Treasure Of Khan Part 11

"Guess we might as well get comfortable," Wofford said. Together with Roy, they rearranged the mattresses on the angled floor, allowing everyone to sit comfortably.

Outside, Pitt swam around the chamber, checking it for damage and signs of leakage. Satisfied that the chamber wasn't sinking, he climbed aboard the exposed top section and waited. In the clear afternoon air, Pitt easily spotted the Vereshchagin in the distance and tracked its progress as it steamed toward them.

Giordino already had a large crane positioned over the side when the research s.h.i.+p pulled alongside a little over an hour later. The original transport cables were still attached to the decompression chamber, so Pitt had only to gather them together and slide them over the crane's hook. Pitt sat straddled atop the chamber as if riding a giant white stallion while it was hoisted onto the stern of the Vereshchagin. When its skids kissed the deck, Pitt jumped down and spun open the locked entry hatch. Gunn ran up and poked his head in, then helped pull out Theresa and Tatiana, followed by the three men.

"Man, does that taste good," Wofford said as he sucked in a deep breath of fresh air.

The Russian fisherman, climbing out last, staggered to the s.h.i.+p's rail and peered over the side, searching for his old fis.h.i.+ng boat.

"You can tell him she's at the bottom, crushed by the wave," Pitt said to Tatiana.

The captain shook his head and sobbed as Tatiana translated the news.

"We couldn't believe you appeared after the wave pa.s.sed," Theresa marveled at Pitt. "How did you survive?"

"Sometimes, I'm just lucky," he grinned, then he opened his duffel bag to reveal the dive equipment inside.

"Thank you again," Theresa said, joined by a chorus of praise from the other survey crew members.

"Don't thank me," Pitt said, "thank Al Giordino here and his flying decompression chamber."

Giordino stepped over from the crane and bowed in mock appreciation. "Hope the ride wasn't too rough in that tin can," he said.

"You saved our lives, Mr. Giordino," Theresa said, shaking his hand gratefully and not letting go.

"Please, call me Al," the gruff Italian said, softening under the gaze of the pretty Dutch woman.

"Now I know what that steel ball in a pinball machine feels like," Roy muttered.

"Say, you don't suppose they'd have any vodka aboard?" Wofford groaned, rubbing his back.

"Does it rain in Seattle?" Gunn replied, overhearing the comment. "Right this way, ladies and gentlemen. We'll have the s.h.i.+p's doctor check you over, and then you can rest and relax in a cabin or have a drink in the galley. Listvyanka's a mess, so we probably won't be able to put you to sh.o.r.e until tomorrow anyway."

"Al, why don't you lead the way to sick bay. I'd like a word with Rudi first," Pitt said.

"My pleasure," Giordino said, holding Theresa's arm and guiding her and the others along the port pa.s.sageway to the s.h.i.+p's tiny medical station.

Rudi stepped over to Pitt and patted him on the shoulder. "Al told us about your sojourn in the water. If I'd known you were going to be one with the wave, I would have strung some current-measuring devices on your back," he grinned.

"I'll be happy to share my experience in fluid dynamics with you over a tequila," Pitt replied. "What is the extent of damages around the sh.o.r.eline?"

"From what we could see at a distance, Listvyanka weathered the storm in one piece. The docks are chewed up and there are a couple of boats sitting on the main street now, but the rest of the damage appeared to be confined to a few commercial shops along the waterfront. We've heard of no reported fatalities over the radio, so the advance warning apparently did the trick."

"We'll need to stay on our toes for potential aftershocks," Pitt said. "I've got an open satellite line to the National Earthquake Information Center in Golden, Colorado. They'll give us a shout if they detect a subsequent quake the second they see it."

As dusk settled over the lake, the Vereshchagin steamed into the port village of Listvyanka. On the forward deck of the research s.h.i.+p, the crew lined the rails to observe the ruin. The wave had struck like a hammer, flattening small trees and shredding the smaller buildings that had stood along the water's edge. But most of the town and port had survived with minimal loss. The research s.h.i.+p dropped anchor in the dark a mile from the damaged sh.o.r.eline docks, which glistened under a battery of temporary lights strung along the sh.o.r.e. The hum of an old Belarus tractor drifted over the water as the townspeople began working late into the night to clean up the flood damage.

In the s.h.i.+p's galley, Roy, Wofford, and the fis.h.i.+ng boat captain sat in a corner chugging shots with a Russian crewman who generously shared his bottle of Altai vodka. Pitt, Giordino, and Sarghov sat across the room, finis.h.i.+ng a dinner of baked sturgeon with Theresa and Tatiana. After their dishes were cleared away, Sarghov produced an unmarked bottle and poured a round of after-dinner drinks.

