‘At Marintek?’
‘No, at the Statoil research centre. The project-management team is here from Stavanger.’
‘Do you want me to regale them with stories of sinister creepy-crawlies?’
‘I’ve already done that. Now they want details so I said I’d ask you.’
‘Why me?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’ve got all the documentation,’ said Johanson. ‘Reams of it. All I can do is pass on what other people have told me.’
‘You can do more than that,’ said Lund. ‘You can give them your personal opinion.’
Johanson was too surprised to answer.
‘They know you’re not an expert on wellheads or even worms, for that matter,’ she said, ‘but you’ve got a fantastic reputation at the NTNU and you can judge things impartially. At Statoil we’re coming at this business from a different perspective.’
‘You mean you’re only interested in whether it’s viable.’
‘There are other factors! Look, the trouble is, we’ve got a bunch of people here, all acknowledged experts in something but—’
‘They don’t have the first clue about anything else.’
‘That’s not true!’ She sounded put out. ‘They’re all extremely capable - they wouldn’t be here otherwise. But we’re too involved in it all, too bogged down. Christ, how else do you want me to put it? We just need some outside opinions, that’s all.’
‘But I hardly know anything about oil.’
‘No one’s forcing you.’ Lund sounded annoyed now. ‘If you’re not interested, forget it.’
Johanson rolled his eyes. ‘OK, OK. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch - and in any case, there’s some new data from Kiel and—’
‘Can I take that as a yes, then?’
‘Jesus, Tina! So, when is this meeting?’
‘There’s a whole row of them coming up. Every day is just one long meeting.’
‘Fine. It’s Friday today. I’ll be away at the weekend, but Monday would be—’
‘That’s…’ She checked herself. ‘That would actually be…’
‘What?’ Johanson prompted her. He had a nasty feeling about this.
‘Got something nice planned for the weekend?’ she asked conversationally. ‘Another trip to the lake?’
‘Well guessed. Do you want to come too?’
She laughed. ‘Why not?’
‘I see. And what would Kare have to say about that?’
‘Who cares? It’s none of his business.’ She paused. ‘Oh, hell.’
‘If only you were as good at everything else as you are at your job,’ said Johanson, so softly that he wasn’t sure she’d heard.
‘Please, Sigur. Can’t you set off a bit later? We’re meeting in two hours, and I thought…Well, it’s not far for you to come and it won’t take long. We’ll be finished in no time. You can go to the lake this evening.’
‘I—’
‘We really need to make progress. We’ve got a schedule to stick to, and you know how much these things cost. Now we’re slipping behind and all because…’
‘I said I’d do it, all right?’
‘You’re a honey.’
‘Do you want me to pick you up on the way?’
‘I’ll be there already. You’ve made my day, Sigur. Thank you.’ She hung up.
Johanson looked at his suitcase wistfully.
As Johanson was ushered into the conference hall at the Statoil research centre, the tension was almost tangible. Lund was sitting with three men at a huge table. Late-afternoon sunshine seeped into the room, lending warmth to the glass, chrome and dark-wood furnishings. The walls were lined with blow-ups of diagrams and technical drawings.
‘Here he is,’ said the woman who had brought Johanson from reception, and a man rose to greet him. He had close-cut dark hair and was wearing designer glasses.
‘Thor Hvistendahl, deputy director of the Statoil research centre,’ he introduced himself. ‘I apologise for encroaching on your time at such late notice. Tina assures us that we’re not disrupting your plans.’
Johanson shot Lund an eloquent look, then shook Hvistendahl’s hand. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I was free this afternoon.’
Lund suppressed a smile. She introduced him to the other men. One was from the Statoil headquarters in Stavanger - a burly man with red hair and friendly blue eyes. He was a member of the executive committee, and was there to represent the management board. ‘Finn Skaugen,’ he boomed.
