Miller grinned at the obvious tension between the two and sat down, just seconds before the heavy door was closed behind him.
After remaining an independent and self-governing province for nearly four hundred years, the Republic and Canton of Geneva rejoined the Swiss Confederacy in 1815, establishing itself as Switzerland’s westernmost region. Surrounded by the lush green hills of France on nearly all sides, the French-speaking canton remained the most metropolitan and wealthiest in the region. And was home to some of the most powerful multinational corporations in the world.
The Gulfstream’s flight lasted eight hours before the aircraft circled and began its final approach. After touching down, it taxied to a secure location at the Geneva Airport and slowed to a stop.
In the darkness, two black SUVs stood waiting, surrounded by several CIA agents. The three men descended the stairs and approached their security detail. Hayes then immediately climbed into the first truck, leaving Langford and Miller to the second. Conducting a final scan of the area, the agents opened their own doors and climbed in around them.
The traffic along the route was light, allowing the two-car caravan to reach Vernier in less than thirty minutes. The small municipality was well-known as home to one of the wealthiest offshore drilling companies in the world. A conglomerate with immense power, yet now perhaps one of the most tarnished reputations in the industry. Transocean Limited would forever be known as the owner of the drill rig responsible for the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, and the largest accidental marine spill in petroleum history.
When Langford, Miller, and Hayes were escorted into the lobby of the company’s headquarters, a member of the Transocean staff was waiting for them.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” an attractive female said pleasantly. With short black hair, she was impeccably dressed in a red and black colorblock skirt suit. “I’m Alessia Bierle. We’re privileged to have you here and hope your trip was enjoyable.”
“It was fine. Thank you,” Langford replied.
“Can I get you anything before heading upstairs?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very well. Then please follow me and we’ll head up.”
The woman led them to the elevator and held it open for their visitors. Once inside, Bierle pushed the button for the top floor and turned to them, smiling. “Our executive team is waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bierle,” Miller nodded. Hayes had yet to speak.
The elevator opened into an elaborate meeting room with light marble flooring and a modern design, giving it a clean and efficient look. Bierle led them across the room and gestured to the three closest chairs at the table. On the other side sat several men, all in their fifties and sixties, who immediately stood with welcoming yet cautious expressions.
The man in the middle smiled at all three men and extended his hand across the dark table.
“Good morning,” he said in a thick French accent. “We are very pleased to meet you.”
Admiral Langford shook his hand and quickly selected a chair, signaling his desire to dispense with pleasantries. He sat down, followed by Miller, Hayes, and the rest of the room.
A man named Abel Abegg, the president of Transocean, was dressed impeccably in a dark blue Brioni suit and eased himself down, studying the three Americans. They were clearly not there to waste time.
“What is it that we can help you with, Admiral?”
“We’re interested in one of your mobile drill rigs in the Caribbean. The one that you’re replacing.”
Abegg nodded. “Ah, you’re referring to the Nordic. We just put the newer ultra-deepwater unit in place two weeks ago and are running simulation tests.” He looked curiously among all three men. “What is it about the Nordic that you’d like to know?”
Miller cleared his throat. “It’s not the newer one we’re interested in. It’s the older rig being removed.”
Abegg looked confused. “The old rig? You mean the Valant?”
“Correct,” answered Langford.
“I don’t understand,” Abegg replied, glancing briefly at the rest of his team.
“You are removing it?”
“Yes, of course. We must. Regulations mandate all rigs be replaced if they pose a significant structural risk.”
At this, Langford grinned. “Regulations haven’t exactly been your strong suit.”
His comment caused several eyes to narrow across the table, and the pleasant expression on their president’s face disappeared. “You’re speaking of the Deepwater accident.”
“We’ve come here with an opportunity, Mr. Abegg.”
He stared at Langford. “Is that right? An opportunity for whom may I ask?”