Читать книгу Cull - Stafford Ray - Страница 21

The cab paid off , he was about to approach the desk when serendipity intervened, with the appearance of a little guy walking towards him. Thin grey hair hung over his forehead almost to the bridge of a large nose that supported a pair of thick lenses. He was staring at Harry apparently attempting to bring him into focus.

‘Shit!’ he thought, ‘I know the guy from Vietnam. Engineer… That’s right, he worked on my Huey. What’s his name? Andy, Andy Spanner we called him. That’s right, Andrew Speight.”

“Hello Harry!” Speight called, hand outstretched to be shaken. “What the hell are you doing here? Long time no see!”

“Andy Spanner!” He laughed, taking his hand. “Good to see you too, Andy. I’m with the embassy. I thought I’d take a look at where our American dollars are going,” he laughed. “Not that we seem to care most of the time!”

“Any project in particular?”

“Well, I am interested in how the geosequestration research is going. Who’s doing that?”

Speight appeared surprised, then smiled conspiratorially. “Official?”

Harry returned the smile openly. He had a lot to thank Andy for, keeping him alive in Vietnam.

“Strictly unofficial, Andy; just personal interest.”

Speight’s smile disappeared and he became sceptical. “How unofficial?”

Harry laughed. “Absolutely unofficial. Just filling in time. I’m a tourist today. Why, is there a problem?”

Andy began laughing. He quickly checked himself, but laughed again. “What am I laughing at?” he chuckled. “It’s a joke but it’s no laughing matter.”

“Why? What do you know about it?”

Speight’s look told him he was suspicious of his motives. “You really don’t know what I do here?”

Harry could not believe his luck. “So you’re involved in the project!”

“A lot more than is comfortable, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m involved in the project.”

“Isn’t it working?”

“Well, yes, it’s working to a point, a very low point, so I say, ‘What’s the point?’”

Harry laughed. He really liked this little Aussie and recalled the black humour that masked a very smart and caring human being. “What isn’t working?”

He answered so softly that Harry had to lean closer to hear. “Leaks. We’ve got leaks. Well, we always expected leaks, but that’s not my problem. My problem is the bloody corruption. Political interference is corrupting the process. I’ve had just about enough.” He smiled wryly. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to hear my gripes.”

“On the contrary, I always doubted it could ever match the hype,” said Harry. “So I’m not surprised. Look, what say I take you to lunch and you can bring me up to speed? If it’s bad news we might as well have it with pleasure. And I’m sure it’s not all bad.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, mate,” he growled. “There’s a long way to go yet. It’s no magic fix. There are not enough sites and not enough space. I guess you know that anyway. You’re a scientist.”

“Me?” Harry laughed. “I’m no scientist. I thought calculus was the gunk dentists scrape off teeth!”

Andy laughed as Harry continued, “My degree’s in Political Science. What I know about this can be written on the head of a pin. Doesn’t the coal come up and the carbon dioxide go down?”

“Are you buying lunch?” Andy laughed. He took Harry by the arm and guided him from the foyer down a corridor. “We can use the cafeteria in Discovery. Synergy Café; acceptable food, decent wine.”

He steered Harry towards a double doorway, allowing him to enter first. Joining Andy in the queue, Harry took a tray and perused the offerings. He chose beef roast with baked vegetables, and yes, he would like gravy on his meat and on his ‘veggies’. Andy also chose roast and vegetables, so their passage through to the cashier took only a minute. Harry had not yet changed his US dollars, so he offered an American fifty.

Allowing herself the slightest of glances to see who had passed the foreign currency, she deftly made change in multi-coloured Australian notes and coins.

Harry was impressed and turned his approving expression to Andy, who laughed, while placing plates, cutlery and rolls on the one tray.

“We’re used to absent-minded Americans here.” He pointed to the bar. “Get a bottle while I grab a table.”

The room was filling quickly. Andy did not wait for an answer and hurried towards his target, a table for two by the atrium window with a view over the garden.

Harry was soon back with an ice bucket. “I hope this is OK,” he said, offering the label. “Traminer. It was recommended.”

“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed Andy, clearly delighted at the choice of wine. Too expensive for him to have chosen for himself. “Very nice.”

He took the bottle and poured two generous glasses, tasting his before picking up his cutlery. “Get stuck in and I’ll begin,” he said, spearing a generous portion of beef with his fork, cutting it off and immediately transferring it to his mouth.

“You’re familiar with the periodic table, of course.” Andy was barely understandable with his accent and a mouth still half full.

“Well, yes,” Harry answered dubiously. “I think so, why?”

“Well, you remember the atomic weights of carbon and oxygen?”

“Oh!” answered Harry, wondering where this was leading. “I did know it once, sorry, can’t remember past hydrogen one.”

