End of the Beginning: Chapters 18 & 19
Chapter 18: August 2nd
Paris, France (6pm local time)
Thomas felt a soft elegant hand interlock with his and pull him gently sideways. He allowed his wife to lead him out of the kitchen and through the apartment toward the bedroom, not quite certain of what to expect. The door closed behind them.
“If you tell me to ‘just take it easy’ one more time you will feel the wrath of a French woman”, she quietly exclaimed with her eyes on fire, “maybe you should have married some ‘laid back’ Aussie chick”. He remained silent, choosing his next words carefully, but before he could utter them his wife continued.
“I have the head of the European Union and the Chancellor of Germany coming to dinner, I should be stressed, I am allowed to be stressed!” she stopped for a moment and glared at her husband, “and don’t even think of the ‘your so cute when you are angry’ bullshit. Any of that and I may be making myself a widow.” He decided that words were not his strongest gift in such circumstances and instead went for the bear hug option.
She tried fighting the hug for a few moments, but as always it was a losing struggle, her body started to relax, “fucking asshole”, she murmured under her breath. After a while, their bodies separated and she punched him playfully in the chest, and said “I have to go talk with the chef” as she opened the bedroom door and went out into the living room. The doorbell rang and Thomas’s wife redirected herself elegantly to the front door and opened it.
“There is a Giuseppe Albert downstairs Madame” the security services operative proffered.”
Happily surprised, she smiled, “Giuseppe? What a nice surprise, please send him up,” Thomas rolled his eyes.
The Atlantic Ocean, South of Ireland (5pm local time)
He had stayed just a little too long enjoying the bountiful fishing and now fully understood his mistake. The fishing boat was a large one, but in these seas it was like a toy being tossed around by a child in the bath. The waves seemed to be getting bigger and bigger, churning the contents of Braden’s stomach with the roller coaster ride from one wave to another. At the top of these huge waves it was as if the ship was hanging over a cliff looking down at the stormy world, then falling backward to the bottom of a deep churning canyon from which it seemed that they would never escape.
One wave at a time mate
Just one wave at a time, and they would eventually make it home and safe. He forced out of his mind the monster that he had seen lurking behind them on the weather radar.
Hundreds of miles to the west lay the massive North Atlantic Cold Blob that was fed by the melting waters of Greenland. Bigger than France, it created its own year-round winter and slowed the warm Gulfstream that was forced to go around and underneath the melt waters that hugged the ocean’s surface. When the warm waters and moist warm air met this winter playground the result was inevitable; bigger and bigger storms. The more Greenland melted the bigger the storms became, and the bigger the waves became. The old record of 62 feet in the mid 2010’s was a long-forgotten memory as waves of over 50 feet were becoming normal and 70+ footers were regularly spotted. These were usually seen in the winter though, and this was the middle of summer.
A decaying, but still strong hurricane that had curved away from the North American coast into the Atlantic had combined with a cold front from the winter wonderland, creating a summer-time monster. The warnings were already going out across an already drenched and battered southwest England where people had started to forget what summers used to be like.
President’s Dacha, North East of Moscow, Russia (8pm local time)
President Yazov relaxed in shorts and a t-shirt in the sultry hot summer heat on the balcony, overlooked by the imposing forest that surrounded the dacha. Not even a light breeze that rustled through the leaves could bring respite from the heat wave. Sat on the small table next to him was a jug of ice and Tarkhun, the green spicy soft drink that he had loved since childhood. Olga and Dmitry joined him in the late-day summer sunlight, and he poured them both a glass. The sound of the flowing liquid and the clinking of the ice offered a refreshing, but short, respite from the uncomfortable temperature.
“Thankfully no forest fires around here” he commented “but who knows with this suffocating heat”. They both nodded in agreement, while Olga fought back her desire to scientifically comment on the President’s small talk.
Dmitry responded, “At least we had some success with the hunting, very good shot to bring down that Moose.”
Yazov was not taking the compliment, “more about luck than expertize I think, a reflexive reaction to the sudden movement.”
Dmitry smiled, “always better to be a lucky hunter than not”. The two men smiled happily at each other while Olga sipped her Tarkhun.
