Monster: Tale Loch Ness (25 page)

"Still?"

"For the moment. Though that status may unfortunately change. I am attempting to see it doesn't. I may fail. You see, Mr. Bruce, unions are very conservative organizations; no matter that they are usually considered to be of the left. Apart from their own parochial concerns, they have few interests and very little guts."

"Then why do you want to remain a member?"

"It's my job. I believe in the union's work. I desire to serve it."

"As well as the New Jacobite movement?"

"Yes."

"The article said the New Jacobites have been implicated in several murders."

"The word 'implicated' implies an absence of proof. The New Jacobites have never been positively tied to any murders. Nor certainly have I. And to answer your next question even before you ask it, the New Jacobites and I had nothing to do with the destruction of the
Columbus
. Nor with any of the incidents which took place on board."

"But you did compose threatening notes!"

"I know nothing about notes—any notes."

"If you're so inactive, what are you doing in Inverness?"

Sutherland chafed, his face reddening. "I was sent here as a union rep! I came here to do a job. As a free man, an honest man, I can go wherever the hell I please, whenever the hell I wish!"

"Well said!"

"Is that all?"

"No. I have a question."

"Then ask it and leave me alone."

"Do you believe in violence?"

"As a means to an end? The philosophical answer is yes."

Scotty shifted uncomfortably. "Violence does not earn respect. Nor does it lead to rational compromise." He thought back to his own rebellions; they'd always been relatively peaceful, based on facts, reason, dialogue. "Ever."

Sutherland started to laugh. "What in God's name are respect and reason?"

"Relationships are based on respect and reason. The world runs according to their dictates. And as a union rep, you've resorted to dialogue, the use of reason to compromise. Give and take. Mutual respect. Nonviolent sit-downs at worst."

"Mr. Bruce. You are talking about business. The Jacobites are involved in politics. In politics, respect is irrelevant. So is reason. The political world runs on fear. Strength and power beget fear. Violence begets fear. An oppressor will only negotiate when confronted with strength and power. Where they are not present, negotiation is a sham. No, in the face of such disdain, one must then resort to the threat of violence and possibly violence in fact until enough fear is instilled that the oppressor will cower and submit." He shook his head; his face was a mask of ridicule. "Go. Talk of respect and reason. Go talk like a fool. But you are not talking about this world. You are not talking about the subjugation of Scotland by England."

"Scotland united with England in 1707 to save herself from ruin. It was not subjugated!"

"Nonsense!" Sutherland nearly screamed, his face turning a shade of crimson. "The two countries were united by status-seeking traitors—nobles in Edinburgh who wanted to take their phony pomp to the English court. Scotland was betrayed, not saved. Scotland could well have survived without England—alone, allied with France—in so many, many ways. And it can certainly survive without England now!"

"You sound like a bitter man."

"On the contrary, I'm a happy man, a man at peace with himself. I am content in the political world because I have learned the glory of resistance. I have tasted the buds of freedom!"

"What do you want of Geminii?"

"I want Geminii to disavow the English. To get the hell out of Scotland. To leave Scotland's oil for the Scots."

"Then there would be no jobs for your people."

"Wrong. We or our representatives, maybe even a company such as Geminii working by our rules, would provide all the jobs needed."

Scotty shook his head. "You don't have a rat's ass chance with your political demands because Geminii does not have the right to grant them."

"Maybe."

"And as a Jacobite, Geminii won't listen to you."

"Why is that?"

"Geminii doesn't respect you, and you do not have sufficient strength and power to make it submit."

Sutherland stood. "Mr. Bruce. It's time I should be going."

Scotty stared. "If Geminii won't listen to you because you don't have the strength and power, then you must, according to your own admission, resort to violence."

Sutherland put his empty mug on the table. "I said I believe in violence philosophically, but I reject it as a human being and a dreamer. I recognize the truth, but I am far too weak to exercise it."

"Then why be a Jacobite?"

"To try to explain the truth. No, Mr. Bruce. If you're looking for a violent act from me or my associates, you'll grow old fast. I only hope to explain to Geminii what it can expect and might already have received from radicals far less human and idealistic than I or my other Jacobite associates."

