Deep Storm (3 page)

But how, exactly, was he going to do that? AmShale had paid a great deal of money to get him here. The helicopter had already left. He was having trouble deciding between two research projects at the moment. And besides, he had never been one to turn down a challenge, especially one as mysterious as this.

He picked up the pen and, without giving himself time to reconsider, signed all the documents.

Thank you, Lassiter said. He started the recorder again. Let the transcript show that Dr. Crane has signed the requisite forms. Then, snapping off the recorder, he stood. If youll follow me, Doctor, I think youll get your answers.

He led the way out of the office through a labyrinthine administrative area, up an elevator, and into a well-furnished library stocked with books, magazines, and computer workstations. Lassiter gestured toward a table on the far side of the room, which held only a computer monitor. Ill come back for you, he said, then turned and left the room.

Crane sat where directed. There was nobody else in the library, and he was beginning to wonder what would happen next when the computer screen winked on in front of him. It showed the face of a gray-haired, deeply tanned man in his late sixties. Some kind of introductory video, Crane thought. But when the face smiled directly at him, he realized he wasnt looking at a computer monitor, but rather a closed-circuit television screen with a tiny camera embedded in its upper frame.

Hello, Dr. Crane, the man said. He smiled, his kindly face breaking into a host of creases. My name is Howard Asher.

Pleased to meet you, Crane told the screen.

Im the chief scientist of the National Oceanic Agency. Have you heard of it?

Isnt that the ocean-management arm of the National Oceanographic Division?

Thats correct.

Im a little confused, Dr. Asher its Doctor, right?

Right. But call me Howard.

Howard. What does the NOA have to do with an oil rig? And wheres Mr. Simon, the person who I spoke with on the phone? The one who arranged all this? He said hed be here to meet me.

Actually, Dr. Crane, there is no Mr. Simon. But Im here, and Ill be happy to explain what I can.

Crane frowned. I was told there were medical issues with the divers maintaining the rigs underwater equipment. Was that a deception, too?

Only in part. There has been a lot of deception, and for that Im sorry. But it was necessary. We had to be sure. You see, secrecy is absolutely critical to this project. Because what we have here, Peter may I call you Peter? is the scientific and historical discovery of the century.

The century? Crane repeated, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

Youre right to be skeptical. But this is no deception. Its the last thing from it. Still, discovery of the century may not be quite accurate.

I didnt think so, Crane replied.

I should have called it the greatest discovery of all time.

Chapter 2

Crane stared at the image on the screen. Dr. Asher was smiling back at him in a friendly, almost paternal way. But there was nothing in the smile that suggested a joke.

I couldnt tell you the truth until you were physically here. And until youd been fully vetted. We used your travel time to complete that process. Fact is, theres much I cant tell you, even now.

Crane looked over his shoulder. The library was empty. Why? Isnt this line secure?

Oh, its secure. But we need to know youre fully committed to the project first.

Crane waited, saying nothing.

What little I can tell you is nevertheless highly secret. Even if you decline our offer, you will still be bound by all the confidentiality agreements you signed.

I understand, Crane said.

Very well. Asher hesitated. Peter, the platform youre on right now is suspended over something more than an oil field. Something much more.

Whats that? Crane asked automatically.

Asher smiled mysteriously. Suffice to say the well drillers discovered something nearly two years ago. Something so fantastic that, overnight, the platform stopped pumping oil and took on a new and highly secret role.

Let me guess. You cant tell me what it is.

Asher laughed. No, not yet. But its such an important discovery the government is, quite literally, sparing no expense to reclaim it.

Reclaim?

Its buried in the sea bed directly below this platform. Remember I called this the discovery of all time? Whats going on here is, in essence, a dig: an archaeological dig like none other. And we are, quite literally, making history.

But why all the secrecy?

Because if people caught wind of what weve found, it would instantly become front-page news on every paper in the world. In hours, the place would be a disaster area. Half a dozen governments, all claiming sovereignty, journalists, rubberneckers. The discovery is simply too critical to be jeopardized that way.

Crane leaned back in his chair, considering. The entire trip was becoming almost surreal. The rushed flight plans, the oil platform that wasnt a platform, the secrecyand now this face in a box, speaking of an unimaginably important discovery.

Call me old-fashioned, he said, but Id feel a lot better if youd take the time to see me in person, talk face-to-face.

Unfortunately, Peter, its not that easy. Commit to the project, though, and youll see me soon enough.

I dont understand. Why, exactly, is it so difficult?

Asher chuckled again. Because at the moment, Im several thousand feet beneath you.

Crane stared at the screen. You mean

Precisely. The Storm King oil platform is just the support structure, the resupply station. The real action is far below. Thats why Im speaking to you over this video feed.

