Critical Mass, page 9
Tinubu cursed under his breath and motioned to the driver. “Back up, and go around.” But glancing backward, his face turned grim.
Tighe looked behind the SUV to see more policemen blocking the road, accompanied by men in street clothes carrying assault rifles. The men flanked a washed and waxed champagne-colored Bentley SUV, out of which stepped a Nigerian man in a blue silk shirt, slacks, and designer glasses. A gold chronograph glinted on his wrist.
Meanwhile, the street all around their motorcade rapidly emptied of pedestrians—who suddenly ducked into alleys and doorways. Shopkeepers pulled in merchandise and closed security shutters.
Rochat looked around nervously. “I thought we arranged for protection, Mr. Tinubu.”
Tinubu waved off Rochat’s comment. “There is nothing for it, Mr. Rochat. These are police. Clearly you have not been honest with me about your purpose here. I think this man will speak with you.”
“What man?”
Looking through the rear window, Tighe studied the calm indifference of the man, who was now leaning against the Bentley’s hood. Tighe had traveled enough in the world to recognize the situation they were in. He opened the door and stuck one foot out. “Everyone, stay in the car.”
Rochat looked up. “You’re going out there?”
Chindarkar said, “Lukas is right. We should stay together.”
Tighe got out and peered back into the vehicle. “We’re not leaving here until they let us. I’m going to see what they want.” He closed the Range Rover door and started down the empty stretch of littered street toward the Bentley. Then he noticed that Jin was alongside him.
Jin spoke without taking his eyes off the armed men. “We never EVA alone, J.T. You know that.”
Tighe cracked a slight smile and nodded. Of course Jin was right—and he was glad to have him. They closed the distance together. As they approached the Bentley, armed men to either side slid their fingers onto triggers.
The man leaning on the Bentley’s hood suddenly spread his arms and smiled with perfect white teeth. “Mr. Jin. Mr. Tighe. I am so glad you came all the way from Luxembourg to visit Adedayo’s mother. Your concern for her welfare is touching.” His British-accented English was impeccable. His clothing immaculate.
Tighe said, “Let me guess: you must be Adedayo’s oga.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “I am impressed. Your familiarity with Lagosian culture saves us time.”
Jin asked, “What do you want?”
“Merely what is mine, Mr. Jin.”
Adisa had taught Tighe that the word oga defined a sort of boss figure in Lagos—a patron to whom one owed tribute. Adisa was just a skinny, self-taught, but supremely gifted hacker who’d been forced to join a cybercrime gang that ransomed satellites. This was how he had come to Nathan Joyce’s attention, hijacking one of Catalyst’s comsats on behalf of this gang. The same gang that later sold Adisa’s name to Joyce. The gang presumably headed by the man now standing before them.
The oga continued. “Please appreciate that in Lagos no man is an island. I made Adedayo the man he is. He would be nothing without me.”
Tighe concealed his rising anger.
“Adedayo’s absence has cost me dearly, and Mr. Joyce’s premature death left me without the compensation I was promised, and now I learn that Adedayo is not dead—but alive and in space. Earning good money. Thanks to me.”
Jin said, “How do you know all this?”
“Because your communications are not secure. Not from us. You came in here thinking an armored car would protect you, but even now your phones broadcast your secrets.”
Tighe said, “Everything Adedayo accomplished was due to his own intelligence and courage.”
“I am certain Nigeria’s National Space Research and Development Agency will be very proud of their Yoruba son. However, whatever Adedayo has earned in space rightfully belongs not to him, but to me.”
Jin scowled. “By what right?”
“Adedayo and I have a legally binding contract.” The oga extended his hand and a nearby man placed a clear tablet device in it. With a couple of gestures, the oga brought up a vibrant hologram that withstood even the light of day. It showed a Luxembourg government website. “I see here that Adedayo is listed as your company CTO. My people tell me that he also owns shares in this enterprise of yours—this ‘Catalyst Corporation.’ ”
Jin surged forward to get in the oga’s face. “Do not dare to—!”
Men to either side raised their weapons, and Tighe pulled Jin back. “Easy! Easy.”
The oga remained calm. “You Chinese. You come to Africa, like the Europeans and Americans before you, and act as though you own our land and our people.” Suddenly his expression softened, and he raised his hands. “But that is the way of the world, is it not? To live is to struggle. Your father is a great oba, Mr. Jin. So out of respect I will be forthright with you and claim only what is due me.” He turned off the hologram. “Adedayo’s shares in Catalyst Corporation must be transferred to a corporate entity that I control.”
Tighe frowned. “Why would we ever do that?”
Jin added, “Or how? Those shares belong to Adedayo, not to us.”
“They belonged to Adedayo; one of my companies is his sole heir.”
“Heir? Ade is not dead.”
“Adedayo has been missing for five years—and is now officially dead. My friends in the Nigerian National Population Commission made it so.”
Tighe and Jin exchanged horrified looks.
“And I—not his family—inherit his holdings. In short: you and I are now business partners, gentlemen.”
“We’ll never agree to that,” Tighe shot back.
