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 Spratlys Blend ~ By Brent Lee Below is a sneak peak for Chapter 1 and Chapter 40. (Sorry, not all chapters can be placed in this site. This book can be purchased NOW at www.amazon.com or Chapter 1: Flash Point PAUL GEBLER DROVE HIS 4WD ON AN HOV LANE south of Tyler, Texas on an Ozone Alert Day. He geared at 80 mph to Houston. "Take it easy, Paul." "Come on!" piqued by the bumper to bumper situation, Gebler surmised they would be late to the AAPG Annual Convention at George Brown Center in downtown Houston. Two passengers, his great co-laborers in the oil industry, Joden Edirim and Charlie Gray, spurred him on through the traffic. A packed agenda had kept him from focus on the upcoming event. "We're gonna make it. We'll be on time. Relax." "I doubt it," Gebler maintained. "So what's the big deal anyway?" "The big deal--is that we're gonna lose the confidence of a friend. This friend is a potential source of contracts. A multi-million dollar concession in the Gulf." "So, we're not through with the Persian Gulf yet." "Whoa..." Edirim cried out. A car took over their lane, almost hit them. Gebler blew horn. "That idiot!" Gray yelled. Gebler had not completed the neck-breaking kind of routine with the DOE's licensing procedure. He had not been fully involved in U.S. oil exploration and development for decades. All he had worked on of late were foreign projects with multinationals minus the participation of American firms. His separation from his wife had been so harrowing an experience that he had thought of giving up his U.S. citizenship in favor of another, seeking asylum in another country. "This is unbelievable," Gray admitted. Amazed, they hit Freeway 59, heavy traffic at length within Humble area where the Houston Intercontinental Airport loomed with just as much air traffic. "Ozone Alert Day has been imposed to lessen the number of vehicles. And what is this?" Edirim followed. "HOV's not a perfect way of maintaining clean air above the surface just so you can protect the ozone layer from deteriorating," Gray claimed. "It's one of the ways." More than thirty new nations participated the AAPG convention. Over a hundred firms occupied their booths at the exposition hall. One of the main features of the event was the satellite remote sensing application of oil prospecting in the deep seas. Before he realized it, Gebler's noontime lecture was fast over. He rushed into their quarters where other oil technocrats gathered, wanted to relax. He felt his eyes throbbing, thinking it was a kind of a migraine. His chat with other oil engineers were not spontaneous then. "If you need a break, I need a big buck, bud," said Gebler after a goblet of a drink. Jim Buddy noticed Gebler's frustration in the face. "What?" returned an associate oil engineer. Gebler glared at them. Looked tipsy, the man tranquiled. Having gone from the bar, Gebler wondered how this person did not know his need. They had been together in the oil industry for decades. He realized it was Edirim. "I've just gone through a divorce. And I am sick and tired of this life." "So what?" Edirim blurted out. "So what? What do you mean so what?" returned Gebler. His friend seemed to have been awakened from a deep sleep. "I said...I need to make big bucks..." he gulped his last swallow, "to pay my wife, for my children, for my vacation, and to pay the last amortization on my properties. I need to pay my insurance. And I need to finish my PhD." Bob Corrales of IMROC-Manila suddenly came by and greeted Gebler and the guys. "Hey! Hey! Good to see you here, guys! Hey, Paul! That was superb! I just now grasped everything you said. Now I understand better what remote sensing is." "Thank you, Bob." "Can you believe that? For twenty years in the business, seems likes a grid has just been changed." They shook hands. Few other oil men huddled around them. "Well, Mike DeRoman is really impressed of your special topics. You know, he watched you. He was online in the Internet all throughout your lecture. He phoned me. He wants to see you at your convenience, Paul," continued Corrales. "Is he in town?" "He is in the UK at this time," Corrales spotted a few other friends in the bar. "Tell him I would be happy to seem him, too." "Okay, Paul. Could you wait a sec, please." Corrales went by a phone booth, to greet one who looked Chinese. They both walked towards Gebler. Gebler waited as Edirim mumbled further about money. "Paul, I'd like you to meet my friend, Qai Zhu. Qai, Mr. Paul Gebler," Corrales said. "Pleased to meet you...Qai...Zhu..." Gebler began, trying to pronounce the Chinese name correctly. "Pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Gebler. Thank you very much for your very informative module." "Qai Zhu is from Beijing's Office of Energy Affairs." Gebler noticed Qai Zhu's face looking familiar. He thought he would ask him if he happen to know someone named Lorel DeRoman. For Gebler, Qai Zhu's profile was similar to that of the DeRoman's Chinese side. As they finished, Gebler said goodbye to his new friend. Corrales resumed private talk with Gebler outside the bar. Edirim followed them. He realized that Bev was from New Mexico where they pay alimony. Through the haze that blanketed his memory, he remembered Gebler talked about his ex-wife's indifference in their relationship; his dream of becoming a CEO one day; could be a future Chief Executive Officer at IMROC then. He touched his forehead with his half-open right palm, facing Gebler--his abrupt expression of honoring someone. Spratlys, South China Sea: At 4am, 2pm Houston time, the sea was calm. Nothing aroused suspicion when a ring of heavily armed pirates cut through the South China Sea to launch an assault on Pugad island. Dark foggy horizon of the vast Spratlys strait concealed the intrepidity of the ring leader to ransack the Vietnamese-occupied island. That was two hundred fifty miles away off the Palawan shores in western Philippines. "Celebrating the Fall of Saigon...hmp..." murmured the chubby chief of the rugged sea rovers. He