The third, a bald man with heavy jowls and the only one wearing a tie, turned out to be Lund’s immediate superior, Clifford Stone. He came from Scotland, and was head of the exploration and production unit in charge of the new project. He gave Johanson a distant nod. He didn’t seem overjoyed at the biologist’s arrival but, then, nothing about him suggested that he ever smiled.
Johanson exchanged a few pleasantries, declined the offer of coffee and took a seat.
Hvistendahl picked up a stack of papers. ‘Let’s get straight to business. You’re familiar with the situation. We’re having difficulty gauging whether the whole thing spells trouble or whether we’re overreacting. I imagine you’re aware of some of the regulations governing the oil industry?’
‘The North Sea Conference,’ Johanson said, guessing.
Hvistendahl nodded. ‘That’s one side of it. But we’re also subject to other pressures - laws for the protection of the environment, technological limitations and, of course, public opinion, which sets the tone on many of the unregulated issues. When it comes down to it, we have to take account of anything and everything. We’ve got Greenpeace and a host of other organisations breathing down our necks - and we don’t have a problem with that. We know the risks involved in drilling new boreholes, and what to expect when we’re planning a new project, so we factor in plenty of time.’
‘In other words, we’re pretty good at handling things ourselves,’ Stone interjected.
‘Generally speaking, yes,’ said Hvistendahl. ‘Not every project makes it to completion, though. There are all the usual reasons - like finding out that the sediment is unstable, that we’re in danger of drilling through a gas pocket or even that the water depth and current don’t lend themselves to certain types of platform, you know the sort of thing - but in most cases we realise fairly early on what we can and can’t do. Tina tests the technology at Marintek, we analyse lots of different samples, check out the conditions down there, get an expert opinion, then start building.’
Johanson crossed one leg over the other. ‘But this time there’s a worm in the system,’ he said.
Hvistendahl laughed uneasily. ‘You could say that.’
‘Assuming they’re relevant,’ said Stone, ‘which, in my opinion, they’re not.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘Worms are nothing unusual. We find them everywhere.’
‘Not this species.’
‘What makes them so special? Sure, they eat hydrates,’ he glared at Johanson, ‘but if I remember rightly, your friends in Kiel said that wasn’t anything to get worked up about. Or have I missed something?’
‘That’s not quite what they said. They said—’
‘The worms can’t destabilise the ice.’
‘They’re eroding it.’
‘Yes, but they can’t destabilise it!’
Skaugen cleared his throat. It sounded like a minor explosion. ‘We called in Dr Johanson so that we could listen to what he has to say,’ he said, glancing at Stone, ‘not to tell him what we think.’
Stone bit his lip and stared at the table.
‘You mentioned some new data, didn’t you, Sigur?’ said Lund. She smiled encouragingly at the others.
‘I’ll run you through it now,’ he offered.
‘Bloody worms,’ grumbled Stone.
‘Well, that’s one way of describing them. Anyway, the scientists at Geomar introduced six further specimens into the simulation chamber. Each burrowed head-f
irst into the ice. Next they placed two fresh specimens on a layer of sediment without any hydrates. They didn’t react - didn’t eat, didn’t burrow. Finally they put two specimens on a layer of hydrate-free sediment above a pocket of gas. The worms didn’t burrow, but they became agitated.’
‘What happened to the worms that burrowed?’
‘They’re dead.’
‘How far did they get?’
‘All except one made it through to the gas,’ Johanson glanced at Stone, ‘but that doesn’t mean we can draw any hard and fast conclusions about their behaviour in the wild. The gas on the continental slopes is covered by layers of hydrates measuring tens or even hundreds of metres thick. The layers in the simulator are barely two metres. According to Bohrmann, it’s unlikely that the worms could go deeper than three or four metres, but in the chamber there’s no way of knowing.’
‘What kills them?’ asked Hvistendahl.
‘They need oxygen and can’t get enough in the narrow hole they make.’
‘But other worms burrow,’ objected Skaugen. He grinned. ‘You can tell we did our homework before you got here. We didn’t want to look completely stupid.’
