Beneath the Ice

by Patrick Woodhead

  While all this unfolded via the ship’s email, elsewhere on board Joel had been confined to bed. The ship’s doctor had worked on his shoulder for much of the time they had been at sea and although the bullet from Stang’s rifle had passed through relatively cleanly, splinters of collarbone still remained. They were beginning to become infected and so, like Luca, Joel was counting the days until they reached Cape Town and the chance for proper medical treatment. For now, his only release from the pain was an occasional shot of morphine, which blurred time and made him waft through the days in a detached haze.

  Katz, meanwhile, skulked around the ship, avoiding contact with Luca at all costs. Shamed by his assertion that they should just leave him on the barrier, he only spoke to Joel and Nicolai occasionally, while the rest of his time was spent inside his cabin. He was filing a report that ran into hundreds of pages, detailing every facet of the expedition and allocating blame for each part of it.

  Aside from the report, Katz’s other main motivation for staying inside his cabin was the two remaining cylinders of lake water. They had survived intact inside the Pelican case and now he guarded them like a dragon might his treasure. He mumbled his plans for what he would do with them as if they were his alone and not the product of years of research by an international team. The closer they got to dry land, the more Katz withdrew into himself. The flash of humility that he had shown to Luca in the old Soviet base was long-since gone, replaced by his habitual sneer and brooding self-interest.

  As the helmsman sighted Table Mountain and the boat drew ever closer to Africa’s southernmost tip, Luca and Nicolai went out on deck. They stood side by side, letting the heat of Africa beat down upon their backs. There was silence for a moment, before Nicolai turned away from the view.

  ‘The winter is finally over,’ he said. ‘We are free from the ice once more.’

  Luca nodded. ‘Thank you. For everything, I mean.’

  As he spoke, his eyes drifted across to the heap of crane wreckage still littering the deck. The crew had lashed down the smaller parts, but the main arm of the crane lay buried in the side rail.

  ‘We receive radio message that helicopter will be coming as soon as we are in range,’ Nicolai said, ignoring his thanks. ‘As soon as we pass out of international waters, I have to comply with their demand.’ He shrugged. ‘And I do not have enough fuel to take you anywhere else.’

  ‘I guessed they would be coming,’ Luca replied. Despite the lack of contact with Kieran Bates, he was sure the British Foreign Office would want to debrief them, but the idea of being cramped in a tiny room while some bureaucrat went through every detail of what had happened only filled him with dread. He didn’t have time to waste. He needed to find Bear.

  ‘After all that’s happened,’ Luca added, ‘I’m not sure which country’s worse.’

  ‘Individual worse,’ Nicolai corrected. ‘Country is just country.’

  Luca nodded again, now accustomed to the Russian’s straight-talking philosophy and, as many times before in their conversations, a long spell of silence ensued.

  It was some time later that they heard the first sounds of a helicopter coming in low across the water. As the aircraft slowed to a hover and then carefully touched down on the deck, a bulbous man dressed in a white shirt and flannel trousers stepped out. Keeping his back arched against the swirling rotors, he came close, revealing a bright streak of sunburn across his nose and a shirt stained at the armpits by sweat. As he stood in front of Nicolai, he raised a hand in greeting.

  ‘The name’s Jacobs,’ he said, voice raised above the noise of the helicopter. ‘My men radioed ahead.’

  Nicolai nodded.

  ‘I’m here to pick up Joel Cable-Forbes and Jonathan Katz,’ Jacobs continued, with a lopsided smile on his face that suggested he might be dealing with a halfwit.

  He motioned back to the helicopter and a side door was opened. Another two men clambered out. As Nicolai signalled to one of his crew to lead them to Joel’s and Katz’s quarters, Jacobs stayed on deck, eyes switching between Luca and the captain.

  ‘So, where we headed?’ Luca asked.

  ‘Afraid you’re being picked up later,’ Jacobs replied. ‘I have orders just to bring in the other two.’

  ‘And where are they going?’

  Jacobs’ smile widened a fraction. ‘Don’t worry, they’ll be well looked after.’

