Abduction (4 page)
Authors: Robin Cook
Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #Onbekend, #Unabridged Audio - Fiction, #Suspense & Thriller
"Of course," Mark said. "The new bit and the corer will be up shortly, and I'll have them loaded directly
into the tray."
"Aye, aye, sir!" Donald said with a salute. He walked back to the edge of the fantail and looked down at the descending submersible.
"He's a bit stiff," Mark said, "but one hell of a reliable worker." Perry wasn't listening. He couldn't take his eyes off Suzanne. She had an unmistakable spring to her step; her smile was friendly and welcoming. With her left hand she was pressing two large books against her chest.
"Mr. Perry Bergman!" Suzanne exclaimed, reaching out with her right hand. "I was delighted to hear you'd come out to the ship and am thrilled that you're going to dive with us. How are you? You must be recovering from a long flight."
"I'm just fine, thank you," Perry said while shaking hands with the oceanographer. Then he unconsciously reached up to make sure his hair was appropriately arranged over the thinning spot on the top of his head. He noted that Suzanne's teeth were as white as his own. "After our meeting in Los Angeles I never got to tell you how pleased I was that you decided to bring
Benthic Explorer
back to Sea Mount Olympus."
"I'm glad," Perry said, forcing a smile. He was bewitched by Suzanne's eyes. He couldn't tell if they were blue or green. "I only wish the drilling were proceeding more successfully." "I'm sorry about that," Suzanne said. "But I have to admit, from my personal, selfish perspective I'm a happy camper. The seamount is a fascinating environment, as you're about to see, and the drilling problems are getting me down there. So you won't hear any complaints from me." "I'm glad it's making somebody happy," Perry said. "What's so fascinating about this particular seamount?"
"It's the geology," Suzanne said. "Do you know what basaltic dikes are?" "I can't say that I do," Perry admitted. "Other than I suppose they're made out of basalt." He laughed self-consciously and decided that her eyes were a light blue tinted green by the surrounding ocean. He also realized that he liked the sparing way she used makeup. She seemed to be sporting only the slightest bit of lipstick. Cosmetics were a sore subject for Perry and his wife. She worked as a makeup artist for a movie studio and wore a significant amount herself, to Perry's chagrin. Now their eleven- and thirteen-year-old daughters were following their mother's example. The issue had become a full-blown feud that Perry had little chance of winning. Suzanne's smile broadened. "Basalt dikes are indeed made of basalt. They are formed when molten basalt is forced up through fissures in the earth's crust. What makes some of them so intriguing is that they're geometric enough to look manmade. Wait till you see them." "Sorry to interrupt," Donald said. "The
Oceanus
is ready to dive and we should be on board. Even in a calm sea it's dangerous to have her moored too long next to the ship." "Yes, sir!" Suzanne said smartly. She saluted crisply but with a lingering, mildly mocking smile. Donald
into the tray."
"Aye, aye, sir!" Donald said with a salute. He walked back to the edge of the fantail and looked down at the descending submersible.
"He's a bit stiff," Mark said, "but one hell of a reliable worker." Perry wasn't listening. He couldn't take his eyes off Suzanne. She had an unmistakable spring to her step; her smile was friendly and welcoming. With her left hand she was pressing two large books against her chest.
"Mr. Perry Bergman!" Suzanne exclaimed, reaching out with her right hand. "I was delighted to hear you'd come out to the ship and am thrilled that you're going to dive with us. How are you? You must be recovering from a long flight."
"I'm just fine, thank you," Perry said while shaking hands with the oceanographer. Then he unconsciously reached up to make sure his hair was appropriately arranged over the thinning spot on the top of his head. He noted that Suzanne's teeth were as white as his own. "After our meeting in Los Angeles I never got to tell you how pleased I was that you decided to bring
Benthic Explorer
back to Sea Mount Olympus."
"I'm glad," Perry said, forcing a smile. He was bewitched by Suzanne's eyes. He couldn't tell if they were blue or green. "I only wish the drilling were proceeding more successfully." "I'm sorry about that," Suzanne said. "But I have to admit, from my personal, selfish perspective I'm a happy camper. The seamount is a fascinating environment, as you're about to see, and the drilling problems are getting me down there. So you won't hear any complaints from me." "I'm glad it's making somebody happy," Perry said. "What's so fascinating about this particular seamount?"
