grade ruthenium available by the troy ounce.”
“The Co-op is where Lisa obtained her sample,” Pitt stated. “What more can you tell me about it?”
“The Miners Co-op represents independently owned mines across Canada, acting as wholesale outlet for mined ore. Their headquarters is in the town of Blind River, Ontario.”
“Thank you, Max. You’ve been a great help, as always,” Pitt said. He had long ago transcended his uneasiness at speaking to the computerized image and, like Yaeger, almost felt like Max was a real person.
“A pleasure anytime,” Max replied with a nod. Turning to Yaeger, she admonished, “Now, don’t you forget about my advice for your wife.”
“Good-bye, Max,” Yaeger replied, tapping at a keyboard. In an instant, Max disappeared from view. Yaeger turned to Pitt.
“A shame your friend’s discovery may be for naught if there’s no ruthenium around to power the process.”
“As important as the ramifications are, a source will be found,” Pitt said confidently.
“If your hunch about the lab explosion is correct, then somebody else already knows about the scarcity of the mineral.”
Pitt nodded. “My fear as well. If they are willing to kill to halt the research, then they are probably willing to try and monopolize the remaining supplies.”
“So where do you go from here?”
“There’s only one place to go,” he said. “The Ontario Miners Co-op, to see how much ruthenium really is left on the planet.”
PART II
BLACK KOBLUNA
35
Summer was waiting at the dock when she spotted Trevor’s boat motoring across the harbor. She wore a tight-fitting saffron-colored sweater, which accentuated the radiant red hair that dangled loose beneath her shoulders. Her gray eyes softened as the boat approached the dock and Trevor leaned out of the wheelhouse and waved.
“Going my way, sailor?” she asked with a grin.
“If I wasn’t before, I am now,” he replied with an approving look. He reached up and gave Summer a hand as she climbed onto the boat.
“Where’s Dirk?” he asked.
“His head was still pounding this morning, so he took some aspirin and went back to bed.”
Trevor shoved the boat away from the pier and motored past the municipal dock before turning into the harbor. Had he glanced at the dock’s small dirt parking lot, he might have noticed a sharp-dressed man sitting in a brown Jeep observing their departure.
“Did you finish your inspection this morning?” Summer asked, as they cruised past a heavily loaded lumber ship.
“Yes. The aluminum smelter is just looking at a minor expansion of their receiving yard. Mandatory environmental impact statement sort of stuff.” He looked at Summer with a twisted grin. “I was relieved not to find the police waiting for me at the boat this morning.”
“I doubt anybody saw you at the Terra Green facility. It’s Dirk and me who are most likely to end up on a WANTED poster at the Kitimat post office,” she replied with an uneasy laugh.
“I’m sure the plant security is not going to file a report with the police. After all, as far as they know, they’re responsible for Dirk’s murder.”
“Unless a surveillance camera caught you fishing him out alive.”
“In which case, we’re all in a bit of trouble.” He turned and gave Summer a concerned look. “Maybe it would be a good idea if you and Dirk kept a low profile around town. A tall, gorgeous redhead tends to stand out in Kitimat.”
Rather than blush, Summer moved closer to Trevor and looked deep into his eyes. He let go of the boat’s wheel and slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her tight. Returning her gaze, he kissed her once, long and passionately.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he whispered.
The pilot of a small freighter passing the other way happened to witness the embrace and blew his horn at the two. Trevor casually released one hand and waved at the freighter, then retook the wheel. Sailing briskly down Douglas Channel, he kept his other arm locked tightly around Summer’s thin waist.
The turquoise NUMA boat was moored as they had left it, and Summer quickly had the vessel under way. The two boats playfully raced each other back to Kitimat, passing far around the Terra Green facility without incident. They had just tied up at the municipal pier when Dirk came rambling down the dock. His gait was slow, and he wore a baseball cap to cover the bandage across his skull.
“How’s the head?” Trevor inquired.
“Better,” Dirk replied. “The pounding has gone down from dynamite to sledgehammer strength. The Bells of St. Mary’s are still ringing loud and clear, though.”
Summer finished tying up the NUMA boat and walked over to the two men with a thick case in her hand.
“You ready to get to work?” she asked.
“The water samples,” Trevor said.
“Yes, the water samples,” she replied, holding up the Kitimat municipal pool water-analyzing kit.
She stepped onto Trevor’s boat and helped gather up the water samples taken the night before. Dirk and Trevor took a seat on the gunwale as Summer opened the test kit and began checking the acidity of the water samples.
“I’m showing a pH of 8.1,” she said after testing the first sample. “The acidity is just a hair above the levels in the surrounding waters but not significant.”
She proceeded to test all of her water samples and then the vials collected by Trevor. The results were nearly uniform for each vial tested. As she checked the results of the last sample, a defeated look crossed her face.
“Again, the pH level is reading about 8.1. Remarkably, the water around the Terra Green facility shows no abnormal levels of acidity.”
“That seems to blow our theory that the plant is dumping carbon dioxide,” Trevor said.
“A gold star for Mitchell Goyette,” Dirk said sarcastically.
“I can’t help but wonder about the tanker ship,” Summer said.
Trevor gave her a quizzical look.
“We got sidetracked and couldn’t prove it, but Dirk and I both thought the tanker might be taking on CO2 rather than unloading it.”
“Doesn’t make much sense, unless they are transporting it to another sequestration facility. Or are dumping it at sea.”
“Before trailing a tanker halfway around the world, I think we need to take another look at the site where we measured the extreme water acidity,” Summer said, “and that’s Hecate Strait. We’ve got the gear to investigate,” she added, motioning toward the NUMA boat.
“Right,” Dirk agreed. “We need to look at the seabed off Gil Island. The answer has to lie there.”
“Can you stay and conduct a survey?” Trevor asked with a hopeful tone.