stood 5 foot 11, so imperious over the prow of his newly possessed 27-foot Atlantic Flybridge sportsfishing boat, which they had seajacked from a fishing magnate in Singapore. The right-hand man behind listened, eagerly ready with AK-47 rifle in hand. Chief smirked at the third man to his left with wrath, his gray curly hair belying his age, "this could be their last celebration in this island!" Third man looked like a Vietcong, nodded in agreement. "They'll not miss this round," the pirate chief declared harshly. He glared at his right hand man while cocking his high-powered unused Uzi and gestured his last command. Immediately, the right hand man alerted all other subjects on the boat and the rest of the sea looters on board their fleet of pump boats behind them; some with hooded jackets, but most with capmasks only. They sailed softly towards the shore, all engines chugged off. One speed boat, a 17-foot Valanti sports type supplied with an 85-HP outboard engine and run at 40 mph remained anchored for emergency escape. No moon. The lighthouse on Pugad island barely seen due to thick fog. Only the black smoke rising from a dying bonfire at the east end sent signal to the pirates. The shaggy reflection on the slick of the served as their guide toward the island, now only a few miles away. Other pump boats stealthily cruised ahead of the fleet. Engines off. They sensed around if there were advance resistance from the VCs. Within minutes, a thick cluster of bushes and driftwood ushered them to anchor onshore, by the east end. The quick sea muggers jumped off the boats, crawled like a horde of deadly scorpions hungering for prey. That portion of the east end wasn't paved, as if giving the thieves an advantage for an onslaught into the nearest VC bunkhouse. It was a long day and night of euphoria. Celebrating North Vietnam's conquest of Saigon. The city renamed Ho Chi Minh, now seeing its past buried behind with an influx of free market. The raiders did not like it. The commemoration of the fall of Saigon left the Vietnamese soldiers on Pugad island with their guards down, one by one, unaware of the creeping assault of the raging pirates. Houston, Texas: Gebler's next session at George Brown Center featured a software on the Texas basin north of the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. Running from his notebook computer, the LCD panel display on the wall showed the landscape of the area around the north Texas prospect as a 3-d wireframe surface. Gebler spoke about the regional geology. He pushed a button that draped a fused TM/SPOT/AVIRIS remote sensing image onto the topographic surface, generating a murmur in the audience. (To be continued) Want to Read More? This novel has 400 pages. A portion of Chapter 40 is also placed in this site. Scroll below to read. If you want to read further, or get the whole excitement in the story, you may purchase the book, Spratlys Blend. You can place your order through this site with your comments in the guestbook or send us an e-mail message at: Brent-Lee@juno.com. For payment, send a check to the author's address down at the bottom of this page. Make it payable to Brent Lee. For more detail, see Buy the Book page. For credit card payment, place your order through publisher's web site: www.iUniverse.com However, publisher does not offer any rebates. If you want rebates, contact the author by e-mail or leave message through the guestbook. Enjoy reading! Chapter 40: Standoff A MUCH DEVELOPED SUBI REEF OCCUPIED by China had more gunships prepared either for attack at invaders or rescue Chen-len Gao taken as hostage by some groups. On its eastern embankment, a fleet of Soviet-made Su-27 jet fighters prepared for take-off facing Isle Aurella. Col. Wang put them on hold. "Let's wait for the right time. Stand by." At least two 35-knot frigates unleashed from anchor. They hang on for a green and go. Most of the EON crew kept strafing at Gray's chopper. Ocampo climbed up the sun deck. His radio on. Gebler sent hand signal for Mercene and crew to keep on their toes and cover him as he attempted to break into Lorel's spot. Yap relayed a message. Quickly Gebler suspended at the starboard side. A guard shot him, but Mercene fired first. Guard dropped dead. Gebler clutched by the railing of the upper deck. Hurled himself up and jumped at the waiting guards., strangled the one with AK-47. A power kick at another who tried to stab him. He got his own knife and faced a bunch of other treacherous guys. One attacked with a heavy blow. He hit him first. Unexpectedly, like a sly snake he was, Amos struck fast from the back. Choked Gebler by the throat. Gebler wrestled back, pushed back. Hard. Amos shoved into the metal railing, almost breaking the scamp's spine. Amos squirmed in pain. Gebler regained balance and gave Amos a series of chops till he was thrown overboard. Mercene shot other attacking rascals. EON sailed back north at a slow speed now as shootout rage further on. LIKE a throng of foxes, Vietnamese troops landed on the west wing and swiftly invaded the Conqueror and its whole camp. They disarmed the crew and the Philippine Marines after a short skirmish. Took control of the rig and stopped the drilling. Vietnamese flag waved on top of the Conqueror's crown block. Looked like they discovered oil in an instant. All the crew detained in a huge food container van. Their radio man contacted Hanoi immediately and declared that they had set foot on a Reed Bank island. They called it Ho Chi Minh island. (To be continued) Read More... This novel has 400 pages in 5.5 x 8.5 format and is available in hard copy. If you want to read further, you may get a copy by ordering the book through this site. Please send us an e-mail message indicating your order, and the quantity. You may pay in check payable to the author, Brent Lee, and send your check to the author's address at the bottom of this page. To pay by credit card, you need to place your order through the publisher's site: www.iUniverse.com If you need 10 copies or more, check out the Buy the Book page in this site. |