by Rob Sangster
The muzzle that had been swinging from one to another of them stopped on Gano. “I don’t know much about guns,” Christos said, “but at this distance I can’t miss. Please take that gun out of your belt with two fingers, set it on the deck, and slide it to me with your boot.”
Jack watched Gano figure the odds. He was such a risk-taker, it sometimes led to bad judgment. But he wasn’t even slightly suicidal, so he did as ordered.
“Now the rest of you,” Christos said in an almost inaudible voice.
“Give your Desert Eagle to me,” Barbas said to Christos. “I’ll cover them while you pick up their guns and put them in the wall safe.” Then he examined the Desert Eagle. “Where did you get this beauty, Christos?”
“I know I wasn’t supposed to bring a gun on board, Mr. Barbas,” he said, cringing, “but since you brought me here from Athens, the guards didn’t search me. I don’t trust those men from Astoria, so I keep it in a drawer here in my corner. I hoped you don’t think—”
“Don’t apologize. You just earned a bonus.” He looked at Drake. “We’re not using thrusters or DP motors. If we moved more than a few hundred meters, we’d rip out the pipes that bring up the methane.”
Jack knew that Renatus, too, would refuse to move the platform, because that would also destroy the life forms stored where he had been penetrating the HTV.
Barbas shook his shoulders as if ridding himself of the conflict and leaned toward Renatus.
“Speed up getting the temperature past the critical point in the other three reservoirs.” He had the single-minded intensity of a kamikaze pilot.
Renatus checked a chronometer. “At the increased rate, it will take thirty-four more minutes of targeted heat to pass that temperature.”
According to Renatus, the first reservoir was certain to cause a tsunami. If the three bigger reservoirs did the same, monster waves would overwhelm the American west coast. Hawaii would be inundated. The onslaught could spread to Japan, the Philippines, Indonesia, New Zealand, Australia, even China. Millions of men, women, and children would be sucked out to sea. Economic losses would exceed world wars, plagues, anything in history. Cities would turn into savage battlegrounds for food and clean water.
Jack grabbed Renatus’s scrawny shoulder and shouted, “You can’t do this.”
“Shut up,” Barbas snapped. He kept his gun aimed at Jack but glanced at Renatus’s fingers on his keyboard. He nodded, apparently satisfied that Renatus was complying with his order.
Drake was by the door, Molly standing partially in front of him. Gano had eased onto a stool to one side, right ankle resting on his left knee. Barbas carefully stayed beyond the reach of all of them.
Jack felt every second tick past. He was out of strategies, out of time. He had to get the gun from Barbas, and he’d have to take a bullet to do it. He’d rush Barbas the next time he looked over to check on Renatus. He focused every fiber of his being, ready to go into action as if waiting for the sound of the starter’s shot.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a muzzle flash and heard the pop from the .38 Special snubnose Gano kept in his right ankle holster. Barbas groaned and spun toward Gano, but the slug in his shoulder kept him from aiming the heavy Desert Eagle. Gano pounced on him, jerking the big gun away. He glanced at Drake but handed it to Molly.
“Renatus, get away from that console,” Jack ordered. Renatus didn’t move.
“Get me a doctor, for Christ’s sake,” Barbas growled, gripping his shoulder, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“Stick your thumb in it,” Gano said. “You’re not on our list of priorities.”
“Mr. LeMoyne, I remind you that you would regret shooting me,” Renatus said calmly, not bothering to turn from the keyboard.
“It’s not all or nothing,” Gano said. “I’ve found that a lead slug in the kneecap will convince anyone to do almost anything.”
“Your threats of violence won’t work with me. If I don’t make adjustments at precisely the right times, within a variance of ten seconds, the heat sources will go out of control and guarantee three more full-scale tsunamis. This process is going forward. Do you think it’s better off with my guidance or without?”
“You’re free now,” Jack said. “Barbas can’t force you to destabilize the reservoirs.”
