Counterpoint (56 page)

Even Joe Buck agreed with this, and
they called her.

Running through the problem with her
did nothing to produce a solution, all she could say was that the
small hole was likely to get rapidly larger in the next few hundred
years. In geological terms, it was very new. The surrounding rock
must be worn extremely thin.

Max then suggested Bill included his
technicians in the discussion, because if the rock was thin, what
did they have on board that could blow it open?

A couple of technicians had enough
knowledge of chemistry to produce an explosive, but no practical
experience to make something that would work under water and blast
away rock in a predictable way. Ingrid said they should see how
thick the rock actually was, before wasting time on discussing
explosives. She would be prepared to swim out and look if someone
would come with her; she had no real diving experience, but knew
what to look for with the rock.

Two technicians who had helped fit the
replacement hull devices, volunteered to go with her. With the
current turning soon, they should get prepared at once.

As the three divers swam out through
the hole, the daylight above tempted them to just keep going to the
surface. The two men knew this was not an option, because they
would need hours to decompress, and get rid of the dissolved gasses
in their bodies.

It appeared the rock was no more than a
meter thick. The inner part of the tunnel must have collapsed
recently, like in the caverns, and left this thin shell in the face
of a steeply sloping seabed.

A torpedo or two would be extremely
handy just now.

Back at the US1 more talks took place,
ideas were suggested, but when they were analysed, it was apparent
they would never work.

The communications officer said. “If
only they were not surrounded by rock, they could send up a
distress buoy and radio back to base for help. If they released it
where they were, all it would do is smash itself to pieces on the
roof of the tunnel.”

Max thought about that for a moment and
asked if it were possible to take it through the hole and let it
rise to the surface.

“In theory, yes!” Said the officer.
“But it is just a beacon so where would the rescue team look for
us, certainly not in a small dark hole. If we could send up the
communication Buoy, we could speak to the base and tell them our
predicament. The Buoy is extremely buoyant though, because it has
to support a long cable, so we could never drag the Buoy down and
through the hole.”

“Perhaps we could,” suggested Bill. “If
we attach sufficient ballast to hold it down till we get it through
the hole, then release it, that would work.”

“It’s worth a try,” said Max. “Nothing
else seems possible.”

John Farmer, the Pilot warned about the
small window of opportunity they had. They must get the Buoy in
place and make their transmission before the cable snapped due to
the strong current. He explained that the cable would have to run
horizontally from the US1 to the hole and then vertical. The cable
would snap or chafe through where it touched the rock, the moment
the US1 pulled back from the hole.

“Why not make up a simple frame to fit
against the rock opening with, say, tireless wheels to act as
guides for the cable, as it passes through the right angle.”
Suggested Ingrid. “That way, it will never touch the rock and can
feed through and back as the vessel moves. I took some rough
measurements on the dive and can sketch up the details of the frame
for someone to fabricate.”

”
Let’s go for it!”
Bellowed Joe Buck, realising this was the moment to take over and
regain control. No one cared what he thought, they were pinning all
their hopes on this flimsy scheme, and Ingrid was the flavour of
the month.

By the time the current had subsided
enough for the dive team to go out again, everything was ready. By
using two portable generator wheels and a trolley wheel without
their tyres, as frictionless guides, the cable could pass through
the 90 degree angle without undue stress. The steel frame
supporting the guides was complete with adjustable ends so it could
grip convenient pockets in the rock and stay in position.

Various heavy metal items were to be
used as ballast, to hold the Buoy down until it was finally
released to the surface.

Max and Carla were pleased to stay
behind and watch for a change, from the relative safety of the
sub.

To improve their chances of getting the
tasks done, one team fixed the frame while the other team wrestled
with the Buoy. All went well and the Buoy bobbed to the surface,
sending out its signal to the US1 base, via satellite. The Base was
astonished to hear it, they were convinced the US1 had sunk to the
bottom of the deep trench, was buried under the rock slide, as
Montoya and Gruber had planned. The US1 rescue team’s sonar and
magnetic readings had proved conclusively that is where they had
ended up.

