White Heat

by Melanie McGrath

  As she sat thinking, a qalunaat man approached.

  'You coming to the crew party tonight?'

  'I'm not invited.'

  As she spoke, an idea suddenly came to mind. She glanced up at the ship and counted the lifeboat stations. There were four, each containing a Zodiac inflatable. 'But I'd like to come,' she added.

  'Good.' He winked at her. 'From nine. Just tell the guards that Nils sent you.'

  She winked back.

  From the quayside she went directly to the store and bought a few strips of maktaq, and a half-kilo of caribou jerky. At the information office there had been a small cafe. There she ordered hot sweet tea and some kind of stewed meat. No one seemed to take much notice of her.

  At six the cafe closed and she left. The moon was in its up phase, and the tide would be coming in. She had already worked out the timing. The walk to Moller's shed would take her an hour, maybe a little more if the going proved rougher than it had seemed on the ATV. The walk back down the quay would take quite a bit longer, because she would be laden. Once she'd got on board the ship and released the Zodiac, she'd need to find somewhere close by where she could hide until the early hours when everyone would either be sleeping or too drunk to notice her leaving the harbour.

  She reached the airport in good time, walking slowly to avoid breaking into a sweat, and coming up crouched and low onto the ridge beside the landing strip where she was least likely to be spotted. Reaching into her bag she took out her hare-fur mufflers and tied them over her kamiks. Up here the wind hummed and the haul ropes on the wind sock clanked against the retaining pole. There was sufficient ambient noise to cover her, she thought, but the strip was gravelled and would crunch underfoot and she didn't want to take any chances.

  On the far side of the strip she turned and began to pick her way slowly downwind towards Moller's unit. You never knew if there might be dogs. She made the final approach as she would stalking an animal, step by step, knees bent, breath quiet and shallow, torso perfectly still. Creeping around the back she squatted down out of the wind, pressed her ear to the wall against which the sleeping bags were strewn inside, and waited.

  Edie slid round to the unit door and began very gradually to edge it open. Inside, all was dark. When the snoring continued, she slid in. The rifle and harpoon were where she was expecting them, on the wall beside the entrance. She reached out for the rifle first, feeling for the carry-strap and edging it away from the tarp. Slowly and with infinite care she lifted it and placed it over her shoulder. The box of ammo was next. Sliding her right thumb along the shelf she stopped at a small, crescent-shaped knot in the wood. With her thumb in the knot she marked out two widths with her left hand. Then, with her right she reached up and clasped the card box cover, feeling for the tell-tale fraying along the left edge. Lifting the box with both hands she swung it slowly through the air and into the side pocket of her pack. A close fit, it made a rustling noise against the nylon as it slid in.

  Instantly, she froze, peering into the darkness, listening for the sounds of sleeping at the back of the unit. The snoring continued, tapering now into a soft hiss like that of a surprised harp seal. Relaxing, she reached into the dark once more. All she needed now was a length of rope, a net and a harpoon. The net was easy; she slung it across her pack and secured it with an elastic band. The harpoon was more challenging, the point getting stuck momentarily in the wooden shelf above it. Edie reached down, and, working very slowly, cut a groove in the floorboards with her hunting knife. The pole immediately relaxed and she slid it gently from its moorings. Until she could fashion a strap from the rope, she would have to carry it in her hand.

  Last, she reached for the coil of rope itself, using her hands once more to measure fifteen widths to the right of the place where the harpoon had been. At the back, a body shifted in sleep. She waited for whoever it was to settle, steadied her heartbeat and focused once more. Slowly, she reached out for the rope, intending first to get its measure, knowing that she would have to lift the entire coil up and then out from the rusty nail on which it was hanging. With her free hand, she measured its heft. The coil was of old-fashioned hemp, not polyester as she'd supposed, and heavier as a consequence. Edie pushed the rifle further onto her back so that there was no danger of it falling forward, then she leaned in and with a hand on the coil very slowly heaved it upwards. There was a sudden twang and something metallic landed on the floor. Edie looked up and to the back of the shed and thought she saw something glitter. She focused on the spot, willing her eyes to find their night sight more quickly. Gradually, two small sparkles resolved themselves. Someone was looking at her.