Collecting himself from the moment of boyish happiness, Yazov steered the conversation to the topic at hand, “Well, the India-Pakistan problems have certainly helped solidify support for the changes that we will be putting forward, nothing like a little nuclear war to harden people’s resolve for action. Very good idea for us to take the train here Olga, made for excellent publicity. Together with our bicycle riding interior minister and all the other propaganda I am told that there has been a significant move away from car use already. The car companies are even complaining about a sudden drop in sales, and two-wheel transport seems to be getting a big jump in popularity. With our Chinese cousins doing the same, it does look like all our efforts are paying off and we are in fact much better prepared than the Americans.”
Olga nodded in agreement, “with the Europeans also having a good consensus for action, the U.S. definitely is the outlier. With their reliance on domestic plane travel and lack of long distance public transport, the cuts required in oil consumption will cause a lot of disruption. The still powerful energy players will also not accept the changes lightly, as the cuts will crash the oil price from its supply-constrained highs down to new lows. Its good that we accepted lower short-term prices from the Chinese for longer-term demand and price stability.”
Dmitry leaned forward in his chair, “and the U.S. dollar will be hit very hard by the big reduction in dollar-denominated oil and gas purchases. The Middle East countries will also be forced to liquidate their large U.S. investments as their revenue collapses.”
Yazov thought for a moment, “if only the Americans knew how much they had strengthened our coalition by their actions. A common enemy is always a great impetus for cohesion and discipline. My main worry is that it may be too much disruption for the U.S. and Ashbridge won’t be able to keep control, especially with the election coming up. The reactionary forces have managed to capture both of the main candidates, and the independent right-winger is gaining momentum. They are thirsting for revenge against Ashbridge after he forced them into the political wilderness. All too easy for the Americans to turn to outward aggression in a last gasp attempt to slow their fall from power and redirect attention away from all their internal problems. Not much hope from the environmentalists or the left in the country, they are as hamstrung and incompetent as usual. Best thing for Ashbridge would be to declare a national emergency and use the opportunity to fully root out and destroy the opposition. The reports from our intelligence services do point to the possibility of such a move. His good friend Michael Richardson certainly seems to have suddenly developed a love for travel from one elite meeting to another in the past few weeks.”
Paris, France (7.30pm local time)
“So many hidden skills Guiseppe, every woman loves a man that can cook” Thomas’s wife purred appreciatively as Giuseppe tasted the stew.
“What man would not want to cook for such a beautiful and sophisticated woman, Simone?”, he smiled back as he added a little more salt, “but I am just a simple amateur with a little talent.”
The chef turned his head, “More than a little talent I think” he commented.
Thomas stood at the door, surveying the scene in front of him, “I will be about half an hour with this conference call in the office” he announced.
Simone turned partially toward her husband, “ok, darling” she said, as she happily turned back to Giuseppe. Thomas could hear his wife’s soft laughter as he made his way to the office.
La Jolla, California, United States (10:30am local time)
Meghan and Li looked out at the Pacific Ocean in front of them as they sipped lemonade in their boss’s back garden. The breeze off the water offered only a small escape from the sweltering mid-morning heat. On the table in front of them was more of a feast than a brunch, with everything from waffles to exotic fruits.
“Some coffee madam?” Meghan smiled and nodded; the warm liquid gurgled into the mug in front of her. It had been a long and late flight back from the east coast, and she could do with some more caffeine.
“No thankyou” Li informed the waiter. They had an hour before they were to meet with Richardson, an hour they could use productively rather than just enjoying the scenery.
“Down to business?” Meghan asked as she grabbed a croissant. They were a strange couple, well not really a couple, more a non-exclusionary mutual arrangement of intellectual and physical convenience; hard bodies, hard minds, and hard sex. They both enjoyed the other, but knew that their relationship could not be anything more. They both needed something different; something to offset their hardness, something to help them soften, something to awaken their soul.
“We both need a wife” had been Li’s considered analytic opinion, after another highly aerobic session, “preferably not the same one.”
