White Heat

by Melanie McGrath

  '. . . the magnetic field gets screwy,' Derek interjected. 'And the geology of the region is barely mapped.'

  'Exactly. So all Wagner had to go on was the stone itself, the diary pages and the probability of finding salt near the entrance to the gas plug.'

  'Salt?'

  'Halite, they call it. Rock salt. It's like the grease in the plug, far as I can make out, kinda keeps it airtight.'

  'How does all this tie up with Andy Taylor? Or with Joe for that matter?'

  'Wagner was involved in something called the Arctic Hunters' Club. Taylor told me his boss was into all that old explorer stuff. Wagner knew Bill Fairfax through the club. What I'm guessing, when Fairfax got himself into some kind of financial trouble, Wagner stepped in and offered to buy the stone and the part of the diary he was interested in, leaving Fairfax free to sell the rest at auction. Despite all that club stuff, Wagner wasn't an experienced Arctic hand, so he needed someone to accompany him. Taylor had been in Alaska a while and I guess Wagner was impressed by him, though I'm still trying to work out how, given what an asshole he was.'

  'Go on,' Derek said.

  'The way I think it happened, Wagner spread himself too thin. He got into bed with two competing energy conglomerates: Zemmer, an energy corporation out of Houston, Texas .. .'

  Derek interrupted. 'The ones involved in that oil spill off the coast of Russia?'

  Edie ignored the question.

  'And an outfit called Beloil, owned by an oligarch called

  Belovsky, who Wagner met through the Arctic Hunters' Club.'

  Two apparently separate pieces of information snapped together in Derek's head.

  'You think Beloil could have sprung Zemmer's pump?' He was thinking about the Russians he'd met in Eureka, how they'd seemed particularly interested in him.

  'Those Russian guys, the ones in Greenland. What did they look like?'

  Edie's description didn't fit what he could remember of the two men at Eureka, but that wasn't to say they weren't working for the same outfit. His thoughts moved to Misha. Was it too far-fetched to imagine she'd been drafted in to distract him, after all?

  'Great way to take out the competition.'

  'But why would Zemmer try to pin it on Chechen Islamists?'

  'Maybe that way, they get the US Government pouring troops into oil-rich regions so they can suck the oil out of them. Mention the words Islamist, someone in Washington DC adds another few noughts onto the defence budget and no one complains. In any case, either Zemmer or the Russian guy found out they were being misled and wanted Wagner taken out and they got some local guy to do it.'

  'You work that out how?'

  'Anyone from outside, we would have heard the plane, we would have seen something. The footprint I saw at the site of the shooting? You'd have to know the land, at least a little. I guess, I've just got a feeling . . .'

  '. . .a feeling?' Derek drew back, sensing Edie was about to go off on one of her flights of fancy.

  'Yeah, Derek, a feeling. You know, those things people have which govern their actions? Love, hate, greed, ambition, that kind of thing.'

  Right now, Derek had feelings of his own. He was beginning to feel that they had just descended into the realm of supposition. Feelings had to be backed up by evidence, or they were no good to anyone.

  'You're saying you have a feeling there's a killer in Autisaq.'

  'What I'm saying, someone's in on this.'

  He lit up a Lucky Strike. 'You said way back that Taylor took the stone and the diary from Wagner?'

  'I saw him do it, Derek, I just didn't realize at the time. When I arrived after Wagner was shot, Taylor was fumbling about in his boss's parka. I just kind of assumed he was loosening it, trying to make Wagner more comfortable. Then later, I found the diary pages hidden in some ice next to Taylor's snowbie. I don't know why he hid them. Maybe he heard the plane and got spooked.'

  'You saying someone more powerful wanted that stone and the diary, so Taylor had to go?' Derek said.

  'I'm sure of it. Joe told me he saw a green plane that day. I traced it to a fellow called Johannes Moller in Greenland. The day Andy Taylor disappeared, Moller hired it out to two Russians, the same guys who came over on a duck-hunting trip a while later and insisted on going to Craig. They have links to Beloil.'

  'You think the Russians shot Taylor?' Derek followed the smoke from his cigarette, momentarily lost in thought. Then he remembered. 'The air was like porridge that day.'

