CHAPTER 21
“Fascinating… yes, Stan, I believe this is exactly what we need. Now you can go ahead and open up drilling again,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
“But, we’re still not sure if that is enough of a protection,” said Stan, suddenly realizing that perhaps sharing this information had been a bad idea.
“You’ve confirmed that everyone from the barracks that survived Laptevgate had that cat infection. That’s what the blood tests revealed. And the testing at the university is showing that having the cat infection gave the mice immunity to the virus as well. Am I right?” said the voice in a reasonable manner.
“Yes, but her notes say that the data is preliminary. I was just informing you so you could be aware that progress is being made.”
“And so it is, Stan, so it is. Those university scientists, and scientists in general, they always take a long time to reveal their results. They can know something for years and not come out and say it outright. They always want to do ten million more tests, and write only little parts of it up in papers, so they can get a lot of fame. I know. My father was a scientist. My brother-in-law is a scientist. They’ve both told me all about how those types work. But we’re not that way. We’re businessmen. We get things done. Now that we have the answers, it’s time to open up the drilling area in Laptev Bay. Effective immediately.” There was a more steely tone to the voice now, but Stan was used to it. Shareholders were not known for their interpersonal skills.
“I hear you, Dennis, but I’m still somewhat concerned. What if some of the people we send up there don’t have that cat infection?”
The line was silent for enough time for Stan to become nervous. Finally he heard Dennis take a long breath through his nose.
“Tell you what. Only send people with the cat infection out to drill. Get them all those military grade gas masks. If everyone uses proper procedure when they are out on the ice, and they all detox thoroughly before they enter the camp, no one else should be affected.”
Stan sighed. He was beginning to regret having informed the Chairman of the Board about the information he had found on the server in Angela’s folder. Technically the folder was password protected, but as CEO, he had access to all the documents and even though she communicated frequently with him, he had continued to monitor all of her notes carefully. This operation was too important.
“I don’t know. I would feel awful if we lost any more people out there. And it would be terrible PR for Riesigoil.”
“For Chrissake, Stan, we’ve been abundantly cautious, and we hired the best scientists to do the research. Now we’ve got the data. I just don’t see any need to delay any further.”
Stan thought about Dennis’s words. It was an arduous decision because in his heart of hearts he suspected that he was making a mistake, but his logical side could find no reasonable argument to explain his misgivings. He let out a long breath. “All right, sure,” he said, “I’ll give the order now.”
“Oh, and Stan?”
Stan hesitated for a second. He could guess what Dennis was about to say.
“No need to share this decision with anyone, if you get what I mean. We can do this quietly. Much better that way.”
“You mean Angela?”
“Yeah. Especially her. My understanding is that she still hasn’t recommended that the site be re-opened, right? But, she’s in Houston, and they’re thousands of miles north. What she doesn’t know, well, it won’t hurt her now, will it?”
“When she finds out, she’s going to be pissed,” muttered Stan.
“Not that it matters what she thinks.”
Stan said nothing.
“Why, Stan, correct me if I’m wrong here, but I would say that it almost sounds as if you’re holding back on us. If I didn’t know better I’d wonder… but, no, I get it,” he said and chuckled lightly. “I get it. You’re probably just tired. Stressful job. That’s fine. Don’t you worry. If she makes any problems, why then, it’s a free world, isn’t it? She can find herself another job, right? We’ve got sturdy non-disclosure agreements with all of the VP’s, so that shouldn’t be an issue either.”
“Right,” said Stan. He still felt like it was a mistake, but he also understood as well as the board did that there was an urgent need to get back on the saddle if Riesigoil was to stay competitive.
After he hung up, Stan immediately gave the authorization to open up the drilling site, and then he turned away from the screen and looked out the window. A summer storm had blown in and the rain was peeling off from the clouds in large steel colored sheets. He stared listlessly as the missile drops streaked the window panes. All he could think about was the phone conversation he had just had. Had he made a mistake in opening up the site again?
His eyes followed the heavy rain downward and he saw that the Houston streets were becoming torrential rivers. All that water, flowing swiftly and loudly to the ocean. The ocean. Suddenly he had a flashback of the Deepwater Horizon. The platform was engulfed in flames and spewing great black clouds of smoke as tiny boats sprayed large arcs of water onto it. He had watched the video multiple times, vowing that he would never forget the lives of those people who had perished in the middle of the ocean.
The truth was that he still felt guilty. As VP of Health, Safety and Environment he should have insisted that the management halt the operations until all of the safety issues had been resolved. There had been so many problems.
But each day of delay was costing the company millions of dollars, as the board had reminded him every time he broached the subject.
The storm continued to rage and Stan turned back to his desk. He felt quite cold. Cold. Certainly not as cold as it had been in Arctic five weeks ago when the virus had struck and all those people had perished in the barracks. Seven lives had been taken, also technically under his watch.
He turned back toward the computer screen, having decided that it had been an unfortunate decision to listen to Dennis. He never should have given the order to reopen the drilling.
Suddenly his cell phone buzzed again, startling him. It was Dennis again.
“Have you given the order to reopen up the drilling site?” he asked.
“Yes, but I’m thinking that…”
“Oh thank God,” said Dennis, brusquely cutting Stan off. “We just got confirmation from our secret operative in Siberia that Glassuroil has completed their well and they are now pumping. If we don’t move quickly they’re going to drain the basin. And if any of the other shareholders had gotten wind of this and you still hadn’t opened up the site, they would have bailed really fast. Man, am I ever glad you listened to me.”
Stan hung up and ran his hand through his hair. Glassuroil was doing fine. They were up in the same area and there was nothing happening to their workers. And now Riesigoil knew what precautions to take. It would not be a repeat of the situation in May or of Deepwater. This was different. He was over reacting. Working too hard.
“You work too hard,” his wife had complained bitterly. Incessantly. Then one day she had taken the kids and moved back to New York. Just like that.
Stan closed his eyes. He hated to remember his separation, but it must have been something about the rain that was bringing back the memory. It had also been raining fiercely on the day she had left him, nearly five years ago. Just before the Deepwater Horizon had caught fire. First his personal life had gone up in flames, followed by his professional life.
After leaving BP, he had accepted the job at Riesigoil, a company with an excellent safety track record. He had thrown himself into his work, and within two years they had promoted him to CEO.