Beneath the Ice (25 page)

Nine days had passed since he had been to see Luca on the oil rig, and since then his old school friend had evidently done as asked and inserted the spyware into GARI’s main satellite system. Bates had been able to access all the email traffic coming in and out of the base and his primary objective had been fulfilled. Everything was going according to plan. Then Beatrice Makuru turned up on the scene.

He had known of her reputation for tenacity, but would never have suspected that she would have been able to connect the dots so readily, nor actually get to Richard Pearl. And the wake of destruction that followed read like something from a war zone; a fifty-million-dollar jet destroyed, a South African SSA operative hospitalised with a splintered jaw, and a private security detail gunned down in Nyanga township. Bates had barely believed the reports when they had come filtering back. One thing was for certain – he had grossly underestimated Bear, which was not an error he was about to repeat. It was also something that wouldn’t have escaped the notice of Eleanor Page.

Exhaling deeply, Bates smoothed back his hair and cut across the gravel expanse of the parade ground towards the waiting car. As he settled into one of the sumptuous leather seats, Eleanor smiled amiably, pulling her glasses up on to the crown of her head.

‘Glad you could come,’ she said, shifting forward in her seat to signal to the driver. The car immediately sped off, turning left on to Pall Mall and powering along the wide, red tarmacked road towards the towering edifice of Buckingham Palace. Despite the obvious hurry they were in, Eleanor took her time in addressing Bates.

‘It seems that your contact’s ex-girlfriend has been busy. And I thought we’d agreed you were going to handle that situation.’

Bates was about to respond when he realised that Eleanor was speaking rhetorically. He watched as she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, then smiled as if about to introduce him to an acquaintance at a dinner party.

‘In the end, this Makuru woman only managed to delay Pearl by twenty-two hours. He had to scramble another of his planes from San Diego just to get to Antarctica in time. Not that his people would have realised it, but we had to pull quite a few strings to expedite the whole process.’

Sliding the glasses from the top of her head, Eleanor inspected one of the tortoiseshell arms thoughtfully.

‘But Pearl is now in Antarctica and, for the time being, safely ensconced at GARI.’

‘So he’s finally in play,’ Bates offered.

‘He is,’ Eleanor conceded, ‘but it was a close-run thing. We believe that Makuru was just trying to prevent him from reaching Antarctica. That’s it. But Pearl himself didn’t see it that way. When they pulled him from the wreckage of the plane, he was convinced it had been some kind of assassination attempt and was this close to backing off from the whole project.’

A single tut escaped her lips.

‘And he used to be a naval officer,’ Eleanor continued. ‘You’d have thought he’d have shown a little more backbone. Fortunately, a mutual friend persuaded him to get back on board the new plane. So, after all that, he now has the seed and is within striking distance.’

‘And what about getting to the drill site?’

‘Pearl has his personal helicopter pilot with him, an Italian woman by the name of Helena Coroni. There is an R-44 helicopter stored in the hangar units of GARI, so if the weather continues to improve they should be at the second drill site in the next three to four hours.’

There was a pause before Bates shifted expectantly in his seat.

‘So what do you want from me?’

‘What I have always wanted,’ Eleanor replied, tilting her head sideways to catch his eye. ‘For you to do your job and contain this Makuru woman. We’ve triangulated her cell phone and it would seem she is still using it inside the township.’

‘My understanding was that you were waiting for the right assets to be in place,’ he replied, but something in the way Eleanor had spoken the last sentence made him feel that this information was directly for his benefit.

‘I think we need someone to take charge
personally
, don’t you?’ Eleanor suggested. ‘Someone to manage the whole situation and ensure we don’t suffer any repeat of the security detail disaster. It’s a dangerous place, Nyanga. Or so I hear.’

‘But if Pearl is already in Antarctica, why are we continuing to pursue Makuru? Surely she missed and that’s all there is to it.’

‘Not quite. We picked up the microbiologist, Bukovsky, late last night and it seems she gave Makuru a flashcard that links Pearl to the seed.’

