by Chris Ryan
'I spoke to them last night,' said Hex. 'In person, not a machine.' He patted his mobile phone on his belt. 'As soon as the call comes, we'll know. They said they were waiting for supplies.'
Li let out a long sigh. 'Surely there must be something we can do now.'
Hex shook his head. 'They said no one's to enter the water until the equipment's here. Otherwise we run the risk of spreading the oil further. Plus the tanker's unstable and might explode if any air has got in with the oil.'
Paulo winced. 'Nasty.'
Amber frowned. 'Surely it's seawater in there, if anything?'
'No,' said Hex. 'Not all the tanker's underwater. The containers that aren't might have been holed. It's probably just a precaution.'
'So we just wait?' said Amber.
'Yeah,' said Hex. 'We just wait.'
Alex moved towards the veranda doors. 'I've done enough waiting. Does anyone feel up to some studying? There's lots of diving stuff we could revise.'
Amber thought that whoever had tried to make the dive centre library look like part of an old ship had not realized that most of the walls would be covered in books. Not old leather-bound gold-lettered books either; the diving textbooks were full of modern typefaces and clashing colours. Danny kept the place well stocked with the latest publications.
As the five teenagers sat at the big table, surrounded by books, their sense of time dragging disappeared. Training always put them in a positive frame of mind. It was storing up tools that could be useful for some mission in the future, something that would let them do their job better – or even save their lives or the lives of others. They took training very seriously. For a while they almost forgot about the ruined landscape outside.
Hex kept consulting his palmtop, a state-of-the-art computer that was his pride and joy. He carried it everywhere with him in a belt-mounted pouch. His one complaint about doing so much diving was that he had to leave it behind. But he had managed to put it to good use the previous day, taking notes from an in-depth lecture that Danny had given them on 'the bends', or decompression sickness. If they dived deeper than thirty metres, the weight of the water forced nitrogen from the air they were breathing to dissolve in their blood and joints. They had to be very careful how long they stayed down – and how fast they surfaced – or the dissolved nitrogen would fizz up in their bloodstreams like the gases in a can of drink. The bubbles might burst blood vessels, rupture lungs or even damage nerves. The deeper they dived, the higher the risk. There was a lot of theory to learn before they could dive safely at these depths, and a lot of maths to practise.
Paulo had found a stack of videotapes. 'We ought to look at one of these.' He read off the titles. 'Nitrogen Narcosis: The Facts; Diving Physiology—'
'We've done those,' chorused Amber and Li.
'How about Psychological Preparation for Diving?'
'Done that too,' said Alex.
Hex interrupted as something caught his eye in the book he had in front of him. 'Did you know,' he said, 'that decompression sickness was first observed by Robert Boyle in the seventeenth century? He put a viper in a vessel and increased the pressure—' He put his hand up like a policeman stopping traffic. 'Don't ask me how because it doesn't say. After decreasing the pressure he noticed that a bubble formed in the eye of the snake, and it was writhing in pain.'
Li thought that Hex had a certain air of satisfaction when he closed the book. 'That's disgusting,' she said. 'I hope the viper bit him.'
Alex blew his cheeks out. 'I thought all Boyle ever did was write boring old Boyle's Law.'
'Hey, guys,' said Amber. 'This is so weird. We could all be at my school in study period.' She glanced at Hex. 'Except for you. They wouldn't let you in my school.'
'I wouldn't want to come to your school,' rejoined Hex. 'It's just for rich American girls.'
'I think I'd like it there,' said Paulo.
'Oh, listen to him,' said Li. 'Mister heartbreaker. If you set foot in a girls' school they'd have you for breakfast.'
Paulo gave her a smouldering look. 'They can have me anytime.' Li picked up her notes and rapped them down on his tanned hand.
'What's your place like, Alex?' Amber asked.
'Oh – so-so,' said Alex. 'Just your usual kind of college. Near the moors. That's what I like about it.'
