Lars Brun didn’t hesitate before he replied. ‘All scenarios present a risk to our populations. The best-case scenario is that the collapse will be gradual and could take decades to have a material impact on the Gulf Stream. While next year’s research will be of a scale to give us more definitive answers, what I’m witnessing here tells me you should anticipate a worse-case situation.’
‘Meaning?’ The British Prime Minister wanted a clear answer.
‘To be blunt, if large parts of the Greenland Ice Sheet collapse and cause a deluge of meltwater to enter the Atlantic Ocean it is only a matter of a couple of years – possibly only months – before the climate-moderating effects of the Gulf Stream stop. In such an event, winter ice will start appearing almost at once in the North Atlantic. The sea ice will be thin at first but as it thickens it will disrupt shipping. Over a period, maybe within a decade, Arctic conditions will become a regular occurrence perhaps as far south as the southern coast of England, just as happened 20,000 years ago. Sub-zero temperatures over the winter months will become the norm. There will also be a commensurate rise of at least four metres in sea levels.’
‘Shit!’ The British Prime Minister’s reputation for the use of profanities was justified on this occasion. His briefing papers had come to the same conclusion. In fact, unknown to him, a briefing paper prepared by M16 a decade earlier had reached exactly the same forecast.
‘I must stress this is mere speculation at this stage,’ added Lars.
His job, like that of all scientists, was to collect reliable and verifiable data and to draw conclusions based on this evidence. However, he decided to take a different approach. Until then, he had never spoken to a Prime Minister before, never mind four, so he decided not to miss his opportunity.
‘We’re long past the point of no return. That’s for certain. Even if all the governments in the northern hemisphere did all that was expected of them to reduce carbon emissions, it’s far too late to reverse the Arctic melting process. Nature will take her course. Let’s pray she does not spring too many surprises.’
At this stage the political temperature in the Sycamore Room was clearly rising as Lars Brun’s pithy assessment was digested. Each delegation was speaking in low tones to their respective leaders. The Taoiseach intervened thanking Professor Brun for his contribution. ‘Professor Gilmore, can you please up-date us on the two projects under your charge.’
All eyes focused on the screen ‘RV Celtic Explorer.’
‘Will do, Taoiseach. I will be brief. I can confirm what you have just been told about the Gulf Stream. As you are aware, there are four research vessels testing the strength of the columns of water that move the Gulf Stream. We’ve just shared our preliminary findings after the initial phase of our work. I’m afraid the news is not good.’
He looked into the Taoiseach’s eyes on the camera and detected a deep sense of sadness and foreboding. And that was before he delivered the main punch line.
‘What was expected has happened. All the columns tested are almost non-functional. If the Greenland Ice Sheet starts to disintegrate, I dare not imagine the consequences.’
‘And what about Project Eriador?’ asked the Taoiseach.
‘We have recorded multiple seismic events along the flanks of the Eriador Seamount. It seems the situation is getting worse. I’m sorry to tell you that within the last hour the crew of the manned submersible witnessed a massive underwater volcanic explosion, accompanied by a quake that measured 3.1 on the Richter scale. The craft was disabled. It was too close to the magma explosion. We’re trying desperately to pull the submersible to the surface.’
‘Shit!’ Now it was the Taoiseach’s turn.
‘If the PLU is successfully salvaged, our unmanned submersible will be prepared for a close visual inspection of the site where the last eruption took place. We hope to know more within the hour.’
Billy van Os spoke. ‘We are also receiving reports from our sources of increasing seismic activity with at least three epicentres along the length of the Eriador Seamount. A massive imminent eruption seems inevitable. What we can’t predict is the direction and force of the tsunamis.’
‘Tsunamis!’ said several voices simultaneously.
‘Yes. A significant sea floor rupture at several locations is anticipated.’
That opinion silenced the room.
