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  Over the following two days, the crew of the RV Celtic Explorer went about their daily chores. The scientists spent the time unpacking, testing and installing their equipment packages. The vessel’s soft rolling as it made its way into the Atlantic didn’t appear to bother anyone.

  The Holland 2, the ship’s newly installed state-of-the-art ROV, named after John Philip Holland, Ireland’s unique submarine engineer, was the centre of attention. From what he could make out Killen reckoned that new sets of sensors had been added. Judging by the manner in which they were handled this was expensive stuff, or at least the type of equipment that could not be replaced easily.

  The crew of the RV Celtic Explorer were experienced in handling an ROV as unmanned underwater research was their bread and butter. They had already navigated the ROV to a depth of over 3,000 metres, off the Irish Continental Shelf during a recent mapping survey. Weighing in at five tonnes, it required a careful hand at the tiller. The re-kitted Holland 2 came with additional features, including high quality Pegasus still and video cameras, enhanced Lumen lighting, an upgraded USBL positioning system, new and larger storage buckets, electronically controlled grabs and a variety of chemical sensors.

  Seated in the cramped ROV operations room, located midships at eye level to the main cranes, Paul McCrossan, the ROV’s operator for the past few years, was having great fun exploring the new features of his favourite toy. He started his career a long time back as an accountant and thanks to a recession or two he had re-skilled into his current role. McCrossan was fascinated with technology and once he mastered it he knew he could do anything he liked with the ROV. His dexterity at manoeuvring the ROV’s arms and gadgetry was legendary. Its arms were an extension of his own. McCrossan was supported by two technicians who shared the task of monitoring the ROV’s movements, communications and experiments.

  The crew were fond of McCrossan as he made no demands on them other than to ensure nobody ever went into the ROV’s operation room without his permission. McCrossan sported a thick deep beard in a blend of grey and black, that identified him as a sailor.

  Killen detected at least three American voices, two English and a few bearded types with less distinctive accents busying themselves around the PLU. The age profile was much higher than usual; he was used to seeing fresh, just-out-of-college faces. The Irish scientists aboard bade him and his colleagues the time of the day and were polite but conversations with the newcomers never got beyond the basic formalities. This was all strange to a captain that was used to the relative routine and casual nature of marine scientific research. He knew instinctively that something serious was afoot. Why else was he sailing to a destination much further west than they had in many years, and with a navy escort?

  After three days of sailing, Gilmore made it his business to meet Killen the day before they were due to arrive at the appointed initial location. They met in the scientist’s cabin.

  ‘As we’re about to start work, I thought I should give you a bit more detail,’ said Gilmore.

  ‘That would be helpful,’ said Killen without revealing his increasing levels of frustration as his ship was all but commandeered by strangers.

  ‘Vice-Commodore Noel Brennan, captain of the LÉ Michael D. Higgins, will be joining us within the hour and will be assuming command until our research mission is accomplished,’ said Gilmore.

  ‘Command? I beg your pardon, but on whose authority am I being stood down?’ Killen let his anger spill over. He was genuinely stunned, and it showed. His high cheekbones reddened instantly. His freckles flushed. He got a lump in his throat. His voice was stressed. His hands waved in all directions. His blood was roaring in his ears.

  While acutely aware of the captain’s obvious state of unease and discomfort, Gilmore continued unphased. ‘This is a scientific mission of strategic national importance and, depending on what we find, the security of the State may be at risk.’

  ‘Please explain,’ said Killen, instinctively looking for a cigarette. Fidgeting in his pockets, he forgot that he gave up smoking twenty years before.

  ‘Put another way, for a short while and under Government orders, the RV Celtic Explorer will be part of the Irish navy. As a consequence, full military discipline applies once Vice-Commodore Brennan takes control.’

  ‘I deserve a better explanation than that,’ said Killen, struggling to control his temper.