Paulo read out another title. 'Gas Mixes. No, we've done that too. Cliff Diving Championships 2004.' That one took the wind out of his sails.
'Cliff Diving Championships 2004?' Alex repeated.
Paulo looked at the video. It wasn't commercially produced; the label was handwritten in biro. He handed it over to Alex, who was next to the combined TV/video unit, and Alex slotted it into the machine and switched it on. They leaned forward to watch.
The tape started abruptly, panning around a crowd, showing mostly the backs of their heads. The colours were harsh and bright and the sound was hissy but there was the unmistakable air of anticipation, like an audience waiting for a concert. Only they weren't looking at a stage. They were looking at a jagged outline of cliff, about thirty metres up. The camera panned around and showed a rocky headland surrounded by dark blue water. Perched on a lower rock, about halfway up the main cliff, were three figures with score cards. The judges.
A figure appeared on the summit of the cliff, his dark limbs rippling with muscle, looking all the more striking in red trunks. A rustle of expectation went around the crowd and the video zoomed in.
'It's Danny,' said Alex.
Danny's face was lost in concentration, hardly registering the spectators below. Not a muscle in his body moved and gradually his stillness hushed the crowd. He took a step forwards and sprang into the air, twisting like a cat, then tumbling into one back somersault, then another. The camera followed him down, the cliff behind him a blur. Even after doing all that he still had time to straighten up and hit the water feet first.
The camera focused on the water where he had gone in, the crowd now utterly silent. Then Danny burst to the surface, arms held high in triumph and the audience went wild.
Amber was the first to find her voice. 'Wow,' was all she could manage.
Paulo said, 'He must have hit that water at about a hundred k per hour. How could anyone do that and survive?'
The judges on their rock held up a row of numbers. Danny had scored three perfect tens.
'Well, that explains what all the trophies in the bar are,' said Alex.
On the screen, Danny had disappeared behind a group of fans, who were all trying to hug him as he got out of the pool.
'And this guy's our technical diving teacher?' said Amber. 'We are not worthy.'
On the screen, the fans' adulation of Danny continued. 'I feel like hugging him too,' said Li.
Paulo gave her a sidelong glance. 'I wonder how I can learn to dive like that.'
'I don't think I'd fancy the little trunks,' said Alex.
Another contestant was ready on the cliff top. Again the crowd whistled and cheered a greeting, then fell silent. The diver leaped into the air, his arms stretched out wide, then he tucked all his limbs in and performed a double somersault.
They could see what was going to happen. He hadn't timed it right. The five friends gasped as he hit the water at an angle. The dark pool swallowed him and bounced him up; they caught a glimpse of a limp figure sprawling on the surface and heard a shriek from the crowd, then Danny's face was close to the camera, pulling his finger across his throat. Cut, he mouthed. The picture went to snowy silence.
Alex clicked the video off and ejected the tape.
'Ouch,' said Hex.
'That would be like hitting concrete,' said Paulo.
Hex's phone suddenly vibrated on his waistband. He whipped it out. 'Hi, Danny.' He listened and nodded, then said, 'OK,' and cut the connection.
'Are we off?' said Alex.
Hex stood up and started to tidy the books. 'We need to get full-length wetsuits and dive boots,' he said. 'Danny's teaching at Stormy Point and wants us to me
et him there.'
Stormy Point was a collection of jagged rocks at the corner of the bay. Now the five friends saw it in a new light, as a series of natural diving platforms. Danny, in cut-off shorts and Nike T-shirt, was sitting at the bottom on a plateau overlooking a pool of deep water, his long, lean frame folded up in a cross-legged position. A small, muscular guy was climbing up to one of the outcrops. The pool was purpose-built, cemented off from the sea, its water pale blue like a swimming pool. It was clean and clear, as the sea had been before the oil put sinister rainbows on its surface.
