Clive Cussler - Arctic Drift

As he placed the CLOSED sign back on the door, he could hear Goyette cursing inside. With a grin of accomplishment, Trevor picked up his toolbox and exited through the kitchen. Within minutes, he was off the club’s grounds and headed toward a local rental-car company in neighboring Surrey.

With a sublimation temperature of minus one hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit, dry ice converts directly to a gaseous state at room temperature. The six hundred pounds of dry ice in the restroom began vaporizing rapidly as the space heater warmed the confined space to over ninety degrees. Stumbling around blindly in the darkened room, Goyette could feel a cold dampness in his lungs with each breath he took. Feeling his way to the door with increasing dizziness, he fumbled for the light switch with his left hand while reaching for the door handle with his right. In a sudden moment of terrifying comprehension, he realized they were both absent. Trying without success to work the door open with his fingertips, he finally began pounding his fists against the thick wood while screaming for help. He began to cough as the air grew colder and heavier, and, with a fearful sense of panic, he realized something was dreadfully wrong.

It was several minutes before a busboy heard his cries and discovered that the door was jammed from the inside. It took another twenty minutes before a maintenance worker was summoned with some tools to take the door off its hinges. The assembled crowd was aghast when a white plume of vapor poured out of the restroom and Goyette’s lifeless body was found lying in the doorway.

It was a week later when the Vancouver District Coroner’s Office released its autopsy report, revealing that the billionaire had died of asphyxiation from exposure to acute levels of carbon dioxide.

“Used to call it ‘chokedamp,’ ” the veteran medical examiner told reporters at an assembled press briefing. “Haven’t seen a case of it in years.”

Nearly a hundred members of the media, more than half from the Canadian press, pushed and jostled on the Coast Guard pier in Anchorage as the Otok appeared in the harbor. The big icebreaker approached slowly, allowing the press an ample photo opportunity to capture her smashed bow and multiple paint jobs, before tying up behind a Coast Guard cutter named Mustang .

The White House and the Pentagon wasted no time in diffusing the hostility between Canada and the U.S., bypassing diplomatic channels by taking their case directly to the public. Press briefings had already been distributed, documenting the Otok ’s role in destroying the Canadian ice camp under the guise of an American warship. Enlarged color photos of her hull, taken by the Santa Fe , revealed the gray undercoat and the Ford ’s number 54 hidden beneath a coat of red paint. An eyewitness had even been produced, who testified about seeing a gray ship entering a Goyette-owned dry dock near Kugluktuk in the dead of night, only to reappear a few days later painted red.

The press delighted in photographing the captain and crew of the icebreaker as they were marched off the ship under armed guard and placed in immediate custody until later extradition by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Word was quickly leaked of the crew’s admission to destroying the ice camp, as well as their kidnapping of the Polar Dawn ’s crew.

Captain Murdock and his crew then met with the reporters, who were stunned to learn of their abduction in Kugluktuk and their near-death ordeal in the barge. Roman and Stenseth took their turns at answering questions until the overwhelmed journalists and broadcasters began trickling off to file their stories. Within hours, a horde of investigative reporters began descending on Terra Green Industries to scrutinize Mitchell Goyette’s corrupt activities in the Arctic.

The press was long gone when Pitt hobbled off the ship with a crutch under one arm. Giordino walked by his side, hefting two small duffel bags and the logbook from the Erebus . As they reached the end of the dock, a slate-colored Lincoln Navigator with black-tinted windows pulled up in front of them. The driver’s window lowered just a crack, revealing a thickheaded man in a crew cut who gazed at them with unblinking eyes.

“The Vice President requests that you climb in back,” the driver said without pleasantry.

Pitt and Giordino gave each other a look of trepidation, then Pitt opened the rear door and threw in his crutch, then climbed inside as Giordino entered from the opposite door. Sandecker eyed them from the front passenger seat, a thick cigar protruding from his lips.

“Admiral, this is a nice surprise,” Giordino said with his usual sarcasm. “But we could have taken a cab to the airport.”

“I was about to say that I’m glad to see you jokers alive, but I may have to rethink that,” Sandecker replied.

“It’s good to see you, Admiral,” Pitt said. “We weren’t expecting to find you here.”

“I promised both Loren and the President that I’d get you two home in one piece.”

He nodded to the driver, who exited the Coast Guard station and began driving across the city to the Anchorage International Airport.

“You promised the President?” Giordino asked.

“Yes. I caught hell when he found out that the Narwhal , with NUMA’s Director aboard, was smack in the middle of the Northwest Passage.”

“By the way, thanks for sending in the Santa Fe when you did,” Pitt said. “They’re the ones who saved our bacon.”

“We were fortunate that they happened to be in the northern Arctic and could reach the area quickly. But the President is well aware that the Polar Dawn ’s crew would have been lost if you hadn’t sailed into harm’s way.”

“Stenseth and Dahlgren are to thank for saving the Polar Dawn ’s crew,” Pitt replied.

“More important, you pegged the ruse of the icebreaker. I can’t tell you how close we were to a hot fight with the Canadians. The President rightly credits you with averting a major crisis.”

“Then the least he can do is fund us a replacement vessel for the Narwhal ,” Giordino said.

The Lincoln motored down the rain-slicked streets, turning past Delaney Park, a wide strip of grass and trees that had been the city’s original airfield. Anchorage International Airport had been built later on a flat to the southwest of downtown.

“How did the press briefings go?” Pitt asked.

“Just as we hoped. The Canadian press is all over the story. They’re already fighting to get to Ottawa to grill the Prime Minister over his mistaken claims about the Arctic incidents. He and his party will have no choice but to face the music and retract their earlier blame against us.”

“I certainly hope this all catches up to Mitchell Goyette in a big way,” Giordino said.

“I’m afraid it’s too late for him,” Sandecker replied.

“Too late?” Giordino asked.

“Goyette was found dead in Vancouver yesterday. He apparently died under mysterious circumstances.”

“Justice served,” Pitt said quietly.

“The CIA acted that fast?” Giordino asked.

Sandecker gave him a withering stare. “We had nothing to do with it.”

The Vice President turned back to Pitt with an anxious look. “Did you find the ruthenium?”

Pitt shook his head. “Al’s got the Erebus logbook right here. The Franklin ruthenium was real, but it was obtained in trade with a whaler from South Africa. There is no ruthenium source in the Arctic, and the South African mines played out years ago. I’m afraid we came up empty.”

There was a long silence in the car.

“Well, we will just have to find another way,” Sandecker finally said quietly. “At least you found Franklin,” he added, “and put to bed a one-hundred-and-sixty-five-year-old mystery.”