  There was a pause, an unbearable moment of tension and she found herself squinting into a thin light. Her right hand automatically left the rope and reached up to shield her eyes and in the shade of her palm she saw the pilot, Hans. Then the light clicked off and she was left for a moment standing in the sea of rusty brown and orange behind her eyes. She reached around her shoulder for the rifle then, realizing it was too late to load it and too dark to see, she grabbed the harpoon. The eyes continued to stare, but they did not move. Finally she heard a whisper, in Inuktun: 'Aivuk!' Go!

  She slung the coil of rope over her shoulder and backed rapidly towards the door. Once she was out she turned and ran, swinging her legs in a skiing motion, skimming across the hummocky muskeg, just as her mother had shown her many, many years before. The chase scenes she knew so well from the movies flipped unbidden through her mind and her breath pooled out into the chill air. When she reached the other side of the landing strip she stopped and looked back but there was no one following.

  At the edge of the plateau, she gathered herself, took off her mufflers and quickly repacked her bag. Over the other side of the landing strip, Moller's shed lay obscured. Around her, the tundra glowed silver blue. She turned to face her destination. Though it was not dark, the lights of the Arctic Princess blazed in the harbour. Already Nuuk seemed like a world away. She took a deep breath and began her descent towards the sea.

  It was well past midnight before she reached the quayside and stood before the ship. The gangplank was down and the vessel rose and fell softly on the swell. From inside there came the sound of music but there was no one on deck. It was cold, and the air smelled of ice. The harbour was empty.

  Edie looked about to check she wasn't being watched and stepped onto the gangplank. The ship was older and scruffier than she'd imagined, the paint peeling, a light crusting of rust across the joints and rivets. The music was much louder than it had seemed on shore.

  She slipped onto the main deck and took her bearings. There was no sign of any guard. It seemed they were all below, making the most of their passenger-free evening. Every so often female laughter broke through the beat and a tangy alcohol haze rose upwards on the breeze. If all went well, she'd have the Zodiac in the water in a matter of minutes. Feeling cheered by this thought, Edie began a slow slide around the darkened cabin rooms towards the aft deck.

  She had reached the captain's cabin, when, with no warning, the deck door suddenly swung open and a man's face appeared. In the backlight from the corridor, she could see leathery skin fading out to silhouette. For a moment he seemed not to see her, then his gaze fell full on her face. He smiled the wavy smile of a drunk and stepped out onto the deck. Edie shrugged her right shoulder so the rifle and harpoon were hidden behind her back.

  The man stared at her for a moment then said something in Danish.

  Edie shrugged, hoping he would consider the gesture sufficient answer and return below deck.

  'You're local?' he said, this time in English.

  Edie nodded. 'Danish very bad. I clean.'

  'Oh,' the man said. He tapped his nose with his finger. 'We are making a very big mess tonight.' He laughed at his own joke. 'Plenty for you to do.'

  And with that he retreated back inside the ship and closed the deck door. She saw his shadow passing into the passenger cabin area, and then disappea
r.

  Edie breathed out the thrumming in her chest. Then she slid onto the stern deck, avoiding the neat coils of rope and chain. Making her way around the railings she reached the Zodiac on the port side. The inflatable was in no better shape than its mother ship, but someone had at least bothered to pull a tarp over the outboard. Both oars were sitting inside, along with several coils of rope, a lifebelt and two large jerry cans marked 'gasoline' and 'water'. The holding ropes led up to a winch and the boat itself was enclosed in a kind of cradle. At the base of the winch itself was a large metal flap covering the controls. She gave the lowering button a small, experimental push. An alarmingly loud clanking sound started up. For a moment Edie froze, waiting for a nearby door to fling open and a security detail to come bounding out. Snatching up her bag, the rifle and harpoon she threw them under the tarp. That way if anyone did come she could feign innocence, say she was using the deck as a high lookout from which to spot seal moving in the water.

