The Ice

by Laline Paull

  Kingsmith held up a heavy crystal tumbler with a finger of topaz liquid. ‘You don’t like Scotch, but this is beyond that description. I bought some tweed from the island it comes from – that’s all they do. Tweed and whisky.’

  ‘Just water,’ Sean said.

  ‘Come on. The worst is behind you. You’ve been a star.’

  ‘Martine said you got a call from Danny and there’s a problem at Midgard. His phone’s going straight to voicemail. So is Terry’s. And the main office.’

  ‘It’s their weekend off. The weekend they only get every ten days – you want them there twenty-four seven, three-six-five?’ Kingsmith grinned. ‘Lucky they’ll never have a union.’ He stretched. ‘Sometimes it’s good for them all to kick back together. It’s bonding; no visitors, nothing to do – so a whale breaches or a bear stops by; one time they miss it.’

  ‘Joe. Is there a problem?’

  ‘OK, OK. You know Danny, conscientious to a fault. He picked up a signal that he thought meant trouble, so he let me know.’

  ‘You? But I’ve already told him—’

  ‘Yes, me, Sean, because you know fuck-all about sailing, but I live on the ocean, remember? And by the way, have you made sure your pal in Oslo tips us off when something’s going on up there, because the Sysselmann’s office always forgets. It’s like they don’t trust us or something. Keep on that, OK?’ Kingsmith was talking a lot, as genial as if he were a new contact.

  ‘Who were you talking to before I buzzed? You sounded agitated.’

  Kingsmith took another sip of his Scotch.

  ‘Sean, I know women are your thing, or at least they were, but you are sounding like a jealous lover. Excuse my French, but I’m going to put it down to stress from that fucking inquest. Midgard might be the centre of your world, but believe me, it’s not mine. So cut it out.’ He smiled. ‘Come on. Take the edge off with something.’

  ‘I said just water.’ Sean rubbed his forehead. Then he took out his phone and pressed the key for Danny Long. It went straight to voicemail again. ‘Danny: it’s Sean Cawson, your CEO. Call me immediately.’ He hit the red button and looked at Kingsmith, ignoring the annoyance in his eyes. ‘Joe, we both know he’s always supposed to answer. His phone is never supposed to be off. You just spoke to him.’

  ‘That wasn’t him! And I am telling you, Sean, so listen to me: everything is cool. You really do need that vacation, so I’ve let Martine bully me into lending you Brisingamen in the Seychelles. Fully crewed. How does that sound?’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve told them not to talk to me.’

  Kingsmith broke their stare.

  ‘You’ll give yourself a nervous breakdown, which is what I’m trying to spare you after the week you’ve had. It’s not a big deal, and we do not want to make it one, but there’s a cargo ship with engine trouble. I didn’t tell you straight off because I knew you’d freak. But if you insist, here, have it. It’s no big deal.’

  Sean forced himself to speak calmly. ‘If a cargo ship is in trouble near Midgard Lodge then we have to render aid. It’s part of our deal with Oslo.’

  ‘Our deal? Way back when, right here in this room, you told me you were the only person to set it up and handle it, remember? Critically important it all went through you, and you alone. But don’t worry: the vessel is not so near, and she hasn’t requested assistance. She’s doing OK.’

  ‘Engine trouble in the Arctic, in October, how can that be OK?’

  ‘I knew this would be too much for you right now, that’s why I tried to shield you from it. You’ve had so much stress you’ve lost all perspective. For everyone’s sake, step back and let me handle it.’

  Kingsmith passed his hand over his bald head, and Sean heard the faint rasp. It was the one tell of Kingsmith’s that he’d ever picked up on. He’d been too busy to shave – which meant an emergency. Out of the corner of his eye, Sean glimpsed another laptop on the bathroom counter.

  ‘I need to pee.’ He went in and clicked the lock before Kingsmith could stop him. He touched the mouse pad and the AIS screen popped to life, the green dots of ships bright on the black, but the central one unmoving. He clicked the mouse to enlarge the view of the Barents Sea – the irregular yellow line showed the contour of Wijdefjorden. Before he could further enlarge it the screen was turned off at source.

  Sean flushed anyway.

  Kingsmith tapped on the door. ‘Sean. I’ve cut you some slack, but it’s getting boring.’ He paused. ‘Come on out now.’

