Читать книгу Leviathan - Joaquin De Torres - Страница 8

HELIOS Energy Corporation

Corpus Christi, Texas

“We’ve lost contact with Goliath again, Steven,” huffed the man in the lab coat as he glared from screen to screen.

“Shit! How long has it been since our last connection?”

“Four days.”

“Have you checked the mines?”

“I’m doing that now.” He slammed his fist on the table. “Goddamn it! The satellite isn’t cooperating again.”

“That’s what happens when the biggest multi-billion-dollar conglomerate buys cheap Chinese shit,” the man in the silk suit spat. “Try the secondary satellite hook-up.”

The man in the lab coat began tapping furiously on his keyboard, shaking his head.

“Piece of shit! The secondary hook-up is not responding either.”

“That’s what happens when the same corporation buys cheap French shit to use as a back-up!” The man in the suit sat at one of the consoles and typed in several codes. “I don’t have time for this Nick. I have a meeting with Barrymore,” he checked his diamond-studded Rolex watch, “in thirteen minutes. A progress report. And I’m going to tell him we lost contact with the company’s latest multi-million-dollar project?”

“I told you it was too early,” replied Nick. “I told you we needed more remote tests.”

“I know, I know, I know. I agree. We should have conducted the remotes in the Gulf, where we could have had more control.” He shook his head again. “But Barrymore wanted to seal the deal with the other board members and they wanted to launch immediately because of the market crash.” He typed in more strings of code and looked up at the multitude of wall screen displays and TVs of the massive laboratory. “There!”

“Damn, Steven! How do you pull that shit off!?”

“That’s the advantage of designing the entire program—you can create cheat codes to circumvent traditional pathways.”

“Well, that’s why they pay you the astronomical bucks.”

“Hey, you’re not doing too bad yourself. How’s the Bentley I bought you last week?”

“Oh my God, Steven! It’s fantastic!” Nick’s eyes and smile were beaming. “It’s a dream. And the apartment you bought me the month before—what can I say but thank you so much! I’ve gotten laid three times so far as a result of them!”

“Just three times?” The two shared a laugh.

“You’re a brilliant, hard working assistant,” Steven acknowledged. “I take care of those who work hard for me.”

“Thank you, Dr. Haynes.” Nick turned back to his consoles. “I’ll fuse the connection and add it to the system.”

Haynes moved across the shiny tiles of the lab to another set of computers and typed in more codes. Instantly, on the far wall near the ceiling, a group of four wall screens fused together to create one image—a 3D rendering of the Marianas Trench. The map was labeled not only with cartographic information, but also areas Haynes himself implanted in the image. At the base of the canyon, along a two-mile stretch near the ocean floor were objects and labels. He tapped the zoom key and the objects bloomed larger. The words CONSTRUCTION SITE 1; CAVE ENTRANCE 1; CONSTRUCTION SITE 2; and CAVE ENTRANCE 2 were clearly visible. Thick pipes, iron girders and steel frames lay in stacks near the cave entrances. Flood lights encased in thick cylinders sat aimed at the outer walls.

Haynes looked for the glowing light that indicated the sub’s location.

“There she is, Nick. North of the site, around 24,000 feet.” He looked at the light suspiciously. “I don’t detect movement. Nick, get on the stick and test her responses.” Nick moved from the long computer console to the sub control simulator. Resembling a flight simulator, he climbed in the cockpit and took controls of the sub via a high-tech stick, wheel and peddle set-up. He was now virtually in control of the sub. Haynes watched the wall screens as Nick began manipulating the controls.

“Move her around, Nick.”

Nick tried the stick and hit the accelerator, but the sub was unresponsive. He flipped a few manual switches and tried again; the result was the same.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s not moving! I’m trying the emergency overdrive.” After a few more entries on the keypad, Nick tried to move the sub but it remained motionless. “Do we have undersea connection?” Haynes looked at his readouts.

“Yes, the connection is solid.”

“Then we’re fucked, Steven! We need to bring the crew in tomorrow to do a diagnostic on the system.”

“Shit!” He checked his watch. “I gotta go! Do what you can to reboot the program yourself. First, second and third levels. If nothing responds by the third level, we’ll call in the others tomorrow.”

“What are you going to tell Barrymore?”

Haynes turned to Nick and smiled.

