The Rain Circle, page 17
While Christian is ushered on to matters of greater importance, Patrick takes a back seat, arms outstretched on the railings, soaking in the noon day sun. He takes in the smells of fuel and paint that are associated with ocean-going vessels. New, more welcome, sensations from unpolluted sea air try to dominate. He looks around the scene of activity. Someone is flying drones over the site. A helicopter seems to be delivering personnel to a helipad above. Small vessels are crossing the site in a hurry. Two light aircraft are buzzing through the zone and beyond. It feels like a city centre at 6pm. But it is early afternoon many kilometres out to sea in the Southern Ocean. Nervous energy helps Christian keep his focus. Patrick can breathe more easily, commanding no-one’s attention and having no achievement in mind other than getting Christian safely home to dry ground. So he keeps a safe, invisible, distance from the hurry and flurry, taking some interest in the science and less interest in the tension clawing at the major players and technicians who have only hours to sink or swim.
Not a moment goes by when Patrick does not become aware of rivalry, minor incidents of ideas being challenged and possible negative outcomes being presented as challenges. Most of such interchange passes by without interest but he takes a step forward to listen to an idea put forward by German technician Neils Dohnt. The teenage technician is crouched over a terminal in the control room, animated and determined to get the attention of his superiors. He thinks he has a means of limiting collateral damage.
‘Look at this,’ he demands, calling in German to everyone to come to his screen, where concentric circles indicate temperature zones at set distances from the core site. ‘This whale and calf are picking up speed. Why? Because I have an hour or so ago put in the surge to test the integrity of the network. Look. Those spots through the zone, right there, are hundreds of fish. Moving out. They don’t like the vibration or the increasing temperature from the surge. I’m thinking why not test effects of increasing the vibration in another surge so we can say we’ve got some answers to the marine life question. Maybe we can ….’
He is stopped midstream by one of the project seniors who appears to have the support of Christian, who has drawn to his side. It is argued that Neils must not think about another surge to clear the primary and outer zones of sea life. Now is no time for experimentation. There is just one and only one demonstration that concerns everyone today. Patrick hopes Neils disobeys, giving the teenager a wink and a nod. It is meant to say he agrees. It is not permission to go ahead. Neils later privately gives the system another little nudge and with one eye on the monitors and the other on his international superiors, takes a punt. No-one really notices another wave of marine life deciding to take a hurry-along. Slow movers like crustaceans are out of the race, while fin fish skate away and mother whale with her calf respond to another nudge up the backside to motor away at increased speed towards the safety of coastal waters. Neils looks boyishly at Patrick, wide-eyed and pleased with images of success on his screen.
Patrick decides to go back on deck for some fresh air. Walking towards the stern he overhears Kris Pavic in heated conversation. The language is colourful.
‘I’m not asking you my friend, I’m fucking well telling you,’ Kris is saying. ‘No don’t give me that bullshit about what you were employed to do today. None of us are working to regulation today you dickhead so forget that fexcuse. No, shut up. Shut up and listen to me you little dickhead before I have to get a chopper back to Ceduna and do the job myself. I’m telling you, get a couple of those abalone divers holed up in Ceduna to volunteer to help the project divers. Their chopper is at the airport and waiting, so get this moving for Christ’s sake! What? You’re now telling me you can’t make people volunteer? Oh, stick your head up your arse. You’re fired you prick!’
Patrick looks at Kris as if he has just peered into the eyes of a dragon about to fire and hiss, yet asks the age old stupid question about what he can do to help.
‘You can help by just getting out of my face’ Kris sharply retorts before realising he’s been unnecessarily hurtful. ‘Sorry mate, yeah you probably can help. Stick around if you don’t mind.’