The oga raised his eyebrows. “No?” He manipulated the tablet again and projected a holographic photo of a house. “Your attorney—hiding in that ‘tank’ over there—purchased this Victoria Island home, as a gift to Ms. Adisa and her children—Adedayo’s brothers and sisters.” He lowered the tablet. “Keep your house. Adedayo’s family will have no need for it.” He looked around at the ramshackle apartment buildings. “They are very comfortable here in AJ City, and as long as you make good on what you owe me, they will remain safe. Though I would not rate their chances if you defy me. Ajegunle can be a dangerous place without protection.”
Tighe now realized the extent of their miscalculation. Far from safeguarding Adisa’s family, by coming here, they had put them in mortal danger.
The oga again tapped at his device. “And now I know just how important our business is . . .” The holographic image changed to show a map of satellite orbits—hundreds of them—moving around the Earth. The oga zoomed in to highlight the details of one satellite in particular. “A US spy satellite has been retasked to place it directly overhead for your visit here today. Likewise, a Chinese drone circles us even now from several thousand feet. The Chinese and the Americans are tracking your every move. Following your airship. Whatever you and Adedayo are doing has the attention of superpowers. Which means it is valuable indeed.”
Tighe and Jin leaned forward to examine the hologram. It was difficult to say if the man was telling the truth, but it immediately seemed plausible that their team was being followed by the US and China—and now they knew how.
The oga smiled—then turned his back to them as he passed the tablet to his aide. “Give me my due, gentlemen, or I will deal harshly with Adedayo’s family. My people will be in touch with Mr. Rochat—since he is too frightened to meet with me directly.” He laughed as he made a circling motion with his hand, and the men around him—police included—moved to their vehicles. One of the men opened the Bentley’s door and the oga got inside. In a few moments, the entire group was on the move, reversing, then accelerating down a side street, police lights flashing and sirens whooping.
Soon Tighe and Jin stood in the street alone.
* * *
—
Tighe shouted, “We arrived in a goddamn airship, Lukas! Blimps are literally used as advertisements. Then we drove an armored convoy into Ade’s neighborhood. Of course his oga got wind of it, and now look at the position we’re in. We’ve put Ade’s entire family in danger. We should have been more discreet.”
Rochat kept shaking his head. “The airship and our security detail made no difference. Mr. Tinubu tells me that Chinese agents have already contacted the Adisa family and shown them Adedayo’s death certificate. They claim we were trying to cheat them out of his shares in Catalyst by buying them off with just a house.”
“Why didn’t you think this through? Handling our affairs here on Earth is your one and only job!” Tighe turned to look out the airship’s glass wall at the expanse of ocean far below. He then turned to Chindarkar and Yak at the other end of the conference table. “So what do we do about this oga? We’re not actually considering handing Ade’s share of the company over to him, are we?”
Jin stared ahead. “We should pay off the oga from our own shares. Ade is not responsible for our carelessness.”
Yak piped in. “If you think this Lagos gang will be satisfied by Adedayo’s share, you are mistaken.”
Chindarkar threw up her hands. “Yak, if we don’t give this oga what he wants he could start killing Ade’s brothers and sisters.”
“Would they really do this?”
“Do we want to find out?”
Rochat said, “This just makes it all the more imperative that we get the protection of a major nation.”
Tighe turned. “Would you please stop with that?”
Chindarkar shook her head sadly. “We haven’t even left Earth and we’re already losing control.”
Tighe asked Rochat, “How long until we reach Ascension Island?”
Rochat answered blankly, “We’ll be in the South Atlantic by tomorrow morning.”
“Just get us there.”
CHAPTER 6
Wide-Awake
AUGUST 21, 2038
Nearly a thousand kilometers south of the equator and smack in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, the windswept terrain of Ascension Island was just as Tighe remembered it—though he, himself, felt like a different person. Years ago Ascension had seemed exotic. Now it just seemed small.
From the minibus window the South Atlantic stretched unbroken to the horizon in all directions, while the highest point on the island, Green Mountain, lay wreathed in cloud cover and lush with trees. Closer at hand the soil was reddish grit that barely supported plant life.
The minibus labored upslope, weaving in and out of ravines, and soon a familiar sight came into view: Devil’s Ashpit Camp, the training facility where Tighe and his teammates had undergone candidate selection five years earlier. It was a collection of white corrugated-metal buildings surrounding an older concrete administration building dating back to the Cold War, when NASA ran the site as a tracking station during the Apollo program. On the far side of the camp stood two giant white satellite dishes aimed straight up. The entire facility was ringed by a security fence, but the gates opened automatically as their vehicle approached.
Tighe spotted his old barracks and noticed dozens of trainees jogging past in groups. “You have a new class of asteroid mining candidates?”
Lukas Rochat replied from the seat across the aisle, “They’re not asteroid mining candidates, and instead of us paying them, they’re paying us—or at least their companies are.”
“What companies?”
“Venture-backed space startups. Most of these trainees are astropreneurs with a business plan for space—satellite servicing, orbital debris cleanup, on-orbit manufacturing, that sort of thing. Our spaceflight certification program is much in demand.”
