Frank Schatzing - The Swarm

Trondheim, Norway

The summons came as Johanson was preparing to drive out to the lake. On his return from Kiel he'd contacted Tina Lund to tell her about the experiment in the deep-sea simulation chamber. They hadn't talked for long: Lund was up to her ears in work, and spent every spare second with Kare Sverdrup. Johanson had had the impression that her mind was elsewhere, but whatever was bothering her didn't seem to relate to her job, so he didn't ask questions.

A few days later Bohrmann called with the latest on the worms. The scientists in Kiel had been running more tests. Johanson had already packed his suitcase and was about to leave the house when he decided to call Lund and tell her the news. She seemed more focused now and jumped in before he could begin. 'Why don't you pay us a visit?' she suggested.

'At Marintek?'

'No, at the Statoil research centre. The project-management team is here from Stavanger.'

'Do you want me to regale them with stories of sinister creepy-crawlies?'

'I've already done that. Now they want details so I said I'd ask you.'

'Why me?'

'Why not?'

'Because you've got all the documentation,' said Johanson. 'Reams of it. All I can do is pass on what other people have told me.'

'You can do more than that,' said Lund. 'You can give them your personal opinion.'

Johanson was too surprised to answer.

'They know you're not an expert on wellheads or even worms, for that matter,' she said, 'but you've got a fantastic reputation at the NTNU and you can judge things impartially. At Statoil we're coming at this business from a different perspective.'

'You mean you're only interested in whether it's viable.'

'There are other factors! Look, the trouble is, we've got a bunch of people here, all acknowledged experts in something but-'

'They don't have the first clue about anything else.'

'That's not true!' She sounded put out. 'They're all extremely capable – they wouldn't be here otherwise. But we're too involved in it all, too bogged down. Christ, how else do you want me to put it? We just need some outside opinions, that's all.'

'But I hardly know anything about oil.'

'No one's forcing you.' Lund sounded annoyed now. 'If you're not interested, forget it.'

Johanson rolled his eyes. 'OK, OK. I don't want to leave you in the lurch – and in any case, there's some new data from Kiel and-'

'Can I take that as a yes, then?'

'Jesus, Tina! So, when is this meeting?'

'There's a whole row of them coming up. Every day is just one long meeting.'

'Fine. It's Friday today. I'll be away at the weekend, but Monday would be-'

'That's…' She checked herself 'That would actually be…'

'What?' Johanson prompted her. He had a nasty feeling about this.

'Got something nice planned for the weekend?' she asked conversationally. 'Another trip to the lake?'

'Well guessed. Do you want to come too?'

She laughed. 'Why not?'

'I see. And what would Kare have to say about that?'

'Who cares? It's none of his business.' She paused. 'Oh, hell.'

'If only you were as good at everything else as you are at your job,' said Johanson, so softly that he wasn't sure she'd heard.

'Please, Sigur. Can't you set off a bit later? We're meeting in two hours, and I thought. . . Well, it's not far for you to come and it won't take long. We'll be finished in no time. You can go to the lake this evening.'

'I – '

'We really need to make progress. We've got a schedule to stick to, and you know how much these things cost. Now we're slipping behind and all because…'

'I said I'd do it, all right?'

'You're a honey.'

'Do you want me to pick you up on the way?' I'll be there already. You've made my day, Sigur. Thank you.' She hung up. Johanson looked at his suitcase wistfully.

AS JOHANSON WAS USHERED into the conference hall at the Statoil research centre, the tension was almost tangible. Lund was sitting with three men at a huge table. Late-afternoon sunshine seeped into the room, lending warmth to the glass, chrome and dark-wood furnishings. The walls were lined with blow-ups of diagrams and technical drawings.

'Here he is,' said the woman who had brought Johanson from reception, and a man rose to greet him. He had close-cut dark hair and was wearing designer glasses.

'Thor Hvistendahl, deputy director of the Statoil research centre,' he introduced himself. 'I apologise for encroaching on your time at such late notice. Tina assures us that we're not disrupting your plans.'

Johanson shot Lund an eloquent look, then shook Hvistendahl's hand. 'No problem,' he said. 'I was free this afternoon.'

Lund suppressed a smile. She introduced him to the other men. One was from the Statoil headquarters in Stavanger – a burly man with red hair and friendly blue eyes. He was a member of the executive committee, and was there to represent the management board. 'Finn Skaugen,' he boomed.

The third, a bald man with heavy jowls and the only one wearing a tie, turned out to be Lund's immediate superior, Clifford Stone. He came from Scotland, and was head of the exploration and production unit in charge of the new project. He gave Johanson a distant nod. He didn't seem overjoyed at the biologist's arrival but, then, nothing about him suggested that he ever smiled.

Johanson exchanged a few pleasantries, declined the offer of coffee and took a seat.

Hvistendahl picked up a stack of papers. 'Let's get straight to business. You're familiar with the situation. We're having difficulty gauging whether the whole thing spells trouble or whether we're overreacting. I imagine you're aware of some of the regulations governing the oil industry?'

'The North Sea Conference,' Johanson said, guessing.

Hvistendahl nodded. 'That's one side of it. But we're also subject to other pressures – laws for the protection of the environment, technological limitations and, of course, public opinion, which sets the tone on many of the unregulated issues. When it comes down to it, we have to take account of anything and everything. We've got Greenpeace and a host of other organisations breathing down our necks – and we don't have a problem with that. We know the risks involved in drilling new boreholes, and what to expect when we're planning a new project, so we factor in plenty of time.'

'In other words, we're pretty good at handling things ourselves,' Stone interjected.

'Generally speaking, yes,' said Hvistendahl. 'Not every project makes it to completion, though. There are all the usual reasons – like finding out that the sediment is unstable, that we're in danger of drilling through a gas pocket or even that the water depth and current don't lend themselves to certain types of platform, you know the sort of thing – but in most cases we realise fairly early on what we can and can't do. Tina tests the technology at Marintek, we analyse lots of different samples, check out the conditions down there, get an expert opinion, then start building.'

Johanson crossed one leg over the other. 'But this time there's a worm in the system,' he said.

Hvistendahl laughed uneasily. 'You could say that.'

'Assuming they're relevant,' said Stone, 'which, in my opinion, they're not.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'Worms are nothing unusual. We find them everywhere.'

'Not this species.'

'What makes them so special? Sure, they eat hydrates,' he glared at Johanson, 'but if I remember rightly, your friends in Kiel said that wasn't anything to get worked up about. Or have I missed something?'

'That's not quite what they said. They said-'

'The worms can't destabilise the ice.'

'They're eroding it.'

'Yes, but they can't destabilise it!'

Skaugen cleared his throat. It sounded like a minor explosion. 'We called in Dr Johanson so that we could listen to what he has to say,' he said, glancing at Stone, 'not to tell him what we think.'