“It’s already too late.” Renatus nodded at Christos. “He saw the readings too. The heat caused the methane hydrate in the first reservoir to decompress explosively. That caused caverns beneath the seabed to collapse and destroy our nearby sensors. An earthquake and tsunami from that are inevitable. I’ve also locked in the accelerated sequence for the other three as Mr. Barbas required. All that’s left is to modulate the heat to try to control the process.”
Already too late. “Cut the heat to all of them.”
“That would be illogical for me to do. You told the people in Astoria we caused the first tsunami. After a second tsunami hits, U.S. authorities will make the connection and come here as fast as they can to terminate my experiments. There’s only one logical way to prevent that from happening.”
With nothing to lose, Renatus was even more dangerous than Barbas. “What is your ‘one logical way’?” Jack asked, careful to keep his voice neutral.
“I’ve switched to one final, very complex pattern for heating the remaining three reservoirs. If that prevents explosive destabilization and they begin to yield methane, the world will support the Chaos Project. The U.S. government will pay for damage along the coast caused by the first reservoir, and I will complete my research. Success is the one logical way out.”
Needing success didn’t make it happen. Claiming that last-minute tinkering would produce a miracle was his desperate ego talking. And what if he was lying? What if it was still possible to stabilize the other three reservoirs? He couldn’t force Renatus, so they were at a stalemate with the clock ticking. That meant he had to find a way to stop it himself.
He had to go down to the main deck and get help from crew members who knew the platform’s mechanical and electrical systems. But the realities down there were fire, hostile deckhands, and Barbas’s guards. He thought of a way he could improve his odds.
He looked at Gano. “Search Barbas, then put him on the floor against that cabinet. Tie his hands behind him with his belt. Molly, get on the platform’s public address system. Explain to the townies what Barbas has done and what will happen if he keeps going. This is where we find out who are Hatfields and who are McCoys on that deck. We have to get most of that crew on our side.”
She nodded, walked a few feet away, and closed her eyes. He heard her taking deep breaths.
“Okay, I’m ready.” She took the mike and clicked it on. “Listen up, guys.” She waited a few seconds. “This is Molly McCoy. Stop what you’re doing and listen, damn it. Your lives depend on believing what I’m about to tell you. Three days ago, Barbas conducted an experiment that went wrong and caused the tsunami that wiped out our waterfront. He’s doing it again right this minute, only this time he may destroy the entire west coast. Think about all the things Barbas has been keeping secret from you. He doesn’t trust you, so you can’t trust him. After the armed foreigners he brought in hear this message, they’ll try to take over the platform. Don’t let them. My friends and I are trying to stop Barbas, but we have no chance unless you keep his guards from killing us. Keep the guards out of Command Central. Your lives and the lives of everyone you love depend on that.”
She sounded like Joan of Arc rallying French soldiers to charge into battle. Jack knew she’d just started a civil war between the townies and the Barbas loyalists.
Chapter 41
July 30
7:45 p.m.
Chaos platform
JACK LOOKED AT Christos cowering in the corner. “Christos, are you ready to die?”
Christos recoiled
. “No, sir.”
“Then set up the communications links. Molly, get out a Mayday. Say a couple of hundred people may go into the water in less than half an hour. Then tell the Astoria police to get everyone to high ground ASAP. I’ll get NOAA and the Coast Guard to broadcast warnings the length of the coast and to ships at sea in this region.”
The Mayday was easy to get out, but feedback said it would take hours before potential help could reach the site. The Astoria police chief had trouble understanding the shorthand story about Barbas and methane hydrate. But because the recent damage was fresh in his mind, he promised to get everyone moving.
Since Jack had no hard proof, NOAA was a much tougher sale. After he ran a “what-if-you-don’t” scenario for them, they agreed to put out a provisional warning despite their skepticism. That was the best he could get. He was out of time.