“OK,” laughed Andy. “It’s carbon six and oxygen eight, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Yes, unfortunately. We take a ton of coal out of the seam. It’s about eighty percent carbon, so that combines with oxygen to form just under three tons of carbon dioxide. As a liquid, it is about the same volume as three tons of coal. So, you dig out one ton and have to find space to bury three. Are you with me?”

“Yes,” Harry laughed. “I guess so, go on.”

“Right,” Andy smiled, taking a swig of his wine, now nearing the end of his first glass. “Just as well, or we might as well go straight to the sticky date pudding and talk about Gridiron.”

“No,” Harry encouraged. “No, I really am interested.” He paused in his eating and held Andy’s gaze to stress his interest.

“Part of the system works. We’re pumping liquid CO2 into depleted oil wells. Th

at works, but it also pushes more oil out. Enough said, but the big one is sequestration in other structures that are not necessarily liquid sealable. Still with me?”

Harry nodded his affirmative.

“Now, that makes it potentially able to store about thirty percent of carbon dioxide produced. That’s if we can keep it as a liquid, so,” he grimaced, “it can never be the complete answer. And,” he added, “so few sites are suitable, we’re looking at less than twenty percent.”

“So why pursue it?”

“Depends on what you want out of it, I guess.”

“What do you want?”

“Me?” he laughed. “I’d like to dump the whole stupid idea, but we’re being directed to reach targets our minister has announced. Political targets. Twenty percent reduction by whatever year our masters think keeps the electorate happy. Nothing to do with reality, you know!”

“Obviously,” Harry agreed. “But with the UN talking zero emissions, why aren’t you researching that?”

“Nobody here’s working on zero emissions. If we include leakage from coal seam gas wells, emissions are rising and will continue to rise. While we burn coal and oil, we can never reach zero emissions and to abandon those two babies is politically untenable. Only the Greens are talking zero emissions.”

“Why? The technology’s there, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he answered. “But there’s no money. Look! We’re being directed here to make the old fuels clean. Money being invested in renewables has been withdrawn, so we do what we are paid to do…flog dead horses!” He took another sip of his Riesling.

“There will always be leakage, so if and when we eventually decide to go for zero emissions, it’ll no longer be an option. In the long term, we can’t stop it escaping. There’s only one way to go. Straight to nuclear and/or renewables now, but don’t quote me.”

“Why not?”

The answer came in his expression, but he said, “Look mate, if you hang around the unemployment office you’ll find plenty of people there asking those sorts of questions.”

He took another swig of wine, looked around to check their privacy, then continued, “It gets worse. There are vent sites. If those vent sites pass through ground water, there’ll be acidification, and the same goes with soils, so yes, it’s a serious complication, but like everyone else around here, if I start talking about that, I’ll be looking for another job.”

Harry wondered what the official position was. “Andy, what’s the department saying about this?”

“Th e department! We had a great department head named Bob Bouffler. Great guy and straight but he’s gone and now we have this pansy who wouldn’t know his arse from his elbow!” He laughed. “But he does know where to lick!”

“What happened to Bouffler? Resign?”

“Mate,” he answered. “Nobody knows, or nobody’s saying. He just disappeared and the word is it’s unhealthy to ask. OK?”

All the food had disappeared with most of the bottle of wine. Harry was aware his friend had said too much for his own good, the wine fuelling his resentment.

“Thanks for that Andy,” he said softly. “What you say stays with me.” He smiled his reassurance. “Of course I’ll use it, but no names. OK?”

Andy’s half-smile conveyed his doubt, so Harry continued, “We’re all working within political guidelines. We can only play with the toys we’re given.”

He looked at Andy’s glass. “Another drink?”

“No, thanks mate,” he said, pushing himself unsteadily back from the table. “I think I’ve had enough.”

He stood and extracted a card from his wallet. “Here’s my card. Give me a call at the office anytime and I’ll give you the official tour.”

“Thanks Andy, I really appreciate this. I’ll see how much time I have. OK?”

Andy nodded as Harry guided him to where they had met.

“Thanks for lunch,” Andy slurred. “See you later.” His careful pacing towards the foyer did not disguise his condition.

“In vino veritas,” Harry murmured, as he followed him into the afternoon freeze and hailed a waiting taxi. He had to hurry. Only an hour until his meeting with Mulaney.

He directed the driver to take him back to the Hyatt where an official limousine would be awaiting his pleasure. On the way he thought over Andy’s disclosures.

‘So, the truth is not safe for some,’ he thought wryly.

The sun seemed even less warming as he wondered what he could say to Mulaney to get him to Camp David and admitted to himself he would rather Mulaney didn’t come.