Taking the Heat

by Paul McDermott

  Joey glanced at his notepad, then took a ruler and added one last line on the projection map. All the other lines were solid and in a variety of colours. This one, drawn in red, was a series of evenly spaced red dots and appeared to originate from somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere.

  “Pete, I’ll email you something in a moment. Let me just explain what it is first. It’ll save me having to go through it a second time with my team. You’ll need to use a bit of imagination until you get the graphic to look at, but I think it’s pretty straightforward.”

  If Joey was aware of the incongruity of his statement applied to the unpredictable, dangerous forces of nature at play, he didn’t show it.

  “First, the world map. What I’ve drawn here represents the confirmed seismic events of any significance reported so far. They’re a matter of historical record, so they’re all solid lines. Different colours—my own choice—to show different strengths. With me so far?”

  A series of nods from the ‘team’ confirmed they all were.

  “Good. Pete, this is where I need you to think carefully. I’ve added one final piece of data, based on info you won’t have at your fingertips because it’s related to several different events in the Northern Hemisphere. I haven’t received much in the way of confirmation or verification yet, so I’ve made a provisional vector by showing it as a dotted red line. It begins from the South Coast of the UK near Dover and runs on a bearing of one hundred and seventy degrees.”

  “Heading my way, then.” Pete didn’t sound too surprised. “How strong is it?”

  “Insufficient data for more than a blind guess. But there’s nothing wrong with your imagination.” Joey paused for a moment, then continued more seriously, “This is really a cobbled-together result from multiple separate Northern Hemisphere events which all took place within a few days of each other at different locations. However, by the time they reach the Channel, they’re converging so closely that I decided it would make no significant difference to the direction and strength of the line to combine them into a single vector.”

  “What’s a vector?” Brenda murmured to Dave. He hesitated, unwilling to disturb the flow of data between the two specialists. Joey heard her and nodded to acknowledge the question.

  “A vector. Something which has two or more main parts or components. In this case, power and direction.”

  “Thanks, Joey.” Dave had already worked this out but was grateful for a simple definition.

  “The graphics are on their way, Pete.” Joey hit enter on his keyboard as he spoke. “And to save a few seconds, I can tell you the heading extends through the European landmass and meets up with the Southern Hemisphere readings right in the centre of the Mariana Trench. I’m not a great fan of coincidences at the best of times, but in this case, I’m convinced we ought to be concentrating our research on what we know about the trench.”

  He glanced at his watch. “We’ve a max. one hour before Groth is on the line, and he’s going to haul my ass over the coals if I haven’t got some hard facts to lay out, and preferably some suggestions for how to deal with the problem. See what you can get for me, Pete. I can only find sketchy details on file up here, but I know your oceanographic department did a lot of the fieldwork.”

  “I’m on it. I’ve got your graphics. I’ll try to get something back to you before you have to face the music. Bye for now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Joey flinched and stared at the clock as the phone shrilled.

  “Damn you, Groth, you said ten o’cl…” He was already reaching for the handset when he realised the incoming call was not on the direct connection from the brigadier’s office. A flashing light redirected his attention to a different outside line. The handset was an ancient dialling model; no pushbuttons, no mini-screen to identify the caller.

  “Hello?”

  “Joey, has your boss whipped your ass yet?”

  “Angus! No, you’ve beaten him to the punch—just. He’s due to call in the next ten minutes, so we haven’t much time. Word of warning, though. For security reasons, I can only use your codename. There are people here with me who haven’t been cleared yet. That’s something I hope my boss can sort out when he rings.”

  “Understood. I may have something for you—I’ve already emailed you details of another incident, which is literally taking place as we speak. I don’t think the tremor heading south from the seismic events in Iceland and the North Sea could have reached Northern Italy yet, so this is almost certainly a separate incident.”

  “Did you say Italy?”

  “You heard me right, Joey. Initial reports say it’s about a six, epicentre Modena and Bologna, extensive structural damage to ancient historical sites.”

  “Angus, you might just have saved my life. I’m going to cut you short, but any more details you can email will be useful.”

  Joey barely had time to replace the handset before Groth’s direct line sounded off. Rolling his eyes in not-quite-feigned terror, he wiped imaginary beads of sweat from his forehead as he picked up.

  “Sitrep, Doctor Hart?”

  “Sir, my scientific source, codename Angus, has reported an incident which he believes is further evidence of a general pattern. The full effects may not be known for some time, however. The incident is in progress as we speak, and the data needs to be analysed.” Joey closed his eyes and prayed for a split second before continuing. “Just after four this morning, local time, an earthquake measuring six on the Richter scale caused severe structural damage in Bologna, Modena and other parts of Northern Italy.”

  Joey summarised the information from Angus while scanning emails and scribbling notes. Groth remained silent, and Joey was grateful. He doubted he could have kept a fourth ball in the air if the brigadier had interrupted with questions.

  “Doctor Hart, is it possible the minor tremor heading south could have acted as a catalyst of sorts, provoking the more serious incident in Italy?”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s impossible, Brigadier, but it’s unlikely. I’d need up-to-the-minute data to investigate that, and something’s telling me we don’t have time on our side.”