"It's the geology," Suzanne said. "Do you know what basaltic dikes are?" "I can't say that I do," Perry admitted. "Other than I suppose they're made out of basalt." He laughed self-consciously and decided that her eyes were a light blue tinted green by the surrounding ocean. He also realized that he liked the sparing way she used makeup. She seemed to be sporting only the slightest bit of lipstick. Cosmetics were a sore subject for Perry and his wife. She worked as a makeup artist for a movie studio and wore a significant amount herself, to Perry's chagrin. Now their eleven- and thirteen-year-old daughters were following their mother's example. The issue had become a full-blown feud that Perry had little chance of winning. Suzanne's smile broadened. "Basalt dikes are indeed made of basalt. They are formed when molten basalt is forced up through fissures in the earth's crust. What makes some of them so intriguing is that they're geometric enough to look manmade. Wait till you see them." "Sorry to interrupt," Donald said. "The
Oceanus
is ready to dive and we should be on board. Even in a calm sea it's dangerous to have her moored too long next to the ship." "Yes, sir!" Suzanne said smartly. She saluted crisply but with a lingering, mildly mocking smile. Donald
was not amused. He knew she was teasing him.
Suzanne gestured for Perry to precede her down the companionway that led to a combination dive platform and launching dock. Perry started but hesitated as another involuntary shudder rippled down his spine. Despite his efforts to reassure himself about the safety of the submersible and despite his anticipation of Suzanne's pleasant company, the foreboding he'd experienced earlier came back like a cold draft through an underground crypt which is what he thought the interior of the
Oceanus
was going to feel like. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him he was crazy to lock himself up inside a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean that was already sunk. "Just a second!" Perry said. "How long is this dive going to take?" "It can be as short as a couple of hours," Donald said, "or as long as you'd like. We usually stay down as long as the divers are in the water." "Why do you ask?" Suzanne asked.
"Because . . ." Perry sought for an explanation. "Because I have to call back to the office." "On Sunday?" Suzanne questioned. "Who's at the office on Sunday?" Perry felt himself blush anew. Between the night flights from New York to the Azores he'd gotten his days mixed up. He laughed hollowly and tapped the side of his head. "I forgot it was Sunday. It must be early Alzheimer's."
"Let's move out!" Donald announced before descending to the dive platform below. Perry followed, one step at a time, feeling like a ridiculous coward. Then, despite his better judgment, he inched across the swaying gangplank. It was shocking how much motion was involved in what appeared to be a calm sea.
The gangplank lead directly to the top of the
Oceanus
's sail. The deck of the submersible was already awash since the vessel was close to being neutrally buoyant. With some difficulty Perry got himself through the hatch. As he worked his way down into the sub he had to press tight against the steel ladder's icy cold rungs.
The interior was as tight a space as Mark had warned. Perry began to doubt the claims that there was room for ten people. They'd have to be packed like sardines. Contributing to the cramped atmosphere, the walls of the front of the sub were lined with gauges, LCD readouts, and toggle switches. There wasn't a square inch without a dial or knob. The four viewing ports seemed tiny within the profusion of electronic equipment. The only positive was that the air smelled clean. In the background Perry could make out the hum of a ventilation fan.
Donald directed Perry to a low-slung chair directly behind his on the port side. In front of the pilot's seat were several large CRT monitors whose computers could construct virtual images of the seafloor to help in navigation. Donald was using the FM radio to talk with Larry Nelson in the dive control van as he continued the predive check of the equipment and electrical systems. Perry heard the hatch close above with a thud followed by a distinctive click. A few moments later Suzanne dropped down from the sail with a good deal more agility than Perry had exhibited. She'd even managed to do it with the two large books in hand. She proceeded to hand them to Perry.
Suzanne gestured for Perry to precede her down the companionway that led to a combination dive platform and launching dock. Perry started but hesitated as another involuntary shudder rippled down his spine. Despite his efforts to reassure himself about the safety of the submersible and despite his anticipation of Suzanne's pleasant company, the foreboding he'd experienced earlier came back like a cold draft through an underground crypt which is what he thought the interior of the
Oceanus
was going to feel like. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him he was crazy to lock himself up inside a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean that was already sunk. "Just a second!" Perry said. "How long is this dive going to take?" "It can be as short as a couple of hours," Donald said, "or as long as you'd like. We usually stay down as long as the divers are in the water." "Why do you ask?" Suzanne asked.