  ‘I agree, you do. Let me put it this way: we’ll be undertaking a series of underwater experiments over a period of weeks or thereabouts that will seek to prove emerging theories that major changes to the volcanic structure of the Irish Continental Shelf are happening much more quickly than could have been anticipated. If the findings are as bad as I suspect they will be we need to keep a lid on this before the results are made public.’

  Gilmore paused before delivering the final blow.

  ‘We can’t afford to have loose tongues. We’re relying on you and your crew to provide every assistance to the Irish Navy and to the visitors on board. I can’t afford to have sulky and uncooperative crew interfering with, or worse obstructing, our work. Is that clear Captain?’

  Killen nodded. He didn’t have a choice. ‘OK, I’ll do my duty to the best of my ability.’

  ‘Thanks Captain. That’s what I expected you to say. Please join me for the research mission briefing.’

  They made their way to the mess hall, which was the largest room aboard. It was packed to capacity.

  ‘Welcome all,’ said Gilmore as soon as he walked in the door. He saw thirty sets of eyes questioning him. Some were friendly. Others less so.

  ‘Barry, please start,’ said Gilmore without making any introductions.

  Barry Carew was both excited and apprehensive as he started the briefing, targeted specifically at the scientists he had hand-picked at the request of the Irish Marine Institute.

  Carew, who wore designer stubble to match his grey sleeveless designer bomber jacket, had been observing weather patterns across the Atlantic for decades, long before issues such as climate change had made the headlines. He didn’t allude to his long friendship with Gilmore, it wasn’t relevant. They both had a job to do regardless of their relationship.

  ‘NASA and NOAA satellites have shown increasing volumes of melt ice from the Greenland Ice Sheet flowing into the North Atlantic. This phenomenon is starting to disrupt the weather-mitigating effects of the Gulf Stream. Until a few months ago there was no cause for alarm. However, we now have new data from our satellites that suggests the situation is far worse than we realised.’

  Several of the researchers shifted uneasily in their seats.

  Carew continued. ‘Once this data was confirmed, NOAA alerted the Irish Marine Institute because Ireland is one of the countries likely to be most affected by any significant shift in the pattern of the Gulf Stream. We’re here to find out the extent to which the satellite images and data can be matched with sea level and underwater observation. I would like to show you what we can do.’

  He tapped instructions into his PC keyboard and the large high definition TV screen on the wall of the mess hall lit up. He zoomed in. In the centre of the screen was a crystal-clear image of the RV Celtic Explorer.’

  There was stunned silence.

  Vinnie Crowley spoke, reflecting the views of his colleagues. ‘We’re being watched by a spy satellite.’

  ‘Not so, Mr Crowley. NOAA’s assets are not owned or operated by the military. We’re watching ourselves so to speak thanks to the state-of-the-art technology built into our low orbit GOES-S Series satellite. It is this satellite that has detected wide variations of sub-surface temperature to a depth of nearly five hundred metres. Let me show you.’

  The screen switched to an image of the surface.

  ‘The outer area highlighted in blue is around 4 degrees Celsius. The light red area in the centre is fifteen degrees due to the eddying effect of the wave
s. This sharp difference in temperature shows us where the apex of a water column is located.’

  Carew pressed ahead.

  ‘Eugene Carroll from the Irish Marine Institute will explain what we’re looking for and how we intend to get the data. Eugene over to you.’

  He was glad his part of the briefing was over. It was never easy to break bad news.

  Carroll was clean-cut, shaven, and dressed smartly with ironed trousers, leather belt and white shirt. As a retired captain of the elite commando wing of the Irish Rangers, he knew how important it was to set sartorial standards as a reflection of his general approach to his work. He was a stickler for detail. He had a limp, related to a wound he got when on duty with the United Nations in Mali. His walking stick, carved from bush mahogany with an artisan silver handle, was his pride and joy.

  ‘Thanks Barry. My colleagues and I have been monitoring the daily feed from the Gravity Recovery and Climate Experiment, or ‘GRACE’, satellites for over a year. As you know the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation, the AMOC as we call it, is part of a complex circulation of currents that take the warmer Gulf Stream waters across the Atlantic.’

