Sea of Greed

Knowing that Misty and Redfish would be safe, Kurt and Joe said their good-byes. Misty gave Joe one more bone-crunching hug and then let him get into the car.

“You come back, if you want to,” Redfish said. “But no funny business.”

Joe promised and then climbed into the car. “Home, James,” he said to Kurt.

“Only if home is Hamilton, Bermuda.”

19

NUMA VESSEL RALEIGH

, ON STATION IN THE GULF OF MEXICO

PAUL TROUT found himself thankful that the Raleigh carried several ROVs. He’d been underwater in plenty of NUMA’s submersibles. Not one of them had enough head- or legroom for him. He was much more comfortable sitting in the air-conditioned confines of OSLO.

Gamay sat beside him. “Take a sediment sample outside the impact zone for a baseline. We can take a few more as we get closer to ground zero.”

Paul did as requested, directing the ROV to hover over the bottom, where it extended a tube into the silt and vacuumed up a small quantity.

“Sample one secured,” he said.

Sitting behind Paul and Gamay, the FEMA observer yawned. “What’s the point of all this?”

To make you believe we’re doing something other than what we’re doing, Paul thought.

Gamay offered a better answer. “Sediment samples will allow us to test the damage to the aquatic ecosystem more accurately than water samples.” She spoke in her most cheery scientific voice. “For example, certain types of microbes that are abundant in the water might be settling down into the sediment with significantly affected genetic structures. You could see DNA intersplicing errors, mutations. And, of course, any contamination in the aquatic microbe community affects the fish and then the larger predators, including humans. Best way to search for a problem is starting at the bottom of the food chain.”

Reynolds looked at them blankly. “But there’s nothing living down there,” he said. “It’s all inert mud.”

“That’s exactly why we have to check it,” Gamay insisted.

“How many samples do you think we’ll need?” Paul asked.

“At least a hundred, spread out over various parts of the disaster zone,” Gamay said.

“That could take hours,” Reynolds said.

“Five or six at least,” Gamay added, laying it on as thick as she could.

That was enough for Reynolds. He stood up. “Well, I have to report in anyway. I’ll check back with you in a few hours. When you’re halfway done… Good luck with all this.”

He gathered up a few belongings and left.

With the door shut tight, Paul looked over at Gamay. “Think he’ll be back?”

“Not unless someone forces him,” Gamay said. “Looked like he might physically die of boredom if he had to watch us for six hours.”

“I would, too,” Paul said, “if we really had to get a hundred samples of barren sediment. Let’s get the fun part done first in case he does come back.”

Gamay turned the 3-D system on and began directing Paul based on the sonar readings. “Head due east. You should find the smallest of the fires about half a mile out.”

Paul guided the ROV on a heading of 090. It took a few minutes to cover the distance, but soon the glow of the nearest fire began to appear on the ROV’s cameras.

“That’s smaller and less intense than it was this morning,” Paul said. “Whatever gas is causing this must be dwindling.”

“That’s good and bad,” Gamay said. “Let’s get our samples before the candle burns out.”

Paul maneuvered the ROV into position.

“If you get the probe into the broken pipe, you can capture the gas before it ignites,” Gamay suggested.

“That’s the plan,” Paul said. He directed the ROV right down onto the pipe itself. The fire burned only sixteen inches from the camera.

“Be careful,” Gamay said. “That fire is over a thousand degrees.”

Paul nodded, held the ROV steady and extended the probe. The interior of the probe was lined with tempered glass, the exterior was made of titanium. The chamber they would suck the gas into was currently vacuum-sealed, containing no air, water or other contaminants that the gas might react with.

Once Paul had the probe in place, he would break the seal and the volatile, hydrophoric gas would be sucked into the chamber and held in its inert form.

“Let’s hope this works,” Paul said. The probe inched forward, banging against both sides of the broken pipe.

“Careful,” Gamay said.

“I’m being careful,” he replied.

Finally, the probe was in the pipeline.

“Here goes nothing,” Paul said. He pressed a button and broke the vacuum seal. A liter of gas was sucked in through the probe and stored, with the system automatically resealing itself once the container pressure rose to a certain level.

“We have it,” Paul said. “And without blowing ourselves up.”

“All right, now get out of there.”

Paul retracted the probe, pulled the ROV back and turned it away from the fire. He’d come through one hundred and eighty degrees and was moving the ROV away when the door to the OSLO opened and Reynolds popped his head back in.

Gamay acted quickly, flicking off the holographic display.