"I think I can say quite definitively, no. There have been two, perhaps three reports of some kind of toxic vapor, but these are almost certainly secondary effects. Oil refineries are a chemist's playground of hazardous substances. The smallest breach can easily lead to fire, and the smallest fire can quickly become a superheated catastrophe. Once a chain of destruction has been initiated, collateral damage will be widespread and indiscriminant."
Graham said, "I thought refineries were getting away from the more hazardous chemicals for that very reason."
"Precisely. In the case of anhydrous hydrogen fluoride, most no longer use it, and the remaining facilities concentrate security measures around these holding tanks. What we saw last night was not an 'acid cloud' attack. It was something else."
President Townsend shifted in his seat. If this guy had any other reports sitting on shelves gathering dust, he was going to read them soon.
"First of all, the refineries targeted were not our largest. Most would be considered mid-range in terms of capacity — a hundred fifty thousand to two hundred fifty thousand barrels a day. It stands to reason that these facilities were chosen because their level of security was less stringent than what would be found at larger sites. Once inside, the attackers appear to have gone after the crude heaters. A good choice, really," he admitted, his grudging admiration obvious.
"What's a crude heater?" someone asked.
"It's just what you'd think — a large furnace that heats the primary feed of crude oil."
The president sensed bad news coming but felt compelled to ask, "How important are these heaters?"
"To realize their significance, one has to understand the basic industrial process. Refining petroleum involves distillation, much as a Tennessee moonshiner uses heat to separate his white lighting from the remains. Crude oil is first heated to begin the refining process. As the temperature rises, the flow is routed into distillation columns, the tall cylindrical stacks most of you are familiar with. At progressive stages in this heating process, different compounds — that is, different types of fuel — are fractioned and recovered. In the end, the remains undergo what is called 'cracking,' which involves using various catalysts to increase yield — it's the kind of thing only petroleum engineers care about. But the salient point is that these primary heaters are the workhorses of the entire refinery. Without them, the operation shuts down. And replacing these units amid acres of toxic rubble will take considerable time."
"How long?" the president asked.
Coyle rubbed his temple, giving Townsend the impression of a man who had been calculating all morning. "The level of damage will take a few days to accurately assess. And it will vary considerably from one plant to another. But to get all capacity back on line — I estimate at least six months."
"Jesus!" General Banks said. "Where was the security?"
Coyle said, "You have to understand, General, refineries today are highly automated. I toured an average facility last week — a hundred thirty-eight thousand barrels a day. It was a twenty-four-seven operation run by six engineers from a control room. At night, there might be a few dozen others on the property, mostly wrench-turners and a limited number of contract security men. The level of training for guards at these facilities is a mixed bag — some companies take it very seriously, others less so. Regulatory oversight is minimal."
The room sighed collectively, and President Townsend recognized one piece of legislation that would find its way to the Hill this week.
"Last nights disaster could have been worse," Coyle argued. "Many of the largest facilities along the Gulf Coast were spared."
Townsend asked, "So there won't be any serious disruption to our gasoline supply?"
Here Coyle paused. His head went down and he seemed to study the base of the podium for a moment. Something in the question had disrupted his form. When he spoke again, his pace and demeanor were markedly different. He was now lecturing, a parent scolding a wayward child.
"This, Mr. President, is the tune I have been playing to deaf ears for years. Mind you, it is only the theory of one academic, but hear me out." Coyle left the podium and began meandering back and forth, his hands now moving freely for emphasis. "Our country has been the dominant economic and political force in this world since the end of World War II. It is my contention that this is a direct result of our system of transportation. The roads allow a flow of goods and materials that no economy on earth — even the most advanced European democracies — can match. America invented and embraced the mass-produced car, and our way of life, both at work and leisure, now revolves around it. But this great advantage we have made for ourselves will, I fear, soon become our Achilles heel."
Coyle finally stopped for help. He pulled a notepad from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. "As I now speak, we have likely lost between eighteen and twenty percent of our domestic refined gasoline output. The price of a gallon of gas will likely rise by fifty percent within two weeks — for those who have access. Regional shortfalls are inevitable, and gas will be unavailable for short periods in the hardest hit areas. With immediate action, I project a midyear decrease in domestic GNP of between three and four percent on an annual basis. A moderate recession given no other complications."
A chorus of muted expletives tarnished the air. Then silence.
President Townsend eyed Coyle. Most of the wonks who gave him briefings were no more than speculators who reminded him of weather forecasters — if they made enough predictions, sooner or later they'd be right. His gut impression was that Herman Coyle was different. Coyle knew where this storm was headed. Townsend said, "All right. What should we do?"
"There is a precedent," Coyle said. "In the last few years, a number of hurricanes have struck the central Gulf Coast. In 2008, Gustav and Ike sequentially shut down fifteen and nineteen percent of our refinery output. Of course, these facilities were only lost for a matter of weeks. Still, gas prices rose significantly and spot shortages existed, particularly in the Southeast."
"I remember Atlanta being hit hard," said Spector, a native Georgian.
"And in charting our course," Coyle contended, "there is more to consider. Much has been made of the fact that no new refineries have been built in our country since 1976. In fact, the number of active refineries has been cut in half in that time. The remaining facilities are, of course, far more efficient than before. The downside is that these refineries operate near maximum capacity. We have little option of 'ramping up' production."
"It's all because of too much environmental regulation," Chief of Staff Spector chided.
"Actually," Coyle argued, "the cumbersome oversight process is only a minor nuisance. Like the rest of our economy, the market for petrochemicals has globalized. Simply put, it is cheaper for us to buy foreign refined products, incrementally, than to produce them ourselves." Coyle turned to Townsend. "With these factors in mind, Mr. President, there are four steps we must take immediately."
Coyle waited for a cue from his commander-in-chief.
Townsend nodded.
"First, we must protect our remaining facilities against further attack"
General Banks piped in, "I've already been in touch with the National Guard Bureau. I think they're in the best position to handle it, but if we need to augment with active duty forces, I'll see to it."
The president had only one addition. "All right. But I want every refinery locked down tight by tonight."
Coyle nodded approvingly. He said, "Second, we must fast-track all repair work. Corporations must not be hogtied with toxic cleanup plans from the EPA or safety audits from OSHA."
There was no dissent around the conference table. There wasn't a politician in Washington who, at least at some point in his or her career, hadn't relished the chance to tell EPA and OSHA to go jump in a toxic lake without a safety line.