Climate Killers: Book 3. Bernadette Callahan Detective Series

by Lyle Nicholson

“Why, thank you.” She lowered her eyes, hoping the heat she felt in her face hadn’t produced an embarrassing blush on her face.

  “Show me what you’ve found.”

  Mellissa pulled out the first sheet of paper, “What I did was correlate all the data of the times that the billionaire bad guys—sorry, that’s the name we gave them—met up with the head of the Mafia.”

  “Volkov?”

  “Yes, I found out they’d been together in several different locations throughout the world through facial recognition technology used by Homeland Security. Once, I had these dates we then ran all of their company transactions through the FBI’s TFO section.”

  “What’s the TFO section?”

  “That’s the Terrorist Financing Operation Section. It was set up after 9/11 to help agents trace transactions and track patterns to help identify anyone who might be related to a crime.”

  Mellissa pulled out a second piece of paper; it had the name Regent Marine Projects in a logo on the top. “This is what we came up with.”

  Anton looked at the paper. It had a list of equipment and transaction dates going back two years. “This looks like submarines and drilling equipment.”

  “That’s exactly it. There were three submarines and three submersible drills capable of deep water drilling purchased for a value of 2.5 billion dollars as well as a warehouse rented in San Francisco,” Mellissa said.

  “My god, this all fits. Callahan was told that there might be something to do with submerged drills and submarines. This is amazing work, Mellissa.”

  Mellissa’s face went red. Her hands were sweating. She ran them over the back of her dress to avoid sweat marks on the papers in front of her.

  “Do we know where these submarines have been put to work?” Anton asked.

  “No, sir. Regent Marine Projects lists itself as a private company. It hasn’t taken out any drilling permits for work in the ocean.”

  “Which is why they bought submarines and these type of ocean floor drilling platforms.” Anton looked at the list of equipment then pulled up the identifiers on his computer screen. “You see these drills? They could be operated by the submarines which means they could do all of this below the surface and not be seen.”

  “No need for a drill permit if you can’t see what’s being drilled.” Mellissa said. “They could be operating anywhere in the ocean.”

  Anton nodded. “That’s a lot of ocean to look for three submarines. I have no idea how’d we’d find them.”

  Mellissa leaned forward and whispered, “Way ahead of you. These submarines are old Whisky Class from the Russian Navy. They’re diesel and their engines give off a distinct hum. I’ve had my American contacts reach out to several companies that are doing seismic surveys in the ocean and I’ve been able to do the same with two Canadian companies as well.”

  Mellissa had to stop for a second. Her voice was becoming louder in her excitement. “I’ll be notified anytime a Whisky Class submarine is heard from in the Pacific and report back to you.”

  “What about the Atlantic?”

  “The climate model we’re seeing is the direct result of the exaggerated El Nino and La Nina weather patterns. This can only happen in the Pacific Ocean.”

  “You really have done your homework, Mellissa.” Anton put his hand on her shoulder. “If I’m ever allowed to report this, and we don’t all get fired for this, I’ll make sure I recommend you for a promotion.”

  Mellissa’s face grew hot. She was sure she could set off the fire alarm with the heat she felt for Anton. “That’s really wonderful, sir.”

  “Call me Anton.”

  “Anton… sir… I mean Anton. Sorry…” Melissa’s hands could hardly hold onto the files anymore. She shuffled them together, and then realized that Anton would want them. Her hands fumbled as they touched his—the files dropped to the floor.

  Anton smiled. “It’s okay, Mellissa, I’ll pick them up. You’ve done an amazing job on this.” He looked out the office door at the waiting Olivia and moved closer to Melissa. “Would it be too forward of me to take you to dinner?”

  “Dinner? Ah, no, I mean yes, I mean dinner would be nice… thank you,” Mellissa said as she stumbled out the door.

  Olivia watched her leave the office with a mix of disgust and wonder. Somehow, this oversize girl with the wiry hair and poor taste in clothes had just been asked to dinner by the best looking and available man in the entire agency. She would need an entire night of watching Netflix and a large amount of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream to get over this.

