ANTARCTIC FIRE: A Harry Crook Thriller - Conspiracy in the Antarctic

by Chris Geater

  “I'm fine, thanks for asking. Didn’t even get my hands dirty.”

  A hip flask magically appeared. “Well lets drink to that,” as she thrust the shiny object into my hands. I took a generous swig and felt the warmth spread, exactly what the doctor ordered, except it wasn't the doctor but hey, needs wants.

  Kathy took an equally generous swig and stepped even closer, one tall girl. “You’re quite the hero Harry, not here five minutes, saved the doc, saved the lab, visited our Russky friends, a girl could see a lot she liked in there.”

  A strategically placed hand on my chest eased me firmly against the door and the distance between us decreased to fractions.

  “You don’t beat around the bush do you,” I said with humour. I wasn't sure if I felt attracted to the straight forward approach or not.

  “At our age, what's the point in mucking about, a girl sees what she wants, why not take it?”

  Moist rum flavoured lips found mine before I had a chance to reply, her body moulded nicely, soft in all the right places. For a brief second I imagined it was Natalie doing the moulding and responded with misinterpreted interest. A mistake it would appear, as Kathy’s enthusiasm suddenly grew in intensity. I gently prised us apart while she took the first breath since contact. Her face flushed with excitement took on a slightly less excited look when she saw my face.

  She shook her head, “You’re kidding right?” Not happy.

  Alone in my little polar room, opportunities once again a broken filament through which the current was unable to flow. Maybe for the better, the plot thickened here in the cold south, distractions could be fatal.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Allan was very conscious of his mission here in the Antarctic. Although his cover story painted him as a government scientist looking at clean energy possibilities, his main objective held more violent outcomes. Over the years circumstances steered his career towards unusual weapon development. These were weapons that were almost science fiction but not quite, devices bordering on technological impossibility but with the occasional breakthrough in science and technology became more and more probable. Allan was a true scientist, even though his passion resulted in more effective means of dispatching humans from the planet, to him it was all about science, the moral side unimportant. Hence his arrival in Davis, hot on the scent of an organism with huge potential for said dispatching.

  He couldn't believe his luck when given the opportunity to grab a sample as the team returned with the ‘borrowed’ tube. The Department of Defence ensured he was given access to all facilities at Davis including the extensive laboratory. His favourite time to experiment with the extremophile was at night while others were eating and relaxing, more privacy. The small amount of progress made up till now showed promise and would keep his masters keen to pursue the potential of the organisms as a weapon or at the very least a source of portable energy.

  The first night of his experimentation revealed the temperature required to keep the organism stable and at what temperature it began to go thermal. He also discovered the impressive results when a large amount of heat was added to the extremophile. Even though he only applied heat to a tiny sample the resultant explosion shook the laboratory, he expected half Davis crew to turn up with the fire truck again.

  This night he planned to capture some of the hydrogen by separating the organism from the ice. At the same time the air temperature had to be reduced so that it didn't go thermal. The afternoon phone conversation with several defence people responsible for his deployment went very well. This could be the most important discovery in decades looking at it from their military viewpoint. Allan was encouraged to go full monty with his sample and see what it was truly capable of. He didn't need too much encouragement, efficacious mortality was the very philosophy that made him tick.

  He removed a small sample from the round core section using remote instruments within the freezer and placed it in a small box lined with dry ice. The plan was to keep the temperature within the box at a stable level while under a microscope to allow him to carry out the separation.

  Hearing a noise he turned and found the mechanic John standing near the entrance to the laboratory, gun in hand, nervous, not a good combination.

  Nobody moved, both stared, Allan not so nervous, he had been around violence most of his life.

  “John?”

  “Don’t move. Give me the box.”

  “Why would you want this box John, it only contains ice and algae, surely you don’t want to risk your career over a box of nothing?”

  John laughed, not a normal laugh.

  “Career? What a joke you people are. Now put the box on the bench and move away.”