  Edie was a couple of steps ahead. 'Moller has an Inuk pilot, Hans. He'll fly through anything and the Russians could easily have used a thermal scope. But not even Hans could land, so they couldn't get the stone.'

  'Which is why they had to come back,' said Derek.

  'Right.'

  He could feel the energy coming off her.

  'I think both Joe and Koperkuj heard the shot,' Edie continued. 'While Joe strapped on his skis and went for help, the old man found Taylor's body, took the stone from around his neck and cut up the body. I found the knife he used. The cut marks are exact.'

  'Why would he do that?' The idea seemed unlikely.

  Edie shrugged. 'The old man never liked qalunaat much. I dunno, maybe he was covering up the fact he'd taken the stone.'

  Derek was conscious that he had begun picking at the fingernail of his left index finger, a tic he associated with a feeling of not being entirely in control. Already, he had made up his mind to check out the facts on his own. If any of this was to come to court, he'd need to build a case from the evidence. So far, he hadn't seen much of that. Just some cut-up bones, the knife supposedly used to cut them, the witness of a difficult woman and a piece of Saran Wrap that could have come from anywhere and, until there was clarification from the lab, might well contain almost anything.

  'The two Russians, the Beloil guys, turned their attentions to a second stone, or rather, part of the original one, which they knew was up in Northwest Greenland.'

  'There are two?'

  'I had the one Koperkuj found checked out. It was chipped from a larger piece. Most likely Welatok divided it. Maybe he knew he'd get more for it that way, maybe he just wanted a piece that was the right size to hang round his neck. Who knows? In any case, at least one other fragment made its way to Etah.'

  'How?'

  'Welatok took it.' An impatient tone had crept into Edie's voice, as though what she was saying was so supremely obvious that only dumbasses like himself needed it spelled out. 'He showed it to this Russian explorer, a man called

  Karlovsky, up there in Greenland. Karlovsky wanted it but at the last minute Welatok wouldn't sell. I think Fairfax had tricked him and he got spooked and thought Karlovsky would do the same thing. But the Russian went one better: he killed Welatok.' She flapped her hand. 'In any case, all you need to know is that the Beloil fellows were trying to find the second stone.'

  'And did they?'

  Edie shrugged. 'I don't know. I had to leave before the finale.' She bit her lip. 'I doubt it, though. They were still up there when Qila sent my pictures to the newspaper.'

  'OK,' said Derek, 'so now I have no idea what you're talking about.'

  'That bit doesn't matter,' she said.

  A thought crossed Derek's mind. 'Did Koperkuj know how important the stone is?'

  Edie shook her head.

  'Anyone know Koperkuj had the stone? Or that you've got it now?'

  'Apart from you and Mike Nungaq? Uh nuh.' This news was a relief at least. 'Well...' Edie went on: 'I left my wallet at the camp in Etah. If they found it, my alibi for being there would have blown.'

  Derek lit another cigarette. He had the feeling he was going to be needing the rest of the pack.

  'What did they need the meteorite for in the first place?'

  Edie gave an impatient little snort. 'To confirm that it was the kind associated with gas reserves, then as a template for others they might come across in the area. When a meteor falls to earth, it kind of explodes on impact. By finding t
he fragments, you can build up a scatter pattern that leads you to the epicentre of the impact crater.'

  'The impact crater being .. .'

  '. . . the astrobleme.'

  'Which marks the location of the gas. Somewhere on Craig.'

  'Right.'

  'How convenient,' he said. The story was beginning to make sense to him.

  Edie looked puzzled. Derek tried not to show his pleasure at having finally stumped her.

  'Craig Island is one of the few High Arctic islands that's not a designated National Park. Historical quirk. Anywhere else, to get an exploration licence you're going to run into years of legal wrangling. So far as the law is concerned, Craig is wide open.'

  They both sat back in silence, each digesting what the other had said.

  Finally Derek piped up: 'How would the Russians have known Taylor was on Craig?' He regretted the question as soon as he'd asked it. The answer was obvious. 'I get it,' he said. 'Either there's the local tipster or Taylor was playing them too.'

  'Right.' There was a glitter in Edie's eyes still, a kind of shimmering sense of mission, as though she had an animal in her sights and was perfectly poised to bring it down. 'Which is where Simeonie Inukpuk comes in.'