  Quickly attaching ropes to the grab handles on each side, she passed them around both deck cleats to attach each to the winch with a hitch knot. She took out a piece of maktaq from her bag and used it to grease the winch and its handle. Then slowly, carefully, she began to turn the winch, easing in the lengths of rope. The winch responded to the greasing, the only sound coming from it a faint clicking as the rope torqued around the barrel.

  She returned to the Zodiac and, using her hunting knife, carefully cut the cradle and the restraining ropes, waiting for the little boat to steady before beginning the slow process of letting out the winch ropes. At the other end of the ship, loud, off-key attempts at 'I Will Survive' drifted from the state room. When the ropes finally went slack, Edie pulled the winch lever into the locked position then set about tying Moller's rifle, the harpoon and her pack with bowlines onto a single rope so they could be lowered into the Zodiac afloat on the black water. Now there was no turning back. She took a deep breath to calm herself, grabbed at the rope and began to rappel down the ship's side.

  Soon she was reaching out for the Zodiac, taking hold of the grab handles and pulling herself in. Cutting the keeper ropes, she pushed off from the Princess and began to row steadily out into open water. The sea loomed vast and inky, joined seamlessly at the horizon to the sky. The oars constantly hit bergy bits and scraped jarringly against growlers. Rowing close to the shore she followed the coastline until, looking back, all she could see of Qaanaaq was a faint bloom of light pollution far away. It was only then she allowed herself to turn towards the shore.

  She slept in the boat on the beach and woke to the matt, chalky light of the summer day. She boiled water and melted a piece of jerky into it. The coast here was completely unknown to her, but the story of Welatok's journey had been passed down so meticulously across the generations that it felt oddly familiar. She intended to stop off at Siorapaluk, the last and most northerly settlement, pick up some food and get directions for the safest passage into Etah and the dig site.

  The outboard started and the Zodie began bumping across the swell in a favourable wind so that by the time the sun was fully over the horizon, the settlement was already in view as a sprinkling of dots sitting below cliffs so jammed with dovekies and murres that they writhed like maggoty meat. As she approached, the smell of guano was almost overpowering. Before long, she guessed, the birds would be heading back south.

  She pulled into the little bay then chuntered slowly up to a long jetty and tied up while two young boys and a girl of six or seven watched with a mixture of excitement and fear.

  Are you from the government?' one of the boys asked.

  Edie pointed out across the water. 'No, from over there.'

  The children looked at one another as though they'd never heard of such a thing. Eventually, the little girl said:

  'Illiyardjuk, an abandoned child?'

  'Immaluk.' A long time ago.

  'What are you now?' the girl asked, more boldly this time.

  Edie thought about it. Finally she said, ‘Saunerk.' A bone.

  Ever since Joe died, she had felt like the framework of some unfinished soul. The children laughed and led her to the store, diving about, shouting 'saunerk, saunerk'.

  Inside, the cashier, a thick-set Inuk with a bloodless- looking face, followed her around the aisles, keeping a few paces behind, pretending to be assessing the stock. She in turn pretended not to notice him, casually picking out another box of ammunition, some rope, a flensing knife, and another plastic jerry can for water, then adding to this a large tin of syrup, a few pieces of cinder toffee and some tea bags.

  'Going hunting?' he said, ringing up her things.

  'You could say that.'

  The man began packing her purchases into a plastic bag. He looked up and met her eye. The look was not friendly.

  He handed her the change from her shopping, pressing the coins into the palm of her hand so hard they left little rings.

  The children were standing outside the store, wearing hopeful expressions. She pulled the toffee from her bag and watched them reach out for it, whooping and racing away.

  She carried the shopping back to the Zodiac without running into anyone else. Apart from the children, the settlement seemed dead. From the numbers of seabirds and the sheltered coves she could tell that it would be good hunting here. The locals were probably out, stocking up their meat caches in time for the dark period.