Johanson smiled back. He knew he could get on with Skaugen. ‘Other species burrow in sediments,’ he said, ‘in loose ones, where there’s plenty of oxygen - and most worms don’t dig very deep. But burrowing in hydrates is like moving through concrete. Before long, there’s no air, which leads to suffocation.’
‘Do you know of other creatures that behave like that?’
‘You mean creatures with a death wish?’
‘Is that what it is?’
Johanson shrugged. ‘That would assume intent, which doesn’t fit with worms. They’re conditioned to behave as they do.’
‘Do animals commit suicide?’
‘Of course they do,’ said Stone. ‘What about lemmings? They throw themselves off cliffs.’
‘No, they don’t,’ said Lund.
‘They do!’
Lund placed her hand on his arm. ‘Clifford, you’re comparing apples and oranges. People liked the idea of lemmings committing suicide so they took it for granted that they did. But when someone looked into it properly, they found out that lemmings are just stupid.’
‘Stupid?’ Stone turned to Johanson. ‘Tell me, Dr Johanson, is it normal scientific practice to call an animal stupid?’
‘They are,’ Lund continued, unabashed. ‘When you get enough of them together, people can be stupid too. The lemmings at the front know that there’s a cliff ahead, but the mob behind them surges on, pushing them forward - it’s like fans at a rock concert. They carry on shoving each other into the sea until the procession eventually halts.’
Hvistendahl said, ‘Some animals are known to sacrifice themselves, though. I guess you’d call it altruism.’
‘Yes, but animal altruism always serves a purpose,’ replied Johanson. ‘Bees are prepared to die after losing their sting because warding off an intruder is good for the colony - or, at any rate, for the queen.’
‘So there’s no species-related motive for the worms’ behaviour?’
‘No.’
‘Biology lessons aren’t going to help.’ Stone sighed. ‘Just listen to you all! Soon we won’t be able to build the unit because you’ll have turned the worms into monsters.’
‘And another thing,’ said Johanson, ignoring him, ‘Geomar would like to take a look at the area you’ve marked for exploration. With Statoil’s backing, of course.’
‘That’s interesting.’ Skaugen leaned forward. ‘Are they proposing to send someone over?’
‘A research vessel. The RV Sonne.’
‘That’s kind, but they can do all their research on the Thorvaldson.’
‘They’ll be stopping off on their way to another site. And, in any case, the Sonne has all the latest equipment. They’re mainly interested in testing some of the data they got from the simulator.’
‘What kind of data?’
‘It relates to an increase in methane levels. By burrowing into the ice, the worms set free small quantities of methane, which disperse into the water. The Geomar scientists would like to excavate a couple of loads of sediment with some worms. They want to look at things in their true proportions.’
Skaugen laced his fingers together. ‘So far we’ve only talked about the worms,’ he said, ‘but have you seen the ominous video footage?’
‘Of the thing in the sea?’
Skaugen smiled wanly. ‘You make it sound like a horror movie. What do you think it might be?’
‘I’m not sure whether we should bracket the worms and this…this creature together.’
‘But you know what it is?’
‘No idea.’
‘You’re a biologist. Isn’t there anything you can think of?’
‘The images Tina extracted from the footage would suggest that the creature is bioluminescent, but there aren’t any big creatures that would fit that description. And it rules out mammals per se.’
‘Tina mentioned the possibility that we might be dealing with a giant squid.’
‘Yes,’ said Johanson, ‘but it’s unlikely. The size and structure of the body don’t look right. And, anyway, Architheuthis has always been thought to inhabit entirely different waters.’
There was silence. Stone played with his pen.
‘May I ask,’ said Johanson, ‘what kind of unit you’ll be building out there?’
Skaugen glanced at Lund.
‘I told Sigur we were thinking of building a subsea unit and that nothing had been decided,’ she said.
