Read Online The Swarm by Frank Schätzing - Free Book Online

arm and pulled him after the other passengers, who were disappearing over the side of the helipad. A small, stocky man with a white moustache was standing at the top of the steel steps, waving at them.
    â€˜Tina!’ he shouted. ‘Have you been missing the oil?’
    â€˜That’s Lars Jörensen,’ said Lund. ‘He’s responsible for monitoring the helicopter and seagoing traffic on Gullfaks C. He’s an excellent chess player too.’
    Jörensen was wearing a Statoil T-shirt and reminded Johanson of a petrol-pump attendant. He clasped Lund to his chest, then shook hands with Johanson. ‘You’ve picked an inhospitable day,’ he said. ‘In good weather you can see the full pride of the Norwegian oil industry from here, every last platform.’
    â€˜Are you busy at the moment?’ asked Johanson, as they climbed down the spiral steps.
    â€˜No more so than usual. Your first time on a platform, is it?’
    â€˜It’s been a while. How much are you producing these days?’
    â€˜Less and less. Production on Gullfaks has been stable for a while now, with two hundred thousand barrels coming from twenty-one wellheads. We should be pleased with that, but we’re not.’ He pointed to a tanker moored to a loading buoy a few hundred metres away. ‘We’re filling her up. There’ll be another along later, and that’s it for today. Soon we’ll start running out.’
    The wellheads weren’t directly below the platform but were scattered a fair distance away. The oil was extracted, separated from the naturalgas and water, then stored in the tanks on the seabed. From there it was pumped to the loading buoys. A safety zone stretched five hundred metres around the platform and only its maintenance vessels were allowed to cross it.
    Johanson peered over the iron railings. ‘Hasn’t the Thorvaldson arrived?’ he asked.
    â€˜She’s at the other loading buoy, just out of sight.’
    â€˜So, you don’t even let research vessels come close?’
    â€˜The Thorvaldson doesn’t belong to Gullfaks and she’s too big for our liking. It’s enough trouble trying to persuade the fishermen to steer clear.’
    â€˜Do you have much trouble with them?’
    â€˜Last week we had to chase away a couple of guys after they’d followed a shoal right under the platform, and at Gullfaks A recently a tanker drifted loose - engine problems. We sent a few people to help, but the crew got it sorted just in time.’
    Jörensen spoke casually, but he had described the catastrophe that everyone prayed would never happen: a loaded tanker heading straight for a platform. The impact would send shudders through some of the smaller structures, but, worse still, the tanker might explode. Every platform was equipped with sprinklers that would release several tonnes of water at the least sign of fire, but an exploding tanker could tear a platform to pieces. Such accidents were rare, and usually happened in South America where safety regulations weren’t as strictly observed.
    â€˜You’re looking slim,’ said Lund, as Jörensen held the door open for her. They went into the accommodation module and walked down a corridor lined with identical doors that led into the living quarters. ‘Don’t they feed you well enough?’
    â€˜Too well,’ laughed Jörensen. ‘The chef’s amazing. You should see our dining room,’ he added quickly to Johanson. ‘It makes the Ritz look like a roadside café. No, the platform boss doesn’t like North Sea bellies. He’s told us to get rid of any extra kilos, or else he’ll ban us from the platform.’
    â€˜Seriously?’
    â€˜Directive from Statoil. I don’t know if they’d really go that far. In any case the threat was effective. No one wants to lose their job.’
    They reached a narrow staircase and walked down,