  The instant he unlocked the door Kingsmith slammed it into him and took the laptop. He looked at Sean in the mirror.

  ‘Don’t do that again.’ He went back out into the suite. ‘And get out here. We are going to talk about what’s been happening and I am going to tell you what you are going to do.’

  Sean sat down, winded. Terry Bjornsen, Danny Long, all of them, were taking their instructions directly from Kingsmith. He’d never been their boss.

  Kingsmith snapped his fingers in front of his face. ‘More importantly,’ he said, and Sean smelled the Scotch on his breath, ‘you are not going to panic. You’re going to stay calm and you’re going to trust me, because if you don’t, if you let your ego ride you any more – oh, we will come to that too – you will bring down more trouble than you knew one man could wreak in this world.’ He clicked the laptop back on and turned it to face Sean. ‘What do you see?’

  ‘Wijdefjorden, just outside it. And right there, a ship, not moving.’

  ‘She is, very slowly. She’s only got a bit of engine trouble and they’re fixing it as we speak, but if they haven’t sorted it by the time she’s into Icelandic waters and if she still needs it – then she’ll get all the help she needs.’

  ‘Why Iceland, when we could render aid now?’

  Kingsmith smiled. ‘Along with setting up that generous endowment in her name, for the Sino-Icelandic poetry translation prize, Radiance also bought a port. So your ship can go there.’

  ‘My ship?’

  ‘Sean boy, have I taught you nothing? First rule of business is good housekeeping. But you just see the dividends; you stopped looking at the delivery vehicles a long time ago. What was it you said? That’s right: “You understand them, so I don’t have to.”’ Kingsmith chuckled. ‘Out of the mouths of babes.’

  Sean went cold. It was completely true. Kingsmith had been investing for him for twenty years. He’d grown his entire business from seed capital created in this way. He was financially grafted to Kingsmith’s root stock.

  ‘What have you put me into?’

  ‘You don’t want to know. Or rather, why start caring now, at this late hour?’ Kingsmith’s smile had faded. ‘Don’t feel too bad, most people are the same. Give them enough profit, and they’ll skip the details. Unless they’re very strategic too.’

  An image of Radiance came to Sean, on the plane, three years ago. Her red toes wiggling as she trounced her online chess partner. The realisation clubbed him.

  ‘You and Radiance – that was you she was playing chess with, on the plane. While you were in the bedroom. I didn’t introduce you at all.’

  ‘Sean, you kill me! Of course you didn’t. But you just assumed you did, and it was funny. We were going to tell you, but somehow we missed the moment. And it made life easier, you know? Plus everyone underestimates her. She’s a very clever girl. Speaks perfect English, good French and Russian, gets by in Arabic – but she puts on the bad grammar to let people feel superior.’

  Sean got up. ‘I don’t own any ships. I’ve never signed anything.’ But as he said it, he could not be sure.

  ‘No, not wholly – but you share an interest with one of my other protégés. You’ve even had a private meeting with him, earlier this year, at Midgard. I’m sure Danny has some photographs of you two shaking hands.’ Kingsmith watched him. ‘I did try to stop you going, but you insisted …’

  ‘Benoit.’

  ‘Benny boy, another eager protégé. You see? You are into Africa after a
ll.’

  Sean could barely breathe.

  ‘You’ve used me. You’re using Midgard – what are you using it for?’

  ‘Now, Sean, don’t be like Tom, going off half-cocked with half the facts. You of all people know how dangerous that can be.’ Kingsmith looked him deep in the eye. ‘Which is why you’re not going to bother Danny or Terry or the Sysselmann because the—’ Kingsmith stopped himself. ‘Because the ship herself hasn’t yet done that. And I don’t think she’s going to. I think she’s going to be OK.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘The Doesn’t Fucking Matter.’

  ‘What’s she carrying?’

  ‘Useful things.’ He winked. ‘So we want her to get where she’s going.’

  ‘You’re supplying Radiance’s businesses in Africa.’

  ‘Sean boy! I’m starting to believe there’s hope. Yes, we are. And can you guess what’s the on-board treat?’

  Sean could hardly bear to say it. ‘You’re taking arms across the Arctic and my name’s on it.’