‘How much do you know about subsea units?’ Skaugen asked Johanson.
‘Well, I’ve heard about SUBSIS,’ he said.
Hvistendahl raised his eyebrows. ‘Not bad. You’ll soon be an expert. If you join us for another few meetings, you’ll—’
‘SUBSIS is old hat,’ snapped Stone. ‘We’ve come a long way since then. Our units can go much deeper and, safety-wise, they’re far superior.’
‘The system comes from FMC Technologies in Kongsberg. They specialise in developing subsea solutions,’ explained Skaugen. ‘It’s a more advanced version of SUBSIS. In fact, we’ve already decided to use the technology. The only question is whether to link the unit to one of the existing platforms or run the pipelines to the shore. They’d have to cover a vast distance and be able to cope with varying depths.’
‘Couldn’t you build a floating processing plant above the unit?’ asked Johanson.
‘Sure, but either way the main unit will still be on the seabed,’ said Hvistendahl.
‘In any case, we know how to evaluate the risks,’ continued Skaugen, ‘so long as they’re defined risks. But the presence of the worms is a factor we can’t identify or explain. Maybe - like Clifford says - we’re blowing it out of proportion and there’s no need to jeopardise our schedule because of a strange glowing creature and some mysterious worms. But where there’s doubt, we need to do everything in our power to eliminate it. I don’t expect you to take this decision for us, Dr Johanson, but what do you think we should do?’
Johanson felt uncomfortable. Stone was staring at him with open hostility. Hvistendahl and Skaugen were waiting expectantly, and Lund’s expression gave nothing away. If only I’d talked to her first, he thought. But she hadn’t pressured him. Maybe she’d be glad if he called time on the project. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t.
Johanson placed his hands on the table. ‘If it were up to me, I’d go ahead and build the thing,’ he said.
Skaugen and Lund stared at him in bewilderment. Hvistendahl frowned, and Stone leaned back with a triumphant smile.
Johanson waited for a moment. Then he said, ‘I’d build it - but I’d wait until Geomar had carried out its tests and given the green light. I don’t think we’ll find out any more about the creature on the video - it’s probably a distant relative of the Loch Ness Monster and I’m not even sure it’s worth worrying about. The real question is what
effect untold numbers of mysterious hydrate-eating worms will have on the stability of the slope and on future boreholes. Until you know the answer to that, I’d recommend you put the project on hold.’
Stone pursed his lips and Lund smiled. Skaugen exchanged a glance with Hvistendahl, then said, ‘Thank you, Dr Johanson, and thank you for sparing your time.’
That evening, when he’d put his suitcase into the car and was doing a last check before leaving the house, there was a ring at the door.
He opened it. Lund was standing outside. It had started to rain and her hair clung to her face. ‘You did well,’ she said.
‘Did I?’ Johanson stepped aside to let her in. She walked past him, wiping the raindrops from her eyes.
‘The decision was as good as made before you arrived. Skaugen just wanted your approval.’
‘Who am I to approve or disapprove of Statoil’s projects?’
‘Like I said, you’ve got an excellent reputation. But that’s not all Skaugen’s interested in. He’s the one who’ll have to take responsibility for the project. He knows that anyone with any connection to Statoil will be biased. He wanted to talk to someone who had nothing riding on the project. Also, you know a bit about worms and you don’t give a damn about subsea units.’
‘So he put the project on hold?’
‘Until Geomar can clarify the situation. Statoil’s lucky to have people like him at the top.’ She was standing in the hallway, arms hanging at her sides. For someone who was usually so energetic and determined, she seemed oddly at a loss. ‘So, where are your bags?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Aren’t you going to the lake?’
‘My case is in the car. You were lucky to catch me - I was about to leave.’ He gave her a look. ‘Is there anything else you want me to do before I abandon myself to peaceful isolation? Because now I’m going to do just that. No more delays.’
‘I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to tell you what Skaugen had decided…’
The Swarm: A Novel Page 18