“What all CEOs want to hear from their prized program designer, of course: ‘Everything is going perfectly according to plan, Mr. Barrymore. Everything’s right on schedule.’” He flashed his confident smile, winked and left the lab.

Naval Base Guam

Commander Naval Forces Marianas

COMNAVMAR

After the meeting, Joe Salas waited for most of the people to file out before approaching the individuals he really needed to talk to. The admirals and captains seemed to mill together at the front of the room with Aurelia and McLaren, looking over notes and documents. He saw his chance.

“Dr. Aurelia? Admirals? I have some information that we need to discuss.”

“Do you want me to call everyone back in?” asked Duenas.

“No, sir. What I want to say should only be held in the tightest circles for now.” Duenas nodded.

“Let’s all have a seat,” he suggested. Salas’ staff joined the small group at one conference table, while he remained standing.

“Commander McLaren, can you please put up my 3D map of the trench?” McLaren quickly brought up the map that again stretched across both wall screens. Salas looked at Camacho.

“Ian, hand me my laptop.” He tapped on the keyboard and pulled up several folders from his Document files. He clicked on a personal archive file and turned to the group. He spun the laptop around so they could see the screen. There was a photo on the screen.

“Dr. Steven Haynes,” Salas said. “He is the only man who could have designed that sub.”

“Do you know him?” asked Duenas.

“I do, sir. Very well.”

“But why?” asked Captain Hagen. “And why such a gruesome design?”

“Ian, use your USB to update Commander McLaren’s maps.” Camacho inserted his USB flash drive into McLaren’s laptop and downloaded the latest updates and mapping information of the trench. When the download was complete, Camacho brought up the newest 3D rendering on the wall screens. The officers were amazed at the intense detail of the trench.

Digital readouts, flow charts and a dozen small windows containing meters and oscillating figures lined either side of the display. The canyons and cliff walls were labeled with descriptive names; natural formations of rocks, as well as caves, fissures and boulders were labeled or identified by their shapes. Different colors depicting temperature, salinity and pressure were displayed along the sides. And all of this could be viewed strikingly clear using the zoom function.

“Damn, was I in the dark!” spat Aurelia. “You give accurate names, dimensions, distances and pressure readings from top to bottom. This is amazing, Dr. Salas!”

“And there’s the canyon’s deep water current and thermophaline circulation readings,” added Camacho. “So, with this new software, you can drop a car into the ocean here and basically know where it’s going to end up in the trench. It took Joe three years of relentless diving to accurately map all this.”

“So, who’s Dr. Haynes?” asked Admiral Glass.

“He was my research partner six years ago; long before any of my colleagues here joined the institute. He was flamboyant, charismatic, a great speaker and a crafty salesman. He’s the one who got PRAS Australia to give us the money to create the building we work in now.” Salas looked down and paused. Fingers reached out and touched his cheek. He looked up and saw Kelly Genero, PRAS’ public relations manager and close friend, smiling sympathetically at him.

“Tell them everything, Joe.”

“We worked together for almost ten years. He helped train Ian here when he was just a graduate student.” He shook his head and smiled dismissively. “We wanted to make breakthroughs; we wanted to make a difference in the environment. We went on campaigns to expose establishments that harmed the ocean and sea life. We went after offshore oil drillers, Japanese shark hunters, the Russian whaling industries, Chinese coral miners and—” He looked at Stone. “Navy polluters and sonar testers.”

Stone dropped his eyes momentarily and remained silent.

“The money we received from the law settlements and pay-offs financed our research facility and the construction of our deep sea vehicles.”

“Then what happened?” Glass asked.

“As brilliant as he was, Steven had one vice—his love for money. As we started receiving grants and donations from private and international environmental protection agencies, he changed. He began sharing these plans on how we could invest the money in various markets, stocks and business ventures in order to make us both wealthy. At first I thought nothing of it.” He looked to the group. “I mean, we’re scientists. We’re not out to make a profit.” His voice began to choke up as the pain of discussing the topic began to press hard against him. Genero took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

“Three years ago on one of my dives, my instruments detected a massive supply of natural gas at the base of the trench at 32,000 feet. The Bureau of Ocean Energy Management commissioned us to create the bionomic fuel matrix and were given use of hydrographic research vessels. With such equipment at our disposal we discovered oil-soaked rock formations in several caves below 34,000 feet there,” he pointed the laser at the map. “Just west of HMRG Deep. We’ve unofficially called the spot ‘PRAS Deep’.”