  38

  Danny landed the airplane back at the Iqaluit airport a little past 10 pm. Bernadette looked out at the twinkling lights of the small city of 8,000 people and had a surreal feeling wash over her. She’d just been to the farthest point north in the Arctic, fought with a submarine crew and watched young men get incinerated in a bomb blast and here she was back in the closest thing to civilization the far north had.

  Danny switched off the engine and turned to Bernadette and McAllen. “I’m avoiding the main terminal. I received a radio message the RCMP is looking for two people in the area. They claim they might be some kind of terrorists or something like that… I told them I haven’t seen anyone.”

  “You think the main terminal isn’t a good place to go right now?” McAllen asked.

  “The RCMP is there. They say that two people of interest boarded the flight from Montreal to Iqaluit and haven’t been seen since. They want me to bring them my passenger manifest. I told them I would be stopping by my office to pick it up. You need to disappear.”

  “You know who we are?” Bernadette asked.

  “Sure, you’re the Cree lady that gave two parkas to my grandmother and grandfather in the airport in Montreal.”

  “Those people were your relatives?” Bernadette asked.

  “We’re all related up here, and no good deed goes unnoticed in the Arctic.” Danny said. “My cousin Omar is outside in a truck. He’s going to take you to another relative of mine where you’ll spend the night.”

  “How are we going to get out of here tomorrow,” McAllen asked.

  Danny smiled. “Don’t worry, people of the Arctic have been smuggling things right under the noses of the RCMP for years. Tomorrow you’ll be flying out of here as cargo. You’ll be listed as seal meat and muskox horns.”

  McAllen and Bernadette got out of the plane and squeezed into the front of the truck with Omar. He was a big guy, too tall for an Inuit. Bernadette figured from his features and long black hair he had to be of Cree like her.

  “Hi, I’m Omar,” he said extending his hand across Bernadette to shake McAllen’s hand, and then shaking Bernadette’s hand. “I’m taking you to our uncle’s place tonight. He’s got one last Walrus pot roast from last spring’s hunt. We’ll be in for a good feed tonight.”

  Bernadette put her head back on the seat. She tried to close her eyes. Tiredness washed over her. She had a feeling they were losing control, losing purpose. Dead bodies were piling up and answers were few.

  They drove down the gravel roads of the town. A few streetlights shone revealing small dogs roaming the streets. The truck was of mild interest. The little house they arrived at was set back from the town. A few snowmobiles surrounded it. Some looked like they worked, some looked like they once had and were now parts for others.

  It was evident that the lack of snow was causing a problem to the people of the north. There should be snow, and snow roads, and ice building up on the sea for the Polar Bears to climb on to hunt for seals. None of that was happening, winter was late. The late season hung like a question mark on the north. Without snow and cold, the people of the north did not function properly. Ice and snow were essential to their way of life.

  Bernadette and McAllen followed Omar into the small house. The place was warm with a wonderful smell of cooking. Garlic, onion, and spices wafted into the air and made them all instantly ravenous.

  Omar’s uncle, a squat little man with twink
ling brown eyes and an easy smile motioned them to come into the house. “Welcome, Danny told me you’ve had a hell of a journey. Here, this will make you feel better.” He thrust two mugs of a frothy substance into their hands.

  Omar smiled at them. “It’s Moose Milk, Uncle Peter makes it the best. He puts in lots of condensed milk, coffee, nutmeg and of course some good rum.” He introduced everyone to Uncle Peter and handed out the Moose Milk.

  Bernadette took her first sip of the drink. The mixture of rum and sweetness first assaulted her tonsils with sugars then warmed her all the way down as the large portion of rum hit her stomach. A wave of tiredness swept over her. She found a chair in the kitchen and almost fell into it.