Franco Bradelle didn’t wait to be called in to speak. ‘Franco Bradelle here from the ORM on La Palma. Nothing to do with climate change, but we too are experiencing a potentially serious situation as seismic activity has re-appeared on La Palma. What’s happening in the mid-Atlantic is being replicated here. The main difference is that pyroclastic explosions have quite different impacts above ground to sea floor events. We’ve survey teams out doing their best to test a series of volcanic incidents across the island, but I fear the worst as we’ve lost communication with one of the teams that was near the main source of volcanic activity.’
The Norwegian Prime Minister had heard enough. ‘Three separate events? Or three linked events? Can anyone make sense of this?’
‘If I may Prime Minister?’ All eyes switched to the screen from Woods Hole. Three grim faces appeared. ‘We’re coordinating the deployment of NASA and NORA satellites that are now monitoring the three locations. The news is bad. The Mid-Atlantic Ridge is volcanically active along its full length. We also anticipate imminent seismic activity under the Greenland Ice Sheet. Even a small event, whenever it might occur, could have devastating impacts on a hollowed out ice sheet. The La Palma and Eriador Seamount incidents are part of a common emerging volcanic phenomenon along the extremities of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. I’m afraid sooner or later a calamity may be upon us.’
‘Next steps?’ The Taoiseach addressed an open question to the room.
The British PM spoke. ‘This situation is most unnerving. We’re clearly on the cusp of potential devastation on a scale not witnessed for generations. If we tell our citizens to expect massive flooding, there will be widespread panic. There is really nothing we can do. Am I right or am I wrong?
The Taoiseach responded. ‘The scientists have given us advice based on the best available evidence. We’re getting unequivocal advice of imminent events, but the scale of these events is as yet unknown and, more importantly, we haven’t got a clear indication in relation to the timing. I’m inclined to allow our eminent scientists a little while longer to monitor the danger sites. If nothing else this will give us a few days to reflect on what we’ve heard and to plan our respective – and hopefully coordinated – responses.’
‘I think that makes sense,’ said the Norwegian Prime Minister. ‘We might ask our senior officials to keep in daily contact and to escalate matters if deemed necessary. Under no circumstances should we brief the press about this meeting never mind about the content. This meeting didn’t happen. Clear?’
‘I’ll go along with that,’ added the British Prime Minister. The Danish PM and the Taoiseach nodded simultaneously.
The Merrion Street Summit concluded.
CHAPTER 9
Barlovento
Franco Bradelle was now in charge. He knew from his experience in Iceland that the Pico Bejenado volcanic eruption was a precursor to a cataclysmic event. When it would occur, he wasn’t sure. What was certain was the entire length of the Caldera was at severe risk. PD1 was showing the footprint of volcanic activity wasn’t stopping or slowing. On the contrary, there were grave signs that it could be only a matter of time before La Palma recorded the biggest volcanic explosion since Krakatoa in 1883.
The loss of Mark, Ros and Simon hung over everyone. It was a struggle to cope with their deaths. But struggle on they did.
Carmen Ortiz and her experienced team, who had flown in from Madrid, provided additional resources as Bradelle tried his best to get a handle on the rapidly moving events. The ORM was covered in a thick layer of black as
h. The sky was obscured by deep grey clouds of dust, ash and gasses from within Pico Bejenado.
They met for a quiet coffee away from the younger scientists. The growing volcano rumbled in the background.
‘What’s your assessment Carmen?’ said Bradelle.
‘The main vent we were observing at Pico Bejenado clearly hid a secondary enormous magma chamber that arrived at the surface with such force that it disintegrated the immediate area. We could not have known the volcano could have been so powerful.’
‘It appears to have subsided quite a bit.’ Bradelle was looking for comfort.
‘We’ve had a period of relative calm for the past few hours, but my guess is that the next eruption could happen at any time. We may get little or no notice.’ She supped her coffee.
