Page 42 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest
“There have been a number of disturbing reports recently about a mysterious pirate vessel sinking ships in the eastern Pacific.”
“So mysterious I haven’t heard a thing about it.”
“Survivors claim that specters and poltergeists were involved. It’s all nonsensical, but something’s going on out there. I was hoping I could get you to take a look around.”
“A ‘look around’ the Pacific Ocean? Might as well ask me to pick out a specific grain of sand on Waikiki Beach.”
“There’s actually some method in the madness, if you’re interested.”
“Sounds like a goose chase. Why don’t you re-task a satellite or send a Global Hawk for a look-see?”
“Those assets are hard to come by these days with Europe, Asia, and the Middle East boiling over.”
“I think we’ll pass.”
“I’ll pay your regular rate.”
“And miss out on Max’s famous barbecue luau? I don’t think so.”
“I cook a mean pig,” Max said.
“What if I double your rate?”
Juan and Max exchanged a look. The Corporation was a business, after all, and Overholt their most reliable client. He was also a notorious skinflint when it came to government expenditures.
“Must be important.”
“Most likely a tale told by idiots full of sound and fury but signifying nothing,” Overholt said. “Still, it has caused quite a stir in certain circles. We have no naval surface assets to deploy to the area. I’m hoping you’ll prove there’s nothing to it.”
“How long do I have?”
“As long as you’ll give me.”
“Seven days, max. We’re due to rendezvous with Raven and Linc about then.”
“I’ll take it. You’re approximately twenty hours away from the target area at maximum speed. I’ll send you the coordinates of all known encounters. Let me know when you’ve arrived on station.”
“Will do. Thanks for the business.”
“And while you’re at it, keep an ear to the ground. We’re hearingfaint rumblings in the darker corners of the infosphere about a new AGI weapon coming to fruition soon.”
“Aren’t we years away from that?”
“We’re not close yet, but the Chinese are throwing everything they have at it. So are others. The whiz kids over at the Directorate of Analysis are getting rather jumpy about it. If you hear anything—no matter how harebrained or half-baked—let me know, pronto,” Overholt said.
“Of course.”
“Always a pleasure. Ciao.” Overholt rang off.
“Guess we’re going on a snipe hunt,” Max said.
Cabrillo ran his hand through his brush-cut hair.
“At least it’s a well-paid one.”
“What Overholt said about AGI gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“He’s right. There’s no end to the possibilities. Targeted genocide via bioengineered viruses. Creating urban firestorms by hacking into gas pipelines and electrical stations. Destroying ports and infrastructure by crashing or sinking oil tankers and freighters at will.”
