Ignoring the light spray of snow that had already covered the ground, he checked through security. The last three weeks, since he'd seen Houghton, had been living hell. Even though this was the first snow, it had been relentlessly cold, and they'd had more than a winter's share of driving wind already. The salvage operation had proceeded remarkably according to plan. He'd expected much worse. The Columbus and tug had settled on a narrow plateau over the wellhead, a precariously short distance away from the loch's deepest trench, which had presented the reality of slides. In addition, the center section of the drill ship had been impaled on the marine riser, and the riser's extraction had created a gauntlet of problems. There was no way to minimize the difficulties they had encountered in deploying the air bags and then raising the remains to the surface. And, of course, they had started operations fully aware they'd had ah open well bore below them. He entered the bubble. The vision inside was surreal.