  Luca knew there was little to be gained by pressing the point and the next couple of minutes passed in silence. Jacobs stood patiently, his gaze turned out towards the sea, until Katz appeared through one of the storm doors under the main bridge. He was clutching a thick file of A4 paper taken from the ship’s printer and tied tightly with string, while in his other hand was the Pelican case.

  Moving out on deck he kept his eyes down, still unable to meet Luca’s gaze. He walked straight across to the helicopter and, without looking back, climbed on board.

  Joel emerged a moment later, shuffling out into the bright sunshine. He looked pale and drawn, his gaze drifting unsteadily. The morphine made him barely aware of what was happening and for a moment, he paused halfway to the helicopter before spotting Luca standing to one side. Then a weak smile appeared on his face.

  ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said, reaching out his good arm to shake Luca’s hand.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be right behind you in the next chopper,’ Luca lied. He knew it would only confuse Joel further to tell him they were being split up. ‘Take care of yourself, Joel.’

  His smile widened as he raised his wounded shoulder a fraction. ‘That’s easy. Just got to stay clear of psychotic Norwegians.’

  As Jacobs gave a terse nod and shepherded him over to the helicopter, they heard the engine pitch rise and the rotors begin to quicken. Soon the downdraft washed across the deck, causing Luca and Nicolai to cover their eyes. No sooner had the aircraft gone than they saw another approaching, following the same trajectory but this time much faster. It landed on the deck with military precision and, glancing across, the pilot gestured for Luca to climb on board. ‘I have no doubt that we will see each other again,’ Nicolai shouted above the noise. ‘Now go!’

  Gingerly moving across the deck with his right hand clamped against his ribs, Luca climbed on board. He looked across at the pilot, but the man didn’t return his gaze. As soon as the door was closed, he sent the machine pitching forward. Skimming the ship’s rail, he headed straight towards the mountain and the distant silhouette of Cape Town.

  Kieran Bates was waiting by the side of a warehouse in Cape Town’s harbour. The giant building was flanked by a series of crane derricks that looked so old as to be long-since defunct, but still, they turned slowly, disgorging each ship’s contents on to the quayside. There was a lazy, mid-afternoon feel to the whole dockyard. Most of the workers sat in the shade eating their lunch, while others dozed on the waiting pallets of freighted goods.

  Bates stood by two parked Mercedes 4×4s, each containing three men. They were a close-protection unit largely made up of former SAS soldiers that Bates had specifically requested for this meeting. As the helicopter landed and Luca slowly got out, the men exited the vehicles, looking alert and ready. Bates stepped forward, coming to a halt just a few paces from his old friend.

  ‘Back on dry land,’ he said.

  ‘I see you brought a whole welcome committee,’ Luca replied, with a shake of his head. ‘So what happens now, Norm? You going to make me disappear too?’

  ‘They’re here because I know how dramatic you can be,’ Bates countered. He paused and stared into Luca’s eyes. He had been anticipating this encounter for days and, while he already knew that Luca would never forgive him for the deception, part of him wanted his old friend to understand the risks he had taken to get Bear out of Nyanga, and then, later, to break her out of the interrogation centre. Already the Americans were starting to pick holes in his official report. There was only so long that they would believe that Bear had ‘overpowered him’ on the drive back to Cap
e Town, given the condition she had been in and the supposed level of sedation. He knew he was going to have to work hard to stay a step ahead of the game.

  ‘I know you think I set you up and that’s all there is to it,’ Bates continued, ‘but when the dust settles, you’re going to be thanking me.’

  Luca gave a humourless smile. ‘Thank you? You fucking lied to my face about Dedov and the smuggling. You used me to pin the whole thing on him and now the man is dead. So what do I have to thank you for, Norm? You screwed us all over, pure and simple.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Luca. Don’t be so naïve. Nothing is that simple. And it would have happened whether you did it or someone else. My way, you get paid nearly fifty grand.’

  ‘You know I never gave a shit about the money!’ Luca shouted. As his voice rose, his hand went to his painful ribs. ‘You nearly had me killed out there!’

