Text extract
At this point in the story, a group of scientists has arrived in East Greenland. The eight members of the OU Scoresby Sund Expedition have commenced their 100-mile walk across the Werner Mountains and then southwards towards their fieldwork area. En route they have called in at a remote mining settlement at the foot of a red mountain called called Himmelbjerg, where Jim Wagner is the so-called manager. It is already apparent to the explorers that Himmelbjerg is a place where more is going on than meets the eye............ and it is after all the coldest part of the Cold War.
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From Chapter 3
Jim Wagner was snoozing in his office close to the summit of Himmelbjerg, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun as it streamed through his observation window. He had eaten and drunk too much in the company of those guys from Oxford, in defiance of his recent resolution that he would live more healthily. He had put on two stones since arriving in Greenland, and he determined that any day now he would start an intense physical exercise regime. Maybe he would do some jogging on the glacier. This desk job was interesting enough, but his real home, in his heyday, had been the helicopter gunship, swooping low over a green tropical canopy..…...….
The telephone rang. He answered it, without taking his feet off the desk. “Yes?”
“Hi, Jim. Art here. Are you alone?”
“Why would I not be? I was trying to have a bit of a siesta. The Doc says it’s good for me.”
“Sorry to disturb you. Thanks for the feast. Bloody good. Pity we can’t eat like that every day……....”
Wagner laughed. “Fat chance of that! You haven’t seen my budget — NATO is the tightest outfit since arses were invented. Anyway, it’s back to iron rations till September. Just as well — we have work to do. Tell me what you thought of our honoured guests.”
“They’ll do. All pretty wet behind the ears, I’d say. All with their bright red anoraks and orange waterproof trousers, looking like characters straight out of a Disney cartoon film! One of them said that was so that they could be seen from a great distance in case of emergency…..”
“Yep — I liked that too. Get used to it, Art. In the world that they come from, safety is everything. In the world that we come from, camouflage is everything. Anyway, the technicolour outfits suit us very well indeed……….”
“Can’t disagree with that,” said the chopper pilot. “The guys themselves? Well, Linney, the skinny one with that mousy beard, looks as if he couldn’t find his way around a laboratory, let alone the wilds of East Greenland. An amiable kid -- spent God knows how long talking to Jensen about the symphonies of some guy called Nielsen. I kid you not. I thought that was bloody funny……...”
“And the leader, Steffo Hanna?”
“Also wet behind the ears. He seems bright enough, but I doubt we’ll have any problems with him. Told me he would rather speak Gaelic than English. He’s a strong bastard, by the look of it — been down a crevasse already, and looks a bit battered, but he plays rugby and says he has ambitions to play for Scotland. I think he’s got a soft centre — engaged to be married, and comes from a close family on some God-forsaken island way out in the Atlantic. Seems quite religious — maybe you and he can have a theological discussion some time, Jim……..”
“Keep my fucking beliefs out of this, Art.”
“Sorry, Jim. Only joking. And that tall one called Horton, with a scar on his face? He’s lived a bit, I reckon. Did you see the big knife in his belt? Probably knows how to use it. Sharp eyes too -- I reckon he doesn’t miss much. Plays the harmonica, so he says!”
There was a loud guffaw from Wagner. “You don’t say?” he spluttered. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is that one of the others has got a bloody violin in his rucksack………..”
“So I shouldn’t worry about him, if I was you. Then Hughes, the glaciologist. The one with the black curly hair and the big beard. Can’t see much of the bastard’s face, what with all that hair about. But he’s been around too. Doesn’t miss a thing. Questions, questions, all the time. One to watch…….. Oh shit! I’ve just noticed the time — I’m supposed to meet the next flight in from Keflavik in ninety minutes. Anything you need from the airstrip?”
“Tell that new guy in the stores that I could do with another crate of Heineken, if that won’t put you over the weight limit.”
“Will do. Catch up later. Over and out.”
Having put the phone down, Wagner felt inclined to continue with his siesta. He sighed, closed his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest. Then the phone rang again.
He was irritated. “What the fuck is it this time?”
“Boss, this is Larry. There’s news of that Russian sealer.”
“Ah…….. OK. What’s the deal?”
“Coastguard first spotted her on their radar, and then the U-2 from Sondrestrøm found her and tracked her when the cloud thinned a bit. She went into Alpefjord, and might have been stuck there for a few days.”
“Alpefjord? That leads nowhere -- hellishly remote. Why there, for God’s sake?”
“To put in some equipment? Your guess is as good as mine, Boss. Anyway, she’s now come back out again, and is having a hard time in thick pack ice just off Ella Island.”
“Did the captain put anybody ashore?”
“Not as far as we know, Boss. It’s possible, but HQ thinks they are just trying to pick up our communications in and out. They have come into the fjords before, for just that purpose. Last summer they did it twice.”
“Then, it didn’t matter. Now, sure as hell, it does. Their communications?”
“Highly sophisticated. There were a lot of coded messages while they were in Alpefjord, but HQ hasn’t cracked them yet. They’ve kept radio silence for the last twelve hours. She’s listening and recording.”
“Shit! Is she still moving?”
