his old boss he couldn't help noticing that his suit was immaculate.
On screen, a sulphurous, molten ball of fire rotated in the blackness of space. Vast meteorites, like red-hot missiles, rained down on it, scarring and deforming its already cratered surface. The charred planet seemed the last place in the universe where life could survive – let alone take hold. Ross heard his voice again, calm and authoritative, describe the computer-generated images: 'In its infancy, four point five billion years ago, Earth was a primeval inferno, bombarded by asteroids and comets, its surface scorched by ultraviolet radiation while volcanic eruptions spewed noxious gases into the primitive atmosphere. But these asteroids and comets that rained down on our planet were loaded with amino acids, vital for the formation of life. Even today, forty thousand tons of meteorites fall to Earth every year. More than seventy varieties of amino acids have been found inside these space rocks, eight of which are the fundamental constituents of proteins found in living cells.'
The screen showed a spectacular impact.
'Like sperm bombarding an egg, these seeds of life rained down on our planet and, amazingly, one – just one – of those rocks triggered a reaction, a spark that germinated the earliest forms of bacteria somewhere on Earth. Equally amazingly, they thrived. Evidence now indicates that all life on this planet – including each of us – evolved from that one impact four and a half billion years ago.'
The screen shifted again showing fossil-imprinted rocks from Issua in Greenland and the Ustyurt plateau in Uzbekistan, near where Ross had just been working.
'These early life forms became fossils, which, in turn, became fossil fuels – oil. We now know that oil can be found in even older deposits than was at first believed. And it's this ancient oil that we should be focusing on.'
'Can you believe this?' said Underwood to the older guy. 'Ancient oil. I thought all oil was pretty damn ancient.'
His laugh irritated Ross as he entered the room. 'By ancient, George, I mean oil that's a quarter of a billion years older than any previously discovered oil.'
Underwood pressed a button on the remote control and the screen reverted to the company logo. Then the window blinds rose, revealing the skyline of uptown Manhattan, gleaming in the May sunshine. He made a show of consulting his watch, then got up to shake Ross's hand. 'Long time no see.' He smiled. 'Let me introduce you to my colleagues.'
Ross learnt that the greying-ginger guy was Brad Summers, the new financial officer, while the older man was David Kovacs, Xplore's new boss, responsible for assimilating the consultancy into Alascon.
'So, ancient oil, Ross,' said Underwood. 'You really believe it exists?'
'Yes, I do.'
'Why, Dr Kelly?' asked Kovacs.
Ross sat down. 'At the turn of the millennium the oldest known oil was one point five billion years old. However, we've recently found deposits in Uzbekistan at least two hundred and fifty million years older than that. The hydrocarbons in this ancient oil are a product of creatures living on Earth at least three point two billion years ago. This indicates that exceptionally old rocks contain untapped reserves that, until now, haven't been a priority for oil prospectors. It's only a matter of time, though, before others in the industry take an interest.'
Underwood looked down at his notes. 'You're working on this with a client, Scarlett Oil. They're a pretty small company.'
'All our clients, here and overseas, are small-to-medium players with limited in-house geological expertise. That's why they use a consultancy.'
'And the odds on finding this ancient oil?'
Ross smiled. 'A lot better than average.' Even with the most advanced technology the average strike rate for finding conventional oil deposits was still only 10 per cent. He pulled a palmtop computer from his jacket, opened it and placed it on the table. A geological map of the world appeared on its screen, highlighting the various rock patterns that indicated potential reserves of trapped oil. It always made Ross a little sad because it demonstrated not only man's knowledge of the Earth's surface and what lay beneath but also a world stripped bare of its mysteries. 'My team have developed a software program that amalgamates the seismic, gravity-meter, magnetometer and geological data with satellite imagery and state-of-the-art global-positioning satellite technology to identify the world's most deposit-rich areas. By focusing on ancient rock sites, particularly high-yield cap and reservoir rock combinations, we can increase the odds of finding trapped oil.' Ross paused for effect. 'Our current modelled success rate is approaching twenty per cent. Twice the current level.'
