The engineers couldn’t tell him that, though, until the freakish gale stopped. And the geologists couldn’t tell him when that would happen. They couldn’t even tell him why it was happening. Frustration mounted among the crew, the experts, and the various stakeholders in the project. Nearly eight hours after the original incident, they were still waiting for answers, while the geyser of hot air and copper-colored dust continued unabated.
As the senior engineer from the overall general contractor for the joint Russian/Canadian/American project made his way from his latest inspection of the sinkhole toward the main construction trailer, Gallagher was startled to see a traditional American ten-gallon Stetson cowboy hat drifting down through the fall of debris. It landed close to his feet. He picked it up, dusted it off, and tried it on for size. It fit.
Gallagher grinned. He shook his head over the ridiculousness of his day. “Can someone please tell me why we haven’t heard from the mine rescue team yet?”
Chapter Eleven
The Secretary of Defense read her morning briefing. At the end of a long list of notes requiring her attention and action for the day, there was a curious incident of an enormous earth-boring machine disappearing into an abyss off Big Diomede Island that caught her eye. It wasn’t likely to be anything for her office to worry about, but interesting all the same.
She called in one of her more trusted science advisors. She showed him the location of the Gordoye Dostizheniye on a map and asked if the two incidents could potentially be related.
The science advisor answered without questioning why the Secretary of the world’s largest military was concerned about a Russian shipwreck and a mining accident. “Highly doubtful. It’s fifteen miles between the two locations by sea, isn’t it?”
“I think so. Could both of the incidents have been caused by the same underground event?”
“I don’t see how. The report from Big Diomede mentioned that the air coming from the cavern was hot and full of dry red sand and dust. Even if it were water and sea sand coming out of there, the sea temperature in the Bering Strait is barely above freezing now. The disparate temperatures suggest there’s no relationship.”
The Secretary nodded. “You’re right. That will be all.”
After he left, she studied the satellite images of the Bering Sea. A puzzled frown formed between her brows. She didn’t like coincidences. She especially didn’t like this coincidence, touching as it did on a sensitive matter. She called in her Deputy Secretary.
“I need someone to comb recent news articles for strange weather and geographical phenomena in North America and the Pacific.”
“I’ll get one of the staff on it,” he answered. “When do you need the results?”
“Yesterday,” she answered.
Chapter Twelve
The Deputy Secretary dutifully assigned a junior staff member to the task, telling him there was no hurry. Afterward, he left the Pentagon and drove across the Potomac toward downtown D.C. On his way, he dialed a number from memory.
A man answered on the third ring. “Yes?”
“We may have a problem. Meet me at Tosca, in the bar.”
Satisfied that he’d be met, he made his way across the 14th Street Bridge and skirted the National Mall on his way to the restaurant. Once there, he seated himself on the next-to-last barstool near a wall and waited for his contact to arrive.
Shortly after, the contact took the last chair. As they perused the menus and savored their first glasses of wine, the contact spoke softly. “What’s up?”
“She’s interested in the ship,” the Deputy Secretary answered.
“How would she even know about it? You’re being paranoid.” His contact gave a slight shrug. His job was to monitor the Secretary, and notify his boss if she showed any sign that she had recent knowledge of their project. She hadn’t been involved with the group for many years, and as far as they knew, she wasn’t aware it still existed or had the same agenda it always had. If she was aware, they didn’t know if they could trust her now. But this didn’t seem like much of a threat, or any reason to believe she knew more than she should.
“No. She’s researching geographical phenomena,” the Deputy Secretary insisted.
“What difference does it make? The stone’s gone. The whole damned ship is gone. We have to start over, so stop worrying.”
“It concerns me,” the Deputy Secretary answered.
“I’ll take care of it,” his contact stated firmly. “There’s no need for you to concern yourself further. Do I make myself clear?”
“There’s something else, you need to know.”
“What?”
“The Secretary of Defense received a report today that might change everything.”
His contacted nodded. “I’m listening. What was in the report?”
“There was an accident at the Transcontinental World Link. Apparently, the tunnel boring machine punched through something it wasn’t supposed to and disappeared into some sort of abyss.” The Deputy Secretary swallowed. “It’s unlikely, but I wondered if there was a connection.”
The contact laughed. “Forget about it. I already have a man working there. He’ll take care of it.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course, I’m bloody well certain. You do your job, I’ll do mine.”
Downing the rest of his wine in one swallow without regard to the fine vintage, the Deputy Secretary slammed down his wineglass. “Don’t let your confidence lead you to make a serious mistake,” he snarled. “I’ve lost my appetite. I think we’re done here.”
His contact returned the snarl with a supercilious smile. “Don’t forget. We put you where you are, my friend. Don’t let your ambition lead you to believe you can have us remove her without good cause. She was once a friend.” With that, he set his own wineglass down gently and left, leaving the Deputy Secretary to pay the tab.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam watched as the Russian Admiral-Gorshkov-class frigate continued its grid survey of the area toward the northern end of the Bering Strait. It had arrived overnight and had been uninterested in any communications with him or any one of the other search vessels for that matter. Not that it bothered him. What was he supposed to tell them? It looks like the Gordoye Dostizheniye was swallowed by a sinkhole, but there’s no evidence of her wreckage anywhere? No. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation. Besides, the Secretary of Defense was still waiting for him to update her with his progress. One hard conversation would do him for today.
With a new hot coffee in his hand he briskly climbed the series of steps and entered the bridge of the Maria Helena. The ship was currently at anchor. At the navigation table Matthew was calculating whether or not they had enough fuel to continue their original project, or if they needed to divert to Anchorage to refuel — presuming the rescue mission was officially canceled.
Sam said, “I’ve spoken with the Coast Guard. They’ve changed the search to a retrieval mission. No longer a rescue mission.”
Matthew looked up. “It’s been two days since the ship went under. That’s fair enough. Are we staying on to help, or returning to our original project?”
“Most likely we’ll return to our original plan.”
Matthew asked, “Have you spoken to the Secretary of Defense?”
“It’s on my list.” Sam took a gulp of coffee. “Any news from the Russian frigate?”