A Blizzard of Polar Bears, page 7
Headlights flashed through the windows, and Alex stared out to see an RCMP cruiser pull up. A young constable stepped out. Alex opened the door as he approached. He looked to be in his early twenties, tall, with a long black braid hanging down his back. As he approached, he was just finishing a phone conversation in a fascinating-sounding language she didn’t recognize. She wondered if he was part of the Cree First Nation.
He held out his hand as he entered the Centre, giving her a warm smile. “Police Constable First Class Bighetty.”
She shook his hand. “Alex Carter.”
He took her statement and examined the lab, his kind manner reassuring. “There’s not a lot of crime in Churchill, but we do occasionally have petty theft and drug charges,” he told her. “We’ll keep an eye out for the black SUV, but without a license plate, or even a make or model . . . this will be challenging.”
“If it helps,” she told him, “I don’t think this was a simple theft. If they were looking for money, they could have stolen valuable lab equipment.” She gestured to the stereoscopic microscope and the centrifuge. “Or raided the cash register in the cafeteria or gift shop. But they only took samples and deleted files.”
PC Bighetty closed his little black notebook. “It’s a mystery, for sure,” he told her. “But we’ll keep our eye out for the items you listed.”
Alex didn’t feel very hopeful. And even if she did get them back, she couldn’t trust that the samples wouldn’t be contaminated. She’d have to start over. She hoped she could at least recover her deleted test results.
After the constable left, she sat by herself in the lab, running a data recovery program to no avail. Discouragement took root inside her. The others had long since gone to bed. Feeling disgusted with the events of the evening, she finally drove back to her motel, her mind poring over who would want to sabotage her study.
Seven
Alex stirred from her sleep, feeling low and discouraged. But as she rolled onto her side, she saw sunlight streaming in through the edges of the curtain. She glanced at the clock, seeing that the sun had been up for an hour. She sat up, still a bit hazy, then moved to the window. Pushing aside the curtains, she squinted at an absolutely dazzling day without a cloud in the sky. It had been light for at least an hour and a half. This was a perfect day for flying. Why hadn’t Neil called her? He must be at the Centre with the helicopter, waiting for just this opportunity. She checked her phone. He hadn’t texted.
She called him, and it rang through to voicemail.
Sitting back on the bed, she flipped open her laptop and checked the GFA. It was going to be clear for hours. She hurriedly showered and dressed, then drove to the Centre, half expecting to see the helicopter gone. But it still stood in front of the Centre, ready to go.
She headed through the main doors, hearing the usual buzz of activity around her. She cast around unsuccessfully for Neil, asking a few people in the lab if they’d seen him. Dawn walked by. “I’m surprised you’re not out there today. It’s brilliant.”
“I know. Have you seen Neil or Ilsa?”
The researcher shook her head. “Haven’t seen Ilsa since the last sunny day.” She glanced around. “Or Neil.”
Alex thanked her and moved to the cafeteria, where she ordered a cup of tea. She bought a granola bar and stuffed it in her pocket.
Then she sat down and called Neil again. No answer. She regretted that she’d left the planning details to him. She didn’t have Ilsa’s phone number. Moving off to a quiet table, she checked the forecast again, feeling the time slipping by, wasted.
Then the door swung open and Neil walked in on a swirl of frigid air, his face downcast.
He stomped his boots on the mat. Spotting her, he headed over, frowning. He plunked down in the chair opposite her and leaned forward, concerned. “I heard about the break-in last night. Are you okay?”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Yeah, it was pretty intense.”
“And the guy got away with all our samples?”
“And the test results from my lab work.”
“That’s crazy!” He shrugged out of his coat.
“I know. The cops don’t think we’ll have much luck recovering anything.”
“Damn.” Neil shook his head. “Who the hell could it have been?”
“I have no idea. Someone really wanted that data.”
He bit his lip. “Well, I’ve got some more bad news. We lost our pilot.”