  The thought brought on a wave of homesickness. This time last year she would have been out seal hunting with Joe. Now instead she was hunting for the truth and that was like hunting a fish in murky water with nothing but your hands. You could never see the whole of it, only little flashes here and there, and when you reached out, it slid from your grasp.

  The turf and sod huts of Etah, long since abandoned, lay at the base of a small fiord surrounded by mountainous crags whose multiple erosions provided the nesting ledges and coves for dovekies. Like those further south at Siorapaluk, the birds were preparing to return to sea, but for now their presence created a tremendous noise and stink. Anyone on land would not hear the noise of the engine over the great chorus of bird chatter. To be on the safe side, Edie cut the engine anyway, and carried on with the oars.

  At the far end of the fiord, a launch bobbed at anchor, its keeper tied several times around a boulder on the beach. Of the two Russians there was no sign. She found a small concavity in the cliffs with a long, concealed strip of pebbled beach, hauled the Zodie beyond the tide line and tied up to a nearby rock with a buntline hitch. She meant to find the men and then, what?

  What would she do with them then? Kill them? If they had killed Joe, she would pull the trigger without a second thought. But in her heart she already knew it wouldn't be like that. She suspected that whatever she had stumbled upon was bigger than Taylor and Wagner, bigger even than Joe. Most likely the Russians were minor players, grunts in some huge and complex enterprise that would eventually render the Arctic the same as everywhere else, a landscape held to ransom by human need.

  She imagined corralling the men into the launch at gunpoint, taking them the fifty kilometres across open water to Ellesmere. Then what? They'd still be hundreds of kilometres from the nearest settlement. Perhaps she could leave them there, tied up, and head down to Autisaq to fetch help. But abandoning them like that would make them hopelessly vulnerable to wolves and bear.

  She thought once more of Joe. She was pretty sure now that he'd witnessed Andy Taylor's death and someone had murdered him to keep him quiet. What she couldn't work out was how they had managed it. A plane landing or even an unfamiliar snowmobile arriving in the settlement would have been spotted and reported.

  Felix Wagner came to mind, then the zig-zag footprint with the ice bear at its heart. Everything pointed to the possibility that the Russians, or at least their handlers at Beloil, had an accomplice in Autisaq. Which meant that whoever had killed Joe was someone he knew. The thought winded her. How could anyone who knew the man believe that Joe would have taken his
life? The betrayal made her nauseous.

  The light was fading now and the sky was too cloudy for the sun to break through. A sudden feeling of exhaustion swept over her and it struck Edie that she had not slept a whole night since Joe died. For now, she needed to rest. Finding the men would be easy, she was sure of that. In all this vast space there was nowhere to hide from eyes who knew what to look for. They would have left traces, prints in the muskeg, disturbances of the willow and old fire circles.

  Creeping back across the shale, Edie clambered into the Zodie. Tonight she would sleep inside the boat with the tarp pulled over the top.

  She woke with the strong sense that someone was holding something to her head. Then she registered the gun. The man on the other end was the skinny Russian who had landed in Autisaq a few months before, claiming to want to hunt duck. She'd seen him strolling along the road towards the store. It was a relief, in a way, to know her search was over. This was the encounter she had been hoping for, albeit not in quite the manner she'd imagined. Her hunch had been right.

  'Sleep well, Maggie Kiglatuk?'

  It was so obvious, she kicked herself. Hans had had second thoughts and betrayed her to Moller who had taken the precaution of phoning his clients. In her mind she hastily reassembled what little information she'd given the two pilots. Had she provided them with any reason at all to connect her to their activities on Craig? No, she was sure not. Immediately, she felt a lot calmer. They would presume she was one of the protestors against the grave digging, someone with family in the area who was keen to protect a burial site. So long as they didn't connect her to Autisaq or to Craig itself, she wouldn't be enough of a threat for them to want to see her dead.

  The man motioned her out of the boat. Behind him stood the blond, who had strange iceberg eyes, his hands on the Zodiac's outboard motor. She saw him pull out the fuel hose from the tank. He fired up the engine cord and the machine sputtered, roared for a short while then fell dead.