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

by Chris Geater

  “Ahh, Antarctic community meeting on ice, this is how it should be,” he exclaimed.

  The Chinese contingent not sure what to do or who to point their weapons at.

  Andrey turned to the Chinese gentleman who had addressed me, “Colonel Wu-Dang, why so many men with guns out here? Are we having infestation of polar bears?”

  The Colonel replied, “This is Chinese problem, not concern Russian, you go now,”

  “Harry how good to see you again,” Andrey stepped towards me. “You part of Chinese problem now?” Andrey asked me.

  “Funny you should ask that Andrey,” I nodded towards John. “This man just killed one of our station scientists, Allan, we are keen that he answers for his crimes carried out in Australian Territory. Colonel Wu-Dang here feels that this is out of the question.”

  I could just make out some shadows moving near the last vehicle in the Russian convoy, Andrey was the distraction.

  “The Australian man should be returned to Davis,” Andrey said to the Chinese Colonel. “You would expect this yourself.”

  Something drew my eyes to the container on Johns hip, mist gathered around the box, a small cloud appeared as steam blew out the seal around the lip, I stepped back, this should be interesting. Oblivious to the impending reaction on his belt, John stood feeling safe behind his Asian carers. Not until the container surrendered to the rising temperature within did he notice the hot spot on his person. He leapt about grabbing at his belt, spinning like a dog chasing its tail, yelling in panic and confusion, “Get this thing off me, get it off me quick.”

  Quick was the exact word I would have used to describe the reaction of the many concerned as they immediately withdrew from the spectacle myself included, I’d been around this stuff before. I was no longer the centre of attention nor was Andrey. He signalled to his men, they moved forward unnoticed and surrounded the small group weapons raised.

  The Chinese were privilege to an unusual and rare sight, Antarctic organisms protesting the removal from their natural environment. Initially John just danced around the sea ice enthusiastically whilst attempting to free his person from the sample that he really didn't want anymore. Granted, a very enthusiastic dance with impressive jumps. The extremophiles had only just got started. Within moments the organism went from warm to catastrophic utilising the perfect fuel and water source of the available body. I could hear loud popping noises, his internal organs reaching boiling point so rapidly that they literally exploded.

  Fire burst out the hole in his side where the organism gained access, the many layers of polar clothing succumbed creating their own inferno. Johns last breath before his lungs joined the chain reaction came out as a combination of screams, steam and fire, a biological feat in itself. His sizzling body slowly sank into the melting ocean, a small hovering artificial cloud paid homage. My heart went out to Michael our original mechanic, this was not a cool way to go at all.

  I spoke to the audience of horrified faces, “Well, that problem seems to have cleared itself up.” To the Colonel, “Anything else we can help you with?”

  He shrugged off the reverie and looked around noticing his predicament for the first time. A sharp order in Chinese and the men lowered their weapons to the ground.

  More engine noises while Steve, Spiv, Alex and Peter slid to a halt. Twenty five representatives from three different countries stood around the frozen southern ocean 5000 kilometres from the nearest town staring at a black shrunken object. Occasional ripples of vapour rose from the icy sarcophagus towards the atmosphere, a final objection from the bohemian bacteria.

  Andrey instructed two of his men to gather the Chinese weapons.

  Steve walked up slowly and looked at me, I don’t think the day Harry Crook arrived on his station was his favourite day.

  “Harry,” he greeted with a certain lack of warmth.

  “Steve.”

  “Like to tell me what’s going on?”

  I nodded to the remains of John, only the round black top of his head was prominent. “Problem solved,” I said with a degree of nonchalance. My spine ached, the cold penetrated deep, pedantic explanations were not forthcoming.

  Natalie came up to see if I was okay.

  Peter walked around muttering to himself, waving a Glock around, looked like he wanted to use it. A couple of Russians followed him with their Grozas lined up, I don’t think they trusted him.

  Andrey joined the circle. “Lucky we were in the neighbourhood,” he said with a smile.

  “Why were you in the neighbourhood?” I asked him.

