by Don Brown
Two padded chairs sat opposite each other at a white wrought-iron table. A leather notebook displaying the Union Jack and the Chilean flag sat on the table.
“A draft of the treaty is in the dossier. This is the product of the task force of attorneys from each of our departments. I hope you will find it to your satisfaction.”
“I look forward to it, Chancellor.”
Gosling sat down, opened the binder, and began to read.
SANTIAGO ACCORDS
ENTERED INTO BETWEEN
THE UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAIN AND NORTHERN IRELAND
AND THE REPUBLIC OF CHILE
WHEREAS, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland [hereinafter “Great Britain”] and the Republic of Chile [hereinafter “Chile”] have had a rich history of cooperation and mutual respect and warm international relations with one another; AND
WHEREAS, Great Britain and Chile are also two of seven states maintaining a territorial claim on eight territories in Antarctica; AND
WHEREAS, Great Britain and Chile also maintain overlapping geographic claims on the portion of Antarctica commonly known as the “Antarctic Peninsula”; AND
WHEREAS, certain areas on the Antarctic Peninsula where there are overlapping claims between Great Britain and Chile also involve overlapping claims from the Republic of Argentina; AND
WHEREAS, in light of the discovery of natural oil reserves by British geo-petro-engineers, the parties, previously described under the code name “Black Ice,” Great Britain and Chile, wish to cooperate and resolve any and all territorial disputes between them on the Antarctic subcontinent; AND
WHEREAS, both nations desire to construct an infrastructure to drill for strategic petroleum on Antarctic lands claimed by them both and claimed by the Republic of Argentina; AND
WHEREAS, Great Britain and Chile were both original signatories of the Antarctic Treaty executed on December 1, 1959, and entered into force on June 23, 1961; AND
WHEREAS, Great Britain and Chile both lay claim to certain overlapping claims known as the British Antarctic Territory, whose main research base is at Rothera, with such territory as set forth below:
AND
WHEREAS, Chile lays claim to certain areas along the Antarctic Peninsula known as the Chilean Antarctic Territory, which overlaps the British claims, with the Chilean Antarctic Territory shown upon the map as set forth below:
AND
WHEREAS, the Republic of Argentina also lays claim to such territory;
NOW, THEREFORE, Great Britain and Chile hereby agree to and covenant to become mutual enforcers of the following provisions:
Article 1. Great Britain and Chile shall jointly administer all disputed territories along the Antarctic Peninsula, and shall recognize the right of the other to operate within such previously disputed lands.
Article 2. Those disputed, overlapping lands claimed by both Great Britain and Chile shall hereby forever be designated by both nations as the “Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory.”
Article 3. Great Britain and Chile shall assert superior claims within the Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory over other nations attempting to make claims within that territory.
Article 4. Great Britain shall provide the principal military defence for the Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory and shall assume military command of any military defence provided for the Territory, with Chile assisting in the defence under the lead of Great Britain.
Article 5. Great Britain, working through British Petroleum or any other oil exploration companies as designated by His Majesty’s Government, shall assume the role of leadership in the drilling and exploration of crude oil within the Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory, with Chile providing logistical assistance.
Article 6. Chile, working with technical advisers and with financial assistance from Great Britain, shall allow the construction of refineries upon its sovereign territory in Southern Chile and at other locations throughout Chile, as may be applicable, for the refining of crude oil from the Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory.
Article 7. Chile shall permit the construction of updated facilities at its ports upon its sovereign territory in Southern Chile and at other locations throughout Chile for the worldwide shipment of crude oil from the Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory.
Article 8. Great Britain and Chile shall become financial partners in the crude oil production operations within the Joint Anglo-Chilean Antarctic Territory, and shall divide profits from crude oil extracted as a part of this endeavor.
Article 9. Great Britain shall assist Chile financially in the construction of pipelines throughout Chile for the movement and sale of crude oil throughout South America and the Americas, and Great Britain and Chile shall engage in diplomatic efforts with other nations, such as Peru, Bolivia, Mexico, the United States, Canada, and various other nations throughout the Americas, to realize the construction of a Pan-American pipeline, originating in Chile, with its principal line running north along the Pacific Coast of the Americas into Central America and North America.
Article 10. Upon execution of this treaty, Great Britain and Chile do hereby establish an organization for mutual cultural and economic cooperation and goodwill to be known as the ANGLO-CHILEAN PETROLEUM ALLIANCE, with political headquarters located in London, and with business headquarters located in Santiago, and with an organizational purpose to extract and sell refined oil upon the world markets for the mutual financial benefit of both nations.
Article 11. For security purposes, the present arrangement, and all references to the “Black Ice” project, shall be held TOP SECRET until such time as announced publicly by joint agreement of both Great Britain and the Republic of Chile.
For the Republic of Chile: For the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland:
Hon. Óscar Mendoza President of the Republic Hon. David Mulvaney Prime Minister
Hon. Arturo Rivera Foreign Minister of the Republic Hon. John Gosling Foreign Secretary
Foreign Secretary Gosling closed the leather notebook. He took a satisfying sip of orange juice from a glass on a silver tray that had been placed on the table.
