The Explorer's Code

by Kitty Pilgrim

  “I need an airlift to Longyearbyen today. I am getting in to Oslo too late to make the commercial flight,” Frost instructed. “Be ready to go as soon as I call. We can’t waste a moment. The situation is critical.”

  He hung up the phone. It would be only a matter of hours until he reached Longyearbyen. He flagged a taxi in the rainy London street and headed to the airport.

  As he sat in the backseat, Frost brooded. He hoped Sinclair had his wits about him. He seemed like a capable guy. Actually, with a little course work, Sinclair could be a top-notch operative. Well, trained or not, he was in the game, and it was getting more dangerous by the minute.

  SAS Flight SK 802

  Anna settled down into seat 6B on SAS flight SK 802 to Oslo. Nobody was following her. The poison must have worked. Evgeny would be pleased. She reviewed her options. Now that Vlad was out of the picture, helping Evgeny had real benefits—full partnership in the deal. When Moscow paid up, she would get 20 percent.

  The Americans had Vlad in custody, the stupid fool. He had been picked up outside the house in Ephesus not twelve hours into his surveillance. Who knew what would happen to him.

  She should have left him long ago. What a miserable husband. Her mother always told her, never marry for love—only for money. Of course, Evgeny was a difficult man, but at least he knew how to get things done. Sure, he was sexually deviant. But she had seen worse at the government-run school in Russia, like that dorm matron who would come at night to fetch her. Besides, there was no real danger. She knew how to act to make Evgeny think he had dominated her.

  She checked her cell phone before turning it off for the flight. No messages. That was strange. Evgeny was supposed to call her. Here it was nearly noon and she still hadn’t heard from him. He should be at the Polar Hotel in Longyearbyen, as they had planned.

  Her thoughts were interrupted. The stewardess was leaning over to ask her something.

  “Coffee?”

  Anna smiled and shook her head.

  “No thank you, not right now.”

  Longyearbyen

  Cordelia was wedged in between Charles and Erin in the backseat of the Land Rover; the gunman and the driver were in front. The gun muzzle was resting on the seatback, ready to pivot toward any one of them if necessary.

  Erin sat stiffly next to her, not communicating, clearly planning an escape. But Charles reached over and took Cordelia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. His grasp felt warm and reassuring, a source of comfort. They didn’t dare speak.

  The vehicle drew to a stop. Cordelia looked out the window. All around was barren mountainside and the glare of the Arctic sun. No sign of life or habitation. A steel door and a large industrial structure jutted out of the side of the mountain. It must be the seed vault.

  “Get out,” one of the men ordered.

  They climbed out meekly, anxious not to provoke him. The other gunmen got out of their vehicle, and they all congregated near the door. After a brief muttered conversation, three of the men went into the vault. The steel entrance door closed, and a single gunman remained, his weapon leveled at them.

  Within seconds, Charles and Erin decided to take advantage of the situation, and started edging toward the gunman. It was clear they were going to try to rush him.

  “Get back or I will shoot,” the man barked, swiveling his gun back and forth to cover the two of them. Charles and Erin, without a word, worked in tandem, and spread farther apart. That widened the angle he had to pivot to cover both of them. Cordelia watched as they moved with perfect teamwork, as if they had formulated a plan.

  “Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” the man said, but he sounded frightened. Cordelia took a closer look at him. He was young, in his midtwenties. He didn’t look like a criminal. He was an American kid—fairly clean-cut, dressed in a rough Carhartt canvas jacket, and chinos tucked into hiking boots.

  “Get back!” he cried in panic.

  Just then Cordelia had a flash of inspiration. She should leave another sign for Sinclair, in the hope that he was following them. Now was a perfect moment when the gunman was distracted. As Erin and Charles were closing in on the man, Cordelia stepped a few paces away and knelt down in the dirt, and picked up a sharp stone. She would draw the ichthus wheel Sinclair had shown her—the one carved in the marble in Ephesus. He would recognize it instantly. Scraping away at the dirt, she drew a circle, about a foot in diameter, and divided it into eight equal parts. Then she stood up, dusting her hands off on her slacks.

