Deep Storm (17 page)

Ive come to see you.

I gathered as much.

You havent returned my calls or e-mails.

Ive been rather busy, Spartan said. Some items of importance came up.

What I sent you was important, too. Our researchers report on what he found in the library of Grimwold Castle. Have you read it?

Spartans eyes slid away for a moment, toward the engineers working on the seal, before returning to the chief scientist. Ive skimmed it.

Then you know what Im talking about.

Frankly, Doctor, Im a little surprised. For a man of science, you seem far too credulous. The entire thing could be a work of imagination. You know how superstitious people were back then: old accounts of demons, witches, sea monsters, and other rubbish are innumerable. Even if it purports to be real, there is no reason to think this account has anything to do with what were concerned about here.

If youd read the document youd have seen the parallels. Asher, normally so calm and collected, was agitated. Of course its possible the two are unrelated. But if nothing else, it emphasizes the need to slow down. Learn a little more about whats down there.

The only way to do that with any certainty is to expose it. Weve already learned quite a bit, found quite a bit you of all people know that.

Yes, and look at the results. Healthy people falling sick in alarming numbers. People with no history of emotional problems having psychotic episodes.

You brought somebody on board to look into that. Whats he been doing?

Asher drew closer. Working with his hands tied. Because you havent given him access to the lower levels. Where the real story lies.

Spartan gave a wintry smile. Weve been over that. Security is paramount. Peter Crane is a security risk.

Hes a lot less of a risk than

But Spartan made a suppressing gesture. Asher drew back, following Spartans eyes. A new person had stepped onto the platform: a muscular, sunburnt man in dark military fatigues, carrying a black canvas duffel. His iron-gray hair was cut very short. Catching sight of Spartan, he walked over and executed a crisp salute.

Chief Woburn, reporting as ordered, sir, he said.

Where are your men, Chief? Spartan asked.

Waiting outside the Compression Complex.

Then join them. Ill have Commander Korolis show you to your quarters.

Aye, aye, sir. Another salute and the officer wheeled around.

Spartan turned back to Asher. Ill take your request under advisement.

Asher had remained silent through the brief exchange, his gaze moving from the strangers face to the insignia on his fatigues. Now he confronted Spartan. Who was that?

Surely you heard the name. Chief Petty Officer Woburn.

More military? There must be some mistake.

Spartan shook his head. No mistake. Theyre here at the request of Commander Korolis and will be taking orders directly from him. He believes more manpower is necessary to enforce security.

Ashers expression grew dark. Additional personnel allotments are joint decisions, Admiral. Made by us as a team. And that insignia, the mans a

This isnt a democracy, Doctor. Not when the safety of this Facility is concerned. And at the moment, that safety appears to be in jeopardy. And Spartan gave a subtle nod toward the group of engineers at the far corner of the platform.

Asher turned in their direction. Whats the status of the breach?

Successful containment, as you can see. A submersible is being dispatched from the surface, with additional plating for the exterior of the dome. A temporary seal has been applied until a more permanent one can be fabricated. That will take some time. The affected area is about four feet in length.

Asher frowned. Four feet? For a pinhole?

Yes. It was only a pinhole. But thats not what it was intended to be.

For a moment Asher remained still, digesting this. Im not sure I understand.

Spartan nodded again toward the engineers. You see that bulkhead where the breach occurred? It runs directly to the airlock housing, where the electrical and magnetic controls that open the hatch are located. When our emergency crews sealed the breach, they found a three-foot cut, all the way from the pinhole to the housing.

A cut, Asher repeated slowly.

Here, along the inside of the dome. Made by a portable laser cutter, we believe a detailed analysis is ongoing. This cut compromised the integrity of the entire bulkhead. It could have failed at any time although failure was more likely during a moment of stress, such as the docking impact of the Tub. Luckily, the laser cut was imperfect it was deeper in some spots than in others. Hence, the pinhole breach. If the cut had worked as designed, the pinhole would have spread down the bulkhead to the airlock housing itself

Rupturing the hatch, Asher murmured. Causing a massive hull breach.

A terminal hull breach.

And this cut you mention. Youre implying it wasnt an accident? That it was a deliberate act of of sabotage?

For a moment, Admiral Spartan did not reply. Then, slowly, he lifted an index finger and keeping his gaze locked on Asher laid it perpendicularly across his lips.

Chapter 19

Crane pulled back from the black rubber eyepiece, blinked, then rubbed his face with both hands. He glanced around the laboratory, waiting for his vision to adapt. The images slowly sharpened: a medical technician across the room, working with a titration setup. Another technician entering data into a workstation. And just across the lab table, Michele Bishop, who like himself was using a portable viewer. As he watched, she, too, leaned away, and their eyes met.

You look about as tired as I feel, she said.