“Chancellor Rivera, I believe that our respective bosses shall be pleased with this collective effort, which, in my judgment, represents everything that we had agreed upon.”
The Chilean smiled. “I am glad that you are pleased, Mister Secretary. And in anticipation of the arrival of the president and the prime minister tomorrow, I invite you to join me in a toast to our two countries with a bottle of our finest Chilean champagne.”
“A splendid idea,” Gosling said. “I would be more than happy to drink to that.”
Rivera snapped his fingers and a porter emerged holding a silver tray with two glasses of champagne. He placed it on the table before the two men.
Rivera raised his glass high and declared, “To Chile and Britain, to the Black Ice project, and to an alliance of a thousand years!”
“Hear, hear.” Gosling raised his glass. “To our countries, to the Black Ice project, and to an alliance of a thousand years.”
CHAPTER 3
Belgrano II base camp
Argentine outpost
Antarctica
twenty-four hours later
On Antarctica’s rocky and frigid coast, home to Argentina’s Belgrano II base camp, the sun never rose for two weeks in midwinter, around June 21. Six months later, around Christmastime, the sun never set for two weeks during the Antarctic summer.
The skies seemed to switch rapidly from days with long hours of sunlight, each day getting shorter, until months later darkness filled each day, as if a shade had been pulled down. Then with the same rapid change, the blackness of night diminished until there again was no night. No darkness. The sun stayed with them for a whole two weeks.
None of this was lost on Lieutenant Fernando Sosa, who had arrived at base camp in the darkness of August. But now that the first week of September had arrived, he remain
ed astonished and amazed at the rapid lengthening of the days.
As winter turned to spring at the bottom of the world, the long hours of perpetual darkness had given way to a hazy low-hanging sun.
The surveillance equipment air-dropped weeks ago by the C-130 under cover of darkness had been assembled in a high-security facility northwest of Moscow. It featured some of the most sophisticated components in the world. The listening devices and high-speed translators, powered by miniature super-computers that translated English into perfect Spanish, could circumvent the world’s most powerful security codes and smash sophisticated firewalls.
In a world of high-stakes nuclear proliferation, burgeoning mega-debt, radical terror, and vicious international fighting for increasingly scarce resources, it paid to have friends.
And in this case, it paid to have mutual friends.
For the equipment, highly secretive and yet undiscovered by the Western powers, had made its way from Russia to this remote Argentinean base camp, courtesy of a common friend.
Lieutenant Fernando Sosa, described by his superiors as one of the brightest young intelligence officers in Argentina, knew about the geopolitical relationships forged between Argentina, Venezuela, and Russia. Britain and Chile had never enjoyed any prolonged harmonious relations with Argentina. And that Anglo-Chilean alliance of the last hundred years remained a pesky thorn for his country.
Hugo Chávez, in 2005, had referred to the growing alliance between Argentina and Venezuela as “a Caracas–Buenos Aires axis.” Chávez threw billions in Venezuelan oil money at Argentina, buying up her bonds and retiring her debt with the International Monetary Fund.
Having bailed out Argentina, saving it from financial destruction, Chávez had forged a leftist alliance on the South American continent to counteract right-wing governments like Chile and capitalist forces from the north and from Western Europe.
Chávez’s dalliance with the Russians had paid off for Venezuela. And Sosa knew that vicariously the dalliance had paid off for Argentina as well.
Before coming to Antarctica, Sosa trained for six months in an obscure facility outside Buenos Aires that was heavily guarded by crack Argentine troops. Each morning, Sosa and five other Argentine intelligence officers entered the compound through a gate from the north as a team of Russian intelligence officers entered through another gate from the east.
The Russian instructors trained the Argentineans on the operation of the top secret surveillance equipment, made available to Argentina through a mutual alliance with Venezuela.
Sosa and his fellow Argentinean officers were selected based on their scores on a battery of aptitude tests and on their proficiency in English. They knew that they were training for an elite top secret mission at some undisclosed location somewhere in the world. But where?
At the conclusion of the six-month course, Lieutenant Fernando Sosa scored highest on all final examinations, both written and practical, and aced the psychological testing, all administered by the Russians.
Sosa graduated first in his class. And with that achievement, he ended up here, at the bottom of the world. His mission—to keep tabs on Argentina’s two most hated adversaries, Britain and Chile, both of which had increased their radio communications in recent weeks and had increased flights in and out of Antarctica.
Of course, all the training, all the sophisticated equipment, and all the top secret status surrounding this mission were not without a cost. There was a quid pro quo. Sosa understood from the beginning that intelligence gathered by the sophisticated equipment would be shared with their Venezuelan and Russian allies.
The spotlight shone on him from many fronts, his work critically important to his commander here at base camp, the head of Argentine intelligence, the president of Argentina, even the presidents of Venezuela and Russia.
