Clive Cussler - Arctic Drift

As Pitt walked near, he marveled, as he always did, that the woman arguing with Yaeger was not real but rather a hologram that looked remarkably three-dimensional. Designed by Yaeger himself as a computer interface to the vast network system, the holographic woman was modeled after his wife and affectionately named Max.

“Mr. Pitt, can you please straighten out Hiram,” Max said, turning toward Pitt. “He doesn’t want to believe me when I tell him a woman’s handbag should match her shoes.”

“I always trust what you have to say,” Pitt replied with a nod.

“Thank you. There you have it,” she turned, lecturing Yaeger.

“Fine, fine,” Yaeger replied, throwing up his hands. “Some help you are in picking out a birthday present for my wife.”

Yaeger turned toward Pitt. “I should never have programmed her to argue like my wife,” he said, shaking his head.

Pitt took a seat next to him. “You wanted her to be as lifelike as possible,” he countered with a laugh.

“Tell me you have something to talk about besides ladies’ fashions,” he pleaded.

“As a matter of fact, I’d like Max to help me with a few mineralogy questions.”

“A welcome change of topics,” Max replied, peering down her nose at Yaeger. “I’m delighted to help you, Director. What is it that you would like to know?”

“For starters, what can you tell me about the mineral ruthenium? ”

Max closed her eyes for a second, then spoke rapidly. “Ruthenium is a transition metal of the platinum group, known for its hardness. Silvery white in color, it is the forty-fourth element, also known by its symbol Ru. The name derives from the Latin word rus , from which Russia originates. A Russian geologist, Karl Klaus, made its discovery in 1844.”

“Are there any unique demands for or uses of the mineral?” Pitt asked.

“Its qualities as a hardener, especially when combined with other elements such as titanium, were highly valued in industry. Supply irregularities have produced a sharp rise in prices recently, forcing manufacturers to turn to other compounds.”

“How expensive can it be?” asked Yaeger.

“It is one of the rarest minerals found on earth. Recent spot market prices have exceeded twelve thousand dollars an ounce.”

“Wow,” Yaeger replied. “That’s ten times the price of gold. Wish I owned a ruthenium mine.”

“Hiram raises a good question,” Pitt said. “Where is the stuff mined? ”

Max frowned for a moment as her computer processors sifted through the databases.

“The supplies are rather unsettled at the moment. South Africa and the Ural Mountains of Russia have been the historical sources for mined ruthenium in the last century. Approximately ten metric tons a year was mined in South Africa from a single mine in Bushveld, but their output peaked in the 1970s and fell to nearly zero by 2000. Even with the run-up in price, they’ve had no new production.”

“In other words, their mines have played out,” Pitt suggested.

“Yes, that is correct. There have been no significant discoveries made in the region in over forty years.”

“That still leaves the Russians,” Yaeger said.

Max shook her head. “The Russian ruthenium came from just two small mines adjacent to each other in the Vissim Valley. Their production had actually peaked back in the 1950s. A severe landslide destroyed and buried both mining operations several years ago. The Russians have abandoned both sites, stating it would take many years to return either mine to operation.”

“No wonder the price is so steep,” Yaeger said. “What’s your interest in the mineral, Dirk?”

Pitt described Lisa Lane’s artificial photosynthesis discovery and the role of ruthenium as a catalyst, along with the explosion in the lab. Yaeger let out a low whistle after digesting the implications.

“That’s going to make an unsuspecting mine owner a rich man,” he said.

“Only if the stuff can be found,” Pitt replied. “Which makes me wonder, Max, where would I go to purchase a bulk quantity of ruthenium?”

Max looked up toward the ceiling. “Let’s see… there are one or two Wall Street precious-commodities brokers that would be able to sell you some for investment purposes, but the quantities available are quite small. I’m only finding a small platinum mine in South America that has trace by-product quantities for sale, which would require further processing. The present known stocks of the mineral appear to be quite meager. The only other publicized source is the Ontario Miners Co-op, which lists a limited quantity of high-grade ruthenium available by the troy ounce.”

“The Co-op is where Lisa obtained her sample,” Pitt stated. “What more can you tell me about it?”

“The Miners Co-op represents independently owned mines across Canada, acting as wholesale outlet for mined ore. Their headquarters is in the town of Blind River, Ontario.”

“Thank you, Max. You’ve been a great help, as always,” Pitt said. He had long ago transcended his uneasiness at speaking to the computerized image and, like Yaeger, almost felt like Max was a real person.

“A pleasure anytime,” Max replied with a nod. Turning to Yaeger, she admonished, “Now, don’t you forget about my advice for your wife.”

“Good-bye, Max,” Yaeger replied, tapping at a keyboard. In an instant, Max disappeared from view. Yaeger turned to Pitt.

“A shame your friend’s discovery may be for naught if there’s no ruthenium around to power the process.”

“As important as the ramifications are, a source will be found,” Pitt said confidently.

“If your hunch about the lab explosion is correct, then somebody else already knows about the scarcity of the mineral.”

Pitt nodded. “My fear as well. If they are willing to kill to halt the research, then they are probably willing to try and monopolize the remaining supplies.”

“So where do you go from here?”

“There’s only one place to go,” he said. “The Ontario Miners Co-op, to see how much ruthenium really is left on the planet.”

Summer was waiting at the dock when she spotted Trevor’s boat motoring across the harbor. She wore a tight-fitting saffron-colored sweater, which accentuated the radiant red hair that dangled loose beneath her shoulders. Her gray eyes softened as the boat approached the dock and Trevor leaned out of the wheelhouse and waved.

“Going my way, sailor?” she asked with a grin.

“If I wasn’t before, I am now,” he replied with an approving look. He reached up and gave Summer a hand as she climbed onto the boat.

“Where’s Dirk?” he asked.

“His head was still pounding this morning, so he took some aspirin and went back to bed.”

Trevor shoved the boat away from the pier and motored past the municipal dock before turning into the harbor. Had he glanced at the dock’s small dirt parking lot, he might have noticed a sharp-dressed man sitting in a brown Jeep observing their departure.

“Did you finish your inspection this morning?” Summer asked, as they cruised past a heavily loaded lumber ship.

“Yes. The aluminum smelter is just looking at a minor expansion of their receiving yard. Mandatory environmental impact statement sort of stuff.” He looked at Summer with a twisted grin. “I was relieved not to find the police waiting for me at the boat this morning.”

“I doubt anybody saw you at the Terra Green facility. It’s Dirk and me who are most likely to end up on a WANTED poster at the Kitimat post office,” she replied with an uneasy laugh.