‘The pyroclastic flows that we can expect will contain a much higher proportion of gas to rock and will be able to travel at speeds of seven hundred kilometres an hour or more. In 1902, such an event wiped out the population of Saint-Pierre on the Caribbean island of Martinique – some thirty thousand people.’
‘Should we evacuate the ORM?’ asked Bradelle. A Sikorsky sat outside fully fuelled and ready for action.
‘We have a decision to make: stay and observe or take flight,’ Carmen said in a calm manner. ‘We should be cautious. I suggest in the circumstances that just a handful of us should remain. You might sound the alarm and get everyone else, especially the young scientists, off the mountain.’
‘OK,’ said Bradelle.
After he phoned the pilot, who was seated in the cockpit, he walked into the ORM’s large boardroom. There was no need to ring the alarm as everyone was there.
‘You are being evacuated. No questions. No luggage. Just get to the helicopter without delay. It takes off in five minutes.’
‘Maria, let’s go,’ said Claudine. She pulled her sister to the exit door. Others followed. No questions. No luggage. Just a group of very scared people.
The noise of the helicopter blades was deafening and obliterated all other sounds. They ran to the open door at the back. Half the group had boarded when an almighty booming sound drowned out the sound of the swishing blades. Eardrums were shattered. The shock waves took two seconds to hit the area. Facial features were scorched. Immediately afterwards a blast of pyroclastic materials enveloped the ORM and the entire mountain top. Bodies were vaporised.
The second volcanic explosion at Pico Bejenado shattered and collapsed half of the Caldera de Taburiente that formed the northern part of La Palma. The remnants of the ORM fell into the valley below.
PD1 was the sole survivor. At a height of two thousand metres and safely off to the right of the Caldera, the drone continued to send pictures of the event to NASA, HUGO and to many other research centres that were linked into direct video feeds. All watched in awe as the centre part of La Palma was blown apart within an hour. Soon all the global TV stations were showing pictures from PD1, unedited as before.
What had started as a classic volcanic eruption soon turned into an unprecedented occurrence. The Caldera de Taburiente pyroclastic event sent a mixture of large coarse boulders, pumice, light coloured igneous rock blown into the air in a semi-liquid state, and lava fragments flowing at ground level, while the kinetic energy of the hot ash plume above this rubble flattened everything in its path. It had the same destructive impact as a meteor hitting the earth.
Earlier, the day had been going well in the village of Barlovento on the north end of the island. The entire population of four hundred had turned out to watch the tri-annual re-enactment of the Battle of Lepanto. Minor tremors and volcanic eruptions were not going to deter the holding of this ceremonial event as the centrepiece of the village’s summer festival. The ash filled clouds drifting over the fields were a minor distraction.
As with most festivals in Spain, the re-enactment was based on deep-seated tradition.
On 7 October 1571, the sea galleys of the Holy League (comprising the Knights of Malta, the Papal States, the Duchy of Savoy and others) defeated the navy of the Ottoman Empire in a fierce battle off the coast of Greece. Over five hundred galleys and some 80,000 soldiers were involved in the largest naval battle in Western history. Over two hundred of the ships were sunk, burned or captured. The Holy League credited their victory to the Virgin Mary, the town’s patron saint: La Virgen del Rosario.
In the small fields around the village square a hundred able men, dressed in period naval costumes, manipulated ten mock galleys on wheels in a fierce fight that resulted – as in all previous years – in a decisive victory for the Christian forces. The battle was reaching its crescendo: the capture of the galley of the Ottoman commander, Lal Kara Mustafa Pasha, who was played by Marco Lesle, resplendent in a flowing bright red kaftan.
Lesle believed this was a real job. One that was appreciated. Far better than evacuating coastal villages with his colleagues from the Guardia Civil.
Over the loudspeaker system Lal Kara Mustafa Pasha could be heard urging his troops, or trying to, as the entire pageant was based on an agreed written script.
‘To the flag, to the flag, defend the Ottoman Empire with your lives.’
He didn’t sound very convincing.
The leader of the Christian forces replied loudly.
