Pressure Read Free

favorite amongst the press corps. Now, however, he seemed neither befuddled nor good-humored. His face had a pinched, nervous look.
    He’s scared, Jessamine realized.
    DeMatteis swayed on the balls of his feet as the ship rolled again. When the reporters began to all shout questions at him simultaneously, he held up his hands for quiet. When he spoke, it was without his usual charm or sarcasm.
    â€œI’m going to give a short statement, and that’s all. I’m not—I repeat—not taking questions. When I’m done, I’m going to ask all of you to clear this area. We have an emergency situation. Approximately two minutes ago, Carrie Anderson and Peter Scofield reported some problems with their equipment.”
    â€œJust like everything else on this tug,” Jessamine whispered.
    â€œThey’re currently about one hundred eighty meters below the surface. Their communications array has now shorted and the oxygen monitor is on the fritz. The … the seals on both of their oxygen tanks appear to be compromised. I would remind everyone that Carrie Anderson is one of the most experienced free divers in the world—”
    â€œWhat about Peter Scofield?” Jennifer elbowed her way past Jessamine and Khem. “Can they make it to the surface from that depth without their equipment?”
    Scowling, DeMatteis shot Jennifer a withering glance, and then pretended he hadn’t heard the question. Jessamine felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to go hug the old man.
    â€œI would caution all of you that…”
    DeMatteis broke off as the commotion increased behind him. Researchers began to shout, as their monitors went crazy. An alarm blared overhead, echoing throughout the ship. Then a second alarm began to wail in unison. Crew members rushed to the port side. Some members of the press began to follow them, but DeMatteis yelled at them to get back. Then, distracted by a colleague, he turned his attention away from the reporters. Jennifer and her crew charged ahead.
    Jessamine glanced at Khem.
    â€œI’m following you,” he said.
    â€œIs your camera still working?”
    He nodded. “For now, at least. Let’s make the most of that while we can.”
    Jessamine pushed forward, weaving her way between other members of the press. Khem stayed right behind her, filming everything with his camera, which almost seemed to be an extension of him.
    The alarms stopped blaring. For one brief moment, everything fell silent.
    Jessamine and Khem made it once more to the front of the crowd just as the commotion began anew. There, lying on the deck in a pool of water, was Carrie Anderson. She was curled into the fetal position and appeared to be unconscious and unresponsive. Freed of her suit and gear, her exposed skin was covered with an ugly red rash, and judging by the discoloration on her thighs, she’d lost control of her bowels during her rapid ascent.
    Several crew members crouched next to her in concern. Jessamine heard one of them mutter about “the bends.” Then a scientist shouted at the team to call for a helicopter and to get the hyperbaric chamber ready.
    â€œHopefully the hyperbaric chamber’s not malfunctioning like everything else,” Khem murmured.
    Jessamine turned to him, realized that he had zoomed in on Carrie, and put her hand in front of the lens.
    â€œNo,” she said. “Give her some dignity. Let’s go over to the rail. We’ve got a story to report.”
    â€œIs she okay?” Hank asked as the three of them retreated starboard. “What’s going on?”
    â€œNews,” Jessamine replied. “News is what’s going on. Do we have a connection yet?”
    â€œNot yet. The damn uplink is still on the fritz.”
    â€œShit … okay. Let’s go ahead and tape anyway. We’ll send it later. And somebody track Julio down.”
    â€œSpeak of the devil and I shall appear,” Julio