With Senator Joe Buck in command of the
US1, he requested the rescue team to bring explosives to enlarge
the hole in the rock face so they could drive the sub through and
escape the tunnel. Within the hour, a team was on its way by air,
to the Buoy.

Explosives were placed expertly around
the hole, and the US1 pulled back. The communications Buoy had to
be jettisoned, then because it could not be pulled back past the
guide frame.

The shock wave from the detonation,
rocked the vessel, but there was no damage. The question on
everyone’s mind was, could they get through the hole now? It was
very tight, and when the current had ceased flowing, they glided
through to freedom.

The rescuers would not able to board
for a day until everyone in the sub had fully decompressed. During
that time, US1 would head for home through the Panama Canal.

Ingrid took the opportunity to write up
the results of her tests and findings in the tunnel. A chance
observation of the sea bed revealed millions of Manganese Nodules,
probably a site larger than any other she had ever heard about.

An assault was made at the same time as
US1’s rescue, on Montoya and Gruber’s underground base, capturing
the unsuspecting personnel who were waiting for the return of US1.
The captives confirmed that Ingrid was held against her will by
Montoya and Gruber, much to Senator Goodwin’s relief.

Ingrid was able to lay claim to the
discovery of the tunnel and the fame that went with it.

Sam was pleased the US1 had performed
so well under the circumstances; certainly, the officials were
strongly supportive of the vessel which had gone, and returned,
from where no man had been before.

Senator Joe Buck took full credit for
the safe command of the vessel, and no one opposed him, Max and
Carla had no wish to be identified, and Buck was not going to
mention them either.

The remote controlled vehicles had just
completed loading the massive Antonov, known as a Condor cargo
plane with 70 tonnes of deadly cargo in long missile like
containers. One of two specially converted and un-manned planes, it
flew under the control of a small, long-range aircraft nearby. The
ground staff and flight crew were all members of the Russian Mafia.
They had no contact with the rest of the C.N.W.D. Corp. in Egypt,
except Robert Darrow. Knowing how hazardous the waste was, no one
else ventured near this area of the complex. So far, 30 flights had
been made during the last 60 days, there were just ten more to go,
only then would Darrow get his family and life back.

To compensate for the heavy shielding
around the sensitive electronics on the aircraft, the fuel rods
were stripped down and packed in lightweight, neutron damping
layers for the long journey ahead. It would be at least 10,000
years before the rods were safe enough to store conventionally.

With a deafening roar, the lumbering
giant lifted reluctantly from the runway and into the clear blue
sky over Egypt. Minutes later, its small companion took off, a safe
distance behind.

Sam Leighton took the phone call he was
expecting on his office phone. Pete Lewis, The Organisation’s
geological advisor had eventually returned his call.

“Sorry I could not get back to you
earlier Sam, there is a bit of a flap on at the moment. I have been
sent out to investigate a curious form of volcanic activity at
Plymouth Island in the Caribbean Sea.”

“Oh! That is a nuisance,” replied Sam.
“How long do you think you will be away?”

“Well, it could be as much as a month
because my team and I have to replace the detectors and instruments
there or possibly recalibrate them, it looks like they have all
gone haywire together.”

“A bit unusual for that to happen isn’t
it?” Queried Sam.

“Yes, it is, but there can be no other
reason we can think of, the solar energy pack is definitely faulty,
the voltage is way down, probably bird crap on the panels. I will
keep you posted on progress as soon as I know what is
involved.”

“Thanks replied Sam.”

“By the way, what do you want me for
anyway?” queried Pete.

“We have a new field of manganese
nodules for you to look at in the Pacific, off El Salvador. Max and
Carla found them when they brought the US1 back.”