Alex’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“I’ve been at the airport all morning, trying to find a replacement. Called all the charters. No one’s available.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “She just quit. Sent me a text last night.”
“I thought we’d secured her for the duration of the field season. Did she give a reason?”
“She just said she got a better offer and had to take it.”
“Unbelievable.”
“It happens sometimes. Tour companies can pay more than we can. And oil and natural gas extraction companies will pay pilots to take them out to remote places to scout.”
“She was good,” Alex said, lamenting. “Can’t believe she just quit like that.” She gestured at the windows. “And we’re losing an amazing day.”
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling. “I know. I’ll keep calling around. Guy out at Arctic Tours told me he might have a lead.”
The researcher with long blond hair that Neil had tried to talk to the other day walked by their table to get food. Neil watched her. “Guess we’ll have to spend the day here.” Alex followed his gaze, noticing the intrigued expression on his face. “I’m going to get some coffee.” He got in line conveniently behind the woman, and Alex leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she gazed out at the perfect weather.
What a day to waste! She opened her laptop and checked over the spreadsheet. She looked at the data that had streamed in from researchers in other polar bear population areas, like Greenland and Svalbard, so far this season.
Alex felt deflated. Their first days out had been so successful, and she’d hoped they’d have many more like them.
At the cafeteria counter, Neil struggled to ingratiate himself with the blond-haired researcher. She gave him a polite hello. Alex couldn’t help overhearing him as he talked about his background, his current research, and then how he’d gotten a great deal on the jacket he was wearing. The woman just nodded politely, a gesture she’d seen on so many women’s faces over the years. Once again, he didn’t ask about her own interests or research at all, just continued to drone on about himself and his accomplishments. Classic mistake. She’d seen too many men do this—thinking that they could impress a woman by bloviating on, without realizing that the way to go would be treating her as an actual person and inquiring about her interests as well. Too often women were expected to be polite and congenial, even when they were being talked at by a one-sided conversationalist. She felt the woman’s pain. Smile and nod. Smile and nod. Hope you can extract yourself from the “conversation.” She herself had done it far too many times in her life and had been trying to break herself of it.
Neil continued to talk at the woman, following her over to a table. The researcher glanced around, probably for someone else she knew, but didn’t spot anyone. She sat down and Neil hovered, still talking. Had the woman said anything at all beyond hello? Neil shifted nervously from foot to foot, still chattering away. A weary expression chiseled away at the fading smile on the woman’s face. She ate a few bites of her salad, then gestured toward the bunkrooms. “I have a Skype call coming in in a few minutes. I better finish eating in there,” Alex heard her say.
“Well, I’ll catch you around,” Neil told her.
The woman scooped up her salad and walked away, giving a slightly nervous glance over her shoulder to see if Neil was following. He wasn’t. He was still standing at her now-empty table, his head bent.
Then he spun on his heel, facing Alex. “Well, I’m going to go make some calls. See if I can scare up a pilot.”
“Okay. Thanks. Let me know.”
“I will.”
He disappeared into the communal reading room and Alex finished her tea. She had the day to herself. She hadn’t investigated Churchill yet, so she decided to spend her time exploring.
She returned to her Jeep and drove through the center of town. She stopped first at the Churchill Town Centre Complex. With heated interior walkways, the Complex offered everything for the mind and body during the long winters. It housed a library, a health center, a hockey arena, a gymnasium, and more. Alex marveled at the incredible Inuit wall hangings and art in the hallways. She found a pamphlet on the town’s sights and read through it.
She knew she wanted to see the Polar Bear Holding Facility and Cape Merry, the spit of land that extended out into Hudson Bay to the northwest of town. An old plane crash also intrigued her. Dubbed the Miss Piggy Wreck, it was a Curtiss C-46 “Commando” cargo plane that had crash-landed in 1979.
She returned to her Jeep and first checked out Aurora Domes to the south of town, a travel destination that offered glass domes where you could sit and watch the aurora borealis in heated comfort. It sounded amazing.
