‘What’s this?’
‘Read it,’ Klinsman said.
And so, with his weapon still aimed at Klinsman’s head, he read:
Preliminary report into the medium- and long-term health consequences of the Glacier Ridge underground nuclear test of 19 July 1973
by Chip Muloon
Derek looked down at Klinsman. The man’s eyes rose to meet his.
‘Believe it or not, I finally had enough of the lying and the bullshit,’ he said. ‘So can we get up now?’
• • •
With Klinsman and Makivik sitting peaceably at the table, Edie went to fetch Willa and Gutierrez from where she’d left them, hiding in an outbuilding in the back yard, and brought them back inside the main house.
‘I’m looking forward to this,’ Gutierrez said, taking a seat.
‘As a matter of fact so am I,’ Klinsman offered. He seemed jumpy and tired but at the same time the stiffness with which he’d always carried himself had gone, as though he’d been relieved of more than the Defence Department’s secrets.
‘Up until yesterday I was a loyal military man. Now, I guess I’m just another whistleblower. But it feels fine. It feels surprisingly good, actually.’
‘Who else knows?’ This from Derek.
‘Right now, just us,’ Makivik replied.
‘I’m expecting you to have a lot of questions,’ Klinsman said. ‘I’m happy to answer anything that doesn’t require me to give away operational details. I’ll do whatever I can to bring those assholes at the department down but I won’t put any more of my men in harm’s way.’
‘Would you like hot tea and some fried goose legs before you begin?’ Edie said.
‘I can recommend the tea,’ said Gutierrez.
Mugs were fetched.
‘Go ahead and shoot, colonel,’ Derek said. ‘We’ll ask questions later.’
Klinsman’s brow creased. ‘When you called me with the news about the girl, I followed procedure and notified my superiors at the SOVPAT HQ. These kind of events are rare but they’re hardly unknown around military encampments and I was told to give you guys whatever assistance you needed.’ Not long after that, he went on, the Defence Department called to say that they were intending to send a couple of officials to inspect the victim’s body.
‘They said it was routine procedure and I believed them. Maybe that was naive. But I’m a soldier not a politician and I’ve been around long enough to know that this kind of situation can blow up in your face. I knew it needed to be contained. But the move to take over jurisdiction of the case came from the Defence Department, not from the military.
‘At that point, it didn’t occur to me that the department had another agenda. All the evidence seemed to suggest that Namagoose and Saxby had killed the girl. You thought so too as I recall, sergeant.’
Derek coughed. ‘The investigation did point that way, yes.’
Klinsman frowned, troubled by some memory of the event, then continued.
‘But it was obvious pretty early on that the department wasn’t gonna leave the military police to do their job. There was all kinds of interference.’
‘Who were you dealing with at the department?’ Gutierrez asked.
Klinsman bit his lip and grimaced. ‘I feel like a fool for saying this. It doesn’t matter what he was called because I don’t think he was using his real name. He said he was the military–civilian liaison at the Defence Department and worked directly under the Minister.
‘The fact was, I was really stretched. This was my first SOVPAT and everything was kicking off. I had five hundred military personnel and dozens of exercises to coordinate across the forces. I radically underestimated how hard the terrain up there is. Mountain exercises where there aren’t even any reliable military maps. I, I . . .’ His shoulders slumped.
‘There must be a paper trail,’ Gutierrez went on.
Klinsman looked pained and shook his head. ‘My liaison only ever called on an encrypted line. By that time I was seriously doubting that Privates Namagoose and Saxby were responsible for Martha Salliaq’s death. I questioned them over and over and their story never varied. After a few days the military police shipped them out to Ottawa. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone at the department wasn’t behind that.’
From the corner of her eye Edie saw Derek look her way. A mosquito whined nearby and Klinsman flapped it off with his hand then pulled himself upright and said in the tone of a broken man, ‘It might surprise you but I have tried to be a man of principle.’
No one said anything.
‘What about Muloon?’ Derek asked.
Klinsman swung around to Edie. ‘Weren’t you two . . . ?’