  “Agreed. Now tell me this. Can you predict how far the effects of this latest incident may spread, or in which direction?”

  “Once I can analyse reports of any aftershocks, that may be possible. First indications from the data I’ve already received suggest it’s likely to follow the line of least resistance—in other words, west through the Med and into open waters, south or southwest.”

  He paused, as Errol bent over the map and placed a finger on a specific point that was already highlighted.

  “Doctor Hart. Are we still connected?”

  “Yes, Sir. One of my team has several years’ experience in offshore drilling. He’s worked in the South Pacific, and from the recordings I have in front of me, I have to agree with him. With its present speed and direction, the shock wave from this incident is heading directly towards the Mariana Trench, the deepest crevasse in the Pacific seabed. The earlier events in the Southern Hemisphere—Japan, New Zealand, Australia—may also have been initiated by disturbances in the same region.”

  Errol nodded his agreement. “When you look at the time elapsed since the first incident, this could be a return wave of sorts, bouncing back after meeting the resistance of solid bedrock when it reached the Italian mainland.”

  “If that’s your drilling expert speaking, Doctor Hart, perhaps we’d better stop and listen to what he has to say. It sounds reasonable to me. Can you investigate the theory with the data you have, or do you need more?”

  “Errol tells me the phenomenon is pretty common in the offshore drilling world, but now I know what to look for, it should be easy to confirm.”

  “Errol. Doctor Hart, perhaps you ought to pass me his details. I don’t doubt your judgement, but I really do need to run basic security checks on everyone connected with the developing situation.”

  “Quickest and easiest if I let him
speak to you directly, Sir. I believe he has something to contribute to the discussion too.”

  Joey stood and allowed Errol to take his place.

  “I gather you’d prefer to clear the formalities first, Brigadier. Errol Dwight at your service. My details…” Errol reeled off his social security and passport numbers, date of birth and anything else the brigadier requested.

  “Thank you, Mr. Dwight. In view of the pressure of time, I’m going to assume there are no security problems in your background. Doctor Hart tells me you have something from your drilling experience which may be relevant?”

  “Yessir. I’ve drilled in a sector close to the Mariana Trench. It’s not easy drilling at such extreme depths. Without getting too technical, most of the problems are related to the temperatures and pressures involved.”

  “That much I can appreciate, Mr. Dwight, even as a layman without any specialist knowledge or experience. Carry on.”

  “When work has finished on a drill hole, it has to be capped or sealed. Sometimes this is a temporary seal—if the operator plans to return for further investigation or exploitation later. Sometimes you draw a blank and seal the hole permanently. In such a case, the hole is usually filled with materials that closely resemble the types of rock and minerals which occur naturally in the region, to avoid cross-contamination.

  “There are also situations where there’s a risk of a blowout or another environmental disaster. Then you pump down whatever you have on hand—the heavier, the better—and hold it back until the pressure drops. Filling up an open formation such as this isn’t as straightforward as filling up a pipe, but the principle’s the same. We just don’t know the dimensions of the hole or how much material we’re going to need.”

  “Hmm. I’ll take your word on that, for the moment, but I’m sure most people would consider the two variables you mention vital data for a successful operation.”

  “No question about that, Sir. But if we can get some approximate figures…”

  Joey had been scribbling again. Now, as a short pause developed, he seized the opportunity.

  “The tremor passing through mainland Europe has turned to the west after the incident in Italy. As we predicted, it’s taking the line of least resistance, off along the Med, heading for open water—it’s easier to flow through water instead of rock,” he added, by way of explanation. “That means it’s heading directly towards the Mariana Trench.”

  “Is this good news or bad?” Groth’s voice was completely dispassionate.

  “Think of it as an underwater avalanche of rocks, mineral deposits and other assorted solid matter. On its present course, it will tip itself into the trench. If there’s enough material being swept along, it will certainly backfill a fair percentage of the fissure’s total size and make our clean-up operation significantly easier.”

  “Is there anything we can do to control the direction of this avalanche as you call it? Or the speed at which it’s moving?”

  “Sir, the total mass of this moving body is unimaginable. We’d probably have to invent some multi-gigatonne unit to describe it. Control of any sort would be impossible. We must be grateful it’s moving in exactly the right direction. And as for the velocity…”

  There was the briefest of pauses while Joey crunched a few more numbers, which were totally beyond a layman’s comprehension.

  “Latest available data says it will take about three days to reach the northern end of the trench—maybe a further two days to reach the southern end.”

  “Doctor Hart, the volume of material being carried in this avalanche. Would it be sufficient to fill the trench?”

  “We don’t have a definite measure of the size of the trench, Sir, but even without that information, I can tell you it wouldn’t even come close. The length and the width of the fissure confirms this, regardless of how deep it reaches.”

  “There’s another drilling process which might be worth considering.” Errol’s Southern drawl was back, but he sounded far less confident this time around. He looked to Joey for permission to continue, but Brigadier Groth’s voice cut in.