Li started, “Something really big is coming, I can feel it. Everyone I talked to is on edge, knowing that they need to get out before the storm hits but sensing that they may not be able to make it in time. Ten years ago the risk management departments were spending most of their time perfecting financial risk models. Now they seem to be spending just as much time keeping abreast of the scientific research on climate change, and working with lawyers to find ways of wriggling out of legal commitments. The rush out of waterfront property, in Florida and around the world, is really gathering steam. All it needs is for one of the bigger players to blink and pretty soon you won’t be able to insure or sell a property that is not at least a few feet above sea level. That will destroy big chunks of the collateral held by the banks, as well as commercial properties held by insurance companies. One of the people I talked to told me about the Pearl River Delta in China, a third of China’s manufacturing within a couple of feet of sea level. The impact will also be so discontinuous, two feet is many times worse than one foot, three feet much worse then two feet etc. Richardson was right, we need to be thinking at least as much about getting access to our investments as making money on those investments.”
Meghan agreed, and then added to the sense of crisis. “Many in the government sense that they are being kept out of something big; meetings that they should be at but don’t get invited to, lack of access to minutes of meetings, impromptu appearances of the President’s allies on Airforce One, Jim Anderson and Kelly Hunter disappearing for over a week”, she stopped as Li looked quizzically at her, “oh, the President’s head scientific advisor and his head of environmental security threats”. Li nodded his understanding, and she continued. “Everyone is on edge. The fossil fuel industry lobbyists are really concerned that big emission cuts are coming down the track that will cripple their industry. They have sown up all the candidates, but worry that the President is going to push through an international agreement and set the agenda before the election. It feels like all sides are getting ready for a war, readying all available weapons and troops to be at peak strength for the battle.”
It was Li’s turn to talk, “a conversation I had with one of the top bankers now makes more sense. Late night over drinks I had brought up the need to conserve capital, and she said that some of us might not be around to enjoy that capital. Seemed strange to me at the time, but now it makes more sense. Her father is very highly connected with the fossil fuel folks. We certainly have a lot to discuss with Richardson, it will be good to be able to talk with him after he told us last week that we could only communicate face to face.”
Paris, France (8.15pm local time)
It was a diverse set of people sat around the dinner table; the towering, exquisitely dressed and aesthetic presence of Jean Bouchet, the diminutive and down to earth Brune Schmidt, the elegant Simone, the sophisticated and sensual Giuseppe, and the powerfully built and straight-talking Thomas. These were the people that would shape Europe’s response to the climate crisis. The chef had been sent home, the security detail was outside, and the apartment had been swept multiple times for listening devices. They could be comfortable in openly and freely discussing the momentous changes that were being planned.
“Simone, thank you so much for the home cooking. It is such a joy to taste simple hearty fair after so many official dinners and expensive restaurants, and just the perfect amount of salt” Brune commented.
“Any praise for the stew must go to Giuseppe, he was one in charge in that area” Simone answered.
“You are such a talented man aren’t you Giuseppe, your wife is a very lucky woman” Brune smiled.
“I try my best” was Giuseppe’s answer.
Brune looked at Thomas and Jean, “then again, there is something to be said for a big, strong, man.” The two women smiled at each other. Simone was starting to like Brune much more than she had expected to.
Jean had had enough of the small talk, “perhaps we could bring ourselves to the topic at hand, before we consume too much of the delicious wine?” he requested. Then again, with Jean it never felt like a request, more like a law professor bringing a class to attention. He continued, “I know that we have had meetings to review the commitments made in New Zealand, but I really wanted to take this more informal opportunity to allow us to discuss any concerns that we have. From my point of view I feel that we have the internal social and political support that we need, with a very good coordinated strategy across the major governments.” He looked for confirmation from Brune and Giuseppe and received it in the form of their nodding heads. “Also, the financial support package should work well to keep the banking sector functioning and buffer us from any crisis within the UK economy. Do you agree Giuseppe?” he asked as he reached for his wine glass.
“I do worry about the English, their financial system is only just recovering from the crisis a decade ago and this could deliver the coup de grace. We should be ok in the end, but it will be a bit of a wild ride straight after the policy announcements. We still have a little time to improve our position though. Simone’s financial and legal expertise has been invaluable, as well as her great connections, discretion and powers of persuasion. I must admit to being surprised at an Australian having such good taste.”