  Derek gave an involuntary little snort.

  'C'mon. All this election stuff: the posters, the pins, the marketing whatevertheyares. Don't you think it's all just a little weird? I've seen the mayor's bank statements. Simeonie's got money going into some trumped-up foundation. Regular payments.'

  'It's called a wage, Edie. Remember a wage? It was what you used to have before you started interfering in all this.' The moment the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them. 'Sorry, I'm just tired.'

  'Apology accepted.'

  'It's just - the mayor, I can't see it.'

  She suddenly looked exhausted. 'You know, I really don't care any more. I just want to know who killed my boy.' She bit her lip hard.

  Derek leaned in and took her hand. How small it was. He felt almost overwhelmed by her then, this tiny woman with her limitless loyalty to a ghost.

  'I wouldn't ask you if I didn't need help.' Her expression grew suddenly wild, and she reached over and grasped his face and shook it. 'Have you forgotten who we are? Inuttigut. We are Inuit. We live in a place littered with bones, with spirits, with reminders of the past. Nothing dies here and nothing rots: not bones, not plastic, not memories. Especially not memories. We live surrounded by our stories. It's one of our gifts. Unlike most of the rest of the world, we can't escape our stories, Derek.' She took his hand. 'We need to know how Joe's ends. That's why we have to dig him up.'

  Derek sat back, momentarily silent. He knew that what he was about to say could land him in all kinds of trouble, but he also knew that didn't matter any more.

  'People will be sleeping off their hangovers tonight, and from the look of the sky, there'll be moonlight.'

  'You mean you'll come?'

  He nodded.

  Edie smiled, reached over and gave him an Inuk kiss.

  'Another thing.'

  He felt his heart sink a little but motioned her to continue.

  'I want Willa in on this one.'

  * * *

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the hours before they set off, Edie fed the dogs from her seal-meat cache and packed her rucksack with jerky, two thermos flasks of hot sweet tea, a primus stove, her ivory snowknife, a torch and a hunting knife, then filled a waterproof pack with her tent, the Remington, a back-up flashlight and battery pack, ice pick, harpoon, rope, portable generator, caribou sleeping bag, fishing light, spare set of sealskin outerwear, spare gas and ammunition. That done, she made herself a passable stew with a good helping of blubber, and settled down in front of Safety Last! to compose herself for the journey.

  Aside from her own desire to uncover the truth, there were good reasons for the urgency. Every day now the temperature was falling fast, with a thick hoarfrost creeping over everything, and there was a sharp gusting wind blowing frost smoke into the air. Any moment now the ice would collide into frazil and anyone wanting to travel on it would have to wait until it had thickened over and solidified. Once winter really set in, the earth would ice up and the rocks over Joe Inukpuk's body would freeze together and refuse to yield up his bones. They would have to wait until the spring to dig him out and by then it might be too late.

  The movie had long since finished when she woke to the sound of Derek opening the door. Some memory of a dream about the puikaktuq still lingered in her mind and a current of anxiety pulsed in her right eye.

  'D'you bring Willa?'

  'I sent him ahead to check over the launch,' Derek said, indicating that he'd wait for her outside.

  She got up, shook herself down and went out to the snow porch to pull on her sealskins, mitts and kamiks. Derek was standing by the steps, his breath pooling in the darkening air.

  By the time they reached the boat Willa was on deck, lying down the gear. For a moment he caught her eye, then he looked away.

  They started out slowly, picking their way through the skeins of ice lying in the water by the shore. When they were out into clearer water, Derek handed the wheel to Willa, who picked up speed and turned the launch due south. The tiny lights of Autisaq were a good way behind them now.

  The wind picked up and was blowing in steadily from the west-north-west, its low whistle obscuring the sound of the engine. The launch began to pitch less now they were out in open water. Edie stood close to Willa, waiting for his resistance to her to soften. She reached out her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. He took his eyes off the route momentarily.

  'I'm sorry,' she said.

  They approached Craig in the moments just before dawn. A smear of sun peeked blood-red over the horizon to the south, then bloomed over the water, bleaching as it rose and strewing new, pale yellow light across the high cloud. When it became apparent that they had veered slightly off course, Willa righted the launch, proceeding along the coastline south towards Ulli. Dropping anchor just short of the shore, they waded into the water and lined up in chain formation, passing their kit from one to the other, until it sat in a pile on the beach. There they rested briefly, brewing up hot tea and refilling the thermoses.