  “Go ahead, Mr. Dwight. Anything you can contribute based on your professional training will be useful.”

  “There may be another way to backfill the trench, but it’s something I have no personal experience with. I can only tell you the theory behind it. There are most definitely risks involved—it’s something of a last-ditch solution when all other options have failed.

  “When a hole has to be capped in a hurry—if there’s a risk of a blowout, for example—explosives have been used to collapse tons of rubble from the walls.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dwight. I’m familiar with the idea of using controlled explosions in mining and demolition work.”

  “That’s correct, Sir. Like I say, I have no personal experience of using this technique, but you can certainly find more information on the internet, including the names of people able to tell you more about it than I can.”

  “We’d need a considerable amount of explosive to attempt this solution, I imagine?”

  “No doubt about that, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dwight. I may have sufficient contacts in the military world to make this possible, but three to five days before the avalanche passes the trench altogether is a far bigger problem than acquiring the explosives. I’ll speak to some people I know. Doctor Hart, please ensure this phone is manned at all times.”

  For once, Groth’s abrupt sign-off technique seemed both natural and logical. He had a lot of phoning around to do; that much would have been obvious to anyone.

  Brenda voiced the obvious question. “How big a fish is this brigadier? I always thought the TA consisted mostly of part-timers who sign up as volunteers.”

  “Even volunteers and weekend warriors need effective, trained leaders, darling,” Dave answered. “There will always be full-time career opportunities for an officer with Groth’s qualities.”

  Joey nodded in agreement. “He’s been a brigadier in the TA for longer than I’ve known him, and in that time, he’s declined three offers of promotion that I know about—says he didn’t sign up to ‘fly a desk’, and he’d rather remain in an active role. So he’s well-connected. For that reason alone, I’m guessing he’s about to do some serious arm-twisting and calling in of favours.”

  ***

  Almost two hours passed before the phone rang. Joey looked around the group and shrugged. He made a theatrical performance of crossing himself before picking up the receiver on its second ring.

  “Doctor Hart speaking.”

  “You may leave this on speakerphone if you wish. I’ve had your colleagues’ security checked. The information I have will affect you all.”

  “Understood, Brigadier. Go ahead.”

  “All your instructions will continue to come directly from me, and me alone. However, this is now an international operation, and I will be relaying orders from a higher authority.

  “The option of sealing the Mariana Trench by using shaped charges, as suggested by Mr. Dwight, has been approved in principle. Every country that has signed the NATO treaty will contribute the most powerful weapons at their disposal. A request has been issued to other non-NATO powers known to have a stockpile of conventional and nuclear weapons to reciprocate. The window for setting things in motion is tight, but anything which can be flown to the site will be delivered. Your team are not on the need-to-know priority list, but for your information, I can add that this will include some tactical nuclear weapons for maximum effect in a confined space and at a depth that should ensure there are no grounds to fear any radiation leakage or danger to human life after the event.”

  “How about the sea life?” Dave interrupted. “Sealing off a major feature like the Mariana Trench is bound to affect marine ecology. This is the deepest recorded sector of all the seas and oceans on the planet. We already know of some unique plants, fish and invertebrates which aren’t found anywhere else in the world.”

  “I ap
preciate your concern, Mr. Whelan, but unless we can close off this trench in less than four days, all the volcanic actions and other natural disasters currently venting through the fragile crust of the planet will only intensify, and we may be left with the very real possibility of the rock in space we call home being blown apart by internal pressure. We have no choice.”

  “But nuclear weapons?”

  “What sort of power did you think we have at the nucleus of our planet?” Groth snapped, then took an audible breath to regain his normal composure. “It keeps vast lakes of melted rocks at such high temperatures, they erupt as boiling liquids. Army demolition experts assure me that there’s minimal chance of contamination. We have the equipment to pour on layer after layer of concrete if we have to, but the consensus is that the rockfall alone will be more than enough to protect all land life and almost all sea life. Radiation will be reflected downwards and simply add to the fires at the planet’s core.”

  “Nice one, Errol,” Joey said. “You had that one sussed—without the uni background or the scrambled egg on your collar ’n’ cuffs.”

  “Like I said, ma paw put me to work when I was still in diapers.”

  “No need for the comedy act, Errol. Don’t belittle yourself.” Dave slung an arm around the musician’s broad shoulders. “You went with a gut feeling, and you were right.”

  “Gentlemen, can we concentrate on what’s needed right now? We’re desperately short of time.”

  “Apologies, Sir,” Joey said with a grimace at his comrades.

  “You’re still my eyes and ears for the operation, Doctor. In an ideal world, I’d come and join you, but I can’t leave my command centre in someone else’s hands.”

  “We’ve got access to the latest radio telescope, Sir, but you probably knew that already.”

  “I also do my homework, Doctor, so yes, I’m aware you’re well equipped for the task in hand, and I know I can count on you. If you turn to your main screen now, I’m patching you in to a real-time link. What you see is happening as we speak—with a maximum eight-second lapse.”