Next she headed down Kelsey Boulevard, passing an area of large lakes to the north. She stopped to look at the live polar bear traps set out for display at the Manitoba Polar Bear Alert. The system worked to keep humans safe from bears and bears safe from humans by staving off bear-human conflicts. Manitoba Conservation kept track of the bear situation in town. A department of the Manitoba government, Manitoba Conservation oversaw a number of biodiversity aspects of the province, including forestry, endangered species, environmental stewardship, and more. If bears approached town, conservation officers drove them off.
She continued on through town, taking the little turnaround on Button Street, and pulled up in front of the Polar Bear Holding Facility. A unique building comprised of three large connected domes, it had been painted to look like a sleeping polar bear. In the front waited a huge red and white tubular bear trap for catching bears.
During the fall, when the ice formed again on Hudson Bay, polar bears congregated in Churchill to await the freeze. If conservation officers were unable to drive off a bear that had wandered into town, the bears were tranquilized and held here at the Polar Bear Holding Facility. Five air-conditioned cells held bears until the ice returned to Hudson Bay, when they were released. They even had a heated holding cell for orphaned bear cubs.
With ice forming later each year due to global warming, more bears congregated close to town for longer, extending the time when potential bear-human conflicts could occur.
Wanting to next check out the Miss Piggy crash, Alex headed back toward Amundsen Road. She spotted a huge mansion on her left, ridiculously gigantic compared to the other houses in the area. Its size made her marvel. It was built in a faux Georgian style, obviously quite new, and she guessed it must have been at least nine thousand square feet. A four-car garage nestled against one side of it, and no lights were on. Undisturbed snow in the long driveway told her that no one had been home in quite a while. She wondered if it was a rich tourist’s vacation home that they visited only once every few years.
Alex continued north, making a left off Amundsen to reach the Miss Piggy Wreck.
Unrelated to the Muppet of the same name, the C-46 was dubbed Miss Piggy in the 1940s because of the large loads it transported throughout the north. One November day in 1979, the C-46 had just departed the Churchill airport when engine oil problems prompted the crew to return to town. But it couldn’t maintain its altitude and made a rough impromptu landing on rocky terrain just short of the airport. To this day, Alex had read, the craft sat on the edge of a cliff and was visited by tourists to Churchill.
Alex parked in the small circular drive at the end of the road and climbed out of the Jeep. She could see the gray lapping waters of the bay to the north, and beyond it a stretch of ice. Only one other car occupied the parking area, a beat-up truck covered with a beige tarp.
She left her Jeep, not seeing the owner of the truck or anyone else at the site. Small clusters of spruce grew around the plane, interspersed with massive gray boulders covered in a dusting of snow. She weaved between the boulders until she got close to the plane.
She took in its silver gleaming sides with its faint circular white logo on the tail. On the far side, she could still make out the white lettering lambair cargo above a faded red stripe. Decades of graffiti covered it. Someone had painted black teeth along the nose cone. Another artist had decorated the tail section with skeletal hands holding a cluster of pink and white flowers.
She peeked inside one of the broken windows, finding a long, empty silver fuselage. Graffiti artists had been at work inside the plane, too, red lettering sprayed on the floor. The wind whistled through the openings and mist curled around the wreckage.
Alex pulled her head out of the window. She was just rounding the side of the plane when she heard a man’s angry voice.
“We had a deal,” he hissed. “Where are you? I can’t just haul this stuff around town.”
Alex stopped where she was, out of sight, listening.
“We already agreed on a price.” She dared a look around the edge of the plane’s nose cone. A few dozen feet away, a man stood near a cluster of trees, talking angrily into a black satellite phone. He jabbed his finger at the air. “We agreed on fifteen thousand dollars each. You can’t back out now. I’ve come to town with them.”