Edie blushed. She still felt like a fool for falling for the man. Lean features, ice-blue eyes. It sounded like something from a romance novel.
‘Muloon was a Trojan Horse. We exchanged a few friendly words before this whole thing blew up, but I only realized he wasn’t what he said he was some days ago, after he turned up at the security gate demanding to be let inside. The number he gave me to call and check his credentials went straight to the Minister’s office. Even then I was only told he was working on some sensitive research for the department. I had no idea it had to do with nuclear testing.’
Gutierrez threw her hair back and made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
Klinsman shrank a little in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his face.
‘I guess this may sound like an excuse, but I was following orders when I picked you up. The transfer to Alert – I had no idea why they wanted you up there and I never would have allowed it if I thought your lives were in jeopardy.’
‘You’re right,’ Edie said, ‘it does sound like an excuse.’
‘The military is built along family lines. We have blood ties. Perhaps it took me longer than it should have done to realize that the Defence Department wasn’t part of the family.’
Edie shook her head in disbelief.
‘Your departmental “family” didn’t give a shit about exposing your men to radiation.’
‘That’s one of the reasons I’m here,’ Klinsman said.
‘Two of your men are in jail for a murder they had nothing to do with.’
Klinsman sighed. ‘And that’s the other.’
Gutierrez’s head shot up and Edie realized that in all the chaos of escape they hadn’t told her who was really behind Martha’s death. At the news Gutierrez’s face crumpled. She put her head in her hands for a moment. When she looked up her features were hard and vengeful.
‘You saw the killer’s body on the beach,’ Derek said to Klinsman.
‘Did he fall or was he pushed?’
‘Does it matter?’ Derek said.
‘I don’t suppose so.’
There was a disturbance outside. The two policemen went to the window and looked out. Makivik turned back first.
‘Kids,’ he said.
Derek remained standing by the window. ‘Who else knows you’re in town?’
Klinsman shook his head. ‘Other than the pilot who flew me here and you, no one. I told my next-in-command I’d been called away for an urgent meeting in Yellowknife. He might check the flight plan and see that I’ve come to Iqaluit, but I doubt it. I gave the pilot time off. He’s already on his way down south. It’ll be a day before they realize I’ve gone AWOL.’
Klinsman asked for a glass of water. Willa brought it. The colonel studied his face for a moment.
‘You’re the Ranger who teaches at the rappel camp.’
‘Ex-Ranger,’ Willa said, with some regret. Klinsman continued to look at him for a moment.
‘My stepson,’ Edie said. She felt proud of him. ‘He helped bust us out of Camp Nanook.’
Klinsman smiled and, raising his glass in a toast, said, ‘From one ex-soldier to ano
ther.’
Willa glanced at him for a moment then looked away. Klinsman took this in. He replaced the glass on the table. The mosquito that had been bothering him flew close. He reached out and clapped, leaving a tiny smear of blood on his palms.
44
Summer rapidly gave way to the short, High Arctic autumn. Lake Turngaluk froze and the sea bloomed with frost flowers. Nights drew in and the stars made their annual reappearance. A month had passed since the flight to Iqaluit.
It was crazy how quickly the time had gone, the days swallowed up in a blizzard of meetings with police and politicians, and press interviews. She was ready to return home to her old familiar life in Autisaq, and hunker down for the imminent arrival of the winter.
The waiting room of the nursing station was busier than she’d ever seen it. A week after Chris Tetlow’s series of articles on covert nuclear testing had appeared in the Arctic Circular, an embarrassed federal government had introduced an extensive screening programme across the region. Each man, woman and child on Ellesmere Island was being tested for a range of radiation-related health problems, from sterility to leukaemia and thyroid disorders. The government had promised free and comprehensive medical care and were in the process of considering a compensation package, though the tests had been encouraging so far. The taboo on visiting the area around Lake Turngaluk, where radiation levels were highest, turned out to have been life-saving. Only Joe Oolik showed signs of recent contamination, and the specialist team who helped him were confident they’d caught it in time.
