Clive Cussler - Treasure of Khan

"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 Shell 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 associated 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 ship?" Tadana asked.

"We're guests of Alexander and the Limnological Institute," Pitt replied, tipping his glass 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 glass 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."

"These sensor pods, can they reveal where the earthquake originated?" Tatiana asked.

"If it occurred under the lake," Pitt replied.

"Rudi said he would massage the computers tomorrow and see if he can pinpoint an exact location from the sensors. The seismologists he talked to placed the epicenter somewhere near the northwest corner of the lake," Giordino said. Scanning the galley and finding no sign of Gunn, he added, "He's probably up in the bridge conversing with his computers as we speak."

Tatiana downed the last of her samogon, then glanced at her watch. "It has been a trying day. I'm afraid I must turn in for the evening."

"I'm with you," Pitt said, suppressing a yawn. "May I escort you to your cabin?" he asked innocently.

"That would be satisfactory," she replied.

Sarghov joined them as they rose to their feet and declared good night to all.

"I trust you two are waiting for the baked alaska to be served?" Pitt smiled at Theresa and Giordino.

"Tales of the Netherlands await my hungry ears," Giordino grinned at Theresa.

"And anecdotes of the deep await in return?" she laughed back.

"There certainly is something deep around here," Pitt laughed as he bid good night.

Pitt politely escorted Tatiana to her cabin near the stern, then retired to his own stateroom amidships.

The day's physical demands had consumed his body and he was glad to ease his aching limbs into his bunk. Though physically exhausted, he fell asleep with difficulty. His mind stubbornly replayed the day's events over and over until a black veil of sleep thankfully washed over him.

Pitt had been asleep for four hours when suddenly he sprang awake, bolting upright in his bunk. Though all was quiet, his senses told him something was wrong. Flicking on a reading light, he swung his feet to the floor and stood up but nearly fell over in the process. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he realized that the ship was listing at the stern, at an angle of almost ten degrees.

Dressing quickly, he climbed a stairwell to the main deck, then moved along its exterior passageway. The passageway and open deck before it were completely deserted, the whole ship strangely quiet as he walked uphill toward the bow. The silence finally registered. The ship's engines were shut down and only the muted hum of the auxiliary generator in the engine room throbbed through the late night air.

Climbing another set of stairs to the bridge, he walked in the doorway and gazed around the compartment. To his chagrin, the bridge was entirely deserted. Wondering if he was the only man aboard the ship, he scanned the bridge console before finding a red toggle switch marked TREVOGA. Flicking the toggle, the entire ship suddenly erupted in a clamor of warning bells that shattered the night silence.

Seconds later, the Vereshchagin's sinewy captain charged onto the bridge like an angry bull from his cabin below.

"What is going on here?" the captain stammered, fighting to recollect his English in the middle of the night. "Where is the watch, Anatoly?"

"The ship is sinking," Pitt said calmly. "There was no watch aboard the bridge when I entered just a minute ago."

A wide-eyed grimace appeared on the captain's face as he noticed the ship's list for the first time.

"We need power!" he cried, reaching for a phone to the engine room. But as his hand gripped the receiver, the bridge suddenly fell black. Mast lights, cabin lights, console displays — everything — went dark throughout the ship as the electrical power vanished in an instant. Even the alarm bells began dying with a wounded bellow.