  Allan left the box where it was and moved back a metre or two. Even though he was an academic, there was a time when he volunteered for an exhaustive self defence and attack course at an Army training camp so there was a level of confidence his type normally lacked.

  “You sure you want to do this John, you really have nowhere to go when you leave, think it through.”

  “Stop talking, stay where you are. Better still, lay down on the floor, face down.”

  Allan slowly dropped to his knees and then lay on his stomach. As he moved he noticed the rack of aluminium spears used to dig ice samples, light with a tungsten tip, perfect for more than one use.

  John grabbed the box and attached it to his belt using a leather strap not taking his eyes off Allan the whole time.

  “Tell me professor,” John pointed his gun at Allan’s head. “Is this safe? Will this thing explode like the tube? How long have I got?”

  Probably about an hour thought Allan.

  “About six hours,” he said.

  Once the box was secure, he backed away towards the door, turning slightly to find his way. As he reached for the door handle Allan made his move. He quickly crawled back behind the bench towards the spears and made a lunge for the closest one. John yelled out, fired one shot and then ran out the door. His one shot was a lucky one and hit Allan in the abdomen but didn't stop him. He moved quickly after John, spear in hand. As he exited the bright light of the building a dark shadowy John could be seen in the dim street light running across the narrow roadway.

  Allan launched the spear towards John like a javelin and caught him in the lower leg sending him onto his face in the ice. John was particularly lucky tonight, his boots took the brunt of the sharp point. Allan continued to race towards John who promptly opened fire from his seated position at close range. One of the wild shots entered Allan’s left chest, deflected slightly from a rib and took out his right atrium stopping the heart immediately. Allan was dead before he fell to the ground only feet away from John’s hyperventilating person.

  The phone in my room rang, I’d not heard it ring before.

  “John’s gone from the sickbay. Peter’s gone after him, I can't get hold of Steve,” Natalie cool but alarmed.

  I grabbed my comforting Baby Desert Eagle and a spare mag, never leave home without it.

  The medical dolly rail wasn't designed as a restraint, the weld on one end cleanly broken. John, handcuff and all absconded, decamped and out in the white.

  “How long do you think?” I asked her once I arrived.

  “Less than an hour, maybe.”

  “Do you think he’s heading for Progress, he seemed pretty keen to leave the tube in the ice the other day, could be a Russian plant?”

  She gave me a curious yet knowing look.

  “Why would you say that? He could just be a psycho who didn't like being chained to a bed.”

  “Come on Natalie, you and I both know that he is more than that. Let’s cut out the facade and work together on this.”

  “You’re not who you pretend to be are you Harry? OK, let’s find this character. I’m not sure Progress is his destination though, more likely Zhongshan.”

  She could be right.

  “Well, you find Roger, I'm going to rug up and give Peter a hand. I'll see if John left a
trail, took a vehicle or something.”

  Fine particles of ice swirled around the entrance to the cold porch as soon as the door opened. Visibility down and dimness prevailed. John would try for some transport, if he was heading to Progress the trek would be impossible on foot, and if the weather continued to deteriorate then even half way there would take a superhuman effort.

  Any footprints or sign of a trail were obliterated in minutes by gusts of heavily laden wind depositing inches of ice on the ground every few minutes. I raised Steve on the hand held radio we carried on us at all times when outside. We met at the workshop where most of the station vehicles sat readied or in a state of repair. Peter turned up, alert and serious. Several tradies busied themselves inside the various sections all of whom confirmed that we were the first to enter in the last hour or so and no, no vehicles were missing. On exiting the workshop I heard three distinct pops of a handgun discharging rapidly in the direction of the lab. We raced towards the sound only to discover a prone figure on the ground close to the entrance. I bent down to render assistance and Allan’s face appeared through his fur-lined hood, eyes open but certainly not alert.