  “We watch Zhongshan, mifan up to no good all the time. Suspicious to see many drive off in Jonyangs all armed.”

  “Mifen?” Natalie asked.

  Andrey laughed, “Russian slang for Chinese, ‘rice cooker’.” He laughed again.

  “Glad you did Andrey, but I'm not sure these guys would have harmed us, probably just taken John and gone home.”

  “Maybe,” he replied. “Now they go home with hands empty, this is much better, no?”

  Steve addressed Natalie, “Maybe you could fill me in, Harry’s not very forthcoming right now.”

  “Our Asian friends were a bit rough with you, weren’t they Harry,” she smirked at me, “hurt his feelings, he’s having a sensitive moment.”

  Andrey laughed and Steve smiled, all well and good, their necks weren’t on fire.

  Natalie continued, “We caught up with John, he didn't see things our way and an altercation ensued.”

  “Altercation?” asked Steve.

  “He opened fire, killed my quad, Harry managed to flush him out.”

  “Why the UN meeting?”

  “A rendezvous must have been arranged with the Chinese, they turned up pretty much straight away. They took John off our hands and then Andrey and his men arrived.”

  “We are like boy scouts,” Andrey piped up. “Do they say, ‘Always Prepared’?”

  “John must have obtained a sample of the stuff that Allan’s been talking about, not sure how but he had it in a small container strapped to his belt. While Andrey and Colonel Wu-Dang were chatting,” she nodded towards the Colonel, “the stuff in the container took off, went ballistic, I suppose this is what happened to Michael. John didn't stand a chance, only took mere seconds, you can see the result.”

  “What happens now?” Steve asked Andrey.

  “Their weapons will be returned tomorrow, no hard feelings, we are neighbours."

  Steve looked over at John’s remains, “He will have to be extracted, if we leave him tonight it will be a hell of a job getting him out tomorrow, it was hard enough getting Michael out.”

  “We will help,” Andrey volunteered.

  He walked over to the Colonel, “We will be registering a complaint with the Antarctic Treaty in Buenos Aires.” The Colonel shrugged, indifference seemed hard wired with this bloke.

  Andrey continued, “We will return your weapons tomorrow, you may go."

  “You make big mistake,” Colonel Wu-Dang spoke calmly to Andrey. “We see how this ends.” He walked off, one of his sharp commands and the Chinese contingent mounted their machines and drove off.

  Andrey gave instructions to his men. Shovels and ice picks appeared, the semi frozen blackened remains rolled onto the surface some minutes later.

  “One of our trucks will take this to Davis, okay?” Andrey asked Steve.

  “The storm is picking up, I don’t think you will make Davis and then back to Progress today, why don’t you and your men stay at Davis as our guests until tomorrow or until the weather eases?” Steve suggested.

  Andrey shrugged, “This is OK idea.”

  They wrapped the shrunken Chinese sleeper agent in a large sheet of canvas and loaded him into one of their monster trucks.

  John and my quads were okay but only smoldering wreckage remained of Natalie’s, the salvage of which would have to be for another day. The Russians volunteered to drive both quads back to Davis leaving Natalie and I to ride in the
warm comfort of their vehicle. Peter would have been in his element, second hand smoke was the order of the day.

  The flotilla motored off to the north east, weather conditions were not ideal, certainly unfavourable for the Russian crew’s return journey to Progress were they to attempt it.

  Our friends became the guests of Davis hospitality and remained for another full day while the storm blew itself into a frenzy before easing to the point where negotiating the long drive to Progress became possible.

  Allan’s body had been placed in the ‘mortuary’ during our absence, an external store room where the ambient temperature hovered around minus 15°, perfect to prevent the scientists decay. Shortly after arriving back at Davis, John’s remains joined him. Captain Mark Levin’s return cargo grew in number.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  During the storm very little occurred at Davis, ‘Fort Knox’ alcoholic stock depleted as many crew sat around the cafe entertaining each other over a variety of beverages.