"You're contradicting yourself," Scotty challenged. "Resortlng to the very thing—reason—you believe to be impotent."

Sutherland smiled sadly. "Good night, Mr. Bruce," he said, and left the pub abruptly.

Scotty jogged Sunday morning, played soccer with several Geminii engineers—he needed the exercise—slept most of

Sunday afternoon—he needed the rest, too—and then, after dinner, fell asleep.

He arrived at his office the next day, midmorning.

A message was waiting; Whittenfeld wanted to speak to him.

He immediately went to Whittenfeld's office.

"Sit, Mr. Bruce," Whittenfeld said as he stood behind his desk.

He dropped into one of the lounges.

Whittenfeld looked as if he'd been through the wringer, far worse than he'd looked the day they'd spoken after the recovery of the hose. He hadn't shaved in a week. His eyes were red. His hands were shaking ever so slightly. Even his tie, which was always knotted perfectly, was slightly askew.

"Don't mind my appearance," Whittenfeld said disconcertedly. "I flew in late last night from Aberdeen with Mr. Lefebre, and I spent the rest of the night reviewing the investigation documentation."

"I hope you've found everything in order," Scotty said, also noting indecision and an awkward quality of fear in Whittenfeld's usually steady voice.

"They're in order. In fact, I think we're ready. And I've confirmed the readiness of the inspection investigators as well. I am going to notify the London office to notify the Department of Energy that we and the inspection investigators are prepared to present our findings to the commission."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Scotty asked.

"Just tired, Mr. Bruce," Whittenfeld replied, unsteadilly lighting a cigar. "How was the seismic work?"

"It went well."

Whittenfeld walked to the window and looked out. Scotty examined Whittenfeld's face. He sensed severe strain. Not physical. But mental. He was sure Whittenfeld had been through an emotional cyclone.

It did not surprise him.

"What about the blowout prevent control hose?" he finally asked.

"I finished the inspection."

"And?"

A bead of sweat ran down Whittenfeld's face. "I reached a conclusion."

"Do you want to let me in on it?"

Whittenfeld blew a ring of smoke into the air. "Of course." He walked toward Scotty. "There is nothing I keep from you. But I would like you to bear with me for a few days. The information I have is startling. The proof I have found is frightening. Only I know the particulars. I would like to keep them with me until I face the tribunal."

My God, Scotty thought. "Of course," he said.

"I have information that will focus the spotlight of the world on Scotland."

"I understand."

"Good, Mr. Bruce."

They stood in silence, facing each other. Then Whittenfeld returned to his desk.

"I will speak to you later," he said.

Scotty said nothing and left the room.

That afternoon, Geminii Petroleum's London office notified the secretary of state for energy that the
Columbus
investigation had been completed.

The investigation commission convened immediately thereafter. As Fallworth had noted, the commission tribunal was composed of members of select governmental departments. Andrew Farquharson, its chairman, and Peter Droon had been drawn from the Scottish Office, Mary MacKenzie from the Highland Regional Council. There were also individuals from the Petroleum Engineering Division, the Home Office, the Department of Trade, and the Health and Safety Executive.

The inclusion of Droon and MacKenzie had drawn considerable attention from the start. The press considered their selection a canny political maneuver, a device to suggest impartiality and a high regard for Scottish nationalism. Cabinet spokesmen, however, insisted they'd been chosen by lot from lists provided by their respective departments.

The public inquiry was gaveled into session in the executive chamber of the Highland Regional Council, Inverness. The preliminary sessions focused on a description of the
Columbus
and the environmental impact of her destruction, while the succeeding ones concentrated on the salvage operation and a description of the recovered drill ship and sonar tug. It'was only after the committee obtained a complete preliminary picture that it shifted the focus to the chain of events leading to the catastrophe, the causes, and a possible assignment of blame.

Peter Droon, of the Scottish Office, scanned the packed gallery, especially the press section, then, while fiddling with the end of his tie, looked back at the witness.

