Free The Storm by Clive Cussler, Graham Brown Page B

“According to an international patent on file, this is very close to one of his designs.”
    Kurt’s own sense of righteous anger was building, he noticed Leilani wringing her hands.
    “Is he using them for something?” Kurt asked. “Experimenting?”
    “Not that we know of.”
    “Then how’d they end up in the sea?” he asked. “And more important, how’d they end up on the catamaran?”
    Paul’s guess came through. “Either they escaped from the lab like the killer bees forty years ago or Marchetti is using them for something without letting the rest of the world know.”
    Kurt clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. “We need to pay this guy a visit.”
    “I’m afraid he lives on a private island,” Paul replied.
    “That’s not going to stop me from knocking on his door. Where do I find it?”
    “That’s a rather good question,” Gamay said.
    There was an odd tone in Gamay’s voice, and Kurt wasn’t sure he followed. “Are you saying no one knows what island he lives on?”
    “No,” she told him. “Just that no one knows exactly where it is right now.”
    Kurt felt as if he and the Trouts were having two different conversations. “What are you guys talking about?”
    “Marchetti is building an artificial island,” Paul explained. “He calls it Aqua-Terra. He launched the core last year and has been outfitting it ever since. But because it’s mobile, and because he chooses to stay in international waters, no one’s quite sure where he is at any given time.”
    Suddenly, Kurt remembered hearing about it. “I thought that was just a publicity stunt.”
    Leilani spoke up. “No,” she said, “it’s real. I read something about it. Six months ago it was anchored off Malé. Kimo said he wanted to see it if he got the chance.”
    “Okay,” Kurt said. “You guys find out whatever you can about these microbots. I’m putting a call in to Dirk. As soon as we track down Marchetti, I’m going to pay him a visit. I’m sure a floating island isn’t too hard to find.”

CHAPTER 10
     
    JINN AL-KHALIF WALKED ACROSS THE DESERT UNDER A moonlit sky with Sabah close beside him. The sands he’d known since childhood shimmered like silver beneath his feet. They reminded him of the night his family had been attacked in the oasis more than forty years ago. A night when predators disguised as friends had slinked out of the desert and murdered his brothers and mother. It was a lesson in deception he had never forgotten. And one that seemed to be repeating itself.
    “No word from Aziz?” he asked, speaking of the Egyptian general who had promised support for his plan.
    Sabah was calm and stern in the cool night air. “Like you suspected, Aziz has reneged on his promises. He no longer has any interest in supporting us.”
    A flicker of light reached them from the distance. Out on the horizon, near the coast, a line of thunderstorms had begun to form. The rains had not yet pressed inland, but soon the desert would begin to feel the relief of unexpected showers; the final proof of his brilliance. And yet things were threatening to fall apart on the very cusp of victory.
    “Aziz is a traitor,” Jinn said, his face expressionless.
    “He is a man with his own interests,” Sabah counseled. “Like all men, he follows those that profit him. You would do well not to take offense personally.”
    “Those who break their vows offend me personally,” Jinn said. “What excuse does he give?”
    “The politics of Egypt,” Sabah said. “The military has controlled everything there for fifty years, including the most profitable businesses. But things are still in turmoil. The Muslim Brotherhood is consolidating power, and it’s dangerous for the military to support anything secular these days. Especially an outsider.”
    “But our program will help them,” Jinn insisted. “It will bring life to their deserts as well as ours.”
    “Yes,” Sabah said. “But they have the dam at Aswan, and the water