Radclyffe - Wild Shores

Reluctantly, Alex and the other coastguardsman took seats. Cramer took a position midway down one side of the group of tables in neutral territory. Claudia sat at Austin’s right and Gem ended up sitting on her left. If Austin stretched out her hand on the table, their fingers would touch. She ached for just an instant’s contact, but when she glanced at Gem, Gem shifted subtly in her chair, breaking eye contact.

Austin squared her shoulders and scanned the faces watching her. She’d done this enough times to know the way to keep control was to lay out the problem and the solution before dissenters could gain a foothold. “As all of you are aware, Rig 86 is a semisubmersible drilling platform operated by GOP about fifty miles offshore. We have a slow but containable leak in the main drill shaft, and we’re concerned the approaching storm may cause an escalation of oil loss. To be on the safe side, we are proactively instituting emergency procedures to ensure the integrity of the shoreline and waters.”

Alex Martin’s eyes glinted. “Why are we just hearing about this?”

“Because at this point,” Austin said smoothly, “we don’t have any evidence of oil on the surface or tracking underwater, but the effect of the storm is a variable we can’t predict. GOP is naturally desirous to do everything possible to prevent damage to the coastline and wildlife.”

“Naturally,” Gem said, the first word she’d uttered, quiet but sharp-edged with sarcasm. “How long have you been watching the well?”

“The wells are under constant surveillance, as I’m sure you know,” Austin said just as quietly, carefully keeping any direct reference to the timeline off the record. Of course Gem would do the math and deduce Austin must have known of the problem days before.

“I’ve been asked,” Claudia interjected, drawing attention away from Austin and giving her a chance to breathe, “to consult on the impact of the storm on the rig and the potential for escalating leaks. Right now, as Dr. Germaine noted, the situation is stable and under control, but Norma’s tracking directly for us, and growing in speed and dimension hourly.” She turned to Gem as if knowing she was the other true power in the room. “This is going to be a large, powerful storm when it comes ashore. I suspect the governor will order evacuation of the island and neighboring areas sometime today.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Emily, her chin thrust forward belligerently. She glanced at Gem as if for affirmation.

“Dr. Costanzas is right,” Gem said. “We are not leaving the sanctuary. I’ve been in contact with FEMA and we have teams on their way to help fortify the shoreline against the surge. There’s not much we can do about the trees if we get hurricane-force winds, but we’ll be prepared for the reparations if nothing else.” She looked at Austin. “How likely is it we’re going to get oil coming ashore?”

Gem’s gaze was direct and hard, her tone evenly modulated. Austin couldn’t tell if she was furious, unmoved, or had already simply dismissed her. “My guess—”

Cramer cleared his throat. “Actually, Dr. Martin,” he said to Gem in an officious tone, “it’s really not possible for Dr. Germaine to make that kind of assessment. We’re here because Global Oil—”

“Dr. Germaine,” Gem said as if the attorney hadn’t spoken, “your opinion is?”

“I think we’ll have oil headed toward shore along with the storm surge,” Austin said, ignoring the annoyed sigh from Cramer, “which is why we plan on deploying booms this morning to buffer the coastline and prevent that from happening. We’ll also be instituting all the usual protocols in advance of the leak surfacing.”

“I’ll want details,” Gem said.

“Of course.”

Alex Martin spoke up. “What about the four ships at anchor off the rig? You need to get your people off the sea before the storm hits.”

“We’ll commence transporting all nonessential personnel out of the area within the next twelve hours,” Austin said. “The ships will remain deployed as long as possible to assist in the containment procedures.”

“How many people on the rig now?” Alex asked.

“Just six members of the drill team, three pilots, the incident commander, the OTL, and me. Dr. Spencer will remain he—”

“I’ll be returning to the rig,” Claudia said, “for the time being. It’s the best way to judge the stability of the platform. The on-site readings are far more accurate than anything—”

“Once the storm tracks as far as the rig,” Alex said, “we may not be able to fly. Evacuation will be nearly impossible.”

“We’ll see that the rig is evacuated before that,” Austin said.

“I’ll make sure you do,” Alex said.

“So what now?” Gem said. “It will still be hours before the FEMA teams arrive.”

Austin focused on Gem, happy that Gem held her gaze even if her eyes were shuttered and unreadable. “I’ll coordinate with Commander Martin regarding the containment procedures at sea. It makes the most sense for you to take charge of the landside of things. You know the sanctuary, the critical areas that will need protection, and the location of wildlife at risk if the spill gets past the booms.”

“How much oil are we talking about?”

Cramer interrupted hastily. “There is no oil at this point, I’d like to remind everyone. Under other circumstances, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. GOP has instituted the appropriate and required procedures to control the slow escape from the drill site, but unfortunately, with the weather—”

“I think we all understand the situation,” Gem said abruptly, never looking away from Austin. “How much oil, Dr. Germaine?”

“I don’t know,” Austin said. “We’ve got nothing on the surface yet but there’s a potential for major contamination if the rig founders in the storm. Then the integrity of the drill shaft is at risk.”

“Then we need to prepare for the worst.”

“That would be my advice,” Austin said.

“I think we all know what we have to do, then.” Gem rose and walked out.

“I need to brief my CO,” Alex said. “Then I’d like to sit down with you, Dr. Germaine—”

“Austin, please,” Austin said, straining to follow the sound of Gem’s footsteps down the hall.

“Austin,” Alex said, “and get a precise accounting of the ships, manpower, and their allocation. Then we’ll talk about evacuation procedures.”

Cramer stood and closed his briefcase. “I am staying in town tonight, but I plan on leaving first thing tomorrow morning. You can reach me after that by phone or through the company offices.”

“Fine.” Austin pushed back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Cramer shook his head. “Lousy time for a hurricane.”

Claudia smiled faintly at Alex as he shrugged into his Armani raincoat, lifted his briefcase, and strode out. “Is there ever a good time for a hurricane?”

Alex shook her head, a quick grin softening the sharp angles of her face, before turning to her aide. “Get the car, Seaman. I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the coastguardsman said and nodded to Claudia on his way out. “Ma’am.”

Claudia laughed softly. “I think I might be starting to get used to that, and I’m not certain that’s an altogether good thing.”

Alex smiled. She hadn’t expected to see Dr. Claudia Spencer again, but she was glad that she had. She’d worked with all kinds of teams when disasters struck: federal, state, private, and environmental. She’d been deployed to northern New Jersey after Hurricane Sandy. She liked to think she didn’t have any preconceived biases. She especially didn’t want an adversarial relationship with Claudia Spencer. “How long you been out at the rig?”