Crane digested this a moment. Whats down there? he asked quietly.

Imagine a huge research station, twelve levels high, full of equipment and technology beyond cutting edge, placed on the ocean floor. Thats the ERF the heart and soul of the most extraordinary archaeological effort of all time.

The ERF?

Exploratory and Recovery Facility. But we refer to it simply as the Facility. The military you know how fond they are of buzzwords have labeled it Deep Storm.

I noticed the military presence. Why are the soldiers necessary?

I could tell you its because the Facility is government property; because the NOA is a branch of the government. And thats true. But the real reason is because a lot of the technology were using in the recovery project is classified.

What about those men I saw topside, working on the rig?

Window dressing, for the most part. We do have to look like a functioning oil platform, after all.

And AmShale?

Theyve been paid exceptionally well to lease us the rig, act as front office, and ask no questions.

Crane shifted in his chair. This Facility you mention. Thats where Id be quartered?

Yes. Its where all the marine scientists and engineers live and work. I know how much time youve spent in submerged environments, Peter, and I think youll be pleasantly surprised. Actually, amazed is more like it. Youve got to see the place to believe it the Facility is a miracle of undersea technology.

But why is it necessary? Working from the bottom of the sea, I mean. Why cant you run the operation from the surface?

The, ah, remains are buried too deep for most submersibles. Besides, submersible yield per dive is abysmally low. Trust me once youre fully briefed, it will all make sense.

Crane nodded slowly. I guess that leaves just one question. Why me?

Please, Dr. Crane. Youre too modest. Youre ex-military, youve served aboard stealth submarines and carriers. You know what its like to live in confined spaces, under pressure. And I mean that both literally and figuratively.

Hes done his research, Crane thought.

You graduated second in your class from the Mayo Medical School. And due to your stint in the Navy, youre a medical doctor who has among other things familiarity with the disorders of divers and other seagoing workers.

So there is a medical problem.

Of course. The installation was completed two months ago, and the reclamation project is fully under way. However, in the last couple of weeks, several of the inhabitants of Deep Storm have been manifesting unusual symptoms.

Caisson disease? Nitrogen narcosis?

More the former than the latter. But lets just say you are uniquely qualified both as a doctor and as a former officer to treat the affliction.

And my tour of duty?

Your tour of duty will be, in effect, as long as it takes to diagnose and treat the problem. My best guess is youll be with us for two to three weeks. But even if you were to effect a miracle cure, youd still be at the Facility a minimum of six days. Not to go into details, but because of the tremendous atmospheric pressure at this depth weve developed a unique acclimatization process. The upside is that it allows people to operate at depth with significantly greater ease than in the past. The downside is that the process for entering or leaving the station is quite lengthy. And, as you can imagine, it cant be rushed.

I can imagine. Crane had seen more than his share of fatal cases of decompression sickness.

Thats all there is, actually. Except of course to remind you again that, even if you decide against the assignment, you are under a strict code of secrecy never to mention your visit here or to reveal what has passed between us.

Crane nodded. He knew Asher had to be evasive. Still, the lack of information was irritating. Here he was, being asked to give up several weeks of his life for an assignment he knew next to nothing about.

And yet he had no ties preventing him from spending a few weeks on Deep Storm. He was recently divorced, without kids, and at present trying to decide between two research positions. No doubt Asher knew this, too.

An unimaginably important discovery. Despite the secrecy or perhaps because of it Crane felt his heart accelerating at the mere thought of being part of such an adventure. And he realized that, without even being aware of it, hed already reached a decision.

Asher smiled again. Well, then, he said, if there are no more questions, Ill terminate the video feed and give you some time to think it over.

That wont be necessary, Crane replied. I dont need to think over history being made. Just point me in the right direction.

At this, Ashers smile grew broader. That direction would be down, Peter. Straight down.

Chapter 3

Peter Crane had spent almost four years of his life inside submarines, but this was the first time hed ever had a window seat.

Hed killed several hours on the Storm King platform, first submitting to lengthy physical and psychological examinations, then hanging about the library, waiting for concealing darkness to fall. At last he was escorted to a special staging platform beneath the rig, where a Navy bathyscaphe awaited, tethered to a concrete footing. The sea heaved treacherously against the footing, and the gangplank leading to the bathyscaphes access hatch had redundant guide ropes. Crane crossed over to the tiny conning tower. From there, he climbed down a metal ladder, slick with condensation, past the pressure hatch, through the float chamber, and into a cramped pressure sphere, where a very young officer was already at the controls.

Take any seat, Dr. Crane, the man said.

Far above, a hatch clanged shut, then another, the sound reverberating dully through the submersible.