“Go on, son,” encouraged Glass.

“Using the industry mathematical equations and our matrix, we estimated over 1.8 trillion barrels of oil could be sitting under the trench, within the canyon face, not on the sea floor. Steven created the equipment to detect the amount of gas at that depth and it was through the roof. There is enough natural gas to supply the United States for over 55 years.” Camacho switched the image to show the detailed locations.

“I presented my findings to the Department of Energy, requesting government funds for more research. Senator Lars Raicek was head of the department at the time and rejected my findings. Two days later, Steven comes to me and says that HELIOS is not only interested in my findings, but wants to buy the rights to my research, the design of my deep sea vehicle and the caverns themselves in order to mine the gas.”

“Raicek? That bastard’s a consultant for HELIOS now,” spat Aurelia. “He was bought by Big Oil even before he was appointed to that job.”

“That’s why he rejected you,” chimed in Sakura. “He wanted you to do all the work first, then hook up his buddies with that treasure.” Salas nodded in agreement.

“I immediately rejected HELIOS’ offer. Big Oil has done nothing for the country except strangle the economy with its monopoly on gas and heating prices. I didn’t want to aid them in any way to create another monopoly.”

“All part of the master plan to keep the classes separated!” said Nu’u Pali with disgust. The Hawaiian engineer on Salas’ staff with a penchant for going off on corporate corruption, found a door to vent his frustration and he went through it.

“Since the Bush and Obama administrations destroyed the middle class, the rich have controlled everything. Especially HELIOS and the other Big Oil companies. Record profits every year! Twelve dollars a gallon! Millions of people can’t afford to get to work, so they’re fired! What the fuck is that!?”

“Oh boy!” chuckled Funihashi. “Nu’u goin’ off!”

The heated Hawaiian realized the company he was in and quickly raised his hands and bowed his head.

“I’m sorry, Admirals. I always get carried away on this topic.”

“I appreciate your honesty, son,” said Glass. “And I fully agree with you, but we need to hear Dr. Salas right now.”

Pali nodded again and receded back in his seat

“But Steven wanted me to think about it more before officially rejecting them. For weeks he didn’t sleep; he didn’t go home. He was obsessed with the idea and motivated by the money they offered us up front. He began designing equipment that could withstand the pressure of the trench.”

“What kind of equipment?”

“Robotic drills, piping, cutting tools, and extraction tubes. I kept going down to the caverns to research if it was truly possible to get to the gas safely. But realistically, there was no way; my calculations didn’t support the massive effort. There was no way any vehicle could go down there for any amount of time and cut into the rock, much less extract natural gas safely.

“And more important to me were the negative effects any attempt to do so would have on the trench, its ecosystem and the potential catastrophic surface effects. Any saturation of methane natural gas into the open water, much worse an oil slick, would have killed millions of fish and poison the Marianna’s’ natural reef. The entire Western Pacific could have been wrecked.” He shook his head slowly. “Steven didn’t care about that anymore.”

Salas stood up and cleared his throat. He walked away from the table as tears began to shimmer in his eyes. Genero moved to him, but he used his hand to wave her back down. Kira poured a glass of water and brought it to him. He downed it and turned around, pain emanating from his eyes.

“When I rejected the idea based on my research, he said that his talents would be better served elsewhere.” The vision of those last moments came back to him like a lightning strike.

“NO!? HOW CAN YOU SAY NO!?”

“Steven, there’s no way it can work? We don’t have the technology to mine anything that deep,” Salas defended.

“I’m designing that technology, Joe! We can do this!”

“No, we can’t. We don’t have the vehicles to accomplish this. PRAS Deep is an industrial dig, Steven. Our vehicles here are too small to add drills and collection arms. I designed them for speed and observation, not heavy labor.”

“Then maybe you should let me do the designing, Joe. You’re the author, the lecturer and the global savior; I’m the businessman and the visionary.”

“And there’s the problem right there, Steven! Right there! You’re the businessman! How much is HELIOS offering you to get them down there?”

“They are offering us, not me, ten million! Ten million for a successful capture!”

“And what happens when we don’t make the capture? Or the equipment malfunctions? Or there’s a leak? PRAS Deep could drain out indefinitely!”

“Goddamn it, Joe!” Steven laughed, shaking his head. “Are you serious, man? Nothing will happen. We will be employees of HELIOS. If something goes wrong, then something goes wrong—we keep at it until it does work.”