“Molly, I have to get to the main deck. I’m taking Steve and Gano with me. Stay here and keep the door locked. No one enters or leaves this room while we’re gone. Randy will be outside with an RPG. I’m leaving the Dezzy for you.”
“If I have to shoot, I’ll keep firing until it’s over. Count on it.”
Gano put his hands on her shoulders. “These guys are rattlesnakes. Stay alert and out of reach. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’m not going down there without my Sig Sauer,” Drake said calmly.
Jack knew Drake’s tone meant nothing. “After we get to the main deck.”
Jack slowly opened the door into the passageway and called, “You there, Randy?”
“Right here.”
In the passageway, Jack said, “Molly is guarding Barbas and two others in there. Make sure no one gets in or out.”
“I’ll keep Molly safe,” he said with fierce determination.
They went down the inside ladder to the main deck. Jack stuck his head out the door. None of Barbas’s guards were in sight. After Molly’s speech on the PA, they’d probably holed up, waiting to see who did what.
The highest priority for the crewmen running and shouting among the buildings was fighting the fires, a mortal enemy of any ship or sea platform. The fire in the building where chemicals had been stored was still white-hot, like a phosphorous flare. More ominous, it was spreading. The construction and manufacturing that went on aboard Chaos meant there were petroleum products in many of the spaces, even stored in barrels on the open deck. Some went up as flame leapt to them from nearby, others from the extreme heat alone.
“Steve, if these fires get out of control, they’ll drive us off this platform. Take a look down the deck. Come back and tell me how bad it is.”
Drake nodded and held out his right hand. Jack handed over the Sig Sauer.
Looking around, he saw anger and fear in many faces. The crew had been told the platform was indestructible. Now they knew they were in grave danger. Their tension made the air more foul.
A fight broke out and quickly became a brawl involving a dozen men using tools as weapons. It must have been between men who believed Molly and those who still backed Barbas. Then a gunshot. They scattered, all but one who lay still on his back. If Barbas’s guards got involved, the fighting would become more deadly.
Standing next to the superstructure, using his hand to shield his face from the heat, he needed information from the crew and had to get them organized. He, Gano, and Drake had no credibility with this crowd, so he had to find someone who did—and there he was, the talkative guide from his first visit to Chaos.
“Hey, Jorgenson,” Jack called, “Wait up.” He knew that the man was a Barbas supporter or he wouldn’t have been assigned as his guide. He’d have to handle this carefully.
Jorgenson stopped, looked puzzled, then made the ID and hurried over. “Mr. Strider.”
“Jorgenson, I just talked with Mr. Barbas and—”
“Where is he, and what was all that coming over the PA about him?”
“Pure crap. He had a disagreement with Molly, and she was trying to stir up people against him. He’s in his Admiral’s Bridge, and sent me down here because he’s worried about the fire. He wants to get all the life jackets gathered in one place away from the fire. Same for inflatable life rafts, wooden pallets, and anything else that will float.”
“Damn! Does he think this platform is going to sink?” He looked over his shoulder at the fires. When he looked back, fear flickered in his eyes. “I can’t swim.”
“Then you better get this organized.”
“Me? That’s not my job.”
“You’re standing in a furnace and arguing about your job description? I’ll tell Barbas you refused.”
“No, don’t tell him that, but why are you here instead of Mr. Barbas?”
“He’s dealing with what you heard on the PA. Renatus has gone crazy. He’s trying to take over.”
“I never trusted that weirdo, but I still wonder—”
“I don’t have time to listen to you shovel shit. If you won’t do it, I’ll just tell him.”
“No, I’m on it.”
“One more thing. Point out someone who knows about the power connections between the platform and the seabed.”
Jorgenson looked up and down the platform before picking out a tall man, one of several holding a hose spraying foam on a burning tractor. “He’s the master electrician.” Jorgenson glanced up at the Admiral’s Bridge and ran off, shouting orders.
Jack checked his watch and said to Gano, “I can feel those three reservoirs getting hotter. All I can think of to do is cut the electric power to the heat source on the seabed.”