"To your health," Giordino said, toasting both ladies, his gla.s.s meeting a clink from Theresa's.

"Which is much improved on account of you," Theresa replied with a laugh. Taking a sip of the liquid, her smile waned as her eyes suddenly bugged out.

"What is this stuff?" she rasped. "Tastes like bleach."

Sarghov laughed with a deep bellow. "It's samogon. I acquired it in the village from an old friend. I believe it is similar to a liquid in America called moons.h.i.+ne."

The rest of the table laughed as Theresa pushed the half-filled gla.s.s away from her. "I believe I shall stick to vodka," she said, now grinning with the others.

"So tell me, what are a couple of gorgeous young ladies doing out hunting for oil on big, bad Lake Baikal?" Pitt asked after downing his gla.s.s.

"The Avarga Oil Consortium possesses oil and mining rights to territories east of the lake," Tatiana replied.

"Lake Baikal is a cultural treasure. It has United Nations World Heritage status and is an icon for environmentalists around the globe," Sarghov said, clearly disdainful at the prospect of seeing an oil rig on the pristine lake's waters. "How can you possibly expect to drill on the lake?"

Tatiana nodded. "You are correct. We respect Baikal as sacred water, and it would never be our intent to establish oil-pumping structures on the lake. If oil prospects are proven and deemed reachable, we would drill from the eastern territories at a high angle beneath the lake to reach the potential deposits."

"Makes sense," Giordino stated. "They angle drill in the Gulf of Mexico all the time, even drill horizontally. But that still doesn't explain the presence of this lovely Dutch angel from Rotterdam," he added, smiling broadly at Theresa.

Flattered by the comment, Theresa blushed deeply before answering. "Amsterdam. I'm actually from Amsterdam. My intoxicated American coworkers and I work for Sh.e.l.l Oil." As she spoke, she hooked her thumb toward the far corner, where an inebriated Roy and Wofford were loudly sharing dirty jokes with their Russian companions.

"We are here at the request of Avarga Oil," she continued. "They are not equipped for marine surveys, for obvious reasons. My company has performed survey work in the Baltic as well as the western Siberia oil fields of Samotlor. We are exploring a joint-development opportunity with Avarga Oil for some regional lands that show promise. It was a natural fit for us to come here and perform the lake survey together."

"Had you confirmed any petroleum deposits before the wave struck?" Pitt asked.

"We were searching for structural indications of hydrocarbon seeps only and did not have the seismic equipment necessary to gauge any potential deposits. At the time we lost the boat, we had failed to survey any significant characteristics normally a.s.sociated with a deposit seep."

"Oil seeps?" Sarghov asked.

"Yes, a common if somewhat primitive means of locating petroleum deposits. In a marine setting, oil seeps show up as leakages from the seafloor that rise to the surface. In the days before boomer trucks and other seismic devices that ping the sedimentary depths and produce a visual geological image of the ground, oil seeps were the primary means of locating hydrocarbon deposits."

"We have had fishermen report the sightings of oil slicks on the lake where no surface traffic was evident," Tatiana explained. "We realize, of course, they could represent releases from small deposits that are not economical to drill."

"A potentially costly venture, given the depths of the lake," Pitt added.

"Speaking of ventures, Mr. Pitt, what are you and your NUMA crew doing here aboard a Russian research s.h.i.+p?" Tadana asked.

"We're guests of Alexander and the Limnological Inst.i.tute," Pitt replied, tipping his gla.s.s of samogon in the direction of Sarghov. "A joint effort to study current patterns in the lake and their effect on the endemic flora and fauna."

"And how was it that you became aware of the seiche wave well in advance of its appearance?"

"Sensor pods. We've got hundreds of sensor pods deployed in the lake, which measure the water temperature, pressure, and so on. Al's been dropping them like bread crumbs from the helicopter all over the lake. We just happened to be surveying the area of lake near Olkhon Island and had a heavy concentration of sensors in the water there. Rudi quickly picked up the indicators of an underwater landslide and the resulting seiche wave as it formed."

"A fortunate thing for us, as well as many others, I imagine," Theresa said.

"Al just has a nose for catastrophes," Pitt grinned. "Coming to Siberia without a bottle of Jack Daniel's was the real catastrophe," Giordino said, sipping the gla.s.s of samogon with a sour look on his face.

"It is a shame that our base current data was disrupted by this unexpected event," Sarghov said, contemplating the scientific impact, "but we will have some exciting data on the formation and movement of the wave itself."