An appreciative ripple of laughter went around the table, as Simone accepted the compliment and Thomas replied, “the best decision of my life” he smiled while covering up a surge of jealous annoyance.
After a short pause, Simone spoke “Thankfully, the reforms put in after the crisis ten years ago greatly reduced the risk in our banking systems. I feel that the real crisis will be in the U.S., both politically and financially.” Changing the happy mood to a much more sober one.
“President Ashbridge certainly does have his work cut out for him, getting this in place against the fossil fuel interests and solidified before his successor is sworn in will be a tall order. We will need to give him all the help we can”, commented Brune.
“You have any concerns Thomas?”, Jean asked. He had learnt to respect Thomas’s political insights, sometimes they could be somewhat simplistic but they could also uncover things that everyone else had overlooked. Thomas shifted a little in his seat, not comfortable that he was being asked to comment in an area that was not his specialty while surrounded by experts.
After a few moments, he answered, “it would appear logical to me that the Chinese would want to support their allies, Russia and Iran, by committing to purchase their oil and gas imports only from them. With the U.S. doing the same in the Americas, the full impact of the cuts on oil demand would fall upon the other exporters within the Middle East. Wouldn’t the result be social and economic chaos in those countries?”
Jean smiled, “A very good insight Thomas, you would have made a very good strategist. This is something that we have considered, and have put contingency plans in place to make sure that there are no supply disruptions. There may be a big impact on the U.S. though, as the reduction in Middle East oil exports will mean a big reduction in the demand for U.S. dollars. With the possibility of a lot of political difficulties in America as well, their currency could fall substantially. The end result of all of this may be a much reduced American presence, one of the reasons for our improved relations with the Russians.” Thomas nodded appreciatively while taking in the new lesson from Jean.
Northern Somerset, England (8pm local time)
John Pearson wearily threaded his car through the driving rain along the coastal Somerset streets. He had been enjoying a well-earned rest with his family, but with the increasingly dire weather forecasts there was no other option than to go back into work. He was the head of the plant, and at the least his staff needed to see that he was there. It would also be important that he could say that he was speaking from the plant when doing interviews. As he came over the top of the hill, the plant loomed in front of him through the rain. He could not even see the sea that lay beyond it.
Hinkley Point C, the poisoned chalice.
The huge nuclear power station had already survived many trials. Even before the foundations had been laid there had been years of arguments over its’ cost, its’ ownership, and whether or not it was really needed. Then the construction overruns and delays that had meant that it had only started operation a few years ago. The new threat was the increasing whispers about the stupidity of building on the Somerset coast in an era of rising seas and increasing storms. He had made sure that the storm wall was built even higher, over the objections of the accountants at head office and in the UK government. It had been a draining fight, but now he felt fully justified. The plant may end up looking like an island, but it would be a dry and fully operating island.
A few miles away in Bridgewater, June Evans was not so sanguine. “They should have built that fucking barrage across the river” she shouted at the television as the weather forecaster excitedly discussed the ‘big one’ that was coming past Ireland straight at them.
“He can’t hear you mother”, her teenage son David resignedly informed her. She glared at him.
“With all the bloody rain that we’ve already had the ground is completely drenched, so there’s nowhere for the new stuff to go apart from into our houses. Come on, get off your butt and help me move all the stuff we can upstairs. Great time for your dad to be off on a conference.”
She jumped up and switched the television off, while David rolled his eyes, “ok, ok.” Outside, the rainwater was already forming a thin film across the street, as it could not get into the sodden ground and overwhelmed drains. The river just down the road from their house started its inexorable rise as the edge of the storm surge reached the coast. This was the dream house that she and her husband had bought, the one that they would retire in among the beautiful Somerset countryside. The floods of 2013 had been a long distance memory. The dream was now crumbling around them.
The Atlantic Ocean, South of Ireland (9:30pm local time)
Braden allowed himself to relax just a little as the lights of the fishing village came closer. His whole body was tired after the seemingly endless hours of fighting to keep afloat and heading toward safety. Mercifully there was a lull in the storm that he could use to get inside the safety of the breakwater. The sea was still choppy, but he was sure that he could steer his way through the entrance to the harbor. He crossed his chest and looked up to the heavens to give thanks that today would not be his day to meet his maker. Then he felt the boat being raised into the air as the wave hit; that wave, the one that meant the difference between a warm homecoming and a watery grave.