  Erin and Charles were closing in, the gunman looking terrified, his back against the door of the vault. But just then the door slid open and the other men emerged from the vault with weapons drawn.

  “Please don’t shoot,” Cordelia said, and stepped away from her symbol in the dirt.

  The stolen Volvo was laboring up the mountain to the International Seed Vault. In his mind, Sinclair reviewed the message left in the dirt outside the museum: S E E. It had to be the seed vault.

  As he drove, Sinclair dialed Frost’s number and got his voice mail.

  “It’s Sinclair. We have a problem. Erin, Charles, and Cordelia were taken hostage. I think they’re in the seed vault, so I’m headed up there now. Come as quickly as you can.”

  Oslo

  Thaddeus Frost sprinted across the tarmac. The Norwegian Air Force jet was ready, its engine screaming. As he approached, a uniformed officer came down the steps to meet him.

  “Good evening, sir, we’re at your service.”

  Frost didn’t break stride, and launched up the steps, shouting over the din of the engine.

  “We have a hostage situation. Three people, maybe four. We believe they are being held in the seed vault. I need you to get me some backup immediately.”

  The man’s eyes widened.

  “And there are two casualties in Longyearbyen. Norwegians,” Frost continued.

  The military officer nodded. “I’ll have the pilot radio the police at Longyearbyen at once.”

  Longyearbyen

  The industrial thermostat at the International Seed Vault was permanently set to maintain a steady temperature below freezing, somewhere between -10 degrees and -20 degrees Celsius. That was the ideal range to preserve the seed packets. But even if the cooling system failed, the Arctic mountain was a natural refrigerator—the seeds would still be protected by year-round permafrost.

  Cordelia, Charles, and Erin sat on the floor, their hands and feet bound with duct tape. They could feel the bone-aching chill through the concrete. High aluminum shelves towered over them, each stacked with hundreds of black file boxes containing the seed packets. Their captors had left them unattended, placed several feet apart and bound up tightly. Although they were immobile, they could converse freely.

  “You didn’t find anything in the museum?” Charles asked Cordelia.

  “No, there was nothing on the ground floor. Just as we were going upstairs, John told me to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He saw something; he was very upset,” said Cordelia.

  “Who are these people?” Erin broke in. “I can’t figure out who they are. Last night the ones who got us were Russians.”

  “Judging by their accents, these are clearly Americans,” said Cordelia. “But I don’t know who they are. A group called Citizens for World Survival sent me a death threat when I was on the ship.”

  “Why?” asked Erin.

  “They want the vault to be neutral. They say that no country has the right to own it.”

  “And the Russians?” Charles asked. “What did they want?”

  “They wanted the deed,” Erin said. “But they’re out of the picture. They’ve been neutralized.”

  Cordelia stared at her. “You killed . . . ?”

  Charles caught Erin’s eye, frowning; he shook his head slightly. Erin understood his meaning.

  Suddenly the door swooshed open and three gunmen came into the room. There was a long moment of silence as they stood at attention, as i
f waiting for someone to arrive. Then a large man entered.

  Cordelia cried out in shock. It was Bob! And Marlene waddled in after him.

  “Howdy-do, Cordelia,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” she said angrily.

  “Oh, honey, we’re so sorry, but we had to do this,” explained Marlene. “We had to stop you from giving the deed to anyone.”

  “Why? What business is it of yours?”

  Bob walked around looking at the seed boxes with interest. He spoke over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

  “Will you look at all these seeds! Isn’t it funny, all these countries saving them up in neat little boxes.”

  Anna got off the plane in Longyearbyen and checked her cell phone again. No message. How odd that Evgeny hadn’t called her. The last time they had spoken was sixteen hours ago.

  She walked through the small airport in Longyearbyen and stepped outside. What a desolate place! Thank God there was a van waiting for passengers.