  Uncle Peter put a plate in front of her with a large portion of Walrus pot-roast and a big piece of bannock bread. She loved bannock. It was something her grandmother always made for her. The stuff was made from sugar, salt, baking powder, flour and water, patted into a pancake mold and fried in about a ton of butter and oil. Bernadette dipped her bread into the juice of the walrus pot roast. Her mouth was assailed with a pleasant taste of butter and walrus fat. A little piece of heaven she thought, right here in a kitchen in the high Arctic.

  “Hmm, Uncle Peter, you are the best,” Bernadette admitted.

  Uncle Peter winked at her and refilled her mug of Moose Milk. “I’m always glad when people like to eat.”

  McAllen put his face deep into the pot roast, breathed deeply and took a large forkful. He smiled up at Uncle Peter and gave him a nod and two thumbs up. McAllen and Bernadette let Peter and Omar talk while they ate. They were both too exhausted to respond. Peter spoke of how bad the Arctic had become with the late winter.

  “Nobody understands how we need the snow. You know, the people in the south, they think it’s going to be all right having warm weather up here. But it’s not. It’s no good. The warm weather is bad for the fish; they don’t come towards the shore or the rivers. The same with the animals, I had to go a long way to get this walrus, the seals are going higher to colder weather. But if we lose the Arctic cold… then what’s going to happen?”

  McAllen swallowed his last bite of walrus. “The Earth will lose its natural cooling properties. Both of the poles, the Arctic and the Antarctic are essential for the planet to have a stable temperature. We could be thrust back into an age where the Earth is tropical and the ocean covered much of the land. All of this, “McAllen waved his fork around, “was once a tropical forest.”

  “See, there you go, I’m right,” Uncle Peter said. He brought over more walrus pot roast and bread for McAllen.

  Bernadette put up a hand to signal she couldn’t take any more. The meal was great, but that much grease combined with the fried bread would set her stomach on a collision course with the toilet that she didn’t want to see happen.

  She looked up at Peter and Omar. “I’m not sure if Danny told you, but we’re up here to try to find a way of stopping the earth from getting too warm. We’re trying to find an ancient underground river. Danny said he was working with a professor on some kind of a game that might show the whereabouts of this river.”

  “You mean the River of Thule game?” Omar asked.

  “You know of it?”

  “Every kid in Iqaluit knows it. My son, Michael, is the best player of the game. He’s hit level ten at least twice,” Omar said.

  “What’s level ten?”

  “It’s shows where the river goes,” Omar said.

  Bernadette pulled out her cellphone. Danny had told her how to download the app on the plane flight back to Iqaluit. She hit the start button and an Inuit warrior appeared.

  “How long does it take to find your way to the source of the rivers, or where they go?” Bernadette asked.

  “Are you kidding? Michael spent most of the summer on that. You need to talk with him,” Omar told her.

  “When can I see him?” Bernadette asked.

  Omar smiled. “Probably right now. He’s supposed to be sleeping in the back room, but knowing him he’s in the middle of one of his games. Let me check.”

  Omar walked to the back of the house. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom. He peeked into the bedroom on the right. “Ah ha, I knew you weren’t sleeping. I need you to come out here and bring your game with you. Our guests need your help.”

  Michael came out of his room. He was all of ten years old, tall for his age like his father with thick black hair and intense dark eyes. He was dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He’d been dressed for bed, but he looked like he’d been far from sleep. An iPad mini was in his hand.

  “I was telling our guests how you got to level ten on the River of Thule game. You want to show them how you did it, Michael?”

  Michael grinned and shrugged a ‘sure’ gesture and went to Bernadette’s side. “You need to get seal points first. They’re the easiest. Then you work your way towards getting a golden walrus to help you.” Michael looked at Bernadette with serious eyes. “You have to be careful, if you don’t use your walrus right, you’ll never get to the narwhale—that’s where all the good stuff happens.”

  “What good stuff?”

  “The narwhale leads you to the source of the hidden rivers. Then you’re at level ten,” Michael explained.

  Bernadette stared hard at the game for a moment then looked at McAllen. “This is like a real map of the world.”

  McAllen looked at it. “You’re right. This isn’t a pretend map or animation. It starts off in Ellesmere Island then heads south with every time the Inuit Warrior gains points.”