Some traditionally minded Inuit like Charlie Salliaq had already begun to talk about this as proof of the power of the old ways. Here was evidence, they said, that in the ancient customs there was a kind of unfailing and mysterious wisdom. To others, the incident was evidence of the work of good in the world. Whatever chaos the evil spirits of the lake might try to stir, the spirits of the ancestors would always rise up to protect the living. Edie didn’t know whether any of this was true, but she wanted it to be, and maybe that was enough.
In four short weeks, the story of Canada and the USA’s joint secret nuclear testing programme had travelled a long way from the Great North. Hundreds of emails of support continued to land in the mayor’s inbox every day, from places most of the Kuujuamiut had never heard of. It was true what they said. The world really was a smaller place these days.
No one had been more surprised by the level of support than Charlie Salliaq. The last month had opened his eyes, even though he couldn’t see much out of them any more.
‘I always thought that nobody in the south cared what happened to us up here. Turns out I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things.’
The blood transfusion had given him a few more weeks of life and, as far as anyone could tell, it hadn’t yet turned him into a qalunaat. But the old man had decided not to put himself down on a list for a bone-marrow transplant. The procedure would have meant staying in Ottawa, and he’d had enough travelling. All he wanted now was to die at home in Kuujuaq.
Edie found him propped up on pillows, singing into a digital recorder.
‘I’m writing my life story, the Inuit way.’ He chuckled and flipped off the machine.
‘I brought you blood soup, elder,’ Edie said, pouring the contents of a flask out into a mug.
The old man smacked his lips.
‘You sing like a guillemot, Edie Kiglatuk, but you make a good blood soup.’
‘I’m glad to know there’s some point to me,’ she replied.
She helped him lift the mug to his mouth. In the last week his appetite had shrunk along with his frame.
‘How’s that clean-up getting along?’
‘Pretty well. They’re covering over the lake.’
‘Good,’ he said, with a nod of satisfaction. ‘Put a lid on all them dark spirits. Markoosie Pitoq, he’ll be in there now. Better than any jail.’ He paused and took another sip of soup.
‘You know, I see Martha most days. In spirit anyway. Tell the truth, I’m looking forward to the time we gonna be together. What Markoosie did to Martha, that was a terrible thing. I try not to think about it too much. But in a way I feel sorry for him. Most people would die for their kids but it takes a particular kind of fella who would die for lack of them. It drove him crazy that Martha would always belong to me and Alice.’ He handed the mug back to Edie. ‘Course, there are oddballs like you who don’t want kids, but that’s a different net of fish.’
There was no point in telling him about the daughter she’d given birth to then buried in the snow, Edie thought. No point in going back over the years of drinking, the regret. She put down the mug and held his hand between both of hers.
‘I won’t forget you, Charlie Salliaq, even though sometimes I’ll want to.’ She leaned in and rested her nose against his and for a moment or two his old, soft breath and hers mingled with the scent of blood soup. When she pulled away she saw that there were tears in his eyes.
‘Goodbye, Edie Kiglatuk,’ he said. ‘When I’m in the spirit world, I’ll keep an eye on you from time to time. But only if you promise not to sing. The dead deserve a little peace.’
The conversation turned to going home. Toolik Pitoq had moved into the Salliaqs’ house and Charlie was looking forward to spending more time with him.
‘We two elders gonna walk the same road awhile, swap stories about the old times, keep each other company. We’ll talk about fetching up on that green gravel all those years ago, those first, hard months and years on Ellesmere Island. And maybe we’ll chew over our days at Glacier Ridge and the time we lived off beluga for the whole winter.’ He smiled weakly at Edie. ‘There’ll be plenty to say.’
• • •
From the nursing station Edie rumbled out along the track towards Lake Turngaluk. The area was now busy with decontamination teams, spraying dry ice and pouring concrete, and in the midst of the vehicles and the chemical tanks and pumps stood Sonia Gutierrez in her pink hazmat suit, directing the proceedings.