  “Polar Hotel,” she told the driver. He took her suitcase and flung it in the back, and returned to the driver’s seat.

  “You here for sightseeing?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Such a beautiful spot. I just couldn’t stay away.”

  The driver backed up, did a U-turn, and drove the short distance to the hotel.

  “I’m joining my boyfriend. He arrived yesterday,” Anna told the desk clerk, giving Evgeny’s full name.

  “That would be room four twelve,” the clerk said. “He’s already checked in.”

  “Is he there now?” asked Anna.

  “No, he went out.”

  Anna took the key card to the room and wheeled her suitcase behind her. Room 412 was just off the main corridor. She knocked sharply on the door. No sound inside. She carded the door open.

  The room was intact, the bed unused. All of Evgeny’s things were in the bathroom, and his clothes were in the closet. Where was Evgeny? How far away could he go in this godforsaken place?

  Inside vault number 2, the young gunmen were nervous. Cordelia noticed they were not used to handling weapons. Bob was walking around the vault.

  “Lance here has been looking for that deed for weeks now,” he said. “We even went through all your things in California.”

  “How dare you!” Cordelia shouted, furious. “Those things were personal.”

  Bob ignored her, glancing around at the vault. “Will you look at this place? Built right into the bedrock.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Erin quietly.

  “The elders of the church voted on it, decided the vault must be destroyed.”

  “Destroyed? How?” Erin demanded.

  “You’ll see.” Bob walked over to Erin and looked down at her with contempt. “It was wrong of y’all to kill poor Evgeny. You should’ve given him the deed.”

  “Why were you working with Evgeny?” Erin asked.

  “We were doing our thing, to try to destroy the vault. But we ran into Evgeny and made kind of a side deal, to work together to find the deed and split the money.”

  “So why do you need us? You didn’t have to kidnap us to destroy the vault,” Cordelia pointed out.

  “Ya’ll know too much.”

  “You won’t get away with it,” Erin snapped.

  “Sure we will. Lance has just finished putting incendiary explosives in the seed boxes. The whole vault is going up, to burn out the seeds.”

  “Don’t worry, it will be quick,” assured Marlene.

  “You sick sons of bitches,” growled Charles.

  “What the hell? What kind of freaks are you people?” Erin demanded.

  “Now that is just not a nice way to talk,” said Bob patiently.

  “You goddamn bastards. You think you are doing what’s right?” Erin shouted, “I think you are goddamn nuts, that’s what I think!”

  Cordelia looked at Erin. It was clear something had snapped and she was losing control. Possibly her pain medication had worn off and she was struggling to cope. Her red hair was wild, tumbling over her shoulders. Her face was contorted with rage, and her bruises were even more livid. The two black eyes gave her a ghoulish appearance, and her pupils were pinpoints of hate. Her mouth was contorted, swollen.

  The three young men were looking at Erin uncertainly. They shifted their gaze to Bob and Marlene. Bob shook his head slowly, as if she were a naughty child.

  “Lance, son. I don’t think we can listen to this kind of talk.”

  “Yes sir,” Lance replied.

  “You are going to have to keep this little lady here quiet so we can get on with what we need to do.”

  “Yes sir,” Lance repeated.

  Bob turned and walked to the door, not looking back. Marlene lumbered out after him.

  Lance strode over to where Erin sat on the floor. He stood above her—a tall, rangy man with a heavily lined face and flat reptilian eyes.

  “May the Lord forgive you,” he said in a kindly tone. Without any hesitation, he leaned over, put his gun to Erin’s temple, and pulled the trigger.

  The sound of the shot was a dull thud. Half of Erin’s head, behind her right ear, dissolved into a mist of blood that spattered across the floor, staining the light gray concrete. Her body slumped over on its side. She lay staring straight at Cordelia with lifeless eyes. China-doll eyes, big and green. There were bits of skull and red hair near her face; her cheek was pressed to the floor in a pool of blood. She was dead.