“Barbas’s reasons for not moving the platform don’t matter to us. Should we give that a try?”
“Even if we knew how, it would take way too long. Besides, that could release a huge volume of methane.” He rubbed his eyes and wished the heat and smoke weren’t fogging his brain. “I have to find the power source here on the platform and cut the connection to the bottom.”
Gano was already on his way toward the electrician. After a brief conversation, both of them returned to where Jack stood.
“I am master electrician,” the man said, mopping sweat off his grimy face. “What you want?”
“Jorgenson said you could help us. Something’s wrong with the computer in Command Central. We have to adjust the settings in the electric power system. Take me to the generator that sends electricity to the seabed.”
The man’s brow wrinkled. He shook his head, looking ready to run, obviously shaken by the turmoil around them. “Top secret space, locked like vault. Only Mr. Barbas knows combination. Unless he gave it to you”—he looked at Jack with suspicion—“which he didn’t.”
Jack gritted his teeth. “Mr. Barbas is busy. There must be some other place to reach the electricity supply.”
“No.” Now the man looked sullen.
“This prick’s lying,” Gano said, “which means there is another place. I’ll just feed him knuckle sandwiches until he remembers where it is.” He grabbed the electrician under his left shoulder, lifting him to his toes and drew back his fist.
“Stop,” the man pleaded. “Electric power to mining site is inside Pontoon Two.”
“I don’t care about that,” Jack said. “Where is the power to the methane operation?”
The electrician’s eyes widened. Jack guessed methane wasn’t supposed to be discussed among the crew.
Gano jerked the man’s glasses off his nose. “Spit it out.”
“I tell you,” he squealed. “Won’t do no good. Above waterline on Pontoon Three there is hatch so someone on tender alongside can make repairs. Padlocked. Can’t get in.”
“That’s what they told Luke Skywalker about the Death Star, asshole,” Gano said. “Where’s Pontoon Three?”
The man pointed toward the north side of
the main deck.
“No time to get a boat into the water,” Jack said.
“If Palinouros is still alongside, maybe we can get access to the hatch from there,” Gano said. He ran to the edge of the platform, looked down, and called back, “Still here.”
“We left Heinz gagged and tied up,” Jack said. “He’ll be loose by now and in an ugly mood. I’m not scaling down there like a piñata on a rope for him to knock off.”
Heinz must have seen them looking, because he shuffled onto his flying bridge. Clearly, Drake’s punt to his balls hadn’t worn off. He was shouting up at them, but Jack couldn’t make it out over the uproar behind him. Only a few words came through: “Didn’t get paid . . . madhouse . . . screw you.” Heinz shook his fist and disappeared into the wheelhouse.
Within a few seconds, the gap between Palinouros and the platform widened. She turned slowly into the brisk wind, riding high in the choppy waves.
Drake ran up, coughing. “The fires are bad down there.” He pointed to the east end. “I didn’t go far in the other direction because of those stupid guards. They’re taking potshots, but don’t seem eager to fight.”
“Are they getting the fires under control?”
“They’re getting worse. I watched a damage control team give up on the southeast corner of the platform.”
“Jorgenson better be getting that abandon-ship flotation gear ready,” Gano said. “Did I mention I hate being in the ocean?”
Jack peered over the side. From above, the long length of Pontoon Three looked like the thick leg of a mastodon extending from beneath the cargo deck into the water. The horizontal sections that joined all the pontoons together in a rectangle were filled with seawater. That ballast gave the platform stability, but its weight might drag the platform down if a methane burp hit.
He saw a curved hatch six or seven feet above the waterline. That had to be the emergency access to the power cables that ran down inside the pontoon and out its bottom to the seabed and below. The hatch looked to be at least sixty feet below the main deck. How could he get there? The crane was positioned much too far away. He could rappel, but there was no time to locate a steel figure eight and the other gear he’d need. Then he thought of a way. It would be dangerous, but there was nothing else.