  He spoke calmly and assuredly with an easy-to-listen-to accent. The only other sound was the constant creaking of the research vessel as it ploughed its way through the Atlantic seas.

  ‘The theory is that if the AMOC slowed down, or – Heaven forbid – if it stopped altogether, this would give rise to colder winters and summers, in particular in the British Isles and in Denmark and Norway. The evidence had suggested this phenomenon could take decades, even centuries, before a noticeable and permanent effect could be detected. That was before the Zachariae Isstrom Glacier in Northern Greenland became detached and started crumbling into the North Atlantic. Almost immediately we noticed much colder fresh meltwater moving south.

  The scientists present nodded their heads in agreement. After all, they understood the science of climate change and the absolute need to have primary and irrefutable evidence to support their findings. On the other hand, the crew of the RV Celtic Explorer listened in silence not fully grasping the impact of the briefing.

  Carroll continued. ‘The volume of fresh water off the Zachariae Isstrom Glacier on its own should not cause such a pattern unless other outflow sources were combining to effectively flood the central part of the North Atlantic Ocean with melted ice. In the past months, our satellites have identified widespread areas of meltwater spreading as far south as the waters off the south-east of Iceland. We’ve asked Lars Brun and his colleagues at the Summit Station in Greenland to test the outflow levels. As we start our tests, his team is in the process of doing their own research.’

  The crew started to pay attention as it became evident that this research trip was going to be a bit different. They could feel a growing sense of anticipation among the scientists and researchers.

  Carroll too was aware that his briefing was now being listened too by all in the room with heightened attention. He continued: ‘As you know, a rapid decrease in the salinity of the ocean waters resulting from its displacement by freshwater from the Greenland Ice Sheet prevents colder waters sinking down columns that spiral close to the ocean floor. What seems to be happening is that twenty of the seventy-eight known giant ‘chimneys’ of cold dense water that comprise the AMOC have stopped functioning. If this can be proved – and this is what we’re here to do – it represents a startling acceleration of one of the most worrying changes to the earth’s climate.’

  Carroll pointed with his walking stick to the large map of the North-East Atlantic that hung on the wall of the mess hall. He loved showing off his African souvenir.

  ‘We’ve been asked, as part of a much wider endeavour involving three other marine research vessels from Denmark, Norway and Great Britain, to test the salinity of the waters in the area of the Eriador Seamount. Here what is called the ‘Irminger Current’ transports relatively salty and warm water offshore from the East Greenland current. Between the four countries we’ll test the salinity of the seawater along an arc from Rockall to Iceland. The Norwegians are coordinating the collective effort. I should add their Government is providing the funding for the research.’

  He then pointed to an area shaded in red lines.

  ‘This is our zone of activity.’

  He paused to drink from a glass of water. This gave his audience time to grasp the importance of what had been said.

  ‘We’ve re-equipped the Holland 2 with new instrumentation to test seawater salinity levels, its density and to measure the flow of the sinking circulation. I reckon we need to take measurements at ten locations to a depth of two kilometres. This will take us at least four weeks, by my reckoning.’

  Several people had their hands raised.

  ‘I see a few of you have some questions.’

  Crowley was undaunted. He puffed out another halo of dense sweet-smelling smoke. He wasn’t aware that navy rules didn’t allow smoking even if, as he jokingly argued, it was for medicinal purposes. Killen wasn’t looking forward to telling him he had to quit his habit.

  ‘Where does the PLU fit into all of this? Are there two projects going on at the same time? Who is in charge?’ demanded Crowley.

  ‘When Vice-Commodore Brennan comes aboard later, we’ll set out how both teams of scientists will be managed to carry out their respective research projects. For the time being we just need to ensure that all equipment remains ready for use.’

  ‘There is no need for all this mystery stuff you know. You are talking to adults.’ said Crowley. Crowley’s training as an engineer made him intolerant of waffle. He ran his life based on discernible facts.