Danny waved to the five friends as they approached across the veranda. They were wearing their wetsuits, unzipped to the waist because of the heat.
'The clean-up guys are on their way by helicopter,' said Danny. 'Of course, they would have to be late. We didn't start the lesson because we thought they were going to show up earlier. This is Carl, by the way.'
The figure climbing up to one of the outcrops turned and waved, then resumed his climb. He was blond and tanned; Alpha Force recognized him as one of the guests in the bar the previous night.
Danny called up to him. 'No, not off that one. The same one as before.'
Carl called back. 'But I've done that one.'
'Do it again,' called Danny. 'It's six metres, plenty high enough.'
'But I can do twenty metres.'
'Get six metres right before you go any higher,' Danny replied.
Carl came down to the six-metre platform. Having seen the master at work, Alpha Force watched with keen interest. In the distance, the familiar beat of a helicopter sounded. They all looked up and saw the red shape and its steady flashing lights, one at the front and one on the tail. But it was still a long way away.
Carl went to the edge, looked down, took a deep breath, leaped out and made his body stiff and straight like a soldier standing to attention. Moments later he splashed into the pool feet first, then surfaced, spitting out water.
'Rubbish,' said Danny. 'You did it again. Keep your legs together.'
Carl heaved himself out and stomped back up.
Paulo was looking towards the helicopter. It bore a red insignia. 'That's ArBonCo,' he said. 'Should only be a couple of minutes.'
Carl whizzed down into the water again.
'Awful,' called Danny as he came up. Carl glared at him.
Li felt for Carl. 'Sometimes it's hard to master a new move,' she said. She had to raise her voice a little; the helicopter was definitely drawing closer.
Danny nodded. 'This is much harder than it looks. Carl's actually quite good. He's been taking lessons for a while. But he lets the wave pull his legs apart. If he did that at twenty metres he'd be torn in half.'
'We saw your video,' shouted Amber. 'Very impressive.'
Danny leaned over and shouted his reply over the noise of the helicopter. 'Then you saw what happened after my dive. That guy didn't walk for five months.'
Carl dived again. This time Danny gave him a thumbs-up as he surfaced. 'Nearly.' As the helicopter descended down onto the road behind the dive centre, he pointed up to the six-metre platform again.
Danny could see that the five members of Alpha Force were fascinated by the cliff diving. He beckoned to them. They put their heads close to him so they could hear what he had to say over the noise. 'Don't – you – try – this,' he shouted slowly and emphatically. 'Here' – he pointed to the pool – 'it's easy. I built it. If you jump into a rock pool out in the bay it might not be deep enough or there could be rocks you can't see.' He gestured at the sea with its shimmering oily surface. 'Especially now.' They all nodded but Danny continued to look at them earnestly. 'I've seen divers killed,' he emphasized. The helicopter lifted off again and headed for the hills.
Carl dived again and surfaced. This time Danny was clearly pleased. Two thumbs-ups.
A man in red ArBonCo Oil overalls was walking briskly down the beach towards them. By the time he reached them the heli had gone far enough away so they could talk in normal voices again. He went up to Danny. 'Sorry I'm late. Mr Martino?'
Danny nodded.
'You've got the jet skis?'
Danny gestured towards the jetty. 'They're ready and waiting in the boat.'
The man looked at Alpha Force. 'And you're the volunteers? Let me explain what you need to do.'
4
DAMAGE CONTROL
Danny steered the Fathom Sprinter out of the bay. She was white like her sister Fathom Sprite, but bigger and more powerful, with enough room for a dozen divers in full kit. On the back was a winch and in place of the central bench stood three jet skis like a row of sea-going motorbikes. Carl had come along too, orange shorts over his black swimming trunks and flip-flops on his feet.
They were heading for two tugboats bearing the red and white ArBonCo logo, anchored about 500 metres away from the shore. Two more boats bearing the logos of other dive centres were also heading that way, also with jet skis on the back.