"Because . . ." Perry sought for an explanation. "Because I have to call back to the office." "On Sunday?" Suzanne questioned. "Who's at the office on Sunday?" Perry felt himself blush anew. Between the night flights from New York to the Azores he'd gotten his days mixed up. He laughed hollowly and tapped the side of his head. "I forgot it was Sunday. It must be early Alzheimer's."
"Let's move out!" Donald announced before descending to the dive platform below. Perry followed, one step at a time, feeling like a ridiculous coward. Then, despite his better judgment, he inched across the swaying gangplank. It was shocking how much motion was involved in what appeared to be a calm sea.
The gangplank lead directly to the top of the
Oceanus
's sail. The deck of the submersible was already awash since the vessel was close to being neutrally buoyant. With some difficulty Perry got himself through the hatch. As he worked his way down into the sub he had to press tight against the steel ladder's icy cold rungs.
The interior was as tight a space as Mark had warned. Perry began to doubt the claims that there was room for ten people. They'd have to be packed like sardines. Contributing to the cramped atmosphere, the walls of the front of the sub were lined with gauges, LCD readouts, and toggle switches. There wasn't a square inch without a dial or knob. The four viewing ports seemed tiny within the profusion of electronic equipment. The only positive was that the air smelled clean. In the background Perry could make out the hum of a ventilation fan.
Donald directed Perry to a low-slung chair directly behind his on the port side. In front of the pilot's seat were several large CRT monitors whose computers could construct virtual images of the seafloor to help in navigation. Donald was using the FM radio to talk with Larry Nelson in the dive control van as he continued the predive check of the equipment and electrical systems. Perry heard the hatch close above with a thud followed by a distinctive click. A few moments later Suzanne dropped down from the sail with a good deal more agility than Perry had exhibited. She'd even managed to do it with the two large books in hand. She proceeded to hand them to Perry.
"I brought these for you," she said. "The thick one is on oceanic marine life and the other is on marine
geology. I thought it might be fun for you to look up some of the things we'll be seeing. We don't want you to get bored."
"That was thoughtful," Perry commented. Little did Suzanne realize, he was far too anxious to be bored. He felt the way he did when he was about to take off in an airplane: There was always the chance that the next few minutes would be his last.
Suzanne sat down in the starboard pilot's seat. Soon she began flipping toggle switches and calling out the results to Donald. It was apparent the two worked as a team. Once Suzanne joined in the predive check, haunting pinging sounds began reverberating through the confined space. It was a unique sound that Perry associated with old World War II submarine movies. Perry shivered again. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to think about his childhood trauma of being pinned under the covers by his brother. But the ploy didn't work. He looked out the view port to his left and struggled to comprehend why he felt he was making the worst decision in his life by taking this short, routine dive. He knew it wasn't a rational feeling since he recognized he was with professionals for whom this dive was commonplace. He knew the submersible was reliable and that he'd recently paid for an overhaul.
All at once Perry started. A masked face had materialized literally before his eyes. An involuntary, pitiful squeak escaped from Perry's lips before he realized he was looking into the face of one of the submersible's handlers who'd entered the water with scuba equipment. A moment later Perry saw other divers. In a slow-motion underwater ballet the divers quickly detached the handling lines. There was a knock on the outside of the hull. The
Oceanus
was on its own. "All-clear signal received," Donald said into the radio mike. He was talking to the launch team supervisor on the fantail. "Request permission to power away from the ship." "Permission granted," a disembodied voice responded. Perry felt a new linear motion add to the passive roll, yaw, and pitch of the sub. He pressed his nose against the view port and saw the
Benthic Explorer
move out of his field of vision. With his face still pressed against the Plexiglas he looked down into the oceanic depths where he was about to descend. The sunlight did strange visual tricks as it refracted off the undulating water surface above, making him imagine he was staring into the maw of infinity. With another shiver Perry acknowledged he was as vulnerable as an infant. A combination of vanity and stupidity had drawn him into this alien environment in which he had no control of his destiny. Although he was not religious, he found himself praying that the little underwater cruise would be short, sweet, and safe.
CHAPTER FOUR
"No contact," Suzanne said in response to Donald's question whether the sonar echo sounder showed any unexpected obstacles beneath the
Oceanus.
Even though they were bobbing around in open ocean, part of the predive check was to make sure no other submarine craft had surreptitiously moved under them.
geology. I thought it might be fun for you to look up some of the things we'll be seeing. We don't want you to get bored."
