Clive Cussler - Arctic Drift

“I’m sure the plant security is not going to file a report with the police. After all, as far as they know, they’re responsible for Dirk’s murder.”

“Unless a surveillance camera caught you fishing him out alive.”

“In which case, we’re all in a bit of trouble.” He turned and gave Summer a concerned look. “Maybe it would be a good idea if you and Dirk kept a low profile around town. A tall, gorgeous redhead tends to stand out in Kitimat.”

Rather than blush, Summer moved closer to Trevor and looked deep into his eyes. He let go of the boat’s wheel and slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her tight. Returning her gaze, he kissed her once, long and passionately.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he whispered.

The pilot of a small freighter passing the other way happened to witness the embrace and blew his horn at the two. Trevor casually released one hand and waved at the freighter, then retook the wheel. Sailing briskly down Douglas Channel, he kept his other arm locked tightly around Summer’s thin waist.

The turquoise NUMA boat was moored as they had left it, and Summer quickly had the vessel under way. The two boats playfully raced each other back to Kitimat, passing far around the Terra Green facility without incident. They had just tied up at the municipal pier when Dirk came rambling down the dock. His gait was slow, and he wore a baseball cap to cover the bandage across his skull.

“How’s the head?” Trevor inquired.

“Better,” Dirk replied. “The pounding has gone down from dynamite to sledgehammer strength. The Bells of St. Mary’s are still ringing loud and clear, though.”

Summer finished tying up the NUMA boat and walked over to the two men with a thick case in her hand.

“You ready to get to work?” she asked.

“The water samples,” Trevor said.

“Yes, the water samples,” she replied, holding up the Kitimat municipal pool water-analyzing kit.

She stepped onto Trevor’s boat and helped gather up the water samples taken the night before. Dirk and Trevor took a seat on the gunwale as Summer opened the test kit and began checking the acidity of the water samples.

“I’m showing a pH of 8.1,” she said after testing the first sample. “The acidity is just a hair above the levels in the surrounding waters but not significant.”

She proceeded to test all of her water samples and then the vials collected by Trevor. The results were nearly uniform for each vial tested. As she checked the results of the last sample, a defeated look crossed her face.

“Again, the pH level is reading about 8.1. Remarkably, the water around the Terra Green facility shows no abnormal levels of acidity.”

“That seems to blow our theory that the plant is dumping carbon dioxide,” Trevor said.

“A gold star for Mitchell Goyette,” Dirk said sarcastically.

“I can’t help but wonder about the tanker ship,” Summer said.

Trevor gave her a quizzical look.

“We got sidetracked and couldn’t prove it, but Dirk and I both thought the tanker might be taking on CO 2rather than unloading it.”

“Doesn’t make much sense, unless they are transporting it to another sequestration facility. Or are dumping it at sea.”

“Before trailing a tanker halfway around the world, I think we need to take another look at the site where we measured the extreme water acidity,” Summer said, “and that’s Hecate Strait. We’ve got the gear to investigate,” she added, motioning toward the NUMA boat.

“Right,” Dirk agreed. “We need to look at the seabed off Gil Island. The answer has to lie there.”

“Can you stay and conduct a survey?” Trevor asked with a hopeful tone.

Dirk looked at Summer. “I received a call from the Seattle office. They need the boat back by the end of the week for some work in Puget Sound. We can stay two more days, then we’ll have to hit the road.”

“That will allow us time to examine a good chunk of territory off Gil Island,” Summer said. “Let’s plan for an early start tomorrow. Will you be able to join us, Trevor?” It was her turn to give a hopeful look.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied happily.

As they were leaving the dock together, the brown Jeep with a rental-agency sticker on its bumper cruised slowly along the adjacent roadway. The driver stopped briefly at a clearing, which gave an unobstructed view of the municipal dock and harbor. Behind the wheel, Clay Zak gazed out the windshield, studying the two boats at the end of the dock tied up one behind the other. He nodded to himself, then continued driving slowly down the road.

When Trevor arrived at the dock around seven the next morning, Dirk and Summer were already laying out their sonar equipment on the stern deck. He gave Summer a quick peck while Dirk was occupied coiling a tow cable, then he pulled a small cooler onto the boat.

“Hope everyone can stomach some fresh smoked salmon for lunch,” he said.

“I’d say that’s a vast improvement over Dirk’s stockpile of peanut butter and dill pickles,” Summer replied.

“Never have to worry about it going bad,” Dirk defended. He walked into the wheelhouse and started the boat’s motor, then returned to the stern deck.

“I’ll need to refuel before we head out,” he announced.

“There’s a fuel dock just around the bend,” Trevor replied. “It’s a little cheaper than the gas at the city marina.” He thought for a moment. “I’m a little low myself. Why don’t you follow me over, and we can drop off my boat on the way out of the channel.”

Dirk nodded in agreement, and Trevor hopped onto the deck and strolled down to his boat moored just behind the NUMA vessel. He unlocked the door to the wheelhouse, then fired up the inboard diesel, listening to its deep throaty idle. Checking his fuel gauge, he noted a pair of sunglasses on the dashboard that Summer had left behind. Looking up, he saw her untying the dock lines to the NUMA boat. Grabbing the glasses, he hopped off the boat and jogged down the dock.

“Some protection for those pretty gray eyes?” he asked.

Summer tossed the bow line aboard, then looked up to see Trevor standing with her sunglasses in an outstretched hand. She gazed skyward for a moment, taking in a thick layer of rain clouds overhead, before locking eyes with him.

“A tad overkill for today, but thanks for proving you are not a thief.”

She reached over and grabbed the sunglasses as a sharp crack suddenly erupted behind them. The report was followed by a thunderous blast that flung them to the dock, a shower of splinters tearing over their heads. Trevor fell forward and onto Summer, protecting her from the debris, as several small chunks of wood and fiberglass struck him in the back.

A simple five-minute timed safety fuse, attached to four cartridges of nitroglycerin dynamite and wired to the ignition switch of Trevor’s boat, had initiated the inferno. The blast nearly ripped the entire stern section off the Canadian boat, while flattening most of the wheelhouse. The stern quickly sank from sight while the mangled bow clung stubbornly to the surface, dangling at a grotesque angle by the attached dock line.

Dirk was standing in the cabin of his own vessel when the blast struck and was unscathed by any flying debris. He immediately scrambled onto the dock and found Summer, being helped to her feet by Trevor. Like Dirk, she was unhurt by the blast. Trevor was less fortunate. His back was soaked with blood from a large splinter embedded in his shoulder, and he limped from a timber that had slammed into his leg. He ignored the injuries and hobbled over to the smoldering remains of his boat. Summer and Dirk checked each other to ensure they were uninjured, then Dirk jumped back aboard and grabbed a fire extinguisher, dousing several smoldering piles of debris that threatened to start a larger fire.