“Don’t you worry about Minister Jameson, he will do anything I ask. By the way, what is the latest from the Alberta?”

“She arrived in New York without incident, took on a commercial shipment, and is presently eastbound to India. There appear to be no suspicions raised.”

“Good. Have her sent on to Indonesia for a repaint in new colors before she returns to Vancouver.”

“It will be done,” the attorney replied.

Goyette sat back in his chair and took a sip of his drink. “Have you seen Marcy about?”

One of a handful of ex-strippers Goyette kept on the payroll, Marcy usually wandered the boat in revealing attire. The aide shook his head firmly, taking the cue that it was time to leave.

“I’ll inform the Chinese that we have a deal,” he said, taking the signed contract from Goyette and quickly exiting the office.

Goyette drained his glass, then reached for a shipboard phone to call the master stateroom, when a familiar voice froze his movements.

“Another drink, Mitchell?”

Goyette turned to the far side of the office, where Clay Zak stood with a couple of martinis in one hand. He was dressed in dark slacks and a taupe turtleneck sweater, nearly blending in with the room’s earth-toned walls. Casually walking closer, he set one glass down in front of Goyette, then took a seat opposite him.

“Mitchell Goyette, King of the Arctic, eh? I must say, I have seen photographs of your oceangoing barges and am quite awed. A stirring display of naval architecture.”

“ They were specifically designed for the task,” Goyette said, finally finding his voice. A look of annoyance remained etched on his face, and he made a mental note to have a word with his security detail. “Fully loaded, they can sail through a Category 2 hurricane without risk.”

“Impressive,” Zak replied, between sips of his martini. “Though I suspect your environmental worshippers would be disappointed to know that you are raping the country’s pristine landscape of natural resources strictly to make a buck off the Chinese.”

“I didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” Goyette replied, ignoring the remark. “Your project to the States was accomplished with success?”

“Indeed. You were correct in taking an interest in the lab’s work. I had a remarkable conversation about artificial photosynthesis with your research mole.”

Zak proceeded to describe the details of Lisa Lane’s work and her recent discovery. Goyette felt his anger at Zak diminish as the magnitude of Lane’s scientific breakthrough sank in. He peered out the window once more.

“Sounds like they could build an industrial carbon dioxide conversion facility that could be easily replicated,” he said. “Still, they’ve got to be talking years or decades in the future.”