  ‘I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I only knew some of the picture and had no idea how things would turn out. I thought you’d be sitting at the base just waiting out a storm for a few days.’

  ‘How do I believe that? How do I believe anything you’re saying to me?’

  ‘Because I am here now,’ Bates countered. Then his voice softened a little. ‘I do care about what happens to you, Luca. Don’t make that mistake.’

  ‘Care?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You don’t give a shit about me. You just manipulate the situation to get things done. And you know what? I could almost forgive you for what you did to me, but then you went ahead and dragged Bear into all this.’

  ‘I did everything I could do to stop her from getting involved,’ Bates seethed. ‘You have no idea what I have risked to keep her safe.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have fucking started this unless you knew how it would end,’ Luca countered. In his anger, he stepped forward and there was a ripple across the security team as the closest two went for their sidearms. After a moment’s hesitation Bates raised a hand, signalling them to stand down.

  Luca didn’t even flinch. It was as if he hadn’t noticed the armed men standing only a few feet away.

  ‘Just take it easy,’ Bates said, raising his hands. ‘Bear is OK. She was on her way north to the Congo but then I managed to get hold of her. She’s holed up in a hotel right here in Cape Town. She’s safe and she’s with her son.’

  Luca didn’t respond, reluctant to take anything Bates was saying at face value.

  ‘This is her number,’ he offered, pulling out a piece of paper from his trouser pocket along with a cell phone. ‘Take this and call her. Then you’ll see I’m telling the truth.’

  He signalled to one of the men, who handed him a small brown package. Bates stepped closer and offered it to Luca.

  ‘Forty-eight grand – minimum payment for four weeks’ work. That’s what was agreed.’

  Luca remained motionless, making no attempt to take the package.

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ Bates added, knowing full well that it was blood money. This wasn’t about payment for the work done – the whole project had unravelled anyway. This was Bates’ attempt to make amends and alleviate some of his own insufferable guilt.

  ‘Think about it, Luca. Don’t throw this away out of misplaced pride.’

  Luca reached forward and, ignoring the packet, grabbed the phone and piece of paper. Bates nodded slowly.

  ‘Same old Luca,’ he said, backing off. He then crouched down and left the package stuffed with notes at Luca’s feet. Signalling to the security team to start their engines, the men quickly climbed inside the 4×4s with Bates being the last to do so.

  ‘Take care of her,’ he called across, but Luca didn’t hear. He had already dialled the number and was waiting for a reply. As the two vehicles moved off, trailing the edge of the quayside, the line finally connected.

  ‘Hello?’ came Bear’s voice. At the sound of it, Luca’s eyes slowly closed with pure relief.

  Chapter 37

  ELEANOR PAGE UNBUTTONED her suit jacket and leant back in her padded office chair. She had been working for just over two days straight and now even her immaculately styled hair and careful make-up were starting to take the strain. Flinging her tortoiseshell glasses on to the open file on her desk, she pressed her finger on the intercom switch and called for one of her assistants. It took several seconds before there was any kind of response, her team equally strung out by the sheer avalanche of work that had befallen their desks.

  ‘Hold all calls for two hours,’ Eleanor instructed, before letting her eyes drift closed. She knew that she was utterly drained and had been for some time. The side effect of the perpetual jolts of adrenalin was a deep and lasting exhaustion that seemed to permeate all the way down to her bones. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Eleanor felt every single year of her age.

  Despite being long overdue, her sleep was fitful, while a sharp, repetitive twitch played at one corner of her mouth. The unshakable calm that had served her so well in the past seemed to have evaporated. Now, even while she was sleeping, her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

  In the wake of the Antarctic Treaty being reinstated, the Director General of the FBI had tasked her to find a viable plan B and, as far as Eleanor could tell, there simply wasn’t one. She had gone back over all of the original research notes, trying to find a single line of enquiry that would be worth pursuing, but so far had nothing. The reality was that in eighteen months’ time, the USA needed to have an alternative supply of oil or it would face heavy selling on the stock market and the wholesale collapse of its economy.

