“The primary factor is speed,” Adrienne said. “The longer she’s down there, the greater the damage to interior fittings. He’d like to have her on the surface tomorrow.”
“Dane says two weeks, minimum, before Orion’s available.”
“I’ll see what I can do with the man.”
“Anything you want, I’m sure,” Thomas told her. “What’s in Portland?”
“A rumor I heard about. There’s a maritime museum teaming up with an environmental group to take on projects to help the coastal environment. There might be some way in which we can contribute.”
“Plus?”
“Plus, Ricky’s going to be in Seattle for a match. I’m going to run up and see him.”
Ricky Kidd was a professional wrestler with whom Adrienne was involved. She had been a wrestling promoter working out of New York prior to joining MVU.
“Do you miss the promotions?” Thomas asked.
“A little. It was all hype and hyperactivity. There was something going on all the time telephones, meetings, negotiations. The money was good.”
“Did Avery talk you out of it?”
“Avery’s my favorite brother don’t you tell him that — and we talk at least once a week. I can’t remember a time that he’s given me advice, but he often asks for advice for himself in such a way that it starts me thinking.”
“And you thought?”
“I thought I could be doing just a little more than making money in, and for, the entertainment business. I like the fact that we’re doing some things that may benefit fellow humans. I feel less selfish.”
“Me, too,” Thomas said.
Paul Deride transferred from the deep submergence vehicle to Sea station AG-4 with the same shortness of breath and the same high anxiety level that he experienced any time the sky and the free atmosphere was out of his reach.
Penny Glenn was waiting for him, leaning in the hatchway of the damp reception chamber. She wore the impish grin that he thought she reserved specifically for him.
Since he had taken on her guardianship — never formalized in any legal sense, when she was twelve years old, he had learned her moods and her motivations almost completely. He thought he knew how much she was devoted to him, and though it was not in him to say as much, he was certain that she knew how deep his love ran.
“Welcome aboard, Uncle Paul.”
He glanced at the steel walls, which appeared to be oozing moisture. “Isn’t it colder than usual, Penny?”
“It’s perfectly normal,” she said. “Come on. I’ve got coffee going, and that’ll help.”
He followed her through the hatchway and up the spiral staircase to the main deck. Someone on the upper bunkhouse deck was snoring loudly. When he looked up through the opening to the top level, Penny said, “Geoffrey takes his sleep periods seriously. You’ll have to ignore him.”
“That might be difficult.”
One half of the main level was devoted to creature comforts in a rustic way. The open lounge contained a small galley and three tables surrounded by chairs. In front of a large sofa and three cushioned chairs, an entertainment center was stacked against the curved wall, its shelves crammed with cassettes, CD’s, and video tapes. Deride could be certain that the X-rated films had been stashed elsewhere for the duration of Penny Glenn’s visit to the sea station.
She poured two mugs of coffee at the galley, handed him one, and then led him into the other half of the deck. Here, the curved wall was fitted with mystifying consoles, and a big worktable dominated the open area. Six castered chairs could be drawn up to the table or scooted over to workstations. The interior wall was fitted with cabinets and bookshelves, and the reading matter was devoted to subjects geological. Deride had read most of the books.
Above the consoles, video monitors and computer screens lit the space with flickering images. Two men wearing headsets were at work, communicating with crews operating crawlers or one of the submersibles. He had just arrived on Sydney, so they must be talking to Melbourne.
Penny pulled two chairs up to the table, and they sat down. Deride sipped at his coffee. It was hot, and the warmth raced through him, but was inadequate. He felt as if he were on the verge of breaking into uncontrolled shivering.
“So,” she said, “you toured Oil Field Twenty-two this morning?”
“How did you know?”
“I tried to reach you earlier.”
“For something important?”
“Important enough. How was Twenty-two?”
“Fine. Production’s holding. What’s important?”
She gave him that special grin again. “The production at Twenty-two is excellent. I was there two weeks ago, and we were hitting seven hundred barrels a day. That’s world-class, Paul.”
“Well, don’t tell anyone,” he said.
“Who would I tell?”
Deride turned his head to look at the two technicians. With their headsets in place, they probably could not hear the conversation at the table. A great deal of AquaGeo’s business data resided only in his head, but he had slowly been doling it out to Penny. As his chief geologist, she roamed the world much as he himself did, keeping an eye on all of the operations. He was sure she had learned more about the company and its subsidiaries than she told him, but that was all right. In fact, it was good. The man — or woman — with the most information held the most power.
He was grooming her to one day assume control of the company. He knew that, and she knew that, and neither of them had ever spoken of it.
“Are you going to tell me about this fabulous discovery you’ve made?” he asked.
“You’re sure it’s a discovery?”
“You said it was important. What else would it be?”
“Over here,” she said, pushing her chair backwards and rolling across the carpeted deck to a console.
Deride stood and followed her. The excitement in her eyes was transferring to him, and he nearly forgot about several thousand pounds of water pressure outside the fragile hull, attempting to reach him.
She spun around in her chair and began tapping at the keyboard. He stood behind her and peered over the top of her head. He was aware that she smelled of gardenias. It was not a normal aroma in his sea stations.
The screen came to life. There was a blue grid overlay on parchment white, scaled to minutes of latitude and longitude. The position of AG-4 at 33° 16’ 50” North, 141° 15’ 19” West was indicated by an orange rectangle. The station was secured to the seabed at a depth of 2.2 miles, resting on top of a flat mountain that would have been called a mesa in New Mexico.
Prominent geologic structures — sea mounts, peaks, canyons, dormant volcanoes — were indicated in shaded grays, the shade representing varying depths. Some canyons were completely flat dark gray, suggesting unexplored and unknown depths in excess of three and a half miles.
To the east, some forty miles away, was a red circle, indicating the site of the drilling rig.
Farther east, over two hundred miles away, were three yellow circles, labeled on the screen as “A,” “B,” and “C.”
Penny tapped the red circle with a clear-polished fingernail. “That’s the fourth drilling site.”
“And you’ve found signs?”
“There are some indications of oil, yes. I’m going to go down another five hundred feet and see if it gets better. If not, we’ll come west a couple miles and try again.”
Her finger slid across the screen toward the east, and her nail click-clicked on the yellow circles.
“That’s manganese, Paul.”
He leaned closer, as if the screen would show him a true picture, or the atomic number—25, of the metallic element. It was used primarily in alloy with steel to increase hardness and wear resistance. With other metals, it formed highly ferromagnetic materials.