Crane nodded. He was tired bone tired. Hed been going twenty hours straight: first with a harrowing and exhausting microsurgical procedure to reattach Conrads severed fingers, then with the seemingly endless follow-up on his hypothesis of heavy metal poisoning.

And along with the weariness was also disappointment. Because so far, no significant traces of heavy metals had been detected in the Deep Storm personnel. Hair, urine, and other samples had been examined, without result. He and Bishop were now examining slides from energy-dispersive X-ray fluorescence spectrometer tests, but once again, nothing so far. The public areas of the Facility had also come up clean.

He sighed deeply. Hed been so convinced this was the answer. It still could be, of course. But with every new test that came back negative, the chances grew increasingly remote. Just as disappointing, Jane Rands data mining efforts had turned up nothing.

You need to get some rest, Bishop said. Before you become a patient here yourself.

Crane sighed again, stretched. I guess youre right. And she was: hed soon be too bleary-eyed to interpret the slides properly. So he stood, said his good-byes to Bishop and the staff, and exited the Medical Suite.

Although most of the Facility remained terra incognita to him, he knew his way from the Medical Suite to his quarters well enough to make the trip without conscious thought. Down to Times Square, then left past the library and theater, one flight up in the elevator, another left, then two quick rights. He yawned as he opened his stateroom door with his passcard. He just wasnt thinking clearly anymore. A good six hours of sleep would put the problem in perspective, maybe point out the answer that was eluding him.

He stepped inside, yawning again, and placed his palmtop device on the desk. He turned and then froze.

Howard Asher was sitting in the visitors chair, an unknown man in a lab coat standing beside him.

Crane frowned in surprise. What are he began.

Asher made a brusque suppressing gesture with his right hand, then nodded to the man in the lab coat. As Crane watched, the stranger closed and locked the room and bathroom doors.

Asher cleared his throat softly. Crane had seen little of him since their squash game. His face looked worn, pained, and there was a haunted gleam in his eyes, as of someone who had been struggling with demons.

Hows the arm? Crane asked.

Its been rather painful the last day or two, Asher admitted.

You need to be careful. Vascular insufficiency can lead to ulceration, even gangrene, if the nerve function is impaired. You should let me

But Asher cut him off with another gesture. Theres no time for that now. Look, well need to speak quietly. Rogers not in the adjoining quarters at present, but he could return at any time.

This was the last thing Crane had expected to hear. He nodded, mystified.

Why dont you sit down? And Asher motioned toward the desk chair. He waited until Crane was seated before speaking again.

Youre about to cross a threshold, Peter, he said in the same low voice. Im going to tell you something. And once Ive told you, there will be no going back. Things will never be the same for you again, ever. The world will be a fundamentally different place. Do you understand?

Why do I get the sense, Crane said, youre about to tell me I was right, back there in the squash court? That this isnt about Atlantis, at all?

A bleak smile passed over Ashers features. The truth is infinitely stranger.

Crane felt a chill in the pit of his stomach.

Asher placed his elbows on his knees. Have you heard of the Mohorovicic discontinuity?

It sounds familiar. But I cant place it.

Its also known as the M discontinuity, or simply the Moho.

The Moho. I remember my marine geology professor at Annapolis talking about it.

Then youll remember its the boundary between the earths crust and the mantle beneath.

Crane nodded.

The Moho lies at different depths, depending on location. The crust is much thicker beneath the continents, for example, than beneath the oceans. The Moho is as deep as seventy miles beneath the surface of the continents, but at certain mid-oceanic ridges, its as shallow as a few miles.

Asher leaned toward Crane, lowered his voice still further. The Storm King oil platform is built above just such an oceanic ridge.

So youre saying the Moho is close to the crust directly below us.

Asher nodded.

Crane swallowed. He had no idea where this was headed.

You were told the same story that all workers in the unclassified levels of Deep Storm were that during a routine mining operation, drillers on the Storm King platform found evidence of an ancient civilization beneath the ocean floor. And that story is true as far as it goes.

Asher plucked a handkerchief from his pocket, mopped his brow. But theres more to it than that. You see, they didnt find artifacts or ancient buildings, anything like that. What they detected was a signal.

A signal? You mean like radio waves?

The exact nature of the signal is problematic. More of a seismic ping, almost a kind of sonar. But of an unknown nature. All we can say for sure is that its not naturally occurring. And before I leave this room, Ill prove it to you.

Crane opened his mouth to speak. Then he stopped. Disbelief, shock, perplexity, all rose within him.

Seeing the look on Cranes face, Asher smiled again: an almost wistful smile this time. Yes, Peter. Now comes the difficult part. Because, you see, that signal came from beneath the Moho. Beneath the earths crust.

Beneath? Crane murmured in disbelief.

Asher nodded.

But that would mean