“Yes, at maybe a couple of knots. She’s surely very powerful, with an ice-strengthened hull profile. The Coastguard think she’s the Nobokov — they’ve played cat and mouse with her before. Bloody good ice captain. She’s heading for Sofia Sound, round the north side of Geographical Society Island. ”
“As I suspected. Too close for comfort. If she gets any closer, she’ll see and hear all the action at Blyhavn.”
“She might have done that already, Boss.”
Wagner scrutinized a map on the office wall for a couple of minutes, during which time Larry Bishop knew better than to say anything. Then he asked: “How deep is the Sound?”
The telephone rang. He answered it, without taking his feet off the desk. “Yes?”
“Hi, Jim. Art here. Are you alone?”
“Why would I not be? I was trying to have a bit of a siesta. The Doc says it’s good for me.”
“Sorry to disturb you. Thanks for the feast. Bloody good. Pity we can’t eat like that every day……....”
Wagner laughed. “Fat chance of that! You haven’t seen my budget — NATO is the tightest outfit since arses were invented. Anyway, it’s back to iron rations till September. Just as well — we have work to do. Tell me what you thought of our honoured guests.”
“They’ll do. All pretty wet behind the ears, I’d say. All with their bright red anoraks and orange waterproof trousers, looking like characters straight out of a Disney cartoon film! One of them said that was so that they could be seen from a great distance in case of emergency…..”
“Yep — I liked that too. Get used to it, Art. In the world that they come from, safety is everything. In the world that we come from, camouflage is everything. Anyway, the technicolour outfits suit us very well indeed……….”
“Can’t disagree with that,” said the chopper pilot. “The guys themselves? Well, Linney, the skinny one with that mousy beard, looks as if he couldn’t find his way around a laboratory, let alone the wilds of East Greenland. An amiable kid -- spent God knows how long talking to Jensen about the symphonies of some guy called Nielsen. I kid you not. I thought that was bloody funny……...”
“And the leader, Steffo Hanna?”
“Also wet behind the ears. He seems bright enough, but I doubt we’ll have any problems with him. Told me he would rather speak Gaelic than English. He’s a strong bastard, by the look of it — been down a crevasse already, and looks a bit battered, but he plays rugby and says he has ambitions to play for Scotland. I think he’s got a soft centre — engaged to be married, and comes from a close family on some God-forsaken island way out in the Atlantic. Seems quite religious — maybe you and he can have a theological discussion some time, Jim……..”
“Keep my fucking beliefs out of this, Art.”
“Sorry, Jim. Only joking. And that tall one called Horton, with a scar on his face? He’s lived a bit, I reckon. Did you see the big knife in his belt? Probably knows how to use it. Sharp eyes too -- I reckon he doesn’t miss much. Plays the harmonica, so he says!”
There was a loud guffaw from Wagner. “You don’t say?” he spluttered. “Next thing you’ll be telling me is that one of the others has got a bloody violin in his rucksack………..”
“So I shouldn’t worry about him, if I was you. Then Hughes, the glaciologist. The one with the black curly hair and the big beard. Can’t see much of the bastard’s face, what with all that hair about. But he’s been around too. Doesn’t miss a thing. Questions, questions, all the time. One to watch…….. Oh shit! I’ve just noticed the time — I’m supposed to meet the next flight in from Keflavik in ninety minutes. Anything you need from the airstrip?”
“Tell that new guy in the stores that I could do with another crate of Heineken, if that won’t put you over the weight limit.”
“Will do. Catch up later. Over and out.”
Having put the phone down, Wagner felt inclined to continue with his siesta. He sighed, closed his eyes, and folded his arms across his chest. Then the phone rang again.
He was irritated. “What the fuck is it this time?”
“Boss, this is Larry. There’s news of that Russian sealer.”
“Ah…….. OK. What’s the deal?”
“Coastguard first spotted her on their radar, and then the U-2 from Sondrestrøm found her and tracked her when the cloud thinned a bit. She went into Alpefjord, and might have been stuck there for a few days.”
“Alpefjord? That leads nowhere -- hellishly remote. Why there, for God’s sake?”
“To put in some equipment? Your guess is as good as mine, Boss. Anyway, she’s now come back out again, and is having a hard time in thick pack ice just off Ella Island.”
“Did the captain put anybody ashore?”
“Not as far as we know, Boss. It’s possible, but HQ thinks they are just trying to pick up our communications in and out. They have come into the fjords before, for just that purpose. Last summer they did it twice.”
“Then, it didn’t matter. Now, sure as hell, it does. Their communications?”
“Highly sophisticated. There were a lot of coded messages while they were in Alpefjord, but HQ hasn’t cracked them yet. They’ve kept radio silence for the last twelve hours. She’s listening and recording.”
“Shit! Is she still moving?”
“Yes, at maybe a couple of knots. She’s surely very powerful, with an ice-strengthened hull profile. The Coastguard think she’s the Nobokov — they’ve played cat and mouse with her before. Bloody good ice captain. She’s heading for Sofia Sound, round the north side of Geographical Society Island. ”
“As I suspected. Too close for comfort. If she gets any closer, she’ll see and hear all the action at Blyhavn.”
“She might have done that already, Boss.”
Wagner scrutinized a map on the office wall for a couple of minutes, during which time Larry Bishop knew better than to say anything. Then he asked: “How deep is the Sound?”
