A Blizzard of Polar Bears, page 27
Right now, his permits were being held up due to environmental review because they were in sensitive polar bear habitat. Before plans for the platforms could move forward, more data needed to be collected on the status of the Western Hudson Bay polar bear population, which was one of the populations known to be in decline.
Alex leaned back in her seat. She knew that in 2008, the polar bear had been listed under the Endangered Species Act in the U.S. But ironically, though climate change was the biggest threat to their survival, the fossil fuel industry was exempted from any responsibility, and was not required to change its practices to curb emissions. Though you couldn’t hunt polar bears in some parts of Canada, they had no protection against climate change and the fossil fuel industry. If the polar bears’ listing was strengthened and this time the industry was held accountable, it would have profound effects on White’s empire. CO2 emissions would have to be cut. Not only would his empire be held back from further expansion, but the energy concerns he already held, from his coal-fired plants to his fracking and oil extraction operations, would be impacted as well.
White knew that gathered data on polar bears wouldn’t do anything but hurt his cause. He wanted to push his projects through before more studies could be submitted.
Alex knew from experience that he could well be successful.
She continued to read through the records on the flash drive. White had bribed officials to block Sonia’s repeated requests to undertake polar bear research there. He’d also blocked other researchers’ proposals to study not just polar bears, but sea ice extent and narwhal and beluga population studies.
Alex suspected that if the Canadian Minister of Environment and Climate Change hadn’t taken a personal interest in polar bears, Sonia’s permits still wouldn’t have gone through this season.
White must be fuming that Alex was out here. And he’d done so much to obstruct her efforts at every turn. She didn’t doubt he was behind the sabotage of the helicopter. But once again she wondered why the snowmobilers hadn’t taken the samples. Was it possible they weren’t connected? That the snowmobilers were only after the cipher?
Alex leaned back, exhaling in disbelief at the contents of the flash drive. Whatever waited for her and Sasha at the coordinates could be even more evidence of Paul White’s corruption. And it was something she knew he would kill to hide.
She logged on to her iCloud account and uploaded the entire contents of the flash drive, then emailed them to Zoe and her dad.
Sasha slowed the motor. “There’s a pretty intense storm coming. Visibility’s going to be shot. I think we need to drop anchor for a while. Let it pass. Besides, I don’t want to come upon whatever this is in the dark. We don’t know what we’re looking for. I say we catch a few hours of sleep and check the weather again at first light.”
Alex agreed. Her eyes burned with exhaustion. As much as she wanted to find out what was out there, she knew it was smarter to wait.
Sasha dropped anchor. Even in the dark, Alex could see the glowing white sheet of ice a few hundred yards to the northeast of where they bobbed on the water. Most of the bay was still covered in ice as expected, but sections of open water now ran along the coast. Ice had been shrinking year after year.
Sasha offered her the second bunk in the cabin and they retired. Now Alex lay down in the darkness, the swell of the waves gently rocking the boat. She felt her head, finding a large knot now where she’d hit the window. She closed her burning eyes and tried to still her mind.
But it was a tangle of thoughts. Paul White, Neil’s murder, Casey’s strange confession. She lay awake, listening to the even breathing of Sasha, worried she’d never be able to get to sleep. But finally, lulled by the motion of the boat, she dropped off and drifted into a fitful slumber.
Thirty-Seven
Alex awoke to a faint glow spilling in through the cabin. Cracks of light glowed around the edges of the curtain. She looked at her watch: 10:30 a.m. She’d slept longer and deeper than she’d expected.
Stretching, she glanced over at the other bunk, finding it empty. From the tranquil rocking of the boat, she suspected they were still anchored. She crawled down from the berth and climbed up the stairs to the deck. Her head swam with the movement. She gingerly felt where she’d slammed into the 4Runner’s window, finding the lump there even bigger now.
A gray day had dawned, the world misty and mysterious beyond the boat. The fog was so thick that it curled around the bow and stern of the Uruk, lending a soft aura of mystery to the scene.