"That was thoughtful," Perry commented. Little did Suzanne realize, he was far too anxious to be bored. He felt the way he did when he was about to take off in an airplane: There was always the chance that the next few minutes would be his last.
Suzanne sat down in the starboard pilot's seat. Soon she began flipping toggle switches and calling out the results to Donald. It was apparent the two worked as a team. Once Suzanne joined in the predive check, haunting pinging sounds began reverberating through the confined space. It was a unique sound that Perry associated with old World War II submarine movies. Perry shivered again. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to think about his childhood trauma of being pinned under the covers by his brother. But the ploy didn't work. He looked out the view port to his left and struggled to comprehend why he felt he was making the worst decision in his life by taking this short, routine dive. He knew it wasn't a rational feeling since he recognized he was with professionals for whom this dive was commonplace. He knew the submersible was reliable and that he'd recently paid for an overhaul.
All at once Perry started. A masked face had materialized literally before his eyes. An involuntary, pitiful squeak escaped from Perry's lips before he realized he was looking into the face of one of the submersible's handlers who'd entered the water with scuba equipment. A moment later Perry saw other divers. In a slow-motion underwater ballet the divers quickly detached the handling lines. There was a knock on the outside of the hull. The
Oceanus
was on its own. "All-clear signal received," Donald said into the radio mike. He was talking to the launch team supervisor on the fantail. "Request permission to power away from the ship." "Permission granted," a disembodied voice responded. Perry felt a new linear motion add to the passive roll, yaw, and pitch of the sub. He pressed his nose against the view port and saw the
Benthic Explorer
move out of his field of vision. With his face still pressed against the Plexiglas he looked down into the oceanic depths where he was about to descend. The sunlight did strange visual tricks as it refracted off the undulating water surface above, making him imagine he was staring into the maw of infinity. With another shiver Perry acknowledged he was as vulnerable as an infant. A combination of vanity and stupidity had drawn him into this alien environment in which he had no control of his destiny. Although he was not religious, he found himself praying that the little underwater cruise would be short, sweet, and safe.
CHAPTER FOUR
"No contact," Suzanne said in response to Donald's question whether the sonar echo sounder showed any unexpected obstacles beneath the
Oceanus.
Even though they were bobbing around in open ocean, part of the predive check was to make sure no other submarine craft had surreptitiously moved under them.
Donald took the VHF radio mike and established contact with Larry Nelson in the diving van. "We're
clear of the ship. Oxygen is on, scrubbers are on, hatch is closed, underwater phone is on, grounds are normal, and the echo sounder is clear. Request permission to dive." "Is your tracking beacon activated?" Larry's voice questioned over the radio. "That's affirmative," Donald said.
"You have permission to dive," Larry said with a small amount of static. "Depth to the well head is nine hundred ninety-four feet. Have a nice dive." "Roger!" Donald said.
Donald was about to hang up the mike when Larry added, "The DDC is nearing depth so the bell will be starting down ASAP. I'd estimate the divers will be at the site in half an hour." "We'll be waiting," Donald said. "Over and out." He hung up the mike. Then to his fellow submariners he added, "Dive! Dive! Vent the main ballast tanks!" Suzanne leaned forward and threw a switch. "Venting the ballast tanks," she repeated so there was no chance for misunderstanding. Donald made an entry on his clipboard. There was a sound like a shower in a neighboring room as the cold Atlantic water rushed into the
Oceanus
's ballast tanks. Within moments the craft's buoyancy plummeted, and once negative she
silently slipped beneath the surface.
For the next few minutes both Donald and Suzanne were totally occupied, making sure all systems were still operating normally. Their conversation was restricted to operational jargon. In a rapid fashion they went through most of the predive checklist for the second time while the submersible's descent accelerated to a terminal velocity of a hundred feet per minute. Perry occupied his time by looking out the view port. The color went from its initial greenish blue to rapidly advancing indigo. In five minutes all he could see was a blue glow when he looked upward. Downward it was dark purple fading into blackness. In stark contrast, the interior of the
Oceanus
was bathed in a cool electronic luminosity from the myriad monitors and readout devices. "I believe we're a little front heavy," Suzanne said once all the electronic equipment had been checked. "I agree," Donald said. "Go ahead and compensate for Mr. Bergman!" Suzanne threw another switch. A whirring noise could be heard. Perry leaned forward between the two pilots. "What do you mean, 'compensate'
for me
?" His voice sounded funny even to himself. He swallowed to relieve a dry throat. "We have a variable ballast system," Suzanne explained. "It's filled with oil, and I'm pumping some of it aft to make up for your weight forward of the center of gravity." "Oh!" Perry said simply. He leaned back. As an engineer he understood the physics. He was also relieved they weren't referring to his timidity, which his self-consciousness had irrationally suggested.
clear of the ship. Oxygen is on, scrubbers are on, hatch is closed, underwater phone is on, grounds are normal, and the echo sounder is clear. Request permission to dive." "Is your tracking beacon activated?" Larry's voice questioned over the radio. "That's affirmative," Donald said.
