Wednesday 14 April
Rena and Brooks flew to California two days later.
First stop: to meet Kim Matsuda, the battery program’s architect. She had set up shop in a room at the U.S. Geological Survey in Menlo Park, where no one would suspect her of running a classified program. Gil Sedaka called ahead to say they were coming.
She had a gambler’s blank face and suspicious eyes. Ellen Wiley had produced a profile on Matsuda for them. Wiley’s masterly background biographies were such a special asset of the firm and so richly insightful everyone called them “Wileys.” The scientist-soldier had an interesting résumé: the air force, CIA, NOAA—all federal organizations that intersected with climate. Rena suspected a purposeful journey, a conscious managing of her career to figure out how to get the government to confront the climate crisis. Then, once she had the president-elect’s attention last year, she convinced Traynor of the daring plan she had devised. He thought she must have magical powers of persuasion and determination.
The woman in front of them was small and thin voiced with a candid and impatient manner. Rena liked her.
She also had an interesting family history, Wiley’s file told them: a grandmother dying in an internment camp in California; a war-hero grandfather; a family schism over the government’s treatment of Japanese Americans; an uncle and cousins who ran a group denouncing assimilation. Rena imagined family gatherings and the attitude toward Kim, who had not only assimilated but also joined the same U.S. Air Force that had bombed Japan, and then she had worked for the CIA.
“Upton wants to pull the plug, doesn’t she?” Matsuda declared shortly after Rena and Brooks had sat down. She was trying to shock them into some kind of confession.
“She doesn’t need us for that,” Brooks said.
“Maybe you’re just cover.”
“I don’t know what you know about me,” Rena said, “but I bring a lot of baggage these days. I am the opposite of cover.”
Matsuda smiled.
“Why don’t you tell us about the program?” Brooks suggested.
And for the next hour, Matsuda described the science of the flow batteries, made a case for why the little-known technology might be the most important step the United States could take to end its reliance on carbon, and argued why it was a matter of national security. There was something about the woman, a matter-of-factness, that stripped away the usual bureaucratic posturing and technical jargon. Rena could see how she had persuaded not just Traynor but also others in the government to divert billions in a moon shot to save the planet. He knew embarrassingly little about climate science. After listening to Matsuda, however, he felt a temptation to strap himself to a tree. She was that convincing.
“What do you think?” Brooks asked as they made their way to their rental car.
“I’d be distrustful of us, too.”
“You distrust everyone,” Brooks said.
“I love everyone,” he said. “That’s why I worry about them.”
She stopped before they reached the car.
“You up to this? You’ve been moping for the last month.”
It caught Rena off guard.
“Then promise you’ll let me know if I’m screwing up.”
“Don’t make me keep that promise.”
Had he gotten that bad? A case would help, he thought. Upton’s confidence in him had lifted his spirits. This assignment was a signal, if still not a public one, that he was no longer radioactive.
His partner, however, was still worried about him. That shook him.