Arctic Drift

It was the only satisfaction he had received in some time. When Murdock and Bojorquez returned after a two-hour inspection of the barge’s interior, the news was all bleak. Murdock had found no other potential exit points astern of their storage hold, save for the cavernous holds themselves. The mammoth overhead hatch covers might as well have been welded shut for the chance they had at moving them.

“I did find this,” Bojorquez said, holding up a small wood-handled claw hammer. “Somebody must have dropped it in the hold and didn’t bother to retrieve it.”

“Even a sledgehammer wouldn’t do us a lot of good on that hatch,” Roman replied.

Undeterred, Bojorquez began attacking the locked hatch lever with the small tool. Soon the tap-tap-tap of the pounding hammer became a constant accompaniment to the creaking sounds of the moving barge. Men lined up to have a go at the hammer, mostly out of boredom, or in an attempt to warm themselves from the exertion. Against the incessant rapping, Murdock’s voice suddenly raised over the din.

“The tow ship is slowing.”

“Cease the hammering,” Roman ordered.

Ahead of them, they could hear the engines of the icebreaker slow their deep-throated drone. A few minutes later, the engines dropped to an idle, then the barge bumped against a stationary object. Listening in silence, the men anxiously hoped that their frozen imprisonment was over.

59

The Royal Geographical Society islands appeared as a mass of buff-colored hills rising above the choppy slate waters. The islands were christened by the explorer Roald Amundsen in 1905, during his epic voyage on the Gjoa, when he became the first man to successfully navigate the length of the Northwest Passage. Remote and forgotten for over a century, the islands remained a footnote until a freelance exploration company found an exposed deposit of zinc on West Island and sold its claims to Mid-America.

The Mid-America mining camp was built on a wide cove along the island’s rugged southern coast, which zigzagged with numerous inlets and lagoons. A naturally formed deepwater cha

Zak had the captain pull to the dock while he sca

“Have the team of geologists assembled and put ashore,” Zak instructed the captain. “I want to know the mineral content of the ore they are extracting here, as well as the geology of the general area.”

“I believe the team is anxious to get ashore,” the captain quipped, having seen a number of the geologists suffering from seasickness in the galley.

“Captain, I had a large package sent to the ship before I arrived. Did you receive a delivery in Tuktoyaktuk?”

“Yes, a crate was taken aboard there. I had it placed in the forward hold.”

“Please have it delivered to my cabin. It contains some materials that I’ll need on shore,” he said.

“I’ll have it taken care of right away. What about our captives on the barge? They’re probably near death,” he said, eyeing a digital thermometer on the console that indicated the outside temperature was five degrees.

“Ah yes, our frozen Americans. I’m sure their disappearance has a few people excited by now,” Zak said with an arrogant tone. “Toss them some food and blankets, I suppose. It may still do for us to keep them alive.”

While the geologists made their way ashore accompanied by an armed security team, Zak stepped down to his cabin. His package, a metal-ski

“You have a call on the bridge. The captain asks that you come right away.”

Zak took a companionway to the bridge, where he found the captain talking on a secure satellite telephone.

“Yes, he’s right here,” the captain said, then turned and handed the phone to Zak.

The testy voice of Mitchell Goyette blared through the earpiece.

“Zak, the captain tells me that you are tied up at the Mid-America facility.”

“That’s right. They haven’t initiated their summer operations yet, so the place is empty. I was just on my way to make sure they stay out of commission for the season.”

“Excellent. The way things are heating up in Ottawa, I doubt an American would even be able to set foot up there.” Goyette’s greed began to chime in. “Try not to destroy any infrastructure that might be useful for me when I purchase the lot at a fire-sale price,” he said with a snort.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zak replied.

“Tell me, what have you learned about the ruthenium?”

“The geologists are just now making an initial survey around the mining camp. But we’re presently on the south side of the island, and the trader’s map indicated that the Inuit mine was located on the north coast. We’ll reposition there in a few hours.”

“Very well. Keep me apprised.”

“There is something you should be aware of,” Zak replied, dropping the bombshell. “We have the American crew of the Polar Dawn in our captivity.”

“You what? ” Goyette howled, forcing Zak to pull the receiver away from his ear. The industrialist’s temper burned white-hot, even after Zak described the circumstances of the abduction.

“No wonder the politicians are going ballistic,” he hissed. “You’re about to set off World War Three.”

“It makes it a sure thing that the Americans won’t have access to this region for a long time,” Zak argued.

“That may be true, but I won’t enjoy profiting from their absence if I’m sitting in a jail cell. Dispose of the matter, and without incident,” he barked. “Whatever you do, there had better be no link to me.”

Zak hung up the phone as the line went dead. Just another unimaginative thug who had bullied his way to billions, Zak thought. Then he slipped his parka back on and went ashore.

A brown ring of rock and gravel encircled the island’s cove, melding into a white sheet of ice as one moved inland. The exception was a large rectangular rut that ran several hundred feet into the hillside, ending in a flat, vertical wall clearly cut by machine. The zinc-mining operation was simply cutting straight into the landscape, where the mineral-rich ore was readily accessible. In the distance, Zak noticed a few of the geologists poking around the tailings of the most recent diggings.

The interior of the cove was protected from the worst of the westerly winds, but Zak still moved quickly down the dock, not wishing to prolong his exposure to the cold. He quickly sized up the mining operation before him, which was simple and low-tech. The larger of two buildings was a warehouse that housed the mining equipment — bulldozers, backhoes, and a dump truck — which dug up the island soil and transferred it onto a small conveyor system for shipboard loading. A smaller building next door would be the crew’s bunkhouse and administrative office.

Zak made his way to the smaller building first, curiously finding that the door had been locked. Pulling a Glock automatic from his pocket, he fired twice at the deadbolt, then kicked the door open. The interior was like an expansive house, with two large bedrooms filled with bunk beds, plus an oversize kitchen, a dining room, and a living area. Zak walked directly to the kitchen and looked at the stove, which trailed a gas line to a storage closet containing a large tank of propane. Digging into his satchel, he removed a charge of dynamite and placed it beneath the tank, then affixed a blasting cap with a timed fuse. Checking his watch, he set the fuse to ignite in ninety minutes, then exited the building.