"Mr. Bruce," he said, "am I correct making the following assumptions based on the expert testimony elicited so far? The
Columbus
was found in three discrete sections, though parts of her had broken free. The bow of the sonar tug was imbedded in the drill ship's hull, and much of the drill ship's stern section, behind the impact point, had broken loose. Parts of the drill pipe were imbedded in the remains of the derrick. The blowout control hoses and the guide wires were missing, presumably having been burned off the ship by the fire and explosions?"

"That's correct," Scotty said, leaning back in his chair, obviously disquieted; he had finally been called to testify, the next to last witness, after having listened to seven days ot brutal testimony.

"We'd like to pose several questions based on these facts," Droon explained. "We'd like you to elaborate."

"If I can."

"That's all we can ask of you," Droon said, glancing briefly at Mary MacKenzie. "Several expert witnesses have suggested the tug was caught in the gas blowout and sucked into the heavier drill ship. Would you agree?"

"Yes."

"That obviously implies the tug was close enough to the drill ship and wellhead to have been caught in the gas funnel."

"Yes."

"But, Mr. Bruce, according to testimony and Geminii's carefully documented operational orders, the tug was to have remained at least half a mile away from the ship."

"That's correct."

"Well, then. Perhaps you can tell me what the hell the tug was doing alongside the
Columbus
?"

"We're not sure. We tried to check the tug's instruments. However, they had been totally destroyed, as had all of her records. We can only guess the tug was either steaming toward the drill ship to offer help or to warn the drill ship of impending danger."

"To warn the drill ship? Mr. Bruce, the tug had a radio."

"Unfortunately not. We recovered the tug's radio. The radio had multiple shortings, which we determined had occurred prior to the catastrophe. So if there was a warning to be given, it would have to have been given at close range."

"Couldn't visual signals have carried the distance?"

"No. You've heard the testimony concerning the weather conditions on the night of the blowout. The fog was so thick the tug had no choice but to make a near approach."

"Could the tug have been closing to offer aid? Might they have seen the blowout?"

"Of course they saw the blowout. But I doubt they were closing because of it."

"Why?"

"Because there was too little time between the blowout and the aeration to have allowed the tug to reach the danger zone. No, the tug was closing before the blowout—closing to warn of impending danger."

"How could the tug have known of such a danger?"

"It had highly sophisticated equipment on board designed to detect foreign objects in the loch."

"Then you're suggesting there was a foreign object present which the tug perceived could endanger the
Columbus
and therefore the tug was moving to warn the ship's crew of the foreign object's presence."

Scotty glanced back at Whittenfeld, who was seated in the rear, next to Lefebre, Foster, and a team of company executives, then turned toward Superintendent MacGregor and Inspector MacKintosh, who had attended every session. "I don't know," he said. "We do know one of the control hoses, parts of which we were able to find, was severed a hundred feet below the water surface. We suspect the drill pipe was bent as well, pinching off the downward flow of mud, thereby causing the blowout."

"What could have pinched the drill pipe.

"The disalignment of the riser."

"How might the riser have been disaligned?"

"Based on our prior experience—and the committee has reviewed the record—we suspect something might have pushed it out of whack."

"What severed the blowout control hose?"

"You'll have to ask Mr. Whittenfeld. He examined the hose."

Farquharson interceded, tapping his cane. "Mr. Bruce could you possibly reconstruct the sequence of events aboard the drill ship prior to her demise?"

"I would have to make many assumptions."

"We understand that. But we would still appreciate an attempt."

Scotty fiddled with his notes. "As you know, the
Columbus
had taken a kick and had instituted kill procedures. During these procedures, the blowout preventer would have been closed, sealing off the well. With the blowout preventer closed, there could not have been a blowout unless the preventer had structurally failed or the well wall itself had collapsed. Neither occurred. We examined the well. It is intact. I personally examined the blowout preventer, Exhibit D, and there is nothing structurally wrong with it. It did not fail. Therefore, the preventer would have to have been open at the time of the blowout, and we have to conclude the kill procedures had been completed and the drill team had returned to normal operation, which would correspond to the radio messages received from the ship."