With backs supported by the starboard railing, Patrick sets himself a safe metre apart and looks out to sea as Kris makes three brief phone calls. The first is to abalone fisherman Simon Freeman who is asked for a special effort today. Simon agrees to help when the task is described and says he thinks he can persuade his mate Fritz Klingberg to help. Kris thanks Simon profusely and says he knew he could always count on him. As the second call is being made there is a deepening frown on Kris’s face that stems from knowing he’s putting people’s lives at risk. The second call, made to Wilma Jensen for media advice is less stressful. Kris tells her he’s been told a journalist from the Port Lincoln Times has arrived in Ceduna, apparently after being tipped off by one of the recreational divers recruited for the project. That’s good news at this stage of proceedings, not bad, Wilma advises. It means a head start for a local journalist and it is a positive that not all news will be flowing from across the globe. Kris says he knows the journalist, Destiny Pobke, and agrees to give her a phone briefing. It is Destiny who takes the third call and most of her questions are answered before Kris says he’s run out of time and has a shitload to do.
Surprisingly, Kris doesn’t rush away but folds his arms then unfolds them to draw Patrick by the arm towards him.
‘I hear you didn’t make sure Christian took his Kwells before taking to sea?’ says Kris pretending to admonish before allowing his broad grin to appear. ‘Hope he’s going to clean up Ryan’s boat after all this is over. A technicolour yawn all over the deck and over your clothes. Sorry I don’t have spare gear for you, just a spare shirt and jumper for Christian so he’s respectable when the VIPs arrive. Half an hour ago I thought that if that’s all that goes wrong, Christian not taking his seasick pills, we‘re in for a pretty good day. Then one of the senior engineers monitoring the integrity of the underwater lattice finds five joints that look a bit wobbly and need underpinning, and there may be more. It means I have to get divers out here in a hurry, but only divers who can dive very deep and who have the guts to take some danger in their stride.’
‘So that’s why you’ve been busy on the phone,’ Patrick chips in. ‘Must be very frustrating.’
‘Frustrating?’ Kris says. ‘Are you kidding? I perhaps shouldn’t have let you hear me call that bloke a little dickhead. He’s a massively big dickhead. Against my wishes the project team decided it was wise to employ a specialist human resources officer to manage the people we’ve engaged over the past few weeks. Yeah, I can understand there are limits on expectations and our divers are needed tomorrow to disassemble the framework. But, Patrick, you can understand this business we’re in isn’t like a tuna canning factory don’t you mate?’
Nodding agreement that there is a difference, Patrick is prompted to think of his own role. He is here as Christian’s carer, no more. Yet not ten minutes earlier he asked Kris if there is anything he can do to help and will soon be reminded of the offer.
Several more phone calls are made, some delegating authority to Josephine Tomic and Lovro Horvat and a couple organising air tanks and other equipment to be lowered to the Nadia Peace with a barge in tow. Pocketing the phone, Kris turns to Patrick and says he has a small job for him. He’s to make sure the divers who land on top hurry along to get to the fishing boat. For a moment Kris looks relaxed, pleased things are getting back on track, then he takes a call from the pilot of the divers’ helicopter. There is a delay due to air traffic and arrival has been set back 20 minutes. Apparently another helicopter is on a landing path to Ceduna where it will refuel.
Realising the second helicopter is probably carrying non-essential personnel, namely the VIPs, Kris is not impressed. Time is critical.
Walking to the helipad, Patrick absorbs the sights and sounds of the hive of maritime activity around him. On this watery field, people are going to disrupt nature to imitate it. They’ll try to conjure a pall of rain in the absence of willing natural elements in a changing climate. He stops to remind himself it is not a dream but reality and to think about how he came to be here on this day. Of course, the reason he is here is clear. It is the undertaking to help Christian, given on a sombre drive home from Port Lincoln. An impulsive response allowed no planning. Things said or done in seconds can have impacts. He thinks of the lasting loss for Bernadette and May caused by someone who should not have been driving. Then, there have been his own moments such as when he handed methylamphetamines to his room-mates, constructing a lifetime criminal record. Today, however, is Christian’s day. Patrick hopes, for his father’s sake as well, that there will be no moments that lead to outcomes no-one wants.