Sasha stood at the helm and smiled over her shoulder as Alex appeared at the top of the stairs. “Needless to say, we’re still in the same spot,” she said to Alex. “I made some coffee.”
Alex moved to the tiny kitchen and poured a cup. It was so strong that when she added cream, the coffee barely changed color. She took a sip and sat down at the table. The warm liquid felt comforting going down her throat, even if it was bitter.
Beyond the window, the gray waters of the bay lapped against the side of the boat. Flurries cascaded down, dusting the boat’s deck and rails.
“We’re stuck here for a while.” Sasha joined her at the table and they fell into conversation. With a deep sadness, Sasha regaled her with tales of dives she and Rex had done together.
“I can’t believe he’s gone. We’ve been dive partners for over thirty years. Discovered wrecks in the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean. The Pacific. We even have a few great pieces in the British Museum, including an intact Greek statue of Artemis.”
“What were you searching for out here?”
Sasha smiled ruefully. “Believe it or not, Viking longships.”
Alex was taken aback. “What?”
“Rex believed they sailed into Hudson Bay. It’s not that crazy when you think about it. From Greenland to Newfoundland was only a few days’ sail for them. Vikings had explored all over Europe and the Atlantic, as far south as Morocco. It actually makes more sense that they explored more of North America than we think. It’s not like their adventurous spirit would have suddenly stopped when they reached Newfoundland. Especially when you consider the latest scientific thinking. They now believe that the Newfoundland site at L’Anse aux Meadows was occupied for as long as a century.”
Sasha wiped away another tear. “Anyway, I think Rex was right. I think they probably did come down this way. Check this out.” She moved to one of the drawers. She slid it open, revealing rolled-up charts, a compass, and a wide, rusted piece of metal. She pulled it out. It was a badly corroded ax-head. “Rex bought this off a fisherman. It’s fourteenth century. Guess where he found it?”
“Greenland?”
“Minnesota.”
“What?”
“Yep. Rex was home visiting family and he met a fisherman who said he found it on a riverbank there. It really captured Rex’s imagination that the Vikings might have made it that far west. Maybe the ax-head had been placed there in recent times. Maybe it was a hoax. But maybe not. Rex became obsessed after that. Thought if he could prove it, he’d go down in history along with the Ingstads, who discovered L’Anse aux Meadows. So we started looking here.” She smiled, a bittersweet expression, and placed the ax gently back into the drawer. Then she turned to Alex. “Just before I lost contact with him, he’d radioed to me onshore. He’d found a wreck, one that matched the dimensions of a Viking longship. He was too excited to wait for me to come out. He dove alone. It was the last I heard from him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
They lapsed into silence, finishing the last of the coffee.
Finally the fog began to lift and the snow stopped. A wind picked up, carrying away the rest of the mist. The sun peeked out above a bank of clouds, adding a golden light to the world around them. Alex could see now that they were anchored not too far offshore, floating in a narrow strip of water between wild, untamed land and a world of ice.
“I think we can get going.” She pulled up the anchor and fired up the motor. They headed south now, moving parallel to the ice.
Alex looked at the boat’s GPS. “To the south of here is Wapusk National Park. That’s where the female polar bears go to have cubs in peat dens. They’re the only polar bears in the world to den on land.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They dig into the earth. Even males use the dens during the summer, when the biting insects get so bad they need some relief. The bears just keep digging them, making them deeper and deeper. Some dens go back a considerable distance and are hundreds of years old.”
“Wow!”
“I’d love to be here in the summer to see that.”
“Do you think you’ll stay?”
“I think so.”
They motored on, lapsing into silence. Alex watched the sonar display showing their depth and objects on the bay’s floor. “Is this how you search for wrecks?”