  “I'm pretty sure he’s dead,” I informed Steve. “He’s been shot a couple of times, looks like chest and stomach.” The blood flow already slowed and starting to freeze revealing the poorly spaced shots. I lowered him back to the ice, my gloves sticky from the fluid soaked into the material of his thick layers.

  A crackly voice sounded over the radio.

  “Ahhh, guys? Natalie wonders where you guys are, she's heading out, can't get you on her radio,” Roger informed us in a less than confident voice.

  “We’re up near the entrance to the lab,” I told him.

  “Roger.” I knew he was going to say that.

  “We should get after him, this is murder,” Peter said angrily. “That bastard needs to pay.”

  “I’ll go,” I volunteered.

  “No,” Steve intervened, “we need a couple of experienced crew, tricky out there. You need to know what you’re doing.”

  Natalie raced up, saw Allan and went straight to him. After a brief examination, “No pulse, looks like one of the shots sorted his heart out.”

  “Lets get him to sickbay, we may be able to do something,” Steve suggested.

  “No,” Natalie shook her head. “Theres no coming back from this.” She pointed to the chest wound. “That’s a show stopper. Bloody hell, this guy John is a real pain in the arse.”

  “I'll grab some troops, get him into shelter,” Peter offered.

  The next stop, the Emergency vehicle shelter where a small assortment of vehicles were kept on standby, it presented a different story. One roller door open to the weather, a slot for the missing vehicle,

  “He’s taken the Can-am,” Steve pointed out.

  “Can-am?”

  “It's a like a quad but with four tracks instead of wheels, slower than the wheeled quads but very capable in all sorts of terrain.”

  I turned to Steve, “Natalie and I could catch him, she’s experienced.”

  “No, I’ll go,” he replied. “I’ll get Spiv and Alex, they’re good hands. You stay here and help Peter, get poor Allan inside before he freezes solid.” Hard and determined look on his face.

  Steve raced off to muster his crew.

  “He’s got a head start, and it's not getting smaller,” I turned to Natalie. “You know your way around out there, could you find Zhongshan?”

  “I could but Steve wants us to look after Peter, I need to confirm, time and place.”

  “I think the 9mm heart surgery did all the confirming for us.”

  “Pretty good shooting,” she admitted.

  “Not as good as you think, he fired three times, only hit Peter twice.”

  “Anyway, I'm going after him,” I said to nobody in particular as I climbed onto one of the two large bearcat snowmobiles.

  “Me too,” Natalie as she mounted the other.

  “What about your shoulder?” I asked her.

  She drove off without answering, the white arm sling flapping in the breeze behind her.

  I followed her to the spot where we accessed the sea ice on our traverse to the Ranvic.

  Pulling up alongside, her machine displayed a GPS screen not present on mine, data coming from a small dome mounted mast attached to the rear.

  “Would his have GPS?” I asked.

  “Yes. We only have one tracked quad here at Davis and it's fitted with everything. He’ll probably follow the route we used to the Ranvic initially, it’s programmed into all the GPS’s. We have to be careful though,” she pointed to the display. “The LCD screens don’t like the cold.” Who does?

  I looked out over the white expanse, a fog of whipped ice obscured the surface beneath, bright, endless and hostile, the day still young in Antarctica terms. Our engines muffled by the wind, a shout behind us, Steve ran down towards the ramp followed by a couple of hooded individuals. We turned to each other, shrugged, and took off.

  The miles flew by as we pushed the machines to their limits, some familiar landmarks recognised from my previous trip. I could feel the surface texture coming through the heated handlebars, tactile and close compared to the Haggs. Even with goggles and face covering the cold crept into my cheeks, wind is a killer out here.

  The programmed route avoided the Hop and Filla Island group and headed south through the Svenner Islands, a much smaller group. The surface felt rougher as the islands surrounded us, the going was tough, my arms feeling the strain of maintaining a straight course and the relentless cold gnawed at my internal temperature. Natalie slowed then stopped in the shelter of a small island, arms wrapped around herself, head bowed. We cut the engines on our snow-mobiles, the silence impacting.

