The Green Trap Read Online Free PDF

found himself wondering again why a federal agent should be interested in Mike.
    Before he could ask her, though, she had parked in the driveway and popped the car’s trunk. Cochrane got out and went to the back of the car. By the time he had pulled out his roll-on suitcase and slung his laptop over his shoulder, Sandoval was already through the lobby’s glass doors, a single shapeless tote bag in one hand. He slammed the trunk shut.
    As he came up to the registration desk, Sandoval said smilingly, “I know a neat little sushi place not far from here. Interested?”
    â€œSure,” he replied automatically.
    â€œOkay. Give me half an hour to unpack and shower. I’ll meet you right here.”
    Cochrane was impressed with his mini-suite. It included a kitchen, a sofa, high-speed Internet access, and even a gas-fed fireplace. The government must be paying for this, he thought. Nobody had asked to see his credit card. He set up his laptop on the coffee table, checked his sparse e-mail, and still was back down in the lobby before Sandoval.
    She came out of the elevator dressed in a comfortable pair of off-white slacks and a loose rose-pink blouse with a modest collared neckline. Still she looked elegantly attractive. Cochrane couldn’t help smiling as they walked together out to the parking lot.
    The sushi bar was noisy with customers’ laughter and conversation and the Japanese chefs yelling back and forth to one another. A busy place, Cochrane saw. Country music, of all things, wailing out of the ceiling speakers. The spicy tang of ginger and other aromas in the air. Three TV sets, all muted and tuned to sports shows. Locals crowded the bar, so he and Sandoval took a small table off in the shadows. Cloth napkins, he noticed. He began to polish his eyeglasses as a waitress took their order for hot sake.
    â€œSo what exactly was your brother working on?” she asked, after a first sip from the tiny ceramic cup.
    â€œDamned if I know,” he said, raising his voice enough to be heard over the noise. “He was going to show me but I got there too late.”
    Sandoval sipped at her sake, then said, “No, I mean in general. You said he was some sort of biologist.”
    â€œMicrobiology. He dealt with algae and bacteria.”
    â€œCyanobacteria.”
    â€œYou remembered.”
    â€œWhat’s so special about them?”
    The kimono-clad blond waitress brought their trays. Cochrane realized he was hungry and picked up his chopsticks.
    â€œCyanobacteria?” Sandoval prompted.
    â€œI’m not a biologist,” Cochrane muttered as he fumbled his first try at snaring a piece of eel roll.
    She gave him that dimpled smile again. “You’re a scientist. You know more about this kind of thing than I do.”
    Finally stuffing the rice-wrapped piece of eel into his mouth, Cochrane chewed fast, swallowed hard, then answered, “Cyanobacteria are very ancient forms of life. Billions of years old. If I remember correctly, they were one of the first organisms to use chlorophyll.”
    â€œLike green plants.”
    â€œRight. But cyanobacteria are one-celled creatures. Bacteria.”
    â€œYour brother was working with them?”
    â€œFar’s I know. Yes.”
    She picked up a piece of sushi expertly, then took another sip of sake.
    â€œYou said that these bugs produce oxygen?” she asked.
    Cochrane pushed his glasses back up his nose. “They changed the earth’s atmosphere. Several billion years ago this planet’s atmosphere was mostly carbon dioxide. Unbreathable. But cyanobacteria and other chlorophyll-bearing organisms put out so much oxygen that our atmosphere eventually changed to what we have now: oxygen and nitrogen.”
    â€œThere’s still carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, isn’t there? Isn’t that what causes the greenhouse effect?”
    Cochrane started talking about carbon dioxide and greenhouse warming and