No, they might not know his name, but he felt their eyes on him even from half a world away as he monitored the equipment. Sosa punched four buttons on the control panel to widen the frequency band and expand his monitoring range.
It was the middle of September. Dawn lasted for two hours, and then the sun rose and hung low in the northern sky for three hours. That was followed by two hours of twilight, followed by seventeen hours of darkness before the process started again.
For two weeks, since the first of the month, when the dawn hours had started returning to the base camp, Sosa had noticed a difference in performance in the Russian equipment.
In the earliest hours between starlight and dawn, enemy radio signals could be intercepted without much interference. But as soon as the gray light of dawn returned to the Antarctic skies, the Russian surveillance equipment became less effective. Interceptions were more staticky. The voices of the British, who up to this point had said nothing of significance, tended to fade in and out during these haunting dawn hours when the skies went from a dark starry firmament, lightened into an opaque gray on the northern horizon, and then gave way to the beautiful starry firmament again. Around the first week of August, the brief gray of dawn appeared each day between one and three in the afternoon.
Before the static of the predawn started, Sosa had noted two British voices using the phrase “Black Ice.”
That sounded odd. He scribbled notes. One Brit used the phrase “Black Ice project.” Another said, or seemed to say, “Operation Black Ice.” Then the conversation vanished in the static.
Sosa glanced at the wall clock—2:45 p.m. Another fifteen minutes until the dawn subsided and the night appeared again. He hoped the Brits would still be talking about this “Black Ice project,” whatever that was.
He adjusted a volume-control button and changed the frequency to get a better gauge on message traffic between the Chilean and British base camps. Nothing.
Out the window, he saw four scientists moving about with flashlights in the snow, attaching wire to a communications antenna. The gray sky faded, and darkness returned. Stars began appearing.
Local time, 2:48 p.m.
If today proved to be like the last three days, he could expect communications to be crystal clear again.
Sosa wondered whether the equipment would work at all during periods of sunlight, especially in December and January, when the sun would be out all day long. The Russians had warned of atmospheric interference that could occur at this time of day as a result of the variance of radio wavelengths at dusk and dawn, the hours between night and day, or, as now, the brief dawn that separated the night from the night.
Sosa glanced at the clock again—2:55 p.m.
Outside, the starry canopy blanketed base camp, and radio traffic from the British station gradually became intelligible again.
Sosa turned the volume up another notch.
His eyes widened.
Had he heard that right?
Communication between the British and Chileans was in English, and Sosa understood every word.
But had he heard that right?
He rewound the recording and replayed it.
“Capitán. Sir. I think you need to hear this.”
Antarctica
near British Camp Churchill
one week later
Swiftly they moved across the ice.
They wore white weather gear, from the thermal hoods covering their heads to the heels of their snow boots.
Even their rifles were white. And so were their rockets and mortars and shortwave communications equipment.
They blended into the snowscape, and from a distance, even in a light snowfall, they were practically invisible.
They spoke not a word, communicating only by hand. Yet their minds meshed as a steel-willed, highly trained fighting unit poised to destroy whoever, or whatever, lay in their path.
In the frozen wasteland of Russian Siberia where they had trained with their Russian allies, they had learned to move in frigid conditions that were foreign to their native tropical homeland along the southern Caribbean. In Siberia, in the polar regions near the Arctic Circle, they had b
ecome accustomed to the most frigid weather on the planet.
Freezing headwinds they had battled for the last hour had subsided. To take advantage of calmer conditions, they quickened their step to double-time.
Behind them, in the distance, howling gales formed a deep, haunting whistle, feigning the sound of a freight train from miles down the track. But here—in a place farther from civilization than any other place on earth—there were no trains. No railroad tracks, no roads, no major airports.
If a spot on earth resembled the outer planets of the solar system, the planets farthest from the sun, if a setting mimicked the landscape of Neptune or Pluto, that spot was Antarctica.
The rocks.
The ice.
The wind and snow.
This wasteland would seem to be God forsaken.
But God had not forsaken this place. For a thousand feet below their boots and under the thick layers of ice and snow, God had created something that could not be found on any other planet in the solar system.
Oceans of oil.
They marched on as the icy surface yielded to a snowy mix, and their boots crunched in the snow.
The snow started falling again, and soon became thick and heavy. When the south wind whipped into it, stinging ice from the ground and skies blew into their faces. They preferred these conditions. For under the cover of freezing gray clouds, the blizzard conditions allowed them to approach undetected.
There were twenty-five men. They would fight to advance the cause of socialism and to defend the tenets of the Bolivarian Revolution. They were commando units of the National Army of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela.
Their leader raised his hand and they stopped.
A hundred yards downrange, at the edge of their envelope of visibility, a narrow opening appeared in the curtain of falling snow. It appeared for a second, then disappeared behind another gust of snow. But when the wind shifted, they again saw the flag with the dark blue background that bore the red diagonal cross of Saint Patrick superimposed on the white diagonal cross of Saint Andrew and, superimposed over that, the red vertical cross of Saint George.