“I heard about the trouble you had,
some drug smugglers tried to steal it, didn’t they?” queried
Pete.

“Something like that,” replied Sam,
slightly embarrassed. “Still the positive gains are what count,” he
parried.

Pete gave Sam his Satellite phone
number for future reference, and hung up.

After setting up the base camp near the
rim of the volcano, Pete Lewis and his team checked over the
equipment and instruments. The fault they were looking for was
likely to occur in the next few hours if the past events were a
guide. Every forty-eight hours or so, within a tolerance of 30
minutes, at about midnight, the instruments showed the same
abnormal readings. Against the usual background of seismic
fluctuations, the radiation detector would jump full scale for a
few seconds followed by a sudden explosion peak. This would die
away over the following few hours, but the general background
remained elevated. The radiation level was typically very low, just
0.2 Gy but briefly shot up to the full scale of 1 Gy. Although no
upper limit could be deduced, it was terribly dangerous to be
nearby at those times.

The team replaced the battery packs,
cleaned the solar array, no bird crap present, though, put on their
protective clothing and waited for the event to occur. They
concluded that if the ionising radiation was high enough, that was
the probable cause of the damaged equipment.

The peace and quiet of the island at
night and boredom, waiting for an event that might not ever happen
again, took its toll. The men were divided in their opinions about
the cause of the odd readings. Some thought changing the equipment
was the answer, so they would be keyed up and tense for ages, then
nothing would happen. The others were far less convinced the
problem had gone away. The seething pit of lava was definitely
becoming far more active, bubbling and fuming way below in the
crater. They were alarmed about the radiation blip. 1 Gy was not a
problem for a few seconds, but 10 or 100 or more for the same short
time was on a scale of serious to fatal. The consensus was that it
could not be more than 1 Gy, there was no reason for it to be.

Sporadic conversation broke out at
midnight; everyone was tightly wound up now. Readings were being
checked, and double checked, all was normal.

The wind had risen quite strongly over
the last 4 hours and presented a strong headwind to the approaching
aircraft, delaying their arrival by minutes. Over the rumble of the
volcano, no one heard the Condor droning high above, in a circular
holding pattern. The smaller control plane calculated the optimum
drop position, from hidden ground instruments.

The ground beneath the men began to
move, almost imperceptibly at first, gathering speed and amplitude
as the volcano awoke. Instruments around the world began to
register the disturbance, and would continue to do so over the next
few days. The spectacular red spray of lava shot high into the air
and rained down on the team. Thrown off their feet by the
unexpected movement of the ground and the mild torrent of fiery
molten rock around them, they staggered and fell repeatedly as they
made their escape down the slope to safety. The volcano had just
burped slightly.

The long cylindrical containers of
ionising nuclear waste dropped almost noiselessly from the sky into
the spewing and bubbling lava pool below. As they fell,
contra-rotating rotor blades lifted like outstretched arms by the
slipstream and spun. The control aircraft used these like the
rotors on a helicopter to slow the descent and steer them to the
small, orange red target, the lava, below.

As nine objects slipped deep into the
magma, one after another, all hell broke loose as the volcano
belched searing gas, white hot lava, and pyroclastic flow, high
into the sky. The control aircraft banked away steeply and lost
sight and control of the tenth and final descending container. The
volcano had reached its limit of being force-fed, and an almighty
explosion blew half the rim away.

The team could not outrun the
pyroclastic flow, the searing 550° C gas and dust, travelling down
the slope at 200 Km/hr.

The men were all killed, and buried for
eternity, within seconds.

Whisked up high into the sky, like a
dandelion seed in a breeze, the tenth container dropped through the
calm eye of the explosion and landed precariously, on the inner
slope of the crater. Embedded at its tip in the viscous, cooling
lava, its tail tipped slowly towards the lava, below. The thin
metal casing drew heat from the lava, sufficiently for it to
solidify, and just support the container, preventing it from
plunging into the lava.