White Heat

by Melanie McGrath

  She flipped the memory card from the camera and dropped it in her pocket, then hurried back along the path.

  By the time she reached the beach some of the cloud cover had gone and the moonlight was reflecting off the sea, producing a dank silver light. She made her way to the Zodiac and pushed off the beach.

  Soon she was rowing in a strong, helpful current towards the launch. She tied up, pushed the oars, her backpack, jerry cans of sweet water and the cans of pemmican she'd bought in Siorapaluk onto the deck of the launch and hauled herself up.

  The outboard was a Johnson 150hp, an unfamiliar model. A large, fit man might pull-start something that big, but she would have to take off the keyswitch and hope the wires were labelled. For that she would need a screwdriver.

  She looked about the deck for some tools then remembering her hunting knife in the backpack she found the blade in the pocket where she'd left it. Her jaw pulsed and thrummed. Quickly, she rummaged through her things, looking for something to bandage around her jaw to stabilize it.

  It was then she remembered her wallet. She'd definitely had it with her, but it didn't seem to be in the backpack. She was sure the Russians hadn't touched the bag, so then, where was it? A memory bubbled to the surface. Of course! She'd taken it from her pack when she paid for her food at Siorapaluk then put it back in the pocket of her parka. It must have fallen out at the Russians' camp. She had all her money in it, but she didn't need that now. Tucked into a side pocket was a photo of Joe and with a jolt she realized that the other pocket held her guiding licence, on which was neatly written her name and address.

  The sun would rise again soon and the Russians would wake and find her gone. If they found the wallet they would immediately make the connection to Autisaq. She had no doubt then that they would come after her.

  She moved quickly to the outboard and pulled the starter cable, but she wasn't strong enough to get up enough speed on the cable to get the engine firing. Moving back to the wheel column, she pulled out the rope that had been wound around her ankles, and began to tie a length from the wheel to a cleat at the edge of the seating bay, so that when the engine started, the launch would steer true while she made her way from the outboard. On the wheel column she could see that someone had hung a key on a little hook. She picked it up and inspected it, moving once more to the stern. The key slotted straight into the starter. Whoever owned the boat had kept the spare on hand.

  She moved over to the anchor winch and hauled it up, checked the tow line to the Zodie then stepped along the deck to the Johnson. Freed from its anchor, the launch began to drift and pitch. Above the wind and the slap of the water, she could hear the flutter of her pulse. Edie looked out to sea. The Canadian border lay fifteen kilometres into the gloom. Beyond that, at the same distance, lay Ellesmere Island and between herself and it, the most dangerous waterway on the planet.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  The launch moved slowly past the shore-fast ice into the band of water just off the coast where there was only fragmented year-long ice. For a while it hit a particularly strong band of current and seemed to be going nowhere. The pain in Edie's jaw was excruciating now. Not for the first time since she had arrived in Greenland, she was afraid.

  At Siorapaluk she turned the launch to the west. The wind was steady but low and coming from the northeast, and the current pulled against the little boat and dragged at the Zodie behind. It was tempting to go with it, but Edie knew that it would be a mistake to turn south until she was nearing the ice foot on the eastern coast of Ellesmere.

  Further out into the channel, the launch began to encounter larger floes and the leads between them became smaller and more transient. The little boat slapped against the water, grinding its way every so often across a thin patch of soupy ice, each judder and shake rattling her bruised and swollen jaw. The coast of Greenland was nothing more than a dark stain in the sky now, and Ellesmere not yet visible through the low cirrus cloud and frost smoke. A voice told her that Inuit did not move away from the sight of land, that she was taking a crazy risk, but she knew that to turn back to Greenland would bring a world of trouble on her head. She had stolen a gun and a boat. Worse, if the Russians had found her wallet and connected their trip to Autisaq to her arrival in Etah she had no doubt that they would track her down.

  There was no radio on the launch and from its age and condition Edie guessed it belonged to a local hunter. The Russians almost certainly didn't want the attention a fancier boat might have prompted. She doubted that the launch had ever been expected to make this crossing. Already it had begun to moan and a faint grinding sound issued from the engine.

