Arctic Drift (Dirk Pitt 20)

“I’m sorry,” Lisa said. “Most of my friends are biochemists, so I sometimes forget to take off my verbal lab coat.”

“Loren has a much better head for public policy than for science,” Pitt kidded. “You were mentioning the outcome of your experiment? ”

“In other words, the catalytic reaction converted the carbon dioxide into a simple compound. With further processing, we can get to a carbon-based fuel, such as ethanol. But the critical reaction was the actual breakdown of the carbon dioxide.”

The pile of crabs had been transformed into a mass of broken claws and empty shells. The middle-aged waitress deftly cleared away the mess and returned a short time later with coffee and key lime pie for the table.

“Forgive me, but I’m not sure I understand what you are saying,” Loren said between bites.

Lisa gazed out the window at some twinkling lights on the far side of the river.

“I’m quite certain that the application of my catalyst can be used to construct a high-output artificial-photosynthesis device.”

“Could it be expanded to industrial proportions?” Pitt asked.

Lisa nodded with a humble look. “I’m sure of it. All that is needed is some light, rhodium, and ruthenium to make it tick.”

Loren shook her head. “So what you’re saying is that we’ll be able to construct a facility that can filter carbon dioxide into a harmless substance? And the process can be applied to power plants and other industrial polluters?”

“Yes, that’s the prospect. But even more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hundreds of facilities could be built. In terms of carbon reduction, it’d be like putting a pine forest in a box.”

“So you’re talking about actually reducing the existing levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere,” Pitt stated.

Lisa nodded again, her lips pursed tight.

Loren grabbed Lisa’s hand and squeezed it hard. “Then . . . you’ve found a genuine solution to global warming.” The words came out in a whisper.

Lisa looked sheepishly at her pie and nodded. “The process is sound. There’s still work ahead, but I see no reason why we can’t have a large-scale artificial-photosynthesis facility designed and built in a matter of months. All it will take is money and political support,” she said, looking at Loren.

Loren was too startled to eat her dessert. “But the hearings today,” she said. “Why didn’t Dr. Maxwell mention it?”

Lisa stared up at the fern. “I haven’t told him yet,” she replied quietly. “I only just made the discovery a few days ago. To be honest, I was a little overwhelmed at the findings. My research assistant convinced me not to tell Dr. Maxwell before the hearings, until we were sure about the results. We were both afraid of the potential media frenzy.”

“You would have been right about that,” Pitt agreed.

“So do you still have doubts about the results?” Loren asked.

Lisa shook her head. “We’ve duplicated the results at least a dozen times, consistently. There is no question in my mind that the catalyst works.”

?

??Then it is time to act,” Loren urged. “Brief Maxwell tomorrow, and I’ll follow up with an innocuous hearing question. Then I’ll try and get us in to see the President.”

“The President?” Lisa blushed.

“Absolutely. We’ll need an Executive Order to put a crash production program into place until an emergency funding bill can be authorized. The President clearly understands the carbon problem. If the solution is within our grasp, I’m sure he will act immediately.”

Lisa fell silent, overcome by the ramifications. Finally, she nodded her head.

“You are right, of course. I’ll do it. Tomorrow.”

Pitt paid the bill, and the trio drifted out to the car. They drove home in relative silence, their thoughts absorbed with the magnitude of Lisa’s discovery. When Pitt pulled up in front of Lisa’s town house in Alexandria, Loren jumped out and gave her old friend a hug.

“I’m so proud of what you’ve done,” she said. “We used to joke about changing the world. Now you really have.” She smiled.