“Yes. It’s one of the ways. Usually we search through historic records and try to narrow down a location.” She laughed. “But Rex had this bee in his bonnet about Vikings in North America, and there aren’t a lot of historical records of that. We’ve been here since last summer. So we took to trolling around, eyes glued to the sonar. We were saving up for an ROV—a submersible remotely operated vehicle we could program to go down and check out wrecks in deeper water.” Sasha wiped quickly at her eyes and looked away out the window. Her chin quivered.
“Are you okay?”
She sniffed. “I just want to get these bastards.” She returned her gaze to the helm and checked the receiver. “We’re almost there.”
Alex peered over her shoulder, seeing how close they’d drawn to the blinking light. Shielding her eyes against the bright sky, she searched the horizon. She’d expected to see a ship or some kind of floating cargo, but only open water met her gaze, and the white expanse of ice to their left.
Sasha slowed the boat, moving along at a slow clip as they closed the distance. According to the receiver, they were almost on top of it. Alex scanned the water, finding no vessel or wreckage or anything but water.
Then she spotted it, something small tossing on the waves. She pointed it out. “There!”
Sasha cut the motor and they glided the last few feet. Bobbing on the surface was the beacon. It was a small device, two feet or so in diameter, with a blinking light. Alex reached over the railing and managed to grab it. But when she pulled, she found that it was attached to a long thin cable that descended into the depths.
Sasha joined her at the railing, examining the beacon.
“It’s attached to something below. Cargo?” Alex suggested.
Sasha cocked an eyebrow. “Could be. Smugglers sometimes dump contraband at sea, marking it with a beacon like this for later recovery.”
Alex tugged on the cable, hoping that whatever it was could be hefted up. The cable wouldn’t budge. “It’s heavy. How deep are we here?”
Sasha moved to her depth gauge. “Seventy-two feet. Let me check the sonar.” Alex joined Sasha beneath the sonar monitor. The red and yellow display showed a shelf that fell off sharply into deeper water. A boatlike shape lay near the edge, close to the drop-off.
Sasha studied the display. “It’s a vessel of some kind. Looks about forty feet long.” A slender shape suddenly appeared on the display, moving under the boat. Sasha pointed it out. “Seal.” Another shape swam by. “A couple of them.” A bigger mass moved through the display. “School of fish. The seals are hunting.” The three shapes moved off the screen and didn’t come back.
Alex studied the vessel’s shape as it rested on the shelf. “Any idea what it is?”
Sasha shook her head. “Rex and I mapped the location of about six wrecks. But this wasn’t one of them. It’s too bad we never got that ROV.” She bit her lip and went quiet.
Alex placed a comforting hand on her back. She looked up at the sonar display. “Do you think maybe this is the wreck that he found that last day?”
Sasha shook her head. “The coordinates are different. And this is too small to be a Viking longship. This is something else.”
Alex squinted at the sonar display. If the vessel down below was valuable, someone might kill to keep the discovery to themselves. But White was already wealthy beyond anything someone could spend in a lifetime. She thought back to the photo on the magazine cover, showing all of the artifacts on the shelf behind him. He was a collector of antiquities. And Rex’s dive bag had indeed contained corroded artifacts that, when cleaned, could well be Viking in origin. Whether they’d been planted there recently or were actually part of an ancient Viking expedition would remain to be proven.
“We’ll have to dive,” Alex said.
Sasha pursed her lips and regarded Alex dubiously.
“What’s wrong?”
“You know how I mentioned that bout with the bends?”
“Yes.”
Sasha peered out at the water. “It was really bad. I . . . I don’t think I can go out there again. It was the latest in a long line of mishaps.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed, leaning a hip against the helm. “I got hung up on a wreck a couple years ago. I actually drowned. Rex got me to the surface, managed to resuscitate me. And this last time? Had the bends something terrible. I had to spend hours in a decompression chamber. And I’m claustrophobic. I panicked in there.” She shook her head, dispelling the memory. “I lost my nerve after that. Haven’t been down since.”