  It had been a warm summer, the ice pack in the North Water was much more fragmented than usual and as the current passed through the narrowest strait at Smith Sound there was a stretch of chaotic swell where the moving floes were at their most active. If she misjudged her moment, the launch could be crushed in seconds.

  In all her thirty-three years, Edie Kiglatuk had never heard of an Inuk making the crossing alone by boat. Even in navigation season, hulls and engines were always in danger of icing over. If the engine seized, she'd have to lift it from the water and find something to chip at the ice. If the hull iced, in all likelihood the pressure would crack the bulkhead and the launch would go down. Then she would be dependent on the Zodie.

  There was no choice but to try to come in close to Alexandra. South of the Prince of Wales Icefield she was much more likely to run into icebergs and at this time of year the freshwater ice was at its most unstable. A large berg had only to turn over or to shatter and she would find herself in a swell ten metres high.

  At Alexandra she would have to use the current to drift south, close to the Ellesmere shore, and save her fuel supplies for the journey into Jones Sound. She had to pray that the weather would stay clement or that she would run into a walrus-hunting party off the Ellesmere coast.

  Whichever way you looked at it, the trip was daunting.

  Further into the channel the swell stiffened, waving foamy flags as it rose and fell. The air grew as cold as winter, a bone-dry cold, which meant that, for the time being at least, there would be no blizzard.

  Looking out across the sea Edie saw a cluster of empty plastic bottles rafting about on the swell, remnants of the garbage gyre dumped by the Arctic Princess. For a while she followed the drift of trash, noting the turns of the currents, until finally her eyes reached the horizon and she spotted in the sky above it a soft darkening, signalling land. It came to her in a fierce flash of longing then that Ellesmere was somewhere just beyond her vision, and in that moment nothing was real to her except home and how to reach it.

  Whether it was a change in the vibration of the water below the launch or something in the air she could not say, but Edie's hunter's instincts detected a vessel approaching long before anything came into view. Best case, it was nothing, a trawler, maybe, or a scientific vessel. Worst case, the Russians. Cranking up the engine as much as she dared given the ice conditions, she set the launch due west and locked the wheel.

  By the time the vessel came into plain sight it was already close: an icebreaker looming out of the mist like some giant, malevolent whale. The ship's horn blasted a warning. She thought about increasing the throttle, but conditions were treacherous. If she hit a floe at speed the launch would peel open like a tin can. In seconds, she'd find herself head down in the freezing water without so much as a lifejacket.

  In the end, she decided there was no point in trying to run away. It was hopeless. She was like a harp seal in the presence of a hungry bear. All she could do was kill the engine and pray.

  Soon after, the ship slowed and for a few minutes an odd, thick silence filled the space between its massive hull and the launch. Her eye was drawn to movement on deck. She squinted, struggling to get a better look. They were lowering a Zodie into the water.

  The livery of the Canadian Coastguard came slowly through the low mist. Her heart lifted
. At least she'd made it as far as Canada without the Russians catching up with her. The high-pitched pulse of the winch stopped and was replaced by the sound of an outboard. The yellow outline of the satellite vessel emerged from the mist.

  As the craft drew close, the moving shadows devolved into the shapes of six men. The helmsman cut his engine and for a moment the vessel drifted on the current. Edie stood motionless on deck. One of the men waved his arms. Another man was standing beside him now: he appeared to be looking at her through a pair of binoculars. The first man stretched behind him and brought out a megaphone but the sound that reached her was that of a fox barking. She raised her hands to show them she was not armed.

  ‘Are you alone?'

  She nodded.

  The man with the binoculars moved closer to his fellow, who leaned into his megaphone again.

  'This is the Canadian Coastguard. We are authorized to board your vessel. If you resist, we will take measures to prevent you leaving the scene.'