As she said the last words Eleanor’s smile dimmed, almost imperceptibly. The thought of the ripple effect if the seed were in any way traced back to an American national had made her throat go dry. Turning to the car window to mask her expression, she stared out as the Mercedes powered along Bayswater Road before turning right at the Shepherds Bush roundabout and out towards the A40. Ahead of them the piercing blue lights of a police motorcade reflected off the car bonnet as they cleared the traffic.

Bates followed her gaze, already guessing their destination.

‘Northolt?’ he asked.

‘A plane is waiting for you. You’ll be in Cape Town in under eleven hours.’

‘At the risk of sounding ungracious, wouldn’t your embassy be better placed to do this?’ he asked. ‘They’re already on the ground in South Africa and, from what I hear, I’ve got the wrong complexion to be going door to door in Nyanga.’

‘After all the places you’ve been assigned, I would have thought this would be child’s play for you,’ Eleanor replied, while sliding a file across the empty seat between them. ‘You are being redirected to a contact in the South African mobile infantry and all orders will come directly from you. As far as they’re concerned, it’s purely a British operation. It keeps us out of it. And besides, our embassy has its work cut out ensuring that the clean-up boats are ready in time. Four are already in dry dock in Cape Town’s harbour, while another seven are in transit over the Atlantic. They’ll all converge on Cape Town in the next two days to take on fuel and supplies before heading south to Antarctica.’

‘And how long after Pearl launches the seed do you expect to see any results?’

‘We’re not sure, but soon. We already have an independent boat in place that should be able to spot the environmental damage almost immediately.’

‘That’s something I wanted to clear up with you. How bad do you anticipate it will be? What are we talking about here?’

‘Modest damage to the coastline. Nothing too extravagant,’ Eleanor said, with a slight shrug. ‘But it will be enough to trigger an emergency session of the permanent members of the Antarctic Treaty. From that point on, our boats will have the green light to go in and clean it up.’

Bates nodded. ‘And have you considered that, after all this, Pearl’s seed might actually work?’

Eleanor didn’t reply for a moment, only watching as the driver slowed the car before pulling into the private jet airfield of Northolt. A Falcon 900EX jet stood on the tarmac just beyond the fence line, its engines already turning over.

‘In its original form, the seed had a chance,’ she conceded. ‘But something that unknown has the potential to change everything. Imagine it – carbon reduction on a global scale? It could disrupt the entire US energy strategy, and the bottom line is we’re not prepared to take that risk.’

‘You mean, you’ve tampered with the seed?’

Eleanor gave him a chiding look. ‘Why don’t you concentrate on finding me that woman instead?’

‘And what happens when I find her?’ asked Bates, stepping out of the car.

‘Full rendition protocol. And do make sure you get the flashcard. Find that and the wheels keep spinning.’

She nodded to the driver and the car pulled off, leaving Bates staring at the bruised winter sky. As the sound of the plane’s jet engines gradually rose in pitch, he stood motionless. Perhaps being sent to Cape Town was a blessing after all. With her acquisition of the flashcard Bear had become central to the whole operation. If he were able to take charge of the manhunt personally, then at least he could try and shield her from the worst of the Americans.

He had not meant this to be anything more than a minor betrayal of his old friend. Luca would never have discovered the real reason why he had been sent to Antarctica. Instead, he would have taken the money and gone back to his normal life. But Bear had changed all that, and the situation was fast turning ugly. If she were pulled into the American rendition programme, there would be no going back.

When he had first started all this, Kieran Bates had not intended for anyone to get hurt. But now there was a very real prospect of that happening, unless he could find Bear and somehow broker a deal with the Americans.

Turning towards the open door of the plane, he climbed on board. Eight minutes later they were airborne and heading south for Cape Town.

LUCA WOKE. HIS
eyelids flickered, then again, before finally pulling open to reveal a murky light filtering down from the skylights. He lay on the rough wooden floor of the deserted base, a half-empty rucksack under his head to serve as a makeshift pillow. He tried to move, but a stabbing pain lanced through his temples.

Raising his right hand, Luca brushed his fingertips across the side of his face. The butt of the rifle had smashed hard into his cheek and temple, creating a nasty swelling and turning the skin a deep purple, laced with yellow. The bruising felt puffy and unfamiliar, as if he were somehow touching another person’s face.

For a moment Luca let his eyes drift. He was dimly aware that he had been searching for something, though the whole notion felt abstract and unimportant.

