Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Bahía Paraíso,” Grim says, running a hand over his military-cut pelt of hair.
“Right.” I look to Dr. Larnyard. “Do you want to go down in history beside the largest oil spill and possibly man-made ecosystemic disruption ever in this hemisphere?”
The professor gulps, and I can practically see him weighing all of his accolades and tenure against such a black mark.
“What’s Bahía Paraíso?” Peggy asks.
“An Argentinian supply ship trapped in 1989,” I tell her. “It was struck by a ’berg and sank here in Antarctica.”
“Spilled a hundred and thirty thousand gallons of diesel fuel all over the west Antarctic Peninsula coast,” Grim continues, “and destroyed the local wildlife.”
“I came here to do something good,” I tell them, spreading what I hope is a compelling look over the entire team. “Something that could help in our fight to save this planet. I’ll be damned if I’ll be party to devastating one of the most pristine parts it has left.”
“What good will it do for us to go down with the ship?” Dr. Larnyard demands.
“Not go down with it,” I say, not even bothering now to hide my impatience and disdain for the man. “Save it. When the Americans call back, we have to at least try to negotiate a rescue for this ship. If not when they pick us up, as soon as humanly safe and possible.”
The radio crackles, signaling incoming communication. I don’t hesitate but grab the radio before anyone tells me I can or can’t.
“Chrysalis, do you copy?” the voice on the other end asks over the sound of whipping wind and propellers.
“This is Chrysalis,” I say, glancing at Captain Rosteen, who gives a reluctant nod of approval. “We copy.”
“We’re about a mile out,” the pilot says. “We’ve identified the ice floe large enough for us to land. Have you marked it?”
“Roger that. The wind died down enough for the part of our team out on that ice floe to leave their tents and mark it with coffee beans.” I wink at Grim, whose agile genius had led to that idea.
“Coffee, huh?” The pilot laughs, providing the only measure of comfort I’ve felt since ice pierced our ship. “As long as I can see it in the snow, we should be fine, but we gotta be fast. Satellite projects those storms will be swinging back soon. And with the size of your team, even with five helicopters, it’ll take several trips.”
“I know you’re doing us a huge favor with this,” I say carefully, “and at great risk to your crew, but I have to ask. Any chance you have the means to repair this ship at least enough so it doesn’t sink before somebody can come back and retrieve it when the ice shifts?”
“We got a team of engineers with us,” the pilot says. “If it’s one thing we know how to prevent, it’s oil spills, Maxim.”
Maxim? How does he know me?
“That’s good to hear,” I reply, smiling and frowning, pleased and confused. “You guys are prepared. Who are you anyway?”
“Oh,” the pilot says, surprise evident in his words. “I thought you knew. It’s Cade Energy, sir. Your father sent us.”
CHAPTER 31
LENNIX
“We have an update on that ship stranded in the Antarctic. An American oil company was able to fly in and has rescued the team.”
Rescued.
The news anchor’s words leave me slumped in my seat at the bar, limp with relief. Our team is having drinks after a day of barnstorming Oklahoma’s most economically depressed rural areas. I’ve been checking for news constantly since the Chrysalis crisis was reported, but there had been little news and no change for hours. Now, surrounded by the people who have become as close to me as family over the past few months of the campaign, I hear the news that Maxim is going to be okay.
“Thank God,” I whisper, pushing a trembling hand through my hair. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and burn my cheeks. “Dammit.”
I swipe at my face, trying to keep my composure, but I’m undone with the unfathomable relief of knowing Maxim has been rescued. I give up. I can’t stave off the sobs that wrack me right in the middle of the bar. After Mama and Tammara and so many losses, I had braced my heart for another, but one I wasn’t sure I could handle. To lose Maxim before I ever really even had him would have devastated me. I may have no right, and he may not even want to see me, but I’m already devising a plan to find him, to go to him. To hug him and kiss him and slap him across the face for putting me through that hell.
“You okay?” Mena asks softly, sliding a glass of whiskey toward me. “Kimba told me about Maxim.”
“Yeah, I just…” I struggle to evict the words from my throat, to pull myself together, but I’m distracted by the coverage on the large screen mounted over the bar.