  They drew alongside and a man threw a rope on deck and motioned for her to secure it for boarding. The two men and two armed guards jumped on deck. One of the armed men wound the sheet around a cleat then caught a second rope and tied the two vessels together.

  The unarmed man who had spoken through the megaphone started to talk. Edie knew the words but they didn't seem to get through to her. She noticed that the man's eyes were two different colours, one hazel, and the other green.

  'Do you speak English? NakinngaqpinT Where do you come from?

  'Autisaq.'

  One of the armed men did a quick tour of the launch, came back shaking his head.

  'Alone?' The man with the odd eyes gave Edie a quizzical look and held up one finger. ‘Ui, husband?'

  She replied in Inuktitut: ‘Uiggatuk, no husband.' The man leaned back on his hips, shot her a puzzled look and repeated what she'd just said, unable to get his head around it.

  Edie sighed. 'Look, sailor-man,' she said in English. 'I'm divorced, OK? It's not unknown. Now, what do you want?'

  One of the armed men sneezed away a snigger.

  The man introduced himself as Lieutenant Fisher. 'This launch yours?'

  'It is now,' she said.

  The two unarmed men looked at each other. Fisher seemed unconvinced.

  'I got it from a Greenlander,' she said. This much at least was true.

  'Mind if I see your papers, ma'am?' Fisher over- enunciated the words, as though talking to a baby. He'd noticed her jaw and was wondering whether to say anything about it.

  Edie said: 'You own a vehicle, mister?' Fisher shrugged and averted his eyes. 'If a bunch of men with semiautomatic weapons turned up on your doorstep asking you where you got your vehicle, what you gonna say?'

  Fisher took a large breath and cringed as the freezing air filled his lungs. Clueless, Edie thought.

  'That Zodie yours too?'

  'How d'you think I got over to Qaanaaq?' She wondered if she could ask for a ride, without arousing anyone's suspicions. A tow would be good. Save time, gas, give her some protection till she got into home waters.

  Fisher peered at the name painted on Zodie's side. 'Arctic Princess?'

  'That's me,' she said.

  Fisher clocked that he'd got a case on his hands and swallowed hard. 'ID?'

  Edie gestured towards her pack and Fisher motioned for his friend to collect it, giving her passport the once over.

  'You need to let customs know you bought the boat,' Fisher said, searching for the appropriate tone of authority.

  He began to wave the armed men back onto the satellite vessel.

  'Before you go,' she said, 'any chance of a tow and a Tylenol?'

  She waited while Fisher spoke into a radio mike. A moment later he reappeared.

  'Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to step on board.'

  An hour later Edie found herself sitting on a plastic chair bolted to the wheelhouse deck, dressed in an oversized track- suit borrowed from ship's supplies, her hands drawn tight with plastic cuffs, doing her best to avoid answering Captain Paul Jonson's questions. Some painkillers they'd given her had reduced her discomfort but made her feel spacey.

  'What happened here?' Jonson was saying. 'In my experience, you people don't steal.'

  'It was more like borrowing,' she said, playing dumb.

  You people. If she was lucky, this Jonson fellow would treat her like a child, rap her on the wrists and let her go. Confiscate the launch maybe, but then he'd have to take her home. Worst case: a trip back to Greenland and straight into the waiting arms of the Russians. One thing Edie knew, if she was going to be any good to Joe, she needed to stay out of jail.

  A flash of pain bit through the analgesic; she lifted her hands to stroke the painful spot.

  'I'll have the medic look at that,' Jonson said, then, gesturing at the burn marks left by the Russians' rope around her wrists, signalled for the guard to remove the cuffs. 'And those. I guess we were a little hard on you, eh?'

  She made a point of rubbing the sore part of her wrists and grimacing, wanting Jonson to feel her pain. He was OK, she thought, rough-looking on the surface, filthy nails and a scraggly beard like a moulting musk ox, but there was a nub of civilization somewhere further in.

  'Honest truth, Miss Kiglatuk, I don't give a bear's ass about the Zodie. Cruise ships have no place up here, you ask me. But when there's a complaint, you know, there are procedures.'

