Sarah smiled. She remembered how surprised she had been to hear educated people, even TV news anchors saying ‘might could’ and ‘might should’ when she had first moved to Texas. Some of her friends from Louisiana also spoke that way.
“And mosquitoes as vectors, indeed. Where did that idea come from?” said Tally, shaking her head.
“You should see how many hits there are on #Laptev, #Megavirus and #Arcticfever on Twitter,” said Kevin.
“It’s true,” said Shane. “Last night I saw a Facebook group to support Laptev Bay survivors and their family members.”
“My mom said she found Pinterest pictures of black and white electron microscope photographs and drawings of megaviruses. She asked me if I knew what they could be,” said Tally.
“And every news talk show host is discussing the ‘megavirus problem’. Did you guys see Steven Colbert on the Late Show a few nights ago?” asked Emile. He made Colbert sound undeniably French when he said it.
“Oh, I saw that,” said Tally. “He was awesome. He said something like ‘Isn’t it ironic that oil drilling in the Arctic actually is as bad for the world as the environmentalists and Green Peace volunteers have predicted all along that it would be?’ It was great.”
CHAPTER 8
A week after Sarah’s meeting with her team, Angela sat at her desk reviewing reports which had come in from other parts of the Arctic. As Vice President of Health, Safety and Environment at Riesigoil, she had access to the files on all of the incidents that had occurred in the company’s history, and she also could access safety incident reports that had been made on behalf of other companies. She was checking carefully to be sure she hadn’t missed any other cases of flu-like illnesses that might have occurred anywhere in the vicinity of Laptev Bay over the last few years. If there were any other incidents, she knew, journalists would have a field day, alleging that the irresponsibility shown by the big bad oil companies was never to be underestimated.
When she finished going through all of the files, she gave a sigh of relief. No other American companies had filed reports of incidents in the past ten years, although there did seem to be an inordinate number of worrisome rumors of flu-like incidents among workers in the Russian companies. But it was impossible to tell. The reports from those companies were not available to her. Good ol’ Putin and his secrecy.
“Dr. Redi, there’s a call for you on line one. It’s Mr. Sundback.”
Angela thanked her assistant.
“Hi, Stan, how are you?” she said smoothly to her boss.
She had a good relationship with him and she admired the sensitivity and kindness with which he treated her and all of the employees. When he first hired her a year ago, he told her that he was proud that Riesigoil had fewer injuries and fatalities than any other oil and gas company of similar size, and he made sure that she understood that he would always follow through on any recommendation that her office deemed important.
“I had a really bad experience when I was in your shoes at another company, you see,” he said.
She saw grim lines of sadness around his mouth and eyes as he spoke.
“You worked as a VP of Safety as well?” she asked, suddenly seeing him in a new light. Many CEO’s were just business people who often didn’t know that much about the industry they were running. Sure, they learned, but they weren’t necessarily promoted from within the system.
“I did. At British Petroleum, or Beyond Petroleum, as they call it now. Unfortunately, my superiors were not at all interested in what I had to say.”
Then he told her about the worst experience he had had. He had presented multiple reports to his boss with serious concerns about numerous incidents the Deepwater Horizon had incurred prior to the explosion, but they had largely been ignored.
“We were five weeks behind schedule because so many things had gone wrong already. Did you know that in 2008 the entire platform tilted to one side and began to sink and we had to evacuate 77 people?”
Angela had read the extensive reports on the findings of the disaster, but she listened quietly to his story.
“And many of the engineers had concerns even a year before the explosion because of the quality of the metal casing that they wanted to use for the well. They said it could collapse under high pressure and I dutifully pointed this out, but my reports were pushed aside. And as a result people died and were seriously injured. BP, of course, sued Transocean and a few other companies, to deflect blame.”
“And what happened to you, if I may be so bold?”
“I was ‘advised’ to leave shortly after the disaster. It allowed BP to show that they were taking ‘serious action to address the terrible disaster.’ I didn’t mind though. I couldn’t continue working for a company like that,” said Stan, shaking his head. “Then Riesigoil hired me and it’s been a great company to work for.”
Angela had felt confident about taking the position after this conversation. Now, as she sat in her own office listening to Stan, she pressed the phone more tightly against her ear as she focused on Stan’s words.
“I gotta tell ya,” he said, diving to the heart of the matter as he always did. “The shareholders are putting a lot of pressure on us. I had a long talk with Dennis Perey, the Chairman. He said that they want results soon or they’ll be pulling out and selling their stock. If several of the big ones sell, Angela, it will be bad. Riesigoil could sank pretty quickly.”
Angela clenched her teeth in frustration. “But surely they understand that we can’t send people back up there to drill until we know more about the virus? It’s not just Riesigoil—any company would protect its workers. Can’t they see that?”
She remembered how distraught he had been when the Arctic incident had occurred in early May. He told her that he had hardly been able to sleep as the reports of the calamity had arrived. And he had quickly authorized the closing down of the barracks, against the wishes of the board, as well as generous funding for immediate research into the nature of the virus.
“I know,” said Stan, letting his breath blow through his lips noisily. “But it seems that the situation has gotten more complicated in the past few weeks. Apparently Glassuroil, the other company that has land holdings close to ours, has declared that it will be drilling in the Arctic starting next week. They finished all of the initial investigations that we were still working on. Then they went on to complete an exploratory well in record time and now Glassuroil plans to sink a permanent well in the next few weeks. So the shareholders are afraid that they will tap into a big reservoir before Riesigoil does. I tried to explain to them about the quarantine, but the shareholders are having none of it.”
Angela fidgeted in her chair and began running her finger over the edge of her desk. It was a nervous habit. “Stan, I know I don’t need to remind you that seven people perished up there. Seven out of a group of fifteen. Three others are still in intensive care, though, thankfully, it looks like they will pull through. But it’s abundantly clear that we shouldn’t send any workers back to that area before we get a better handle on what’s going on. I mean, what if drilling begins and more people get sick? I just don’t see how we could do that.”
“You’re preaching to the choir here, Angela. I totally hear you. The problem is that there is an awful lot of money invested in this venture. A staggering amount of money. And time’s a wastin’. If we don’t get at least a few more exploratory wells dug before September, we’ll lose another nine months as the winter sets in and closes up the Arctic till next year.”