  Steve and Andrey hit it off, Andrey worse for wear as he gained an appreciation for Australian rum while the wily Steve gained a greater appreciation for Antarctic organisms, our only sample having run its course in Johns intestines. Turns out Andrey is an actual scientist who specialises in a microbiological field and once sufficiently lubricated let loose a wealth of information. Apparently Andrey and his fellow scientists were very familiar with the particular strain of extremophile creating havoc with the Antarctic population, they even named it, PhATC125 or PhAT for short.

  The day after our episode on the ice Steve requested a meeting with Natalie and myself, sort of requested, more like a command.

  “To say that I'm pissed off would be a massive understatement,” he began. “My phone call to Hobart last night was awkward to say the least. I have so many questions I don’t know where to start, or who to ask.”

  “Harry, Natalie,” he addressed us both. “Maybe you could start by explaining why you chose to pursue John rather than follow my instructions?”

  “Fortuitous I'd say,” I answered. “You wouldn’t have reached him in time. The Chinese would’ve been long gone, John and sample in tow. We caught up with him only a few minutes prior to them turning up. I'd say they prearranged it by radio.”

  “You mentioned a sample, lets talk about that sample shall we. Don’t tell me Allan, rest his soul, kept a sample of that bloody awful stuff in our lab, tell me he didn't.”

  “I understand it was a spur of the moment thing, too good an opportunity to miss. Such a small sample kept in the blast freezer, what could go wrong?”

  “What could go wrong?” Steve’s eyes bulging with the effort of self control.

  Natalie stepped in, maybe to prevent a heart attack. “Steve, John wasn't who he said he was, the Chinese knew him, called him ‘our own’. He was up to mischief anyway, Allan’s sample was just the catalyst to his timetable. He must have seen Allan take the sample from the Russian tube. The Chinese probably instructed him to steal it and to meet them.”

  “So now we have three fatalities here at Davis, two from an unknown substance that turns everything it touches to ash and one homicide using a hand gun, which by the way are banned in all Australian Antarctic installations.” If only he knew. “Hobart are considering evacuating Davis, closing it down until we can complete a full investigation.”

  He continued, “Yesterdays incident was in international waters between us and two foreign powers. Both the Russians and Chinese have lodged a complaint against each other with the Antarctic Treaty body in Argentina, Hobart are considering a complaint against both countries. To top it off, half our complement here have requested immediate repatriation, I can't imagine why.”

  My turn, “The substance existed here I imagine for a long time so there is no real danger given that it’s a kilometre under the ice.”

  “It’s not just that it exists Harry, it's the fact that people are dying to get hold of it, literally. The Chinese and Russian tensions are at an all-time high and here we are only 60ks down the road.” He shook his head, “It’s a bloody mess well and truly. Harry, give me a run down on the incident yesterday, some details please.”

  I told him how it went down, Natalie interjected with her take here and there until Steve was happy. We omitted certain facts like my Baby Eagle while Natalie remained very coy regarding a Browning in her jacket pocket.

  Another email from sputnik@yahoo, my old mate Len. Brief and to the point again:

  Dear Harry, Arriving Progress tomorrow as part of Russian diplomatic envoy. Hope to fix your mess, apparently Antarctic real estate has depreciated since your arrival. Your friend Vasily.

  Smurf didn't pick up when I called but he did ring back a few minutes later.

  “Lens on his way to Progress, sound like he will probably visit Davis,” I informed him.

  “Mmm, interesting. Your call is timely. Our employers have asked me to increase your brief, expand your area of operation as it were.”

  “Area? Geographical or operational?”

  “As I understand it, both.”

  “I'm not sure I understand the original area of operation. I was under the impression that the incendiary incidents were the main points of interest?”

  “Well, not all information is disseminated to the man in the field, you know how it works,” Smurf, his usual reticent self.

  “Charles, why don’t you give me some direction, let me see the picture? I'm chasing Russians, Chinese agents, sparkling amoeba, unidentified ASIS agents running around. Nobody appears to be who they say they are.”

  “OK, here it is. We need you to work closely with Vasily. Find out where the Russians are up to with the extremophile, why they are experimenting with it and what they hope to achieve.”

