Clive Cussler - Polar Shift

Aubrey didn't have to twist their arms. Working with Austin and the Special Assignments Team was a dream job that took them on adventures to exotic parts of the world. But sometimes they yearned for the pure research of their college years.

"Ocean eddies?" Trout had said after they accepted the invitation. "I've read about them in the oceanographic science journals. Big, slow-moving swirls of cold or warm water that are sometimes hundreds of miles across."

Gamay nodded. "According to Hank, there's a lot of new interest in the phenomenon. The whorls can hamper offshore drilling operations and affect weather. On the good side, they can churn up marine microorganisms from the ocean floor to the surface and cause an explosion up the food chain. I'll be studying the flow of nutrients and the impact on commercial fishing and whale populations. You can look into the geological components."

Noting the growing excitement in his wife's voice, Paul said, "I love it when you talk dirty."

Gamay puffed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her face. "We scientist types are a bit odd when it comes to the things that turn us on."

"What about the wallpapering?" Paul teased.

"We'll hire someone to finish it."

Paul tossed the wallpaper brush into a bucket. "Finestkind, cap," he said, using a phrase from his fishing days.

The Trouts worked together with the precision of a fine Swiss watch. Their teamwork was a quality former NUMA director James Sandecker recognized when he hired them for the Special Assignments Team. Both were now in their mid-thirties. From outward appearances, they were an unlikely couple.

Paul was the more serious of the two. He seemed constantly in deep thought, an impression that was heightened by his habit of speaking with his head lowered, eyes peering up as if over glasses.

He seemed to reach deep inside himself before saying anything of importance. His seriousness was tempered by a sly sense of humor. Gamay was more open and vivacious than her husband. A tall, slender woman who moved with the grace of a fashion model, she had a flashing smile with a slight gap between her upper front teeth, and, while not gorgeous or overly sexy, was appealing to most men. They had met at Scripps, where he was studying for his doctorate in deep-ocean geology, and Gamay was switching her field of interest from nautical archaeology to marine biology.

A few hours after receiving the call, they were packed and boarding the Benjamin Franklin. The Franklin had a highly trained crew of twenty, plus ten scientists from various universities and government agencies. Its primary mission was to conduct a hydrographic survey along the Atlantic Coast and the Gulf of Mexico.

On a typical trip, the ship made thousands of precise depth measurements to create a picture of the ocean bottom and any wrecks or other obstructions that happened to be present. The information was used to update nautical maps for NOAA, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

Aubrey had greeted them at the top of the gangway and welcomed them aboard the ship. Aubrey was a slightly built man whose flighty energy, sharply pointed nose and nonstop chatter made him resemble an English sparrow. He led them to their cabin. After dropping off their bags, they headed to the mess hall. They settled at a table, and Aubrey brought them cups of tea.

"Damn, it's great to see you," he said. "I'm really pleased you could join our project. How long has it been since we've seen each other, three years?"

"More like five," Gamay said.

"Ouch. Much too long, in any case," he said. "We'll make up for it on this trip. The ship's due to leave in a couple of hours. I often think of you working at NUMA. It must be fascinating," Aubrey said in a voice tinged with envy. "My work on big swirling masses of water pales by comparison with your adventures."

"Not at all, Hank," Gamay said. "Paul and I would kill for the opportunity to do pure science. And from what we've read, your research affects a great many people."

Aubrey brightened. "I suppose you're right. There will be a formal scientific orientation session tomorrow. What do you know about the phenomenon of ocean eddies?"

"Not a lot," Gamay said. "Mostly, that the swirls are a largely unexplored scientific area."

"Absolutely right. That's why this survey is a matter of great importance." He plucked a napkin from its holder and produced a ballpoint pen from his pocket in a gesture the Trouts had seen on a dozen other occasions.

"You'll get to see the satellite images, but this will show you what we're dealing with. We're headed to a site close to the Gulf Stream, about two hundred miles out. This swirl is a hundred miles across, located east of New Jersey, on the edge of the Gulf Stream." He drew an irregular circle on the napkin.

"Looks like a fried egg," Trout said.

Trout liked to kid Aubrey about his penchant for working out scientific problems on restaurant napkins, even suggesting once that he compile them in a textbook.

"Artistic license," Aubrey said. "It gives you an idea of what we're dealing with. Ocean eddies are basically giant, slow-moving whirlpools, sometimes hundreds of miles across. They seem to be cast off by ocean currents. Some rotate clockwise. Others move counterclockwise. They can transport ocean heat or cold, and move nutrients from the bottom of the ocean to the top, affecting weather and creating an explosion of marine life up the food chain, depending."

"I've read somewhere about fishing trawlers working the edges of these things," Trout said.

"Humans aren't the only predators that have discovered the biological implications of eddies." Aubrey sketched out a few more pictures on the napkin and held it up.

"Now it looks like a fried egg being attacked by giant fish," Trout said.

"Actually, as anyone with eyes can see, these are whales. They've been known to feed along the edges of eddies. There are a couple of teams trying to track whales to their feeding grounds."

"Using whales to find whorls," Trout observed.

Aubrey grimaced at the wordplay. "There are better ways to find these puppies than tagging sperm whales. Thermal expansion causes the water inside an eddy to create a bump in the ocean that can be traced by satellite."

"What causes ocean currents to shed these eddies?" Trout said.

"That's one of the things we hope to learn on this expedition. You two are ideally suited for the project. Gamay can apply her biological expertise to the question, and we're hoping you can come up with some of the computer models you're so good at."

"Thanks for inviting us aboard. We'll do our best," Gamay said.

"I know you will. This goes beyond pure science. These big swirls can be real weathermakers. A stalled ocean eddy off the California coast can produce cold temperatures and rain in L.A. Similarly, in the Atlantic an eddy spinning off the Gulf Stream can produce thick fog."

"Not much we can do about the weather," Trout said.

"That's true, but knowing what to expect will allow us to adapt to it. The ocean eddy survey could be vital to the nation's economy. The safety of commercial shipping and the flow of petroleum, coal, steel, cars, grain and computerized cargo depend on accurate weather forecasting."

"Which is why NOAA is so interested in what we're doing," Trout said.

Aubrey nodded. "That reminds me, I've got to talk to the captain about our schedule." He rose from his seat and pumped their hands. "I can't tell you how pleased I am to be working with you guys again. We're having a get-to-know-each-other party tonight." He slid the napkin across the table to Trout. "There will be a quiz on this material in the morning, wise guy."

Luckily for Trout, Aubrey was only joking about the quiz, although the orientation was comprehensive. And by the time the survey ship dropped anchor, both Trouts had become well versed in ocean eddy science. From the vantage point of the ship's deck, the sea in the vicinity of the swirl looked no different from any other part of the ocean, but satellites and computer models had shown it to be moving at approximately three miles per hour.