While Patrick waits by the helipad to greet the divers and escort them to their rope ladder descent to the Nadia Peace, Bernadette is finishing modeling of satellite images depicting weather that would have been expected over Eyre Peninsula without human intervention. The eastward weather pattern is predictably dry. But as photography will reveal later today, science can turn things around. It is now 6.30am in Finland and 1pm in South Australia, giving Bernadette enough time to attend early morning Mass at Saint Henry’s Cathedral before the Helsinki team’s 8.30am briefing. Prayerful thought is needed at this time for her daughter, late husband and an event she has nicknamed the Buckleboo Project. Returning to her pew after communion, Bernadette passes Maria and Edvard Laakkonen who glance at the visiting parishioner as she passes their aisle. It is one of those moments which at the time carries no significance. Even at the end of the service when Edvard notices Bernadette getting into a university vehicle driven by a security officer he thinks little of it. Perhaps an academic on sabbatical who he will meet in the dining room one day.
At the same time as the solar-powered university vehicle is humming through quiet streets towards campus, a loud beating sound is bearing above Patrick’s head in the eastern sector of the Great Australian Bight. When the rotor comes to a standstill, Patrick hurries towards the occupants of the helicopter, already in their wetsuits, and helps carry their gear to the edge of the deck. The serious looks on the divers’ faces say they have a duty to perform, with little time.
‘When you get onto the Nadia Peace you’ll find extra air tanks on board. Good luck!’ Patrick yells as the four begin to scramble down. He notices the names of Petra Jenke and Marco Altmann on the wetsuits of the two who appear to be the leaders, and he figures the other two are the abalone divers spoken about by Kris.
Witnessing people under pressure, to the point of putting their lives on the line, inspires Patrick to seek out Christian and show support. As he walks across the deck he sees the divers’ helicopter take off and within minutes watches a second helicopter land. These passengers, however, have no appearance of being under pressure. Fashionably dressed, they are greeted like royalty by the master of the Kom Tilbake and are escorted away from the chilly wind of the open sea. He sees the new arrivals in the control room but keeps his distance. Christian is busy surveying a stack of monitoring screens with images and data and nods to acknowledge the presence of Patrick, leaning against a side wall. Among the screen images are the faces of key players like Hanni Niemenen and Bernadette O’Reilly. Conversations are to the point, interrupted from time to time by the voice of a controller stating time remaining to enable and activate the energy trigger.
Attention is drawn to vision of two pairs of divers descending to the ocean floor to strengthen components of the structure that are deemed to be weak. They work quickly and within half an hour are beginning to tire. Petra Jenke and Simon Freeman are putting a new lateral and connector into place when a 4m great white shark makes an unwanted appearance. It is moving slowly, observing its prey. The shark has trespassed the zone after Neils Dohnt’s disruptive surges and is inquisitive and hungry. One of the senior engineers, John Modlinski, springs into action and takes over site communication, knowing the divers will hear when he shouts ‘Shark!’ and gives the position and direction of movement of the animal. Rolling over to get a fix on the shark, Petra and Simon see it gliding to their left with white pectorals outstretched and jaws with jagged teeth slowly opening and closing. They also see the shape of diver Fritz Klingberg, his long legs fitted with power fins going up and down rhythmically and very fast. He is not pondering like the shark and has one goal. This is to push his shotgun wand under the belly of the shark and let it explode. Years of abalone diving have enhanced his shark-killing skills yet this predator, now very close, decides to glide sideways with a swish of its tail. Almost suffocating through inattention to breathing techniques required at this depth, Fritz turns his right arm and lunges. Not a perfect hit. Too much to the side and away from the vulnerable organs. Yet there is a shattering of flesh that causes a quiver and retreat. Like a wounded bull in a corner, the shark now sees Fritz as its focus and rushes towards him, motored by strong and swift cuts of the tail. A second charge is loaded and standing upright on the ocean floor Fritz shoves his weapon into the open mouth of the shark. Contact with the hard roof of the shark’s mouth triggers a silent deadly explosion. Ruby red blood erupting from the shark’s head billows through the sea. In the control room some observers, such as the VIPs, cheer as if they have been watching a thriller. Others, including Christian, Hanni, and Kris watching from his boat, see the shark episode as a frightening time delay.