In the weeks following the revelations about Glacier Ridge, Gutierrez and Klinsman had been the principal focus of media interest. In interview after interview Gutierrez spoke about sacrificial populations and nuclear guinea pigs, about the federal government’s neglect of its fiduciary duty and, of course, about decontamination. One of her statements had been so widely quoted that Edie knew it by heart.
‘The government’s strategic initiatives in the High Arctic should be less about national ownership and more about stewardship. Who wants to own a junkyard or a nuclear dump?’
Through all this the Defence Minister, Kirsten Sinden, had managed to cling on, just, by claiming ignorance and offering promises to root out the perpetrator or perpetrators of the cover-up. The government had launched a commission into the historical events surrounding the nuclear test at Glacier Ridge and promised to leave no stone unturned.
Neither Edie nor Sonia believed any of it.
After the noise had dimmed, and the press moved on, Colonel Al Klinsman had quietly taken early retirement and was in the process of buying himself a fishing lodge in upper Ontario where he planned to pass the remainder of his days. The military police came to an agreement with Skeeter Saxby that they would not press charges against him for dealing stolen drugs from the Camp Nanook pharmacy in exchange for Saxby’s agreement not to sue for wrongful arrest on the murder rap. He was released from the infantry under item 2a, unsatisfactory conduct, and moved back to his hometown of Halifax, Nova Scotia, with the intention of opening a tattoo bar. Jacob Namagoose had gone back to active duty. Last Edie heard he was about to be shipped off on a tour of Afghanistan.
Edie waved and Gutierrez came bustling over, pulling off her gloves and tucking her face mask under her chin.
‘You leaving?’ Edie noticed then that, under her hat, Gutierrez had twisted her hair up in braids. It suited her.
Edie nodded.
‘Going back home. How about you?’
‘Well, they’ll be working here until freeze-up, then again next summer. Looks like they might finish a couple years from now. But I’m thinking I might as well stay. Toolik Pitoq offered me his old house. I guess I could get it fixed up some. Never been here for a winter before. Might be an experience.’
‘How does sixty below sound?’
Gutierrez waved a hand in the air to signify how little bothered she was at the prospect. ‘I’m hot-blooded,’ she said.
They laughed.
‘And, anyway, I’ll bet it’s beautiful.’
Edie’s heart swelled.
‘The most beautiful place on earth,’ she said.
• • •
On the way back she drove past the mud and pools of Lake Turngaluk then banked round and went up the slope towards the place where Rashid Alfasi had left flowers for Martha Salliaq. The building where they’d met had been one of the first to be torn down in the clean-up works and now on the site there were only a few cotton grasses and a pile of rubble. She thought about Martha and Rashid in love and planning their lives together, the energy on Martha’s face that Friday when she’d spilled the contents of her purse in her eagerness to get out of school to meet him, the sly smile on her face as Edie had asked her where she was going.
Edie made her way along the clifftop down to the shoreline where Martha and Rashid had collected eggs so that Charlie Salliaq would not suspect that his daughter’s absences from the house signalled anything other than a desire to provide for her family. A few dovekies remained on the cliffs but most of the seabirds had long since left for the south now and the cottonheads and saxifrages, which had sprung up on the rich deposits of guano, had begun to die back to their winter forms. The Pitoq family had moved Markoosie’s body and buried it under a cairn far from Kuujuaq, but if you looked very closely you could just see the indentations in the shale where he had fallen. Already the sea was soupy with frazil ice. Freeze-up wasn’t far away.
From the beach Edie drove back into the settlement. Responding to public pressure, the government had agreed to move those families who no longer wished to remain in Kuujuaq. A few had taken them up on the offer, joining family in Autisaq or in one of the other tiny settlements nearby. But most were still trying to make sense of the news. Men and women were reliving the pain of miscarried, malformed foetuses or of stillborn children and recalling all those long nights they’d spent wondering what they had done to make the earth spirits so angry with them. Right now, Edie reckoned, spirits and people were both learning to forgive themselves.
The Bone Seeker Page 34