Dominic Conlon - Arctic Firepath

‘Here’s who we are looking for.’ Sean filled DD in on the mission. ‘SIS have been investigating Khostov’s links to friends in London and the surrounding area. They unearthed connections to a friend’s son studying at Oxford and a female cousin working as a shop assistant at a jewellers in Bournemouth. The teams drew a blank. Airports were alerted, but so far they’ve not received any further information.’

DD picked up the photo and studied the face. ‘You want me to look for him?’

‘No-one can find a record of Khostov entering the UK.’

‘He was almost certainly travelling under a false passport,’ he responded. ‘Could he have entered by boat or small plane?’

‘It’s possible’ conceded Sean.

‘If he did, chances are there won’t be any records to search.’

‘Well, what can you do?’

‘I could speak to a couple of my contacts at the Border Agency. I developed some algorithms for them about a year ago, and they owe me a favour or two.’

‘Anything else?’

‘There’s something I’m working on at the moment that might help. Would you like me to show you the site?’

‘A website?’ Sean sounded sceptical.

‘Yep.’ DD pushed the crockery and empty beer cans away to make more space. He brought a laptop down from a shelf and opened it out on the table. ‘Check this.’

Sean noticed the site had a white background and a large banner across the top which read: TRIP WIRE. Underneath were a number of dials. The busy layout reminded Sean of the cockpit of a Boeing 747.

DD glanced apologetically at Sean. ‘The name’s not very original, I’m afraid, but the nuts and bolts behind the interface are the key.’ He pointed to the first coloured dial on the monitor. ‘Just on this dial alone sits a database which monitors several inputs. Let’s suppose the female cousin in Bournemouth makes a telephone call to the student at Oxford. The computer has the cousin’s phone number, plus the student’s mobile. Any call between the two is immediately flagged here.’

‘OK.’

DD assumed Sean wasn’t particularly impressed. ‘The databank also has direct access to the cousin’s nearest telephone exchange. The call triggers a capture, recording the call and presenting the audio here. You click on the call details underlined and the control will play it back for you.’

Sean appeared to be mildly interested.

‘Plus, the site gathers name and address information from the telephone exchange logs and begins to match these with the government’s database. Assume the student is unknown to us when we start. One phone call and his contacts are added to the links. If any call is made to or from his phone, the database picks up the data and displays it here. That also includes any kind of social media interaction — twitter, Facebook, and so on.’

Sean smiled. The more DD talked, the more he liked the dials.

‘If any of these are flagged, either in the site’s own database, or on the government’s, an alert is generated direct to me. The message may be a phone call, encrypted text message, tweet or email containing the particulars of the alert.’

‘OK, I’m beginning to get the idea’ replied Sean.

‘The site doesn’t just cover phone calls, but emails, text messages, even if a target’s mobile phone moves outside a pre-defined area. TRIP WIRE retrieves information from all the government records, plus ports and airport passenger lists, and other databanks if journeys are paid for using a debit or credit card.’

Sean appeared bemused. ‘It must take a great deal of setting up?’

‘That’s the most difficult part.’

‘Suppose a vital call is made before you’ve input the data?’

DD smiled grimly. ‘That’s why I’m spending all my time on automating the setup.’

Sean shook his head. ‘Well I’m impressed. Let’s hope all your hard work pays off.’

Captain Grigori Burak closed the bridge door behind him and rested his arms against the rail on the forward lookout. He breathed in deeply, savouring the cold air which carried a surprising amount of moisture. The pack ice stretched towards the horizon; behind, a trail of broken ice marked its course.

This moment should have been the pinnacle of his career. LK-80 wasn't pretty, but as Grigori sensed the thrum of the ship’s powerful engines through the deck plates, he experienced a fierce connection to the men who built her. Constructed at the Baltiysky Zavod shipyard in St Petersburg, she had a double hull, like all Arktika-class icebreakers. The outer keel was 5 centimetres thick at the ice-breaking areas, and she sliced through the thickest ice with ease.

But the events of the past month had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he feared it would be a long while before the bitterness faded.

'Sir.' A young rating timidly approached the Captain. Grigori had the appearance and temperament of a bulldog, together with a reputation for being tenacious and determined. It was also well known he had little time for juniors.

'Yes?'

The sailor saluted. 'Sir, the Chief Engineer said he has found an excess of corrosive elements in the primary coolant loop.'

Captain Grigori groaned. The issue they encountered during sea trials appeared to be returning. 'How bad?'

'Not critical, sir. However he said you should be concerned.'

'Right. I'll telephone him immediately.'

Grigori re-entered the bridge and picked up the phone. 'What's this about, Pytor? I believed the glitch had been cured.' Grigori listened as his Chief Engineer launched into an explanation of sealants and the lack of replacement parts. 'What is the status of the second reactor?'

'Down for maintenance.'

Grigori shook his head. He had spent a year preparing for this day, and now they were at sea a tiny issue like this could jeopardise the expedition. 'How long to fix it?'

'Five days, maybe a week.' Pytor's voice sounded tinny over the connection. 'I must warn you Captain that in order to make repairs without taking the main reactor offline, you will need to stay below a speed of 14 knots. Any faster would cause greater pressure in the containment vessel. Coupled with the increased corrosive, the risk of coolant leakage is great.'

Captain Grigori Burak shrugged. Though there were procedures in place to filter out the corrosion products, he would have to keep an eye on the system. In one earlier case the same problem affected the control rod drive mechanisms, and that was something he definitely wanted to avoid.

He left the bridge and descended to Bridge Deck 3 and his office. As soon as he entered he glanced in the direction of the safe, tucked under the desk in the corner. He hesitated, and poured a mug of thick black coffee made from his favourite Strauss beans. Checking his watch, his eyes flicked to the safe again. He had enough time to top up the mug with a little brandy. He thought back to the launch celebrations as he enjoyed the aroma of the hot liquid.

Vice-Admiral Kostya Duboff was in the official party to see the icebreaker leave port, and he requested a personal discussion. When they met, the vice-Admiral informed Grigori that he had been selected for an historic mission. He was taking LK-80 on its maiden voyage, and he would find new orders in his cabin. The Admiral gave him a time at which he could open the safe to read them.

Grigori took another sip of the coffee and checked his wristwatch again. The moment had come. He entered the combination and reached in to withdraw a large envelope. The stiff brown paper was stamped with the seal of the Navy of the Russian Federation.

He ripped the flap and took out several sheets of paper, scanning the first. His orders were to navigate LK-80 to a point in the Arctic sea — but to where? He skimmed the remaining pages, and a smile creased his lips.