There is only an hour for the four divers to compete their work. Simon clamps into place some joinery that Petra Jenke is not totally satisfied will work. Fritz continues as if nothing has happened, assisting Marco Altmann with the legwork of testing points of the lattice for strength and stability. After nearly an hour the pairs join up and systematically work their way through the underwater structure looking for faults to fix. They are exhausted and suffering from depth diving. They want to do more but time is running out. Petra calls Kris on share line with John Modlinski and expresses her reservations. They need at least another hour. This can’t be provided. In any event the divers can’t endure another hour’s work.
‘Ascend now,’ Kris instructs. ‘Slowly. Slowly.’
‘Twenty minutes, just give us twenty minutes,’ Petra pleads, signaling her fellow divers to continue their work. She points to a connection not previously identified as being unstable and turns an upright open hand to an angle to demonstrate the problem. Several laterals on the eastern side of the circle are slightly leaning. Technicians in the control room viewing images from various angles confirm there is distortion. There is a huddle of senior operators which concludes they have underestimated the power of the current. Weaknesses exist but when the massive energy surge is triggered, the slightly imperfect shape of the big lattice basket will not be a problem. Or so they conclude. Christian, with beads of sweat across his forehead, is not so sure. A communication link to Hanni Niemenen is urgently sought but the professor is engaged in conversation with meteorologists. When available after three minutes which seem like 30, Christian is told any decision to abort is now in the hands of those in command on site. With the consensus of senior engineers being that all will hold together when the time comes, there is nothing he can do.
An order is given to the divers to secure just two more of the suspect connections and to check the triggering mechanism and associated power hoses before returning. Again they work in pairs within sight of each other. Keeping in visible range and getting the job done quickly are difficult to achieve because fine sand is being stirred by the current. All divers are cramping with the deep sea pressure and are finding it hard to work efficiently. Suddenly Marco Altmann is bumped on the head and his mouthpiece is ripped away. Immediately he thinks the cause is the tired actions of his diving partner, perhaps accidently kicking into his air hose. A fraction of a second later the real cause is evident as the white underbelly of a great white shark passes by. There is fear then relief as he restores the mouthpiece and sees he has been hit by the drifting carcass of the shark killed by Fritz Klingberg.
Safe aboard the Nadia Peace the divers are told they’ve earned a rest and need not be part of the team which early next morning has the task of dismantling the structure. Today it is a giant scientific apparatus. Tomorrow it is a shipping hazard. The divers and others are also informed of a small change of plan. Due to ‘minor’ concerns about the structure’s shape, the fog horn ordering all vessels away from the site will be sounded 90 minutes and not an hour ahead of triggering.
Back in the crowded control room, Christian’s role of assessing applications of his research is now over and final stages have so quickly developed that any power he may have had to influence anything has slipped by. His choice observational seat in front of the banks of screens is quickly occupied by one of the VIPs when he moves to the rear to join Patrick.
‘Who are those tossers?’ Patrick asks.
‘The ones who look like they’ve spent a fortune on their casual clothes?’ Christian asks, getting a nod from his friend. ‘They’re the VIPs and they are very important. They’re like the owners of a soccer club. Only bigger. Without them nothing will have happened. It is all about the money. Or the promise of making it. The big money comes from the large lady who took my seat. Polina Kuznetsov. Behind her seat is another Russian, Bogdan Vasilev. Both are multi billionaires. Okay, maybe you think it strange to have people like that.’
‘Nothing is ever going to be strange to me after today mate.’
Christian is delighted with the way Patrick has, indeed, been part of an unusual day. With a smile coming over his face he asks Patrick to look across the room to the right. Two middle-aged men and an older, elegant, woman, are in conversation.
‘The shorter man is Australian,’ Christian says. ‘He’s been building metal structures for us in Ceduna. A welder called Ian Showel, who was recruited by Kris. If all this works he’ll soon be a partner with one of the world’s biggest manufacturers of advanced machinery, Krimmens Corporation. And the man with him is Carl Krimmens himself, from Auschaffenberg, Germany. The lady with them is Carl’s sister, Helga, the partner of Hanni Niemenen.’