"You have permission to dive," Larry said with a small amount of static. "Depth to the well head is nine hundred ninety-four feet. Have a nice dive." "Roger!" Donald said.
Donald was about to hang up the mike when Larry added, "The DDC is nearing depth so the bell will be starting down ASAP. I'd estimate the divers will be at the site in half an hour." "We'll be waiting," Donald said. "Over and out." He hung up the mike. Then to his fellow submariners he added, "Dive! Dive! Vent the main ballast tanks!" Suzanne leaned forward and threw a switch. "Venting the ballast tanks," she repeated so there was no chance for misunderstanding. Donald made an entry on his clipboard. There was a sound like a shower in a neighboring room as the cold Atlantic water rushed into the
Oceanus
's ballast tanks. Within moments the craft's buoyancy plummeted, and once negative she
silently slipped beneath the surface.
For the next few minutes both Donald and Suzanne were totally occupied, making sure all systems were still operating normally. Their conversation was restricted to operational jargon. In a rapid fashion they went through most of the predive checklist for the second time while the submersible's descent accelerated to a terminal velocity of a hundred feet per minute. Perry occupied his time by looking out the view port. The color went from its initial greenish blue to rapidly advancing indigo. In five minutes all he could see was a blue glow when he looked upward. Downward it was dark purple fading into blackness. In stark contrast, the interior of the
Oceanus
was bathed in a cool electronic luminosity from the myriad monitors and readout devices. "I believe we're a little front heavy," Suzanne said once all the electronic equipment had been checked. "I agree," Donald said. "Go ahead and compensate for Mr. Bergman!" Suzanne threw another switch. A whirring noise could be heard. Perry leaned forward between the two pilots. "What do you mean, 'compensate'
for me
?" His voice sounded funny even to himself. He swallowed to relieve a dry throat. "We have a variable ballast system," Suzanne explained. "It's filled with oil, and I'm pumping some of it aft to make up for your weight forward of the center of gravity." "Oh!" Perry said simply. He leaned back. As an engineer he understood the physics. He was also relieved they weren't referring to his timidity, which his self-consciousness had irrationally suggested.
Suzanne turned the variable ballast pump off when she was satisfied with the boat's trim. Then she
turned around to face Perry. She was eager to make his dive to the seamount as positive as possible. Once they were back on ship, she hoped to present him with a case for conducting purely exploratory dives on the guyot. At the moment, the only time she got down there was to change the drill bit. She'd had no luck persuading Mark Davidson of the value of research-inspired dives. Adding to Suzanne's anxiety was the widespread rumor that the drilling operation would be scrapped because of technical problems. Sea Mount Olympus would be abandoned before she could get a closer look. That was the last thing she wanted, and not only because of her professional interests. Just before leaving on the current project, she had what she hoped was the final breakup of an unhealthy, volatile relationship with an aspiring actor. At the moment returning to L.A. was the last thing she wanted to do. Perry Bergman's sudden appearance on-site was serendipitous. She could take her case right to the top. "Comfortable?" Suzanne asked.
"I've never been more comfortable in my life," Perry averred. Suzanne smiled despite the obvious sarcasm in Perry's response. The situation was not looking good. The Benthic Marine president was still tense as evidenced by his gripping the arms of his seat as if he were about to leap out of it. The books that she'd made the effort to bring were lying unopened on the floor grate.
For a moment Suzanne studied the taut president whose eyes looked everywhere but into hers. What she could not tell was whether Perry's anxiety was from apprehension of being in the submersible or just a reflection of his basic personality. Even on her first meeting with the man six months ago, she had found him a mildly eccentric, vain, and nervous guy. He was obviously not her type in addition to being short enough for her to look directly in the eye in her tennis shoes. Yet despite having little in common with him especially since he was an engineer-cum-entrepreneur and she a scientist, she trusted that he'd be receptive to her arguments. After all, he'd already responded positively to her request to bring the
Benthic Explorer
back to Sea Mount Olympus even if it was only to drill into the supposed magma
chamber.