She took in his features. His skin was so leathery and sun damaged she couldn’t decide how old he was. He could have been in his forties or seventies. His greasy brown hair was plastered to a sunburned scalp, and she could see bits of pink skin peeking through where he was going bald. He wore what she guessed was a sealskin coat, which hung down to his knees. On his legs he wore matching sealskin pants that were so worn the fur had rubbed off the knees. Sealskin boots completed his rugged outfit.
“Where are you? Because I’m coming to see you, that’s why. Don’t you dare hang up on me!” he roared. He jabbed a finger at the air again and then held the phone out at arm’s length, staring as if it had offended him. “Goddamnit!” he cursed. He was trying to keep his voice down, but sounds carried so easily outdoors and he was so angry that Alex had heard every word. For a second, she thought he was going to fling the sat phone into the trees, but he decided against that and stormed back toward the parking area.
Alex had a bad feeling about him. What was he trying to sell?
He was almost to his beat-up white pickup truck when the sat phone rang. He stabbed an angry finger to answer it.
He listened intently for a moment, then his voice went a little quieter. “Thought you’d see reason. What’s your offer?”
Whatever he was trying to sell, he’d come into town with it. Alex stared around the side of the plane, staying out of sight. The man had his back to the wreck, gesticulating angrily again. The wind kicked up and she could catch only snatches of conversation now, but she thought she heard the word pelts.
She hurried to the edge of the trees and passed in between the trunks. Moving swiftly forward, she angled her way back toward the parking area. She spotted his truck and paused, taking stock of where the man stood. He was still closer to the wreck, arguing.
A beige canvas tarp had been tied down over the bed of his truck. She spotted the tarp company’s logo, tough tarp, above a black design of a bear paw trying unsuccessfully to rake through the material. Alex ran to the far side of the vehicle and crept along to the back. She dared a look at the man again. He was turned away, so furious he was spitting into the phone. She quickly picked up one corner of the tarp and peered inside. She spotted two hunting rifles, a cooler, boxes of ammo. There was something else closer to the cab of the truck that lay in darkness. She lowered the corner of the tarp and glanced back at the man. He was still arguing, not seeing her by the truck.
She crept toward the cab and lifted the corner of the tarp on that side. White fluff met her eyes. She reached inside to feel it. Fur met her bare hand. Polar bear fur. She lifted the tarp a little higher, and enough light spilled in to reveal two full polar bear pelts.
It was illegal for anyone to hunt polar bears in Manitoba.
He was obviously a poacher, trying to unload his illegal kills.
Eight
She got into her car and pulled out her phone. No service.
The man hung up and stormed toward his truck. Alex quickly pulled her copy of The Arctic Field Guide out of the back seat of the car, pretending she was just another tourist with no interest in the man. Then she thought better of it and grabbed the town map that came with her rental car, opening it over the steering wheel and poring over it intently. She heard him slam his truck door and fire up his engine. He roared out of the parking area, sending up a rain of little rocks at her Jeep. When he’d gone a few hundred yards, she swung out after him, following at a distance. If she could learn who he was planning to sell to, she could report him when she got to an area with cell service.
He pulled out onto Amundsen Road, and she followed, keeping back. Other cars were out and about, so she felt like she was blending in.
The man drove fast, furiously swerving to pass other, slower cars. Alex was reluctant to do the same, but she didn’t want to lose him. She sped up. A slow car in front of her turned off, and she drew closer to the poacher’s vehicle. For a moment, she thought he might cut through town. She’d get a signal then. But he didn’t. He took outer roads, skirting around the main area of Churchill. Then he took a road headed west and turned off on another road. She could see the expanse of the Churchill River before them as he pulled into the port.
A few small fishing vessels were tied to slips, and a huge, expensive-looking sailing yacht called the Great White had its own dock with a locked gate blocking public access. She wondered if it belonged to the same person who owned the gigantic mansion out on Amundsen Road. Nearby, the Port of Churchill building towered on the river shore, a gigantic white square with a taller section in the middle.