Tighe looked out at the trainees. “Interesting. I guess the world has moved on since we’ve been away.”
Priya Chindarkar surveyed the grounds from the seat in front of him. “Lukas, I thought this whole camp was seized by the authorities after Nathan’s death.”
“It did go through a bankruptcy, but we now lease this facility and the equipment from the British government—in exchange for providing island jobs. There’s not much else they could do with the site.”
The minibus soon rolled to a stop in front of the camp’s central administration building. Standing on the front steps was a familiar face: Gabriel Lacroix—mission control manager for the Konstantin expedition. He looked older than his fifty years, perhaps due to all the worry they’d put him through. This was the first time they’d seen him since their return to Earth, and he had been instrumental in making that happen.
Lacroix rarely smiled, but he was beaming as they exited the minibus.
“Gabriel!” Chindarkar raced toward him, arms extended.
“Comme tu es belle!” Lacroix hugged her, then shifted to accented English. “It has been so long.”
Jin Han and Tighe came up alongside, carrying duffel bags.
Lacroix then hugged them both as well, kissing them on each cheek. To Tighe’s surprise, Jin did not object to the familiarity. “So many times I feared we had lost you. And yet here you are.” Lacroix grew momentarily somber. “At least some of you, eh?” Then he brightened again. “What feats you have accomplished.”
“With your help.” Chindarkar hugged him again.
By now Rochat, Sevastian Yakovlev, and Ramón Marín had exited the minibus—Rochat the only one without luggage. Marín stood respectfully apart from their reunion.
Lacroix shook hands with Rochat and then Yak, slapping his back. “Sevastian, we must show them what we have been up to while they were away, yes?”
Rochat checked his watch. “Well, now that I’ve delivered them to you, Gabriel, I will leave you to it.”
Tighe cast a look his way. “Where are you going?”
“Florida. Before we meet with US officials I must get the terms of your visit in writing. The Konstantin expedition technically violated US law, and I don’t want you arrested when we arrive.”
“Well, handle that better than you did the Lagos visit.”
“And keep us updated regarding Adedayo’s oga,” Jin chimed in.
“I told you I will handle it.”
Lacroix looked at them quizzically.
Tighe said to him, “We had a situation back in Lagos.” He turned back to Rochat. “But Lukas is working on a solution. Correct?”
“As I said, obtaining the patronage of a major superpower is our best bet when it comes to protecting Adedayo’s family. Which makes Florida even more important to us.”
Jin looked unconvinced.
“In any event, I will keep you all informed.” Rochat shook Tighe’s hand, then the others’ in turn. “You have a full schedule here, but unless you hear otherwise, the Eos will return to bring you to Cape Canaveral sometime next week.” He nodded to Marín. “Meanwhile, Gabriel, be sure to introduce Ramón here to the mission control team and get him settled in the training program. Provide any assistance he requires.”
Lacroix replied, “Oui, bien sûr.”
With that, Rochat entered the minibus. The group watched as the vehicle drove off toward the airfield. Lacroix said to Marín, “Proceed to barracks four. I will send someone for you presently.” He then turned to the others. “As for the rest of you, there is something you need to hear . . .”
* * *
—
Sitting in the otherwise deserted mission control room alongside Lacroix, the group watched as he brought up a comm screen. “We received this message approximately two weeks after your departure from Ryugu . . .”
Suddenly Isabel Abarca’s familiar voice came in over the control room speakers, echoing in the large space. It rooted Tighe to the spot.
“Konstantin to mission control. Konstantin to mission control. Mayday. Mayday. We have an unidentified, potentially hostile spacecraft inbound and maneuvering to match our trajectory for possible docking. This is an emergency. Please advise. Out.”
Lacroix said, “The next message was sent before we could reply to the first.”
Abarca’s voice filled the room once more. “Konstantin to mission control, we have been boarded by eight unidentified individuals—possibly a hostile replacement crew. They are moving now to cut our communications. I will keep this channel open as long as possible . . .”
“Moments later we lost comm laser lock. That was the last message received from the Konstantin.”
Actually hearing Abarca’s voice visibly affected the team. It made their rescue mission that much more urgent. And yet, as Tighe sat there, it also made him realize that the unthinkable might already have happened. He pushed the thought away.
Jin gritted his teeth and said, “It is frustrating that we cannot mount a rescue immediately.”
A familiar voice from the door said, “Then we will use this time to prepare for one.”
They all turned.
Standing in the control room doorway was Julian Kerner, the forty-something construction manager who had led the team that built the Konstantin in lunar orbit. He was also the last person to disembark from the ship prior to its departure for the asteroid Ryugu. The last friendly face the crew had seen in space.
A slight grin formed on Jin’s face. “Herr Kerner . . .”
They all moved in and hugged, slapping Kerner on the back.
Afterward Kerner regarded them. “We have two crew members still to return to Earth—a problem I am already working to resolve. I am told you are here for the next week or so. Which means we have a great deal of training to complete and very little time.” He gestured toward the door. “So it is best we get started.”