‘For the Pope, for the Pope, down with the infidels.’
The firecrackers were lit to mimic the galleys’ cannons and in the din that followed Holy League soldiers rushed on deck to capture the commander, as the story demanded.
The spectators cheered. They knew the battle would be over as soon as Marco Lesle surrendered. Once that happened the bars would open, the food tents would start serving and the flamenco guitarists would weave their magic: the party could begin. They didn’t get that far. Most of the crowd in the main stand didn’t even get to their feet. Ten seconds after the Pico Bejanado volcano at the base of the Caldera de Taburiente exploded, the sound waves from the blast hit the field of battle in Barlovento. The participants stopped in their tracks and all eyes turned to the source of the noise. Was this an Ottoman counterattack that wasn’t in the script?
The deep shuddering effects of the accompanying earthquake took a bit longer to reach the battlefield. As the surge moved away from the centre of the blast the explosion gathered rocks, water, air, vegetation, trees, animals, people and anything else that was in its path. It fused them all into a three hundred metres high wall of scalding hot ash and vapour.
The mayor and other town dignitaries had the best view. They sat high on the reviewing stand that faced outwards to the top of the Caldera some ten kilometres to the south of the village.
The mayor rose from his seat. He noticed a surge of heat on his cheek. The sunny sky had turned black and was full of electricity. Before he realized what was rushing towards him, he and everyone else was incinerated by volcanic gases at a temperature of five hundred degrees Celsius. Seconds later, they were entombed in mud-like debris travelling at a speed of over five hundred kilometres an hour down the width of the mountain towards the coast. They died as the heated gas tore their lungs apart. Their skin and body tissue melted at the same time. All that was left was dust. It was so hot that no skeletons were ever found.
Two seconds later the bathers at the picturesque baths and rock pools at Fajana, just below the village, met the same fate. One swimmer ducked under the water on seeing the avalanche of muck and debris swarming down the cliff face. It made no difference as the water evaporated instantly in the heat.
The debris crashed into the sea along a twenty-kilometres wide stretch of the northern coast. The resulting tsunamis rose slowly. Off the shoreline their intensity and height grew.
The explosion of materials didn’t relent for nearly an hour, after which time the Pico Bejanado eruption paused, briefly.
Damian and Margarida sat silently on their veranda watching the local TV’s coverage of the eve
nts further north of the island. They knew it was only a matter of time before they met their fate.
‘Aperol Cherie?’ said Damian.
‘Of course,’ smiled Margarida.
They toasted each other.
‘Adiós,’ he said.
She didn’t get a chance to respond. Damian leant sideways to kiss his wife goodbye as hot molten ash fell in thick lumps on their roof and in the garden. Their house was engulfed in seconds.
PD1 continued to show everything live. The world watched as La Palma disappeared.
Mark was right. But he never got the chance to tell anyone. The epicentres were linked.
Almost simultaneously to the Caldera eruption, an 8.5 Richter earthquake was recorded five kilometres offshore. What did the damage was its linear reach. While the Caldera’s seismometers had pin-pointed the shallow epicentre, it had not identified that a fifty-kilometre fault line was at risk. It displaced the seabed by three metres: more than the rupture of the Sunda Trench fault that gave rise to the devastating St Stephen’s Day tsunami in December 2004.
The tsunamis generated by the Caldera blast moved offshore within minutes of the main eruption. A second tsunami triggered by the offshore earthquakes followed north in the general direction of the British Isles, increasing in speed and height over the four thousand kilometre journey.
The combined effect was a catastrophe of epic proportion, not just for La Palma but for all of the British Isles. On reaching landfall at the southern shores of England, Wales and Ireland four hours later, it wreaked havoc of biblical proportions as the surge poured into the Irish Sea at a height of over forty metres. Secondary tsunamis of somewhat reduced strength followed behind and continued to flood the coastlines for several hours.
They finished off a job of total destruction.
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