  “Can you get the game to level ten?” Bernadette asked Michael.

  “Sure, I might take a few minutes,” Michael said with another shrug of his shoulders.

  Omar winked at Bernadette. “Kids these days. They can spend hours on these games and it’s hard to get them to go fishing or hunting like we did when we were their age.”

  Peter slapped his nephew on the back. “Are you kidding? When you were his age, you wanted to stay in front of the television. I had to drag you out the door to the trap lines in the winter.”

  Bernadette chuckled—nothing had changed. She’s seen the same problem when she was young, the only difference was, she was the one heading out the door, her brothers watched television.

  Michael went back to his room for a few minutes. He told them he needed to concentrate. When he came back, he wore a shy smile.

  “Here it is,” he said handing the iPad to Bernadette.

  McAllen stared over Bernadette’s shoulder. “Well, that doesn’t help much.”

  Bernadette looked at the screen. Two narwhales with their long ivory horns waving were pointing to an island. But the island was off the west coast of the USA.

  “I have no idea of an island like this. It looks like it’s about one thousand kilometres off the coast of California, about the same latitude as San Francisco,” Bernadette said.

  McAllen stared at the screen. “This must be some kind of message that Sigurdsson left, and maybe there’s another puzzle to solve to get from there, to somewhere else, the final goal.”

  Michael shook his head. “No, there isn’t. The game ends there, at this magical island. It says right here I’ve reached the source of the River of Thule.”

  Bernadette rubbed her eyes. “Look, I’m starting to see the narwhales wave at me. I think I need to curl up somewhere.”

  “I’ve got some cots for the both of you in the back. You’ll be sharing Michael’s room. You can get some shut eye at any time,” Peter said.

  Bernadette washed her face in the bathroom and hit the cot like a log falling in the forest. She was asleep in seconds, dreaming that night of narwhales. A large pod swam before her. They played and clicked their long ivory tusks against each other. The narwhales were pale in colour, white with spots of black. They looked like a big porpoise with a long tusk coming out of their nose.

  The Unicorns of the Sea, that’s the name that floated up to Bernadette. She watched them pla
y in front of her, moving in a slow rhythmic dance. They wanted her to follow them. They motioned to her with their long tusks to keep coming, to keep swimming with them. They swam deep.

  But she became afraid. They were moving towards dark water. She couldn’t see anything in front of them. She stopped for a moment. A chill came over her. Then a light appeared from up above. It was a strange light, seemingly filtered through a lens.

  She woke up in a sweat. McAllen was in the cot next to her snoring. She glanced at her watch. It was just past 6 am. It was pitch black outside the window. She knew sunrise wouldn’t be until around 8 am at this latitude, and sunset would come around 4 pm. She had to think of their next move.

  She smelled the welcome aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen and the unmistakable smell of more bannock bread being deep-fried in oil. She did a mental check of her stomach. It had somehow processed the walrus and bannock bread from last night. She could probably handle some more fried bread this morning, but any more than that and her intestines would not be happy and would let her know about it.

  Throwing on her shirt she made her way to the bathroom and to the kitchen. Peter greeted her with a coffee. She loaded the big mug with milk and two sugars and after some small talk with Peter she excused herself to make some phone calls.

  She needed to get back in touch with Anton. She glanced at her watch. It was 6:45 am. A quick mental calculation told her it was way too early. But the situation demanded she call him before everyone else got up. Peter was busy in the kitchen. She parked herself in the small living room.

  She dialed his number and hoped her wouldn’t be too upset with her. The phone rang three times and sleepy voice answered, “Hello.”

  “Sorry, Anton, but I had to get hold of you. I have no idea what this day holds for us,” Bernadette said. She gave him a quick overview of their trip to Ellesmere Island, the fight with the Russians and her present situation. She left out the details of the River of Thule game, as she wasn’t sure how to explain that, yet.

  “I’d heard about the situation in the Arctic. The Russians are claiming they were coming ashore looking for assistance and the Canadians attacked them.”