  Warmer now, they gathered their things, leaving the sat phone, primus, a lightweight, portable gurney and a few other bits and pieces behind on the beach. While Derek and Willa heaved shovels, lights, tents and rifles onto their backs, Edie picked up the thermos, Derek's video camera, a crowbar and her Remington, and the threesome began to make their way along the shingle.

  The path to Joe's grave lay at the other end of the beach, via a moraine meander up onto the cliff and along the bluff. Filled with the sense of what lay ahead, no one spoke. The cairn was covered with hoarfrost now, but already the morning sun was beginning to heat the rocks beneath and the delicate frost filigree was shining wet.

  They kneeled in the ice and Willa said a prayer. Then, while Derek mounted the camera on its tripod, Edie and Willa unfolded the lights, set the generator running and readied the tent. The plan was to remove the rocks over the cairn until the pelts covering the body appeared. Then they would erect the tent over the site to protect the corpse from the elements and work with lights inside the tent. The camera would be witness to the whole event. Derek had already insisted that what went on inside the tent would be men's work. Edie had no inclination to argue.

  Once the equipment was ready, Derek switched on the camera and they began, slowly, so as not to break sweat or disturb the position of the body. They removed the stones from the cairn, one by one, starting with the smaller ones at the top of the pile. As the rocks grew larger they worked as a team, Derek levering with a crowbar while Edie and Willa manipulated each rock in turn onto a piece of tarp then rolled or dragged it to the side, stacking it into an orderly pile with the rest. They worked steadily and in silence and as they levered and rolled and heaved, the pile of boulders and rocks covering the body o
f Joe Inukpuk grew smaller and smaller and the pile beside the grave larger, until, gradually, the caribou skins covering the body became visible. They cleared the area and erected Edie's tent around the site, and the two men disappeared inside and began the grisly work of clearing the last of the stones, and heaving the body of Joe Inukpuk from the ground.

  For a while Edie busied herself rearranging the rocks on the tarp, but when that became too much, she sat back on the pile she'd made and waited. From inside the tent she could hear Derek murmuring instructions. The wind came up, rushing along the tundra and tumbling with a slicing whistle from the cliff. A gust caught at the tent flap, and for a split second she could see the two men bent over the caribou-skin shroud. Over one side of the skin, stiff and petrified, she saw an arm and a hand, shrunken, brown, the skin scaly as a hoof. Then Derek reached over to zip the flap and she turned away. Some strong force rose up in her and she began to whisper, isumagijunnaipaa, isumagijunnaipaa, forgive me, for all the times she had failed the boy who had treated her as a mother.

  A long time later - she had no idea how much time - she heard Derek's voice calling her. He came up to where she was squatting, leaned down and enveloped her in his arms. He was smiling and the warmth of his breath spread across her face. He'd seen it, a tiny shining fragment of plastic trapped almost in the bridge of Joe's nose. They would have to take the body back to Autisaq for examination by a pathologist for confirmation, but this was what they were looking for and each part of the procedure had been captured on camera, so there would be no chance for any lawyer to claim that the evidence had been tampered with.

  They had wrapped the body back up in its caribou shroud. Willa was still at his brother's side, saying his prayers. Derek would go down to the beach, call the pathologist in Iqaluit on the sat phone and bring back the gurney. They'd carry Joe wrapped in his burial pelts. He suggested Edie stay with the body. When Willa was done, he'd be in need of her. The experience had hit him hard.

  Edie watched his wolf-fur hat disappear over the moraine. For a while she could hear the soft squeal of his boots on the stones, then there was only the wind. Standing beside the tent, she thought about what she had said to Derek, about Joe's story needing an ending, and realized she'd been wrong. Joe was Inuit and Inuit lives were like sundogs or Arctic rainbows, they ran not in lines but in circles. Even now, as they exhumed his body, Joe's spirit was in the sky, a star waiting to be reborn. It was she, with her qalunaat blood, who demanded resolution. It was she who could only find her way to a singular truth.