CHAPTER 48
Snow Camp Alpha
Drill Site #4
East Antarctica
Robert Hunt closed the door to his portable living pod and picked up the radio.
“Bounty, this is Snow King. We have reached depth seven-five-zero-zero feet, repeat, our depth is seven-five-zero-zero feet. Status unchanged. We’ve hit nothing but ice.”
“Snow King, Bounty. We read you. Depth is seven thousand five hundred feet. Stand by.”
Robert set the radio mic on the fold-out table and leaned back in the flimsy chair. He couldn’t wait to leave this frozen hell hole. He had drilled for oil in the world’s harshest places — Northern Canada, Siberia, Alaska, and the North Sea above the Arctic Circle. Nothing compared to Antarctica.
He looked around the pod — his home for the last seven days. It was exactly like the last three pods at the last three drilling sites: a ten by fifteen room with three cots, a large noisy heater, four trunks of equipment and food, and the table with the radio. There was no refrigerator; keeping things cool was the least of their problems.
The radio crackled to life. “Snow King, this is Bounty. Your orders are as follows: extract the drill, cover the hole, and proceed to new location. Please confirm orders when you are ready for new GPS coordinates.”
Robert confirmed the orders, took down the new coordinates, and signed off. He sat for a minute, thinking about the job. Three drill sites, all 7,500 feet deep, all the same result: nothing but ice. The equipment was all snow white, and covered by huge white parasail-like canopies. Whatever they were doing, their employer didn’t want anyone to see it from the air. He had assumed they were drilling for oil or some precious metal. Covert drilling wasn’t uncommon. You go in, drill, make a strike, cover it up, then get an option on the land. But there were no drilling rights to be had in Antarctica, and there were much easier places — cheaper places — to find oil and raw materials. The economics didn’t make sense. But money didn’t seem to be a problem. Each site had about thirty million dollars in equipment — and they didn’t seem to care what happened to it. They were paying him two million dollars for what they said would be two months — max — of drilling. He’d signed a non-disclosure agreement. And that was it. Two million dollars, drill where we say, keep your mouth shut. Robert intended to do just that. Two million dollars would get him out of the trouble he was in and maybe leave him enough to get off the oil rigs for good. He might even fix his own problems, the reason he was in such a bind to begin with. But that was probably wishful thinking, about as likely as striking oil in Antarctica.