  She'd explained her presence in Greenland as a desire to visit her great-great-great-grandfather's grave. The way she'd woven the story, she'd heard the rumours that a couple of Russian guys might be digging up her ancestor's body. An Inuk couldn't let anyone do that. The shame, the misfortune it would bring, no qalunaat could fully comprehend the horror of it. So she'd taken it upon herself to fly to Qaanaaq to try to stop them, she said. Someone - she didn't volunteer Moller's name - had offered her a free ride back to Nuuk in their plane, then reneged, leaving her with no money and no other choice than to try to get home on her own. She'd sensed then Jonson had some sympathy for her, and made a note to play on it.

  'If all this happened in Canada, we'd have been able to smooth it over,' he said. 'We can get you back to Autisaq, but I'm afraid you'll be under lock and key while you're with us and the authorities will be waiting for you on shore.' He shot her a sympathetic look. 'It's the best I can do.'

  After the sod hut, the holding cell on board the Canadian Coastguard icebreaker Stefansson seemed pretty fancy. There were clean sheets on the bed, a flush toilet and a sink with hot and cold water. The ship's medic made a brief appearance, inspected Edie's jaw and wrists and gave her some strong painkillers.

  At six the guard brought a plate heaped with barbecue ribs and some sweet thing, none of which she could eat. Not long after, he returned to take away the tray and to ask her if there was anything else she needed and when she requested a pen and paper he reappeared with a reporter's notebook and a pencil, apologizing. For some reason he didn't really understand, he said, detainees weren't allowed pens.

  She had planned to spend the remainder of the evening trying to piece together all the information she'd gathered about the Russians, but the painkillers made her first woozy then brought on an exhaustion so deep there was nothing she could do but give in to it. But the sleep didn't last for long, and was replaced by flashbacks and morbid thoughts. She woke with a head full of questions. What was Felix Wagner's connection with Belovsky? Could he have been working for Zemmer and Beloil without either of them knowing at first? Did the Russians find out? What were the salty stones the Russians were looking for among the graves at Qaanaaq? Were there other meteorites, other astroblemes? And if the astrobleme signalled the presence of gas or oil, could it be that salt was the third marker, the roadsign, along with the diaries and the stone? Joe had got in the middle of all this, somehow. Perhaps he was only witness to Andy Taylor's murder, or maybe there was some greater involvement. Edie didn't yet know. Of one thing she was sure, though. Everythin
g came back to a single overriding question: if someone had killed Joe Inukpuk - and she felt in her bones that someone had - then who was it? If she could find out why her stepson was killed, she was sure the answer would lead her to the killer.

  A shrieking sound put an end to her thoughts. Somewhere beneath her, the ship's engines thumped and churned and a dreadful squealing and thudding issued from somewhere at the ship's fore. They were pushing through the floe. Edie went to the door and peered through the peep portal. A thin light shone down the corridor, illuminating the empty space. She turned back towards the cell.

  I need to be home, she thought. I need to talk to Derek Palliser and Mike Nungaq.

  When, some while later, the guard reappeared with a breakfast of eggs, toast and coffee, she asked how long it would be before they were in Autisaq waters and got a shrug in response. He wasn't sure how close to Autisaq they were going. The patrol was already late - they still had to make a scheduled stop at the science station before heading south - and the captain was keen not to delay the hand-over so had arranged for the authorities to rendezvous with the ship in mid-channel. Which authorities, the guard didn't know and he didn't care. He hadn't seen his kid for two months and he didn't appreciate having to stop to pick up people who should know better than to steal launches.

  He came back for her not long after. He was sorry, but the rules specified that Edie would have to be cuffed during the transfer. Personally, the guard said, he thought that was crazy, but then she couldn't really say she hadn't brought it on herself. Edie held out her wrists and went along with it.

  At the wheelhouse, the cuffs came off and a couple of men she hadn't seen before took another statement from her and asked her to sign some forms. At the end of the process, the guard re-attached the cuffs and led her out onto the deck.