  “I don’t know how he’s doing it, I'm bloody cold,” she chattered. Her injured shoulder hung lower than the other. A tough woman coming out here like this.

  Into the silence from our left came the sound of a high revving four-stroke engine. The rocky outcrop of an island visible along with a dark blot on the white surface no more than a few hundred meters away.

  We started up and headed straight for him. Drawing closer a long tide crack became apparent, spread between two islands. John attempted to force his quad over the waist high ridge, the tracks slipping unable to gain adequate traction. I indicated to Natalie to steer for the left and I went for the right keeping a distance from him. Busy with his negotiation of the obstacle we were almost abreast before he noticed us. A hand gun appeared from inside his jacket and shots were fired towards Natalie forcing her to dismount and use the machine as cover. One of the shots hit something under the fibreglass engine cover and the snow mobile began to smoke.

  He left the quad and made a dash for the rocks, a small box like container hanging off his belt on one side, 9mm in one hand. I dismounted at the small ice cliff baby eagle in hand and using the smoke as a screen, ran after him. He disappeared behind an outcrop of dark rocks, but not before sending another couple of shots in my direction, they went wide. More shots as I drew closer, this had to end. Natalie raced up to my right distracting him as he opened fire in her direction. The ruse allowed me to run behind the rock, John’s back to me as he faced Natalie. His HK clicked as the firing pin impacted empty space, a depleted magazine will do that to you. He turned when he heard me, his empty HK dangling, some obscenities disappeared into the wind.

  A hard kick to the front of his knee sent him to the rough cold ground, one to the ribcage followed by a satisfying crunch of boot on hand and the weapon slid away.

  “Get up,” the Baby pointed at his chest, boy did I want to send one into that smug face.

  He stood slowly, breathing with difficulty, I might have broken one of his ribs, oh well, how sad.

  We marched, well, he limped and I marched back into the open and onto the ice.

  A loud high calibre rifle sounded, ice chips flew into my face as I dived onto the surface. The sound of several engi
nes coming closer, we were not alone. I looked through the opaque mist as a hybrid Landcruiser on tracks pulled up, the insignia of the Peoples Republic of China on the door. Another two vehicles drove each side, a form of Haggs followed by two snow-mobiles. Within seconds a dozen men of Oriental appearance surrounded me, all armed. It is possible I was wrong about who were the antagonists.

  “Please stand,” one man instructed me. “Leave weapons on ground.”

  Two men marched Natalie towards our huddle, another assisted John.

  “Bit of a coincidence meeting you here, not really your jurisdiction though.” I pointed out.

  “No coincidence, we protect our own.”

  John’s quad must have a reasonable radio to alert Zhongshan, unless he used the Davis main radio, makes sense, it is often unmanned.

  “Well, ‘your own’ is a murderer, killed an Australian scientist as he left Davis,” I revealed.

  “Person try to stop him, he use self defence.”

  “The man was a scientist, non military, civilian.”

  He shrugged with indifference.

  “We are in Australian Territory, he killed an Australian civilian. This man is under arrest and is returning to Davis with us. Stand your men down and step away.”

  The bluff worked well, immediately his men stepped forward and pointed all their weapons at me, nice to be the centre of attention.

  I took a step towards John who moved quickly back behind the men, one of which gave me a little love tap to the back of my neck sending me to my knees. Pain shot up and down my spine.

  “Out of the question, he comes with us,” was the reply.

  I looked up at John, “You will pay mate, one way or the other. If I have my way, you will not leave this continent.”

  He looked pale and sick, the enormity of his predicament settling in.

  More vehicles approached, some sort of monster trucks with huge wheels, Russian insignia on the doors, not Chinese.

  A single Russian emerged from the leading truck, Andrey, all smiles and friendliness.