  The room spun and Cordelia thought she would faint. Erin. Dead. Just like that! Cordelia was unprepared for the shock of it. She kept staring at Erin’s lifeless body, which just moments ago had been so vital and alive. Suddenly Cordelia could not feel her fingers and legs, and the concrete floor seemed even colder. She lost all sense of reality, and had the sensation of floating, looking down on the scene. Her mind was numb, and she was losing her ability to think. She realized that she must not go into shock; she had to stay alert. Then she heard someone talking. Someone was shouting.

  “How could you!” Charles yelled. “What kind of a man are you, to shoot a woman, tied up like that?”

  Cordelia looked over at Charles. She was still numb, but she was glad Charles was yelling at Lance. She didn’t have the strength herself. She couldn’t seem to speak.

  Charles was fighting against his bonds with all his strength, desperate to break free. His contortions were fierce, his face purple with rage, his hair sweaty and plastered to his temples. The three gunmen watched him warily, their weapons drawn.

  Lance started walking slowly toward Charles, his gun dangling at his side. Cordelia realized what was about to happen. It jolted her into action. She called out. And to her surprise, fear made her voice strong and commanding.

  “Leave him alone!”

  Lance turned to Cordelia with a hard stare.

  “I’ll tell you where the deed is, just leave him alone,” she begged.

  “Cordelia, no!” Charles burst out.

  “You shut up,” Lance told him, and looked back at Cordelia. “You know where the deed is? You need to talk to the boss.”

  “Fine, take me to him,” Cordelia challenged.

  Lance walked over, put the gun into his belt, and took out a folding knife. The lethal blade slid between her ankles, cold and frightening. He cut the duct tape, grasped her arm, and hauled her to her feet.

  “Cordelia, no. Please!”

  Cordelia looked at Charles as she was led away. “Charles, listen to me. It’s not worth your life.”

  Lance gripped Cordelia by the upper arm and pushed her out of the room. The three gunmen backed out of the vault, keeping their weapons pointed at Charles. The steel door closed and the swoosh of the air lock sealed it. He was alone. Charles looked at Erin’s lifeless body, lying in a pool of her own blood.

  Sinclair stopped the car on the rocky road. He needed to park below the lip of the cliff so no one would see him. Luckily there was a small indentation in the rock fa
ce, and the Volvo fit neatly into it.

  Before closing the car door, he remembered to take the whaling fork from the backseat. As preposterous as it was as a weapon, it was better than nothing. He started up the steep incline to the exterior door of the seed vault, leaning heavily on the shaft of the whaling fork for balance. Circling around the mountain, away from the road, he found he could go higher than the entrance of the vault and then descend without anyone on the ground seeing him.

  As he climbed, he slipped a little on the loose shale and gravel. But despite the uncertain footing, the slope was not difficult. Finally he stood above the doorframe and calculated his approach.

  There was no one guarding the entrance. Sinclair looked at the tiny town of Longyearbyen below: toy houses and cars, the long stretch of Main Street that ended in the beautiful blue of Advent Bay. The ribbon of road winding up the mountain was empty. There would be no immediate help from Thaddeus Frost. He was clearly on his own.

  From his vantage point over the door he could see the vault without obstruction. He gave it the once-over and started to move. But then something registered. There was a pattern on the ground! He dropped down the cliff, sliding on the loose gravel, knocking pebbles down like a light rain. They clattered around the entrance to the seed vault. For the final drop, he found his balance and then jumped.

  Just in front of the vault, a patch of earth had been disturbed. It looked like a scratched message. He approached. It was an ichthus wheel! There was no mistaking it. It was distinct and very clearly drawn. Either Charles or Cordelia had left the symbol for him. They were inside!

  Sinclair examined the door of the vault. It was about eighteen feet high and made of blast-proof industrial-strength steel, with no visible handle. So it must open electronically. He looked around. Sure enough, on the right side of the door was a small black square the size of a deck of cards. It must be a scanner. But he didn’t have the corresponding scan card, so there was no way to get in.