“We become employees of HELIOS, the biggest fucking monopoly on the planet! Steven, they don’t give a shit about the Earth except how to rape it for their own profit! You want to work for them?”

“Joe, on top of the ten million, they will finance all our designs, patent them and market them. Joe!” Haynes looked excitedly into Salas’ eyes wildly. “No one has ever attempted this. No one has ever imagined it. We are the only two people on Earth who can make this work. We basically own the trench.”

“Not anymore apparently,” Salas countered. “You’re going to sell it to corporate criminals.”

“Oh Joe! Get over that, for Christ’s sakes! The entire United States is corrupt, starting from the fucking president!” He stepped forward, again smiling, with his vision guiding his steps and his words. “I’m talking about truly making our mark on the world. Imagine the books you’ll write, the lectures you’ll give, the symposiums you’ll head! That, my brother, that’s the dream you’ve wanted! That’s the science you’ve loved! You will have been the only man to protect the trench, discover its natural fuel, and then save our economy by mining it. Is this not a scientist’s dream?”

Salas sat down and felt the snake oil Steven was peddling touch his lips. Haynes went to the lab’s kitchen and came out with two cold bottles of beer. He popped them open and handed one to Salas.

“Joe, look at us. Look at what we do. We take measurements, readings, dive into the abyss, take more readings, monitor the chemicals, salinity and wave heights, and for what? Yes, we get a little excitement when we bust a company or the Navy on some infraction. We protect ecosystems, save beached whales and speak at international conferences. But other than that, what do we really accomplish? What is our legacy?”

“We protect our little piece of the planet,” answered Salas flatly. “You’re right, the trench is basically ours, especially PRAS Deep, and it’s our responsibility.”

“But that’s all it is, Joe. Like acres of undeveloped land, it’s useless unless tapped or built on. It’s just a canyon filled with water and no one really gives a damn about it.” Haynes dropped his smile and turned on a seriousness that Salas wanted to believe. “Joe, think about what I’m about to ask you right now. Think about it hard because I want to hear your answer.”

“What, Steven?”

“Is what we do, really so important?”

The question was simple enough and could have been answered instantly, but Salas hesitated. They took long swigs as an uncomfortable silence floated between them.

“What did you say?” asked Sakura. She and the rest of the group remained silent, concentrating on his recollection as if they were sitting around a campfire listening to a ghost story.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he confessed. “The underdeveloped land angle was correct. Other than a handful of scientific societies, academics and fellow researchers no one gives a damn about the Marianas Islands, Micronesia, the trench or Guam.” His eyes turned dreamy, as if he was looking at some strange thing in the distance.

“Steven said it was my duty.”

“It’s your duty, Joe!”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s your duty as a Chamorro to protect Guam, its people and its way of life. Can you imagine what this venture could do for local business? The companies that would be built here? The factories, labs and supply and storage facilities? Can you see that? Like a manufacturing plant built in a shanty town, local employment and urban development would boom. The economy would explode with the billions of dollars of investment, building and land rental. PRAS Deep would not only be an undersea industrial park, but an Asian employment center.

“And the tourism, Joe! A new dimension of undersea tourism! We can design subs to go into the trench! Not near the mining facility, of course, but take people deeper than they’ve ever been.” Haynes took a deep swig from his bottle, his smile returning as this new vision began to take hold. “And it won’t be like that space tourism crap! Twenty-million-dollars per person! What a crock of shit! This won’t be a goddamn vanity trip for the rich, but an actual life-changing experience for normal people.” Haynes moved even closer to Salas.

“Joe, it costs a typical family of four $700 to see a three-hour NFL game; well, why not charge that much for a five-hour dive into the deepest abyss on the Earth? The deeper the dive, the more they pay. Discount trips for students and free dives for UOG marine biology majors. Joe! Do you see it!? The possibilities for your island!?”

“That actually sounds hella epic,” said Sakura. “That would definitely put Guam on the map. People would come from all over Asia and the world to go into the trench.”

“But you said no to him,” concluded Aurelia. Salas nodded.

“I must admit, I was taken in by the visions. Steven could sell an air conditioner to an Eskimo, but what he said was really starting to make sense to me. I’m a Chamorro, yet my work, my books and my battles for the environment have done nothing to elevate my people or my island. Steven is a genius and a visionary, and with HELIOS money, it could have possibly worked. But in the end, I couldn’t get past the safety factors. I didn’t want PRAS Deep to be a cesspool. ”

“So, why do you suspect he has anything to do with this killer sub?” asked Duenas. Salas grabbed his laptop and connected it to McLaren’s, using the wall screen to display his own files.