Alex had dived a few times, short dives off Kauai when she was on vacation during graduate school, and several times off the coast of Svalbard. Nothing extensive. But these were unusual circumstances. “Do you have scuba equipment on board?”
“Yes. I’ve still got all my gear. Do you dive?”
“I’ve done cold-water dives a few times.” She remembered the incredibly thick, bulky dry suit she had to wear in Svalbard. Nothing like the lightweight wet suits she’d donned in Hawaii.
“We’re about the same size and weight. I think my dry suit and weights should be pretty good for you.” Sasha stared down into the depths. “I’ll run things from up here. I guess if you get into trouble, I could go down there. I’ve got some spare gear.” She met Alex’s eyes. “But don’t get into trouble. You hear?”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” She stared over the edge of the boat. “Let’s do it. If White shows up or any of his goons, I’d feel better with someone topside anyway.” The thought of being down in the cold and dark when those men showed up sent a zing of fear skittering down her back.
Suddenly she felt claustrophobic.
“Don’t stay down for too long,” Sasha warned her. “My dry suit is pretty good for water this cold, but don’t take any chances.”
They went to work suiting Alex up. Sasha outfitted her with a dry suit, a tank, fins, a mask, a dive knife and bag, a strong flashlight with a pistol grip and wrist strap, and a dive computer.
Twenty minutes later, Alex sat on the edge of the boat, ready to go into the water. She took one last opportunity to scan the horizon for any sign of White or his men. No other boats were out. The white expanse of ice in the distance was unmarred by moving vehicles. All she could hear was the wind and the lapping of waves against the hull of the boat.
Alex swung her legs over the side of the boat and gently lowered herself into the frigid water.
Thirty-Eight
Alex felt cold water press in around her as she descended into the bay, the diving light’s beam piercing the darkness below. As she kicked, her leg pulsed with pain where the poacher had shot her.
Checking her depth gauge, she swam downward, following the thin cable that was attached to the beacon above. A mottled ringed seal dashed by her, curious. She paused in the water, watching it trek by, stopping to stare at her. Then she continued on her way.
Soon the floor of the bay came into view. She spotted something shining in the silt at the bottom and swam for it. She was taken aback to see that it was a gleaming mask. It looked Incan in design. Apparently made of gold, no corrosion covered it, and she couldn’t tell how long it had been down there. Another shiny object caught her eye, and she swam over to it. A sack of Spanish doubloons flashed in the sediment, spilling out onto the seafloor. She reached for them, sifting through the coins. There were at least twenty of them. Then she came upon a metal box that had opened from wave action. Even more Spanish doubloons were inside. But the box looked steel and modern.
A huge dark shape loomed nearby, and she swam toward it, following a trail of treasure. She spotted a number of bags and opened them, finding cut diamonds, emeralds, sapphires. Other gold artifacts lay haphazardly about, some Egyptian, others Mesopotamian with inlaid lapis lazuli.
The looming shape took form in the gloom—a yacht, and one that looked brand-new. An explosion had torn through its portside, leaving a gaping hole. Treasure spilled out through the hole: gold statues of Egyptian and Mayan design, intricate jade carvings. She swam to the boat, sifting through the treasure as she went. She swam around to the starboard side, finding it undamaged. Here the yacht balanced precariously on the edge of the steep drop-off. Alex felt a little disconcerted staring down into those dark depths.
As much as she logically knew no sinister creature prowled the depths of Hudson Bay, she’d always had a bit of an irrational fear of deep, murky water. When she’d dived off the coast of Kauai, it hadn’t been sharks she was afraid of but undiscovered sea monsters. She’d swum over those reefs, occasionally coming upon dark cracks that made her realize just how deep the water was that she was swimming over. Cracks in the reef where tentacles could snake out and grab her.
She brushed those thoughts away, knowing it wasn’t helping her frame of mind as she hovered over the blackness. As she came around the rear of the boat, she confirmed a suspicion she’d had since they first saw the shape on the sonar screen. It was one of Paul White’s yachts: White Knight.
