“Even a sledgehammer wouldn’t do us a lot of good on that hatch,” Roman replied.
Undeterred, Bojorquez began attacking the locked hatch lever with the small tool. Soon the tap-tap-tap of the pounding hammer became a constant accompaniment to the creaking sounds of the moving barge. Men lined up to have a go at the hammer, mostly out of boredom, or in an attempt to warm themselves from the exertion. Against the incessant rapping, Murdock’s voice suddenly raised over the din.
“The tow ship is slowing.”
“Cease the hammering,” Roman ordered.
Ahead of them, they could hear the engines of the icebreaker slow their deep-throated drone. A few minutes later, the engines dropped to an idle, then the barge bumped against a stationary object. Listening in silence, the men anxiously hoped that their frozen imprisonment was over.
59
THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY ISLANDS appeared as a mass of buff-colored hills rising above the choppy slate waters. The islands were christened by the explorer Roald Amundsen in 1905, during his epic voyage on the Gjoa, when he became the first man to successfully navigate the length of the Northwest Passage. Remote and forgotten for over a century, the islands remained a footnote until a freelance exploration company f
ound an exposed deposit of zinc on West Island and sold its claims to Mid-America.
The Mid-America mining camp was built on a wide cove along the island’s rugged southern coast, which zigzagged with numerous inlets and lagoons. A naturally formed deepwater channel allowed large ships to access the cove, providing that the sea ice had vanished for the season. The company had built a three-hundred-foot semifloating dock that stretched from the cove, sitting empty and alone amid the chunks of ice bobbing in the surrounding waters.
Zak had the captain pull to the dock while he scanned the shoreline through a pair of binoculars. He viewed a pair of prefabricated buildings perched beneath a small bluff alongside a gravel road that ran inland a short distance. The windows of the buildings were dark, and piles of drifting snow could be seen accumulated in the doorways. Satisfied that the facility was still abandoned from the winter shutdown, he had the Otok tie up to the dock.
“Have the team of geologists assembled and put ashore,” Zak instructed the captain. “I want to know the mineral content of the ore they are extracting here, as well as the geology of the general area.”
“I believe the team is anxious to get ashore,” the captain quipped, having seen a number of the geologists suffering from seasickness in the galley.
“Captain, I had a large package sent to the ship before I arrived. Did you receive a delivery in Tuktoyaktuk?”
“Yes, a crate was taken aboard there. I had it placed in the forward hold.”
“Please have it delivered to my cabin. It contains some materials that I’ll need on shore,” he said.
“I’ll have it taken care of right away. What about our captives on the barge? They’re probably near death,” he said, eyeing a digital thermometer on the console that indicated the outside temperature was five degrees.
“Ah yes, our frozen Americans. I’m sure their disappearance has a few people excited by now,” Zak said with an arrogant tone. “Toss them some food and blankets, I suppose. It may still do for us to keep them alive.”
While the geologists made their way ashore accompanied by an armed security team, Zak stepped down to his cabin. His package, a metal-skinned trunk toting a heavy padlock, sat waiting for him on the carpeted floor. Inside was a carefully organized array of fuses and detonators, along with enough dynamite to flatten a city block. Zak selected a few of the items and placed them in a small satchel, then relocked the trunk. Slipping into a heavy parka, he made his way to the main deck and was about to step off the ship when a crewman stopped him.
“You have a call on the bridge. The captain asks that you come right away.”
Zak took a companionway to the bridge, where he found the captain talking on a secure satellite telephone.
“Yes, he’s right here,” the captain said, then turned and handed the phone to Zak.
The testy voice of Mitchell Goyette blared through the earpiece.
“Zak, the captain tells me that you are tied up at the Mid-America facility.”
“That’s right. They haven’t initiated their summer operations yet, so the place is empty. I was just on my way to make sure they stay out of commission for the season.”
“Excellent. The way things are heating up in Ottawa, I doubt an American would even be able to set foot up there.” Goyette’s greed began to chime in. “Try not to destroy any infrastructure that might be useful for me when I purchase the lot at a fire-sale price,” he said with a snort.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zak replied.
“Tell me, what have you learned about the ruthenium?”
“The geologists are just now making an initial survey around the mining camp. But we’re presently on the south side of the island, and the trader’s map indicated that the Inuit mine was located on the north coast. We’ll reposition there in a few hours.”
“Very well. Keep me apprised.”
“There is something you should be aware of,” Zak replied, dropping the bombshell. “We have the American crew of the Polar Dawn in our captivity.”