  Without any prospect of a solution, Eleanor had instead turned her focus to another fundamental and done everything possible to distance the administration from Richard Pearl. But distance wasn’t enough. They were going to have to ensure he remained silent – permanently. That was the single unanimous resolution of the meeting she had held that morning. Pearl was never to be allowed to stand trial and lay bare their secrets. But to be sure of that, they first needed to find him.

  Just as her head tipped forward and she succumbed to the deepest of sleeps, her phone rang. The sudden noise made her head jerk upwards and her eyes peeled open with a look of weary disorientation. Wiping away the line of spittle that had escaped her mouth, Eleanor reached forward and pressed the receiver to her ear.

  ‘I said . . .’ she managed, but her assistant cut her off.

  ‘I think it’s the call.’

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. Shaking her head slightly, she tried to dispel the fog of tiredness.

  ‘Put her through,’ she ordered. The line connected, but it was distant. She could only just hear the sound of a woman’s voice, but then she recognised the strong Italian accent of Helena Coroni, Pearl’s personal helicopter pilot. Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. While the rest of the world would still be looking for the man responsible for the plight of the Southern Ocean, she would soon have his exact whereabouts.

  But the conversation didn’t follow its usual form. Normally Coroni would be brief by necessity, but this time there was something more. She wasn’t just being furtive. She was terrified.

  ‘He’s totally . . . lost control,’ Coroni was saying, her voice muffled by the distance. ‘It’s a rage like nothing I have ever seen before . . .’

  ‘Your location?’ Eleanor pressed, ignoring the complaint. ‘What’s your location?’

  ‘Wait!’ Coroni snapped. ‘I need you to promise you’ll send help. He’s finally asleep and I think I can make it to the helipad before he realises what’s going on. But I only have enough fuel to make it to one of the other islands. I’m not going to be able to reach the mainland.’

  Eleanor forced her voice to sound steady. ‘We’ve got your back, I promise. Now, tell me your location.’

  Coroni listed a succession of GPS coordinates, repeating them twice. Relaying them into her computer, Eleanor soon discovered that Pearl was hiding out on one of the outlying islands to the north-west of Madagascar.

  ‘P
lease, Eleanor, after all I have done for you. You owe me.’

  ‘We owe you,’ she repeated. ‘Just stay calm. We’re sending in a team right now, but if Pearl attempts to flee the island, I’m going to need you to call it in. So don’t attempt to leave. Just stay where you are.’

  There was a pause as Coroni weighed up the prospect. ‘OK, I’ll do it. But please, come quick. You don’t know what he’s like.’

  ‘Hold tight,’ Eleanor soothed, but already her finger had moved to the console on her desk as she opened a separate phone line. She heard herself say ‘We’re coming for you’ as she cut the line to Coroni and transferred directly to operations. A kill team had been on standby for the last three days, just waiting for Pearl’s location to become known.

  When she connected through to the Ops Manager his tone was dry and perfunctory, concerned only with the details necessary for his logistics. They spoke for nearly five minutes and Eleanor was about to sign off when the germ of an idea suddenly filtered through from her subconscious. She paused, allowing herself the luxury of ten seconds’ pure thought and ignoring the questioning voice on the other end of the line.

  ‘Change of orders,’ she said abruptly. ‘I want Pearl taken alive.’

  ‘But this has already been . . .’ the Ops Manager objected, before she cut him off.

  ‘You bring him back in one piece. Are we clear on that point?’

  ‘We are clear,’ the Ops Manager replied evenly. ‘I’ll update you in one hour once the team are en route.’

  As the line went dead, Eleanor brushed a strand of silver hair back from her face and inhaled deeply. It felt as if she were breathing new air into her lungs for the first time in days.

  She wasn’t sure exactly why she had put a stay on Pearl’s execution, but something deep inside her suggested that he would be more use to her alive than dead. Somewhere in that diseased but brilliant mind of his, she was sure there lay the answer to this mess they were in. To kill him too soon would only narrow their options.