  “This is a formal operation, government sanctioned, common knowledge to the relevant people of Davis?” I asked.

  “Good heavens no, totally subvert old boy.”

  “And the ASIS representative, why aren't they conducting the operation, why sub-contract it out to civilians?”

  “Our specialty is off the book investigations Harris, you know the drill. Their representative will have no knowledge of your mandate unless you reveal yourself.”

  “So you’re contracting me out as a civilian intelligence agent to infiltrate the Russian operation here in Antarctica through my good friend Vasily and steal the intellectual property regarding this volatile substance.”

  “If there is IP worth knowing about I'm sure our employers would be delighted were you to acquire it. But remember, if you are caught with your hands in the cookie jar our government will deny their involvement and you will be arrested by either the Russians or Australians and charged with larceny. Imagine the notoriety, first international thief on the Antarctic continent, think of the prestige Harris.” Smurf has a warped sense of humour.

  “That's hilarious Charles, I can barely hang onto the phone as a result of my mirth.”

  “No reason to think that it won't go like clockwork as it has many times before,” Smurf assured me.

  I could think of many reasons why it wouldn't, just as it hadn't in the past. I survived from luck rather than good management much of the time. In the espionage industry nothing is as it appears, nobody is transparent, your best friend could turn out to be your assassin and deceit is the name of the game. No amount of planning or training prepared you for every contingency. Experience, awareness, intuition, they were your tools and weapons in the field. Over time your brain learnt to subconsciously recognise and analyse information as you absorbed it, eventually it became instinct.

  As one instructor put it to me years ago, “We operate in the shadows, you will learn to identify a real shadow from an imaginary one.” But this operation differed from all the other international operations, I was no longer an employee of the Australian Secret Service, in fact my job wasn't even sanctioned.

  My initial expectations were low, no I'll rephrase that, non existent regarding romance in the Ant
arctic. In hind sight, living for months on end in a very small community where most activities are conducted indoors the chances were actually higher than average.

  A quiet evening in my room as a storm raged outside, a 200ml bottle of Davis’s best Cab Sav, some small snacks thanks to Kathy who seemed to forgive rejection quickly and some thinking music, maybe a little Manu Chao, Desaparecido.

  A knock on the door broke my day dream of a tropical beach with pina-coladas and waves crashing on the beach replaced by the reality of a howling storm. My favourite girl stood there with some more of those ridiculous mini bottles of wine, AAD head office probably felt they helped decrease the amount one drank in a session, I wasn't convinced. A full size bottle allowed you to monitor your consumption, easy to lose count of these undersized delights.

  “I'm looking for a safe harbour in the storm, can I find it here?” Natalie asked, an alluring expression. Surprising how pleased I was to see her.

  The uncomfortable office chairs were forsaken in favour of a soft mattress. We faced each other from opposite ends of the bed, leaning against a wall each guzzling merlot, the tiny bottle orifices released their contents reluctantly, head office might have a point.

  “You seemed pretty cool out there yesterday, are you really okay or are you just good at covering?” I asked her after a few stanzas of Manu Chao.

  “Sweet of you to worry about me but I'm fine, us doctors see more of life than most, we’re fairly resilient.”

  Time isn't kind to bruises, the initial red then purple are proud souvenirs of survival and pain but the dirty yellow brown as they disappear made a mockery.

  Motivated by merlot I moved to her end of the bed and gently brushed a wisp of blonde hair away from the bruise. Her breathing faltered as our eyes met, the recent shared violence produced a bond, a longing drew our lips together. I could feel a vibration, a shudder like something was released inside her. For all the bravado exhibited over the last few days she was more fragile than I thought. Our kiss broke as she grabbed me in a fierce hug, a torrent of tears and sobs into my shoulder, Uncle Harry the councillor with inappropriate thoughts towards his ward. Once her anguish abated and the excess mucus, other than that on my shirt, wiped away along with any atmospheric lust, we separated and reviewed the contents of our mini wine collection once more. An awkward moment ensued followed by a few jokes and laughter. She apologised and I said it was perfectly fine.