Arctic Drift (Dirk Pitt 20)

Murdock could do nothing but grimace. “The helm is yours,” he said finally, standing aside.

True to his claim, Carpenter expertly guided the Polar Dawn through the strait and across the western reaches of Coronation Gulf, nosing into the small port of Kugluktuk eight hours later. A small contingent of Royal Canadian Mounted Police lined the dock as the ship tied up at a large industrial wharf. The Manitoba, which had shadowed the Polar Dawn all the way to port, tooted its horn from out in the bay, then turned and headed back into the gulf.

The Polar Dawn’s crew was rounded up and marched off the cutter to a white dockside building that had formerly been a fish house, its weathered exterior peeling and blistered. Inside, several rows of makeshift bunks had been hastily set up to accommodate the imprisoned crew. The men were confined in relative comfort, however, their captors providing warm food, cold beer, and books and videos for entertainment. Murdock approached the Mountie in charge, a towering man with ice blue eyes.

“How long are we to be confined here?” the captain asked.

“I don’t really know myself. All I can tell you is that our government is demanding an apology and reparations for the destruction of the Beaufort Sea ice camp and an acknowledgment that the Northwest Passage is rightly part of Canada’s internal waters. It’s up to your government leaders to respond. Your men will be treated with all consideration, but I must warn you not to attempt an escape. We have been authorized to use force as necessary.”

Murdock nodded, suppressing a smile. The request, he knew, would go over in Washington like a lead balloon.

48

PITT HAD JUST STEPPED OFF A COMMERCIAL AIRLINE flight to Calgary when news of the Polar Dawn’s seizure hit the newswires. Mobs of passengers were crowded around airport televisions, trying to digest the impact of the event. Pitt stopped and watched briefly as a Canadian political commentator called for a shutdown of all oil, gas, and hydroelectric power exports to the U.S. until they agreed to Canada’s ownership of the Northwest Passage. Pitt stepped to a quiet corner by an empty gate and dialed a direct number to the Vice President’s office. A secretary immediately put the call through, and the businesslike voice of James Sandecker burst through the phone in an irritated tone.

“Make it quick, Dirk. I’ve got my hands full with this Canada situation,” he barked without preamble.

“I just caught the news here in Calgary,” Pitt replied.

“That’s a long ways from Washington. What are you doing in Calgary? ”

“Waiting for a flight to Yellowknife and then a puddle jumper to Tuktoyaktuk. The Narwhal has been sitting in port there since picking up the survivors of the Canadian Ice Lab.”

“That’s what started this whole mess. I’d like to get my hands on the real joker who smashed up that camp. In the meantime, you better get that vessel out of Canadian waters pronto, then return to Washington.”

“Rudi’s on his way back to D.C. with a directive to suspend all NUMA research projects around Canada and immediately move our vessels to neutral waters. I’ve just got a special job up here to close down personally.”

“This have anything to do with that pet science project your pretty wife keeps haranguing me about?”

Bless Loren’s heart, Pitt thought. She had already gone after the old man.

“Yes, it does. We need to find the source of the ore, Admiral.”

The line went silent, but Pitt could hear some papers being shuffled at the other end.

“Loren writes a bang-up policy paper,” Sandecker finally grunted. “Like to have her on my staff if she ever gets tired of serving in Congress.”

“I’m afraid her constituents wouldn’t let her.”

“This ruthenium . . . it’s the real deal?”

“Yes, conclusively proven. And there’s somebody else in the hunt for it, which confirms its worth.”

“If it can make this artificial photosynthesis fly, then it would be invaluable. I can’t begin to tell you how bad things are economically because of the energy crunch. The President’s carbon mandate puts us on even more of a tightrope. If we don’t find a way out, then we’re headed for a full-blown meltdown.”

“Finding the mineral might be our only chance,” Pitt replied.

“Loren’s cover letter says there may be a source linked to the lost Franklin Expedition?”

“There are some compelling clues in that direction. It seems to be the only real lead to a near-term supply of the mineral.”

“And you want to conduct a search?”

“Yes.”

“This is some poor timing on your part, Dirk.”

“Can’t be helped. It’s too important not to try. And it’s too important to come up second. I’d just like to know where things are headed with the Polar Dawn.”