  As the scientists and crew dispersed after the briefing, Crowley and Killen stayed back a while.

  ‘Enda, what’s going on?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you more, Vinnie. I’m as frustrated as you are that we’re being kept in the dark about the real purpose of this voyage. We just better get on with our jobs and when they want to tell us more, I’m sure they will. My focus, like yours, is to run a safe ship.’

  ‘Fair enough so. Cuppa?’

  Over several cups of tea in the comfort of the staff room they spent an hour discussing a variety of sport and political stories, relatively uncontroversial subjects for seasoned mariners. Both decided to park their concerns about the issues raised at the briefing. After all there was little they could do to change matters.

  It took a further day’s sailing to get on location. They sailed across the Porcupine Bank, over the Rockall Trough and the shallow Rockall Bank, where the seabed was just 300 metres deep in parts, to a location 54° 50’ north and 25° 20’ west, a distance of four hundred kilometres from Galway.

  They were well on the way to America.

  CHAPTER 3

  Instituto Volcanológico de Canarias

  ‘Aren’t we lucky – The Caldera de Taburiente must be one of the most stunning workplaces in the world!’ As they approached the second measurement site, Ros looked around and took in the panorama.

  ‘I agree,’ said Simon. ‘This is a stress-free zone. It sure beats working in a factory packing fruit or being in an office.’

  The small stones that comprised the rough footpath where they stood moved ever so slightly – they shuffled – and this was immediately followed by a small but noticeable jolt under their feet.

  ‘Am I dreaming, or …’ Ros stuttered in disbelief.

  ‘It’s a seismic tremor,’ said Simon calmly.

  When it stopped, after ten long seconds, the brothers instinctively sat down and stared at each other. While this was their first experience of a tremor, they knew the consequence of such a mild movement.

  Simon’s mobile phone rang, and this startled them.

  ‘Simon, did you experience what we’ve just felt?’ said Claudine.

  ‘Yes,’ responded Simo
n. ‘Let’s hope it’s a one-off. How bad was it where you are?’

  ‘We were reviewing your sulphur data measurements when the seismometer beside us started to register,’ said Claudine. ‘It was a 1.3 Richter scale tremor. But what worries me is that it was a shallow tremor located equidistant between where you are at the Caldera and here some thirty kilometres further south. It could be located at the base of the Caldera.’

  ‘We’re not at the research station but on the other side of the Caldera, close to La Roque,’ said Simon.

  ‘Wow, here it goes again,’ said Claudine in a matter-of-fact voice.

  This time they were prepared and soon the short shock had passed.

  ‘Another 1.3 and from the same location,’ said Claudine.

  Simon stood up. ‘Claudine, Ros and I need to get back to base pronto to alert the Instituto Geográfico Nacional. Two tremors within ten minutes is far from normal. I will call you later.’

  The brothers knew immediately that what had looked to be a routine and carefree few weeks until the end of their contract at the Pico de la Nieve research centre was going to be somewhat different. The fact that the network of seismic sensors had all recorded the event pointed to a potential shallow fault developing about half a kilometre south of the research station at the base of the mountain range. This was the point where the greatest energy release could be expected. The priority was to determine how shallow the fault was and then to detect the pattern of waves.

  They gathered their kit for the long hike back to the Pico de la Nieve research centre. They walked in silence in single file on the narrow mountain path for almost an hour. When the path widened, they paused to catch their breath, sat down on a rock and drank some water. They knew regular rests were essential at this altitude.

  ‘Do you remember what Professor Laffino told us about Charles Richter when we were in first year at college?’ asked Ros.

  ‘Sure do, as if it were yesterday,’ said Simon. ‘Way back in 1935, he defined the Richter reading. For each number up the scale the intensity increases ten-fold. As the Richter measurement increases so does the severity of the quake. What we felt, a 1.3, was comparable to a small quarry blast. Anything over a 5 would cause severe damage, like the impact of a major nuclear explosion. A magnitude 6 quake would cause widespread damage over a hundred square kilometre area.’