Abduction

Robin Cook

Abduction

For Cameron.

Welcome to life, “LITTLE LITTLE”

CHAPTER ONE

An odd vibration roused Perry Bergman from a restless sleep, and he was instantly filled with a strange foreboding. The unpleasant murmur put him in mind of fingernails scraping down a blackboard. He shuddered and threw off his thin blanket. As he stood up, the vibration continued. With his bare feet on the steel deck, it now reminded him of a dentist’s drill. Just beneath it he could detect the normal hum of the ship’s generators and the whir of its air conditioning fans.

“What the hell?” he said aloud, even though there was no one within earshot to provide an answer. He’d helicoptered out to the ship, the Benthic Explorer, the previous evening after a long flight from Los Angeles to New York to Ponta Delgada on the Azorean island of San Miguel. Between the time zone changes and a long briefing about the technical problems his crew was experiencing, he was understandably exhausted. He didn’t like being awakened after only four hours of sleep, especially by such a jarring vibration.

Snatching the ship’s phone from its cradle he punched in the number for the bridge. While he waited for the co

“Bridge,” a bored voice responded in Perry’s ear.

“Where’s Captain Jameson?” Perry snapped.

“In his bunk as far as I know,” the voice said casually.

“What the hell is that vibration?” Perry demanded.

“Beats me, but it’s not coming from the ship’s power plant if that’s what you’re asking. Otherwise I would have heard from the engine room. It’s probably just the drilling rig. Want me to call the drilling van?”

Perry didn’t answer; he just slammed the phone down. He couldn’t believe whoever was on the bridge wasn’t moved to investigate the vibration on his own. Didn’t he care? It irked Perry to no end that his ship was being operated so unprofessionally, but he decided to deal with that issue later. Instead he tried to focus on getting into his jeans and heavy wool turtleneck. He didn’t need someone to tell him the vibration might be coming from the drilling rig. That was pretty obvious. After all, it was difficulty with the drilling operation that had brought Perry here from Los Angeles.

Perry knew that he had gambled the future of Benthic Marine on the current project: drilling into a magma chamber within a seamount west of the Azores. It was a project that was not under contract, meaning the company was spending instead of being paid, and the cash hemorrhage was horrendous. Perry’s motivation for the undertaking rested on his belief that the feat would capture the public’s imagination, focus interest on undersea exploration, and rocket Benthic Marine to the forefront of oceanographic research. Unfortunately, the endeavor was not going as pla

Once he was dressed, Perry glanced in the mirror over the sink in the cubbyhole bathroom. A few years ago he wouldn’t have taken the time. But things had changed. Now that he was in his forties, he found that the tousled look that used to work for him made him look old, or at best, tired. His hair was thi

Emerging onto the deck, Perry tried to locate the source of the strange hum, which was now merged with the sound of the operating drill rig. The Benthic Explorer was a four-hundred-fifty-foot vessel with a twenty-story drilling derrick amidship that bridged a central bay. In addition to the drilling rig, the ship boasted a saturation diving complex, a deep-sea submersible, and several remote-controlled mobile camera sleds, each mounted with an impressive array of still cameras and television camcorders. Combining this equipment with an extensive lab, the Benthic Explorer gave its parent company, Benthic Marine, the ability to carry out a wide range of oceanographic studies and operations.

Perry saw the door to the drilling van open. A giant of a man appeared. He yawned and stretched before hoisting the straps of his coveralls over his shoulders and do

Quickening his pace Perry caught up to the man just as two other deckhands joined him.

“It’s been doing this for about twenty minutes, chief,” one of the roustabouts yelled over the noise of the drilling rig. All three men ignored Perry.

The shift foreman grunted as he pulled on a pair of heavy work gloves and blithely walked out across the narrow metal grate spa

“Stop the rig!” the giant shouted.

One of the roustabouts dashed back to the exterior control panel. Within a moment the rotary table came to a clanking halt and the grating vibration ceased. The supervisor walked back and stepped onto the deck.

“Chrissake! The bit’s busted again,” he said with an expression of disgust. “This is fast becoming a goddamned joke.”

“The joke is that we’ve only drilled for two or three feet in the last four or five days,” the remaining roustabout said.

“Shut up!” the giant intoned. “Get the hell over there and raise the drill string to the well head!”

The second roustabout joined the first. Almost immediately there was a new sound of powerful machinery as the winches were engaged to do the foreman’s bidding. The ship shuddered.