  ‘Of course not; that would be illegal. Just home improvement supplies. Biodegradable 3D printers, 4D, if they can afford it; changes use over time – means elegant and ecologically approved deniability. Robotics are so impressive. Plus supplies, of course: raw materials, chemicals for all the full effects – no half-measures with Radiance and her pals.’

  ‘Does Martine—’ He couldn’t bear to think of that.

  ‘As if I’d do that to you! Anyway, she’s a short-range thinker; she’d slip up as soon as it stopped being about her. Look at the glass half-full, Sean boy, see how our clever Radiance and her friends are investing to raise the standard of living for a whole country, once all the chaos, panic and disorder is cleared up. Even your secret friend Mrs Larssen needs a helping hand sometimes, and haven’t you been a helpful errand boy to her?’

  Kingsmith poured a Scotch and left it by him, then topped up his water from a carafe.

  ‘And since we’re having a frank chat, watch out for Philip Stowe – I find him slippery. Though I admit that having you as our go-between has made everyone’s life a bit easier these last three years. So I’d say you’ll be getting your Safety in the Home medal.’ He went to the mirror and began to do his tie.

  ‘Ah come on, lighten up. We’re just clearing the air – and long overdue it is, too. Once you get over the shock, you’ll see the funny side. You’ve been a great boy scout – without you, I’d have missed out on the TransPolar Route. I’m grateful!’

  Sean sat rigid, trying to believe it. His money, his Midgard, tied into Kingsmith’s arms trafficking. And it was true, he had brought Kingsmith into the very heart of the Arctic, he’d begged for his help in setting up Midgard’s security. Or so he thought. In reality, he’d created an Arctic base for Kingsmith’s mercenaries, tacitly approved by Philip Stowe. It could not be.

  At ease, he’d said when Danny Long had introduced him to those men in the dorm room. The barracks – the standing force of men in Midgard’s name – his name – and all the while he had refused to see it. It was like saying Defence Expo instead of Arms Fair, or alt-right instead of fascist. Kingsmith nodded to him in the mirror.

  ‘Let’s get you down off of that meat hook. You’ve done a good thing, you’ll come to see that. You’ve created a service station on the newest trade route on the planet! International waters too, so no political shackles. Tom was all about the whales and the Inuit and the climate, but who knows what’s going to happen? We won’t be alive to see it.’

  ‘My daughter will.’

  ‘She’ll be fine.’ Kingsmith turned. ‘How’s that? Taken me years to get it right. I think I look pretty damn handsome. By the way, your British defence universities are the best in the world. But with all our business investment, so they should be.’ He watched Sean sympathetically. ‘How else do you think I know Philip Stowe? Tennis parties?’ He sighed. ‘Sean boy, stop with the suffering. Midgard is still a truly special place on earth, just not what you think. It’s more; the reality is better. Don’t lose heart – it’s a foot in the Arctic door for British business. Follow Uncle Joe’s advice and don’t worry about one little ship in the night. Think about your knighthood.’

  ‘Fuck the knighthood!’ Sean stared at Kingsmith. It wasn’t possible he’d misplaced his trust so badly. ‘Did you – did you never believe in anything we were trying to do?’

  ‘Hmm. How to say this nicely? It. Didn’t. Matter. The world doesn’t understand carrot, only stick. Midgard Lodge is a beautiful, organic, fairly traded exquisitely cooked, fucking carrot.’ Kingsmith tied his shoes and finished his drink.

  ‘But what is also true, is that you and Tom really did have this big romantic thing going on for the Arctic, and I loved that. You were so right to bring him in, you totally seduced the Pedersens. They even took less money, because you two so utterly believed in what you were selling. Midgard Lodge meets so many needs for so many people; I take my hat off to you.’

  ‘What’s happening with that ship. Pull it up again.’

  Kingsmith smacked himself on the forehead.

  ‘Sean, you’ve not understood a word I’ve said. You know how elegantly you dealt with that problem in the cave? I thought you might be a rightful successor, one day. Poor Tom, falling like that. Nothing you could have done.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sean stood up. ‘What problem in the cave?’

  Kingsmith shrugged. ‘Your skilful leverage of force majeure. No need to tremble, come on, it’s over. Back to the situation in hand – this is just another opportunity to practise. Life isn’t black or white, it’s in the grey, and if you weren’t so fucking overwrought, I’d kick you up a grade and let you handle this one yourself. But as you are … I’m telling you to stand down. Better to lose that ship than make a mess of the scale you’ll create.’

