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The room fell silent for several moments. Then Oates murmured reverently. "God, the potential is inconceivable."
CIA Director Brogan leaned over the table. "Any chance the Russians may be onto a similar instrument?"
Sandecker shook his head. "I don't think so. Until a few months ago we didn't have the technology to perfect the high energy beam. Even with a crash program starting from scratch, they'd need a decade to catch up."
"One question that needs answering," said Mercier. "Why the Labrador Sea? Why didn't you test the Doodlebug on our own continental shelf"
"I thought it best to conduct the trials in an isolated area far from normal shipping traffic."
"But why so close to the Canadian shore?"
"The Doodlebug stumbled on indications of oil."
"Oil?"
"Yes, the trail appeared to lead toward the Hudson Strait north of Newfoundland. I gave the order for the Doodlebug to deviate from its original course and follow the scent into Canadian waters. The responsibility for the loss of a very dear friend, his crew and the research vessel is mine and mine alone.
No one else is to blame."
An aide entered the room like a wraith and offered coffee. When he reached Sandecker he laid a note at his elbow. It read,
URGENT I SEE YOU.
Giordino
"If I may beg a short interruption," said Sandecker. "I believe one of my staff is outside with updated information on the tragedy." The President gave him an understanding look and nodded in the direction of the doorway. "Of course. Please have him join us."
Giordino was shown into the cabinet room, his face beaming like a lighthouse.
"The Doodlebug and everyone on board came through," he blurted without preamble.
"What happened?" demanded Sandecker.
"The torpedo struck a rock outcropping fifty meters from the submersible. The concussion short-circuited the main terminals. It took Pitt and his men until an hour ago to make emergency repairs and reopen communications."
"No one was injured?" asked Admiral Kemper. "The hull remained tight?"
"Bumps and bruises," Giordino replied like a telegram. "One broken finger. No leaks reported."
"Thank God they're safe," said the President, suddenly all smiles.
Giordino could no longer continue to play it cool. "I haven't mentioned the best part."
Sandecker looked at him quizzically. "Best part?"
"Right after the computers came on line, the output analyzers went crazy. Congratulations, Admiral. The Doodlebug ran onto the granddaddy of stratigraphic traps."
Sandecker tensed. "Are you saying they found oil?"
"Initial indications suggest a field extending nearly ninety-five miles by three-quarters of a mile wide. The yield appears staggering. Projections put the paying sandbar at two thousand barrels per acre foot. The reserve could conceivably bring in eight billion barrels of oil."
No one around the table could say a word. They could only sit there, soaking up the enormous consequences of it all.
Giordino opened an attachd case and handed Sandecker a sheaf of papers. "I didn't have time to tie it with a ribbon, but here are preliminary figures, calculations and projections, including the estimated costs of drilling and production. Dr. King will have a more concise report when the Doodlebug has better surveyed the field."
"Where exactly is this strike?" asked Klein.
Giordino unrolled a chart and spread it on the table in front of the President. He began to outline the Doodlebug's course with a pencil.