Li touched Paulo's arm. She was looking back at the headland where the tanker lay. Its deck rose like a gentle ramp out of the water, red with anti-rust paint. She shook her head slowly. 'What's that done to the coral reef?'
Paulo had a question of his own. 'I wonder why it went down at the stern?' he asked. 'I would have expected it to go down at the bow, where it crashed.'
Danny was holding a pair of binoculars in one hand, looking through them at the tanker. 'It's deep there but there are rocks near the surface. Easy to get holed. I checked it out as a dive site because that headland's about twenty-five metres high.'
'Anything to see?' said Alex.
Danny lowered the binoculars. His brown eyes squinted into the sun. 'I'm looking for white streaks where that thing wrecked my boat.' He saw several faces look at him with acute embarrassment and clapped Alex on the back. 'I'm not going to let you forget that in a hurry,' he grinned. He handed Alex the tiller. 'Here, look after this while I put my gear on.'
Alex gulped. 'Are you sure?' But Danny hadn't heard. The others relaxed. Alex decided they must be forgiven. Still, he made sure to be very, very careful.
Paulo's jet ski was first off the Fathom Sprinter and the moment the hull touched the water, he gunned the throttle. On the back, Li gasped and grabbed his waist as they streaked away at its top speed of 60 kph. She wasn't completely taken by surprise because she knew he'd do that. Paulo loved any machine, particularly ones you could sit on – or in.
Back by the ArBonCo tugs, the other boats were unloading the rest of the jet skis – two more from the Sprinter and two groups from the other dive schools. All the riders were dressed from head to toe in neoprene dive gear: hoods, full-length suits, gloves and boots, to protect their skin from oil splashes. In the Fathom Sprinter, Carl, still in his shorts and flip-flops, winched the crane back in.
Paulo steered back towards the group and cut the engine so it idled. Amber and Hex were on another jet ski, with Alex and Danny on the third. In the tugs were enormous coils of pink and yellow foam, like swiss rolls. The tugs manoeuvred so that they were facing in opposite sections, like two people about to fight a duel, then started to move apart. As they did so, a figure in the back of each tug started to unroll the lengths of foam and feed them into the water. These would form long absorbent barriers – sorbent booms – to stop the oil spreading.
Soon, two long lengths of absorbent foam were drifting in the water, attached to the boats like long tails, one pink, one yellow.
Now for the tricky bit. The teams on the jet skis had to position the barriers. The booms were 100 metres long and if they didn't guide them, they would drift, either to where the water was rougher or inwards towards the oily mess. Either way, instead of containing the oil they would spread it out even further.
The Fathoms Dive Centre jet skis took the pink half of the boom. The other two dive schools went for the yellow one.
Paulo led the way. He took the jet ski two thirds of the way along the boom, then stopped. Behind him, Li leaned over, picked it up out of
the water, hoisted it over Paulo's shoulder and grasped it firmly under her arm. Acting smoothly as a team, Hex and Amber, Alex and Danny also moved into position and did the same until they were all carrying the boom behind the moving tug like a giant worm.
It was harder than it looked, thought Alex, at the back. The boom was slippery because of the oil and awkward to hold. His arm could barely reach around it. He could see why you needed a passenger on the back whose sole job was to hold it. They were like ants trying to pick up a huge stick of candy – candy that smelled of sulphur and fumes. Then he glanced across at the other tug and realized they weren't doing too badly at all.
The other team of jet skis was in chaos. Instead of spreading out they were all trying to pick up the boom at the same point. Alex couldn't believe how disorganized they were. As he watched, one of them tried to copy what Alpha Force were doing and put the boom over the shoulder of the driver in front. But he didn't warn him and the next minute the jet ski toppled them both into the water. For a moment Alex wondered how they could create such a shambles. Then he caught himself. Not everyone knew how to pull together as a team. Alpha Force had been together for so long now that they took their teamwork for granted.