Paris, France (11:30pm local time)
The apartment seemed strangely empty now without their guests. Simone curled up on the sofa next to her husband, “you are kind of cute when you get all jealous” she smiled as she looked at him lovingly.
“Jealous of what?” he replied abruptly, “oh, you mean your Italian lover boy!” She observed him with an amused look that only served to annoy him further.
“I think its time my big, strong man showed me who’s boss” she said playfully as she leaned over and kissed him.
Northern Somerset, England (3am local time)
June and her son sat in the dark at the top of the stairs as the water lapped up against the third step, illuminated by the torch that her son held. The wind whistled around the house while the rain could be heard lashing against the windows. “Well, bugger this, let’s boil some water on that gas camping stove and make some tea. What movies did you manage to download before you lost the internet?” she asked. “Mostly disaster movies” came the answer. “Oh, just what I bloody needed” she responded while attempting to control her sarcasm. They got up and wandered into the upstairs darkness, the torch guiding their way.
Northern Somerset, England (10am local time)
John looked out over the plant from his office window, “a bit rain-drenched but still fully operating”, he thought with great satisfaction, “maybe those bloody accountants will need less persuasion next time.” In the days that followed, the images of the ‘nuclear island’ surrounded by the floods would be endlessly reproduced, showing the folly of relying on the old geographic and climatic certainties. With the plant being too expensive and too important to shut down, and most definitely an immovable object, the nuclear island would be fortified further to withstand the rising waters. The Earth was delivering a message, and those planning for the future needed to learn to be better at listening. Unfortunately, too many of them still could not accept that the Earth would win and they would have to give back the lands that had been drained many years before – such as The Somerset Levels in the English south west and The Fens to the east.
Chapter 19: August 7th
Wyoming, United States (evening)
The stag’s head sat patiently on the wall above the fireplace, observing the rich hunters seated beneath, its antlers rising majestically toward the lodge’s ceiling. The congratulatory talk of good hunting and trophies to take home had now turned to the consideration of a different target; the President of the United States. Jared Edmunds held court, sat in a large armchair at the head of two sofas.
“Fred tells me that there may be a real possibility of Ashbridge finding a way to declare a state of emergency and keeping himself in power. Doing an end-run around all our work to make sure that the two candidates are amenable to our interests. What’s your take General?”
A stocky, close-shaven man to his right responded, “That’s definitely what I am picking up, seems that we may have underestimated the ingenuity of the President. He has consolidated a lot of power within his own control, and is highly respected by the general public and within the armed forces, so it is plausible that he could get away with such a maneuver. The lackluster performance of the two major-party candidates will also help him. Many may even welcome such a move to extend his presidency.”
Such positive words about Ashbridge were a little too much for Jared to bear, shown by the look of disdain that crept across his face, “What are you picking up Fred?” he asked of his advisor.
“I have to agree with the General. Another issue that is starting to be worrisome is that of the independent candidate, Gonzalez. He is making significant headway in pulling together a cross-racial coalition against the rich. With the momentum that he has, he still has enough time to overtake our two candidates. He’s squeaky clean, has a successful and classy wife, adorable children, charming, and a great speaker and debater. He has already exceeded the 15% needed to be in the debates, and could really trounce the other two face to face. Could be a much worse outcome than a continuation of Ashbridge.”
As Kasich paused, the group took in his words. Things may be running away from them, and their options were closing. A younger man at the end of sofa to Jared’s left, looking more like a clever professor than a hunter, offered his thoughts. “If Ashbridge is looking for a reason to call a state of emergency, the last thing we want to do is give him an excuse by killing the populist candidate. Perhaps we should take the President’s idea on board, a state of emergency could be a good thing. We take out Ashbridge, the V.P. then becomes President and declares a state of emergency. The elections would be cancelled, and we would be safe with the new leadership.”
Jared’s body relaxed as he started to admire the professor’s proposal, “yes, perhaps we are looking at the next President” he stated as he looked happily toward the Vice President sitting on the chair at the other end of the sofas.