  They both became aware of someone knocking on the door. Kingsmith strode over – and then as he looked through the spyhole, his back relaxed, no longer gathered to strike. He beamed as he opened it.

  ‘Martine! You look criminally gorgeous. Was I a bit short earlier? Forget about it, it’s all sorted now. And may I say, Sean is one lucky bastard.’

  She smiled thinly, then looked past him.

  ‘Sean, you have to come! I cannot do this without you there. It’s heaving, everyone wants to talk to you.’

  Kingsmith stepped aside, making sure Martine saw him admire her. He gripped Sean’s shoulder as he went out to join her, and smiled.

  ‘Front of house. Very important.’

  Sean went down in the lift with Martine, listening to her rattling off the people who’d come and the money they’d already raised. He looked at the immaculate man in the black tie, and the beautiful woman in the green backless dress.

  The doors opened and the party hit him.

  I was trapped. The hole was too small to let me get through, my beard would not let me retire into my grave again. I could see no way out. But what a way to die – my body twisted in an unnatural position, my beard frozen to the sled above, and the storm beating my face without mercy. My eyes and nose were soon filled with snow and I had no way of getting my hands out to wipe my face. The intense cold was penetrating my head, my face was beginning to freeze and would soon lose all feeling.

  With all my strength I pulled my head back. At first the beard would not come free, but I went on pulling and my whiskers and some of my skin were torn off, and finally I got loose. I withdrew into my hole and stretched out once more. For a moment I was insanely grateful to be back in my grave, away from the cold and the tortuous position. But after a few seconds I was ready to laugh at my own stupidity. I was even worse off than before! While I had moved about more snow had made its way into the hole and I could hardly move, and the bear skin had settled under my back where I could not possibly get at it.

  I gave up once more and let the hours pass without making another move. But I recovered some of my strength while I rested and my morale improved. I was
alive after all. I had not eaten for hours, but my digestion felt all right. I got a new idea!

  I had often seen dog’s dung in the sled track and had noticed that it would freeze solid as a rock. Would not the cold have the same effect on human discharge? Repulsive as the thought was, I decided to try the experiment. I moved my bowels and from the excrement I managed to form a chisel-like instrument which I left to freeze. This time I was patient, I did not want to risk breaking my new tool by using it too soon. While I waited, the hole I had made filled up with fresh snow. It was soft and easy to remove, but I had to pull it down into my grave which was slowly filling up. At last I decided to try my chisel and it worked! Very gently and slowly I worked at the hole. As I dug I could feel the blood trickling down my face from scars where the beard had been torn away. Finally I thought the hole was large enough.

  Vagrant Viking: My Life and Adventures (1953)

  Peter Freuchen

  34

  Pre-dinner cocktails were in the mirrored and filigreed Chinese Room. Sean’s plan was to flash a smile with Martine then disappear somewhere he could check on the Svalbard shipping situation, but he found himself the target of pension chiefs, insurance barons and private bankers all wishing to offer their condolences about Tom – and re-imprint their faces as they did so.

  He went to stand by the big photograph of Tom, hoisted on a gold easel by the bar as if at auction. The magnitude of what had just happened up there on the tenth floor was too great to take in. Part of him desperately wanted to believe Kingsmith, that maybe the ship had a bit of mechanical trouble, trouble that could be fixed enough to get it into Icelandic waters. That kind of thing happened all the time at sea. There were maritime insurance bosses in the room right now who wouldn’t be remotely surprised to hear of losses or accidents unreported – it kept the prices down.

  And how could he check what was really happening, when he didn’t even know the ship’s name? But of course that was not true. Sean put himself onto smile-and-nod autopilot, splitting his mind off to rack up his options. If the ship had not turned off its AIS locator then it could be found – there were not so many vessels in that area that it would take very long. Then, he could call the coastguard and raise the alarm by saying … What? There’s a ship in trouble in Svalbard waters, I believe it’s trafficking arms across the TransPolar Route and by the way I’m a part-owner. That’s right, Sean Cawson of Midgard Lodge. Yes, the one your Assistant Defence Minister Mrs Larssen thinks of as a friend. Would I rather go to prison in the UK or Norway?