Underwood nodded. 'But you've no actual data yet? Only modelled data?'
'That's why I went to Uzbekistan. To test the models.' He retrieved a folder from his laptop case and put it on the table. 'We need more time but the initial findings are good. Scarlett Oil's excited.'
'Oh, yes, the mighty Scarlett Oil.' Underwood turned to the finance man. 'How much has this cost so far?' He had asked it as if he already knew the answer. Summers turned his laptop round so Underwood could see the screen. 'Wow! Xplore put a lot of time and money into this one. As much as Scarlett Oil.'
Ross clenched his jaw, determined to keep calm. 'George, it's an investment project, based on sound data, which is in the process of being proved in the field. We'll own the search-and-extraction technology, allowing us to offer smaller companies – our client base – the chance to steal a march on their bigger competitors. Including Alascon, unless it embraces this new opportunity.'
Underwood leant over to Kovacs and exchanged whispers with him. Then Kovacs gathered his papers. 'Please don't misunderstand us, Dr Kelly,' he said. 'You have a great reputation within the industry and we want you on our team. But the only reason Alascon bought this small consultancy was because of its excellent contacts and business links with the Far East and the old Soviet republics. And because it was cheap.' He glanced at the finance man's spreadsheet. 'Frankly, given how Xplore spent money, I can see why. Dr Kelly, Alascon Oil doesn't care about speculative ventures with other, smaller, American oil companies. We have little to learn from them.' He pointed at Underwood. 'I'm putting George in charge of oil exploration. You and your team will report to him. I understand you've worked for him in the past.' He turned to Underwood. 'It's your call, George.'
'We want you to focus on developing your contacts in strategically important areas of the world, Ross,' Underwood said, 'in conventional oil. This ancient-oil research has to stop.'
'What about our relationship with Scarlett Oil?'
'What about them? They're small fry.'
Ross gritted his teeth. 'But this will make money. A lot of money. Soon.' He had invested two years of his working life on the project and believed passionately in it. He picked up the folder from the table. 'Let me show you. All the new figures are in here. It's a no-brainer.'
Underwood gave a dismissive wave. 'I know it's your pet project, Ross, but Alascon has no interest in ancient oil, just the good old-fashioned kind.'
'But that's going to run out soon enough.' He slammed the folder on to the table. 'At least look at the latest figures.'
Underwood flashed Kovacs a look that said, 'I told you he could be difficult,' then turned back to Ross. 'I've always admired your talent,' he said. 'You're a brilliant geologist and have a real gift for finding oil. Your one weakness is that you enjoy the adventure of exploration a little too much. To you the mystery is as sweet as the discovery, perhaps sweeter. Alascon isn't about making great discoveries but reducing risk. It doesn't care about excitement, adventure or mysteries, only results. And if you want to stay with this company, earning your very generous salary, you'd better accept that. I want you to direct your team to look for conventional deposits with immediate effect.'
Ross said nothing. Two years' hard work dismissed just as it was about to yield dividends.
Underwood frowned. 'Do you understand, Ross?'
At that moment Ross saw his future career with Alascon in George Underwood's red face and jabbing finger. He was tired and had had enough. He stood to his full height, a head taller than Underwood, and looked down at his former, and would-be future, boss. He held his eyes until Underwood lost his nerve and glanced away. Ross reached for the folder on the desk and tore it into halves, then quarters and finally eighths.
'Do you understand?' asked Underwood again, his voice shaking.
'Take it easy, George,' warned Kovacs. 'Alascon needs guys like Dr Kelly. I'm sure he understands well enough.'
'You understand, Ross?' persisted Underwood.
'Perfectly.' Ross kept the torn file in his right hand and retrieved his phone from his pocket with the left. He