“Steven showed me some of his designs for the project. Take a look.” He began flashing the concept art images on the huge screens. They were painstakingly detailed with titles and labels written in Haynes’ own hand.

“Damn! He’s good!”

“He’s a dramatic graphic artist as well as an architectural engineer,” added Camacho.

“Now look at this. This is the prototype he designed as the main mining vehicle.” When the image blanketed the wall, the group gasped.

“Oh my God! That’s it!” Salas went through several images of Haynes’ design from different angles and in different positions of use. It was unmistakable. The thick-lipped, sea bass-like mouth and the hinged chin. It was all there, almost identical, rendered in horrifying detail and color. “Look here at this one. The mouth is open.”

“Hideous!” spat Sakura.

“What’s that inside the mouth?” asked Stone.

“That’s the main bore drill. It comes out when the jaw is dropped.” More images of the drill fully extended impressed and frightened the group. “You can see the engines and propulsion system in this cutaway drawing.”

“It’s different from the photos,” noticed Aurelia. “There aren’t the arched, dorsal fin blades. They must have been added later.”

“So, what happened then, Jody?” asked Duenas.

“After another night of thinking, I told Steven the next day that I still didn’t think his brilliant designs would work for what HELIOS would demand. And I wasn’t going to turn over the rights of my research to those corporate liars for any price. It seemed that he knew I would not relent, because he didn’t bother arguing with me. He took his stuff and just left.”

“To HELIOS?”

“There’s nowhere else he could have gone. And I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Shit,” uttered Aurelia. “So, they built it and it’s out of there now.”

“Would Haynes be the one actually driving that sub?” asked Stone.

“I don’t think so. He always described it as being a directly-remoted or satellite-controlled vehicle.”

“But is there a satellite that could send a signal that deep into the water?” asked Kira.

“No,” answered Camacho. “There would have to be relay buoys or transmitters pre-placed in the water. They would act as relays.”

“Okay, Dr. Salas,” said Aurelia as he stood up. “You and your team find out about those relay stations and take your vehicles to find the Texas. You will have Commander McLaren to help you.” He turned to the naval officers. “Admirals and Captains, this is now a criminal investigation. I need you to call the FBI to pick up Dr. Haynes, and contact the U.S. Attorney General to prepare to open a case against HELIOS for their role in this. Details will come once we get Haynes.” The officers were nodding as they stood up.

“Jody, we will brief NOAA and the crew of the Argonautica,” added Duenas. “You will use of the research vessel as usual.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

Aurelia looked at the entire group as they began collecting their things.

“This mission will be called “Operation Leviathan.” Admiral Duenas, if you don’t mind, we will base our operations out of here. You and the PRAS team will be linked 24-7 for video conferencing or cell conference calling. Duenas nodded vigorously. Aurelia looked at Kelly Genero.

“Honey, you’re with me. We have to make a lot of calls and give a lot of interviews very soon. We have to get ready. But we first have to call the Secretary of Defense and tell him of the loss of the Texas and all 140 sailors.” He addressed the group once more. “I don’t need to say that all the information we’ve shared is classified for now. Say nothing to the press; Ms. Genero and I will take care of that. The world will find out very soon. We all have our essential phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Share none of this on Facebook or Twitter. Contact me whenever you need to, whatever time. Thank you ladies and gentlemen.”

As the groups began to leave the room, Salas felt someone grab his arm. He turned around and saw Captain Brewer staring at him. His face was slack and his eyes somewhat softer.

“Dr. Salas, I just want to say that I no longer hold any animosity towards you. We both had our jobs to do.”

“That’s good to hear, Captain. We need to work together now.”

“Yes. But in light of this situation, I need to officially ask your permission to use the LFAS so I can hunt that bastard down.” It only took a moment for Salas to nod his head in compliance.

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“Thank you. You can call me Stu.” He held out his hand.

Salas took it.

“Call me Joe.”

“Just promise me one thing, Joe. If and when you find it, that monster sub, you let me know so I can go and rip that bitch apart like it did to the Texas.” Salas nodded again.

“I will, Stu. I promise.”