‘Bear,’ he called out, but his voice was nothing more than a dry croak.

There was a banging noise a little way off, the thump, thump of metal striking against wood. The reverberations seemed to penetrate right through his skull and Luca winced as the noise continued, over and over again. Each thump echoed just long enough to be replaced by the next, magnifying the pain in his head.

‘Bear!’ he cried out.

The banging stopped.

‘He’s awake! Katz, quickly.’

A moment later Joel’s face swam into view. He was close, his long, hawk-like nose only inches from Luca’s.

‘Shit, mate, you were out a long time,’ he breathed, then the concern gave way to a broad smile. He’d started to help Luca into a sitting position when Katz’s voice rang out.

‘Move him slowly,’ he warned. ‘Otherwise he’ll pass out again.’

A moment later, Luca was slumped against the pile of drill pipes with Katz and Joel crouched in front of him.

‘So? What happened to you?’ Katz demanded.

‘Water,’ Luca gasped. Joel moved his hands across to a saucepan sitting on the floor nearby. He moved with almost exaggerated care, fingers feeling across the rough flooring. After watching him for a moment, Katz cut in.

‘For Christ’s sake,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll do it.’

Taking the saucepan from his grasp, Katz raised the cold metal rim to Luca’s chapped lips. He poured in a tiny trickle of water, careful not to let any spill.

‘More.’

Katz hesitated, but Joel urged him on. Reluctantly, he raised the saucepan once again, draining the last of it.

‘You’ve been out for nearly four hours,’ Joel said. ‘We woke up and found you like this. How are you feeling? You must have one hell of a headache.’

Luca didn’t get a chance to respond. Katz had other priorities.

‘First things first,’ he said. ‘You tell us what’s going on. And I mean now.’

‘There was a man . . .’ Luca managed ‘. . . standing right here. He was just standing . . . then everything went black.’

He glanced away, remembering that monstrous silhouette with its broad neck and hair cropped so short as to be little more than stubble. But it was the eyes that came back to him now; the grey, spent eyes. The man had moved as silently as a ghost, managing to get within a couple of inches of Luca without so much as a sound.

He exhaled deeply, trying to blot out the image. It didn’t feel real and if it weren’t for the swelling on his face, he might have doubted it had even happened. But then he remembered what he had been searching for – the satellite phone. He had been on the sat phone to Bear.

He tried to recall the details of their conversation but all he could remember was the desperation in her voice. Then it became clear to him. She had been in danger, and for some reason had decided to hide that fact from him.

‘The sat phone,’ he whispered. ‘Give it to me.’

‘It’s gone,’ Joel replied flatly.

‘There’s another that Dedov gave me. In the top of my rucksack.’

‘Gone too. We’ve checked through everything. Whoever your man was, he took the lot; sat phones, the cooking stove, everything.’

‘The son of a bitch!’ Katz roared, slamming his fist down on the stack of piping.

‘Must have done it while we slept,’ Joel added, shaking his head slowly. In the silence that followed, he raised his right hand, rubbing the skin under his eyes where his glasses would have been. He had woken earlier to find them smashed on the floor beside him. Now, anything further away than a couple of metres was a blur. He blinked, a flicker of doubt passing across his face.

‘Look, I need to speak to . . .’ Luca began, trying to pull himself a little higher, but Katz pressed him backwards.

‘Didn’t you hear what he said? The sat phones are gone. And if you’re going to do any talking, then you talk to us. I want to know what the hell is going on around here.’

Katz drew closer, his pale blue eyes sharp and venomous.

‘We’re trapped,’ he said. ‘You realise that, don’t you? We woke up to find the main entrance has been deliberately sealed off from the outside. Do you hear me? Someone has
deliberately
trapped us in here!’

Luca stared at him blankly, trying to keep up.

‘And whoever it was, he’s made damn sure we aren’t getting out. Everything’s been stripped from this place – no tools, no ropes.’ Katz paused, his eyes turning down to the empty saucepan at Luca’s feet. ‘And we’ve only got half a litre of water left in my bottle. That’s it. Without the stoves, we can’t melt any more snow. So, you tell me, Luca, what the fuck is going on?’