Sea Mount Olympus had been Suzanne's main preoccupation for almost a year, since she'd stumbled on its existence by switching on the side-scan sonar on the
Benthic Explorer
out of boredom when the ship was heading back to port. Initially, her curiosity only involved her inability to explain why such a massive, apparently extinct volcano had not been detected by Geosat. But now, after making four dives in the submersible, she was equally fascinated by the geological formations on its flat crown, especially since she'd only been afforded the opportunity to explore in the immediate vicinity of the well head. But then the most intriguing fact emerged when she took it on herself to date the rock that had been brought up with the broken drill bit.
To Suzanne the results were startling and a lot more intriguing than the rock's apparent hardness. From the seamount's position near the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, she expected the rock sample's age to register in the seven-hundred-thousand-year range. Instead it had tested to be around four billion years old! Knowing that the oldest rocks ever found on earth's surface or on the ocean floor were significantly less ancient than this figure, Suzanne had thought that either the dating instrument was out of whack, or she'd made some stupid procedural error. Unwilling to risk ridicule, she decided to keep the results to herself. With painstaking care she spent hours recalibrating the equipment, and then running additional samples over and over. To her disbelief, the results were all within three or four hundred million years of each
turned around to face Perry. She was eager to make his dive to the seamount as positive as possible. Once they were back on ship, she hoped to present him with a case for conducting purely exploratory dives on the guyot. At the moment, the only time she got down there was to change the drill bit. She'd had no luck persuading Mark Davidson of the value of research-inspired dives. Adding to Suzanne's anxiety was the widespread rumor that the drilling operation would be scrapped because of technical problems. Sea Mount Olympus would be abandoned before she could get a closer look. That was the last thing she wanted, and not only because of her professional interests. Just before leaving on the current project, she had what she hoped was the final breakup of an unhealthy, volatile relationship with an aspiring actor. At the moment returning to L.A. was the last thing she wanted to do. Perry Bergman's sudden appearance on-site was serendipitous. She could take her case right to the top. "Comfortable?" Suzanne asked.
"I've never been more comfortable in my life," Perry averred. Suzanne smiled despite the obvious sarcasm in Perry's response. The situation was not looking good. The Benthic Marine president was still tense as evidenced by his gripping the arms of his seat as if he were about to leap out of it. The books that she'd made the effort to bring were lying unopened on the floor grate.
For a moment Suzanne studied the taut president whose eyes looked everywhere but into hers. What she could not tell was whether Perry's anxiety was from apprehension of being in the submersible or just a reflection of his basic personality. Even on her first meeting with the man six months ago, she had found him a mildly eccentric, vain, and nervous guy. He was obviously not her type in addition to being short enough for her to look directly in the eye in her tennis shoes. Yet despite having little in common with him especially since he was an engineer-cum-entrepreneur and she a scientist, she trusted that he'd be receptive to her arguments. After all, he'd already responded positively to her request to bring the
Benthic Explorer
back to Sea Mount Olympus even if it was only to drill into the supposed magma
chamber.
Sea Mount Olympus had been Suzanne's main preoccupation for almost a year, since she'd stumbled on its existence by switching on the side-scan sonar on the
Benthic Explorer
out of boredom when the ship was heading back to port. Initially, her curiosity only involved her inability to explain why such a massive, apparently extinct volcano had not been detected by Geosat. But now, after making four dives in the submersible, she was equally fascinated by the geological formations on its flat crown, especially since she'd only been afforded the opportunity to explore in the immediate vicinity of the well head. But then the most intriguing fact emerged when she took it on herself to date the rock that had been brought up with the broken drill bit.
To Suzanne the results were startling and a lot more intriguing than the rock's apparent hardness. From the seamount's position near the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, she expected the rock sample's age to register in the seven-hundred-thousand-year range. Instead it had tested to be around four billion years old! Knowing that the oldest rocks ever found on earth's surface or on the ocean floor were significantly less ancient than this figure, Suzanne had thought that either the dating instrument was out of whack, or she'd made some stupid procedural error. Unwilling to risk ridicule, she decided to keep the results to herself. With painstaking care she spent hours recalibrating the equipment, and then running additional samples over and over. To her disbelief, the results were all within three or four hundred million years of each
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