Frank Schatzing - The Swarm

Three nautical miles from Kristiansund, Johanson received a reply from Lukas Bauer. The first positive reply – though positive wasn't really the word.

He read the message and chewed his lip thoughtfully.

Contacting the oil companies was Skaugen's business. Johanson was only expected to approach institutes and scientists with no obvious link to oil. But Bohrmann had said something after the accident that showed things in a different light.

The state can't pay for science, so the money comes from industry.

Could any institute, these days, afford to be truly independent?

If Bohrmann was right that research was kept alive by industry, there was scarcely an institute that wasn't working for a company. They raised their funds through sponsorship – it was either that or risk closing their labs. Even Geomar would soon be in receipt of a grant from the energy firm Ruhrgas, which had endowed a new chair in hydrates. Corporate sponsorship sounded tempting, but sooner or later companies expected the research they funded to be converted into profit.

Johanson returned to Bauer's message.

His own approach had been all wrong. Instead of contacting as many people as possible, he should have scrutinised the unofficial links between science and business. While Skaugen broached the topic in the companies' boardrooms, he could question the scientists they worked with. Sooner or later someone was bound to talk.

The problem lay in trying to unravel the connections.

But it wasn't a problem. It was just a lot of hard work.

He stood up and went to find Lund.

Vancouver Island and Clayoquot Sound, Canada

Anawak rocked impatiently on the balls of his feet. He rolled forwards on to his toes, then back on to his heels. Toes, heels. Toes, heels. It was early morning and the sky was lit in vivid shades of azure; a day straight out of a holiday brochure.

At the end of the wooden jetty, a seaplane was waiting. Its white fuselage shone in the deep blue water of the lagoon, contours creased by rippling waves. It was one of the legendary DHC-2 Beavers first manufactured by the Canadian firm Dc Havilland over fifty years ago. Engineers had yet to come up with a better design, so the planes were still in use. Beavers had made it to both poles: they were dependable, robust and safe.

Perfect for what Anawak was planning.

He glanced across at the red-and-white terminal. Tofino airbase was situated a few minutes out of town by car, and had little in common with other airports. It was reminiscent of a traditional hunting or fishing village, just a few low-lying timber buildings on the edge of a sweeping-bay, fringed by forested hills with mountaintops in the distance. His eyes swept the road leading from the main highway through the towering trees towards the lagoon. Any moment now the others would arrive.

His brow furrowed as he listened to the voice on his mobile. 'But that was two weeks ago,' he said. 'Two weeks without Mr. Roberts being-available, even though he specifically asked me to keep him informed.'

The secretary reminded him that Mr. Roberts was a very busy man.

'So am I,' barked Anawak. He stood still and tried to sound friendlier. 'Look, the situation on the west coast is spiralling out of control. There are clear parallels between the trouble we've got here and the incident at Inglewood. I'm sure Mr. Roberts would agree.'

There was a short pause. 'What parallels would those be?'

'Well, whales, of course. I should have thought that was obvious.'

'The Barrier Queen suffered damage to her rudder.'

'Sure. But the tugs were attacked.'

'One tug was sunk, if that's what you mean,' said the woman, politely uninterested. 'No one's said anything about whales, but I'll tell Mr. Roberts you called.'

'Tell him it's in his interest.'

'He'll call you in the next few weeks.'

Weeks?

'Mr. Roberts is out of town.'

What the hell is going on? thought Anawak. He tried again.

'Mr. Roberts also promised to send further samples of organic matter from the Barrier Queen to the lab in Nanaimo. Now, please don't tell me you know nothing about that either. I've seen the infestation. I even took a bunch of mussels from the hull.'

'Mr. Roberts would have told me if-'

'The lab needs those samples!'

'Mr. Roberts will deal with it on his return.'

'It'll be too late by then! Oh, forget it. I'll call back later.'

Annoyed, he jammed his mobile into his pocket. Shoemaker was trundling down the access road in his Land Cruiser, then turned into the car park in front of the terminal. Anawak headed over to him. 'You're not exactly a model of punctuality, are you?' he called grumpily.

'For heaven's sake, Leon! We're ten minutes late.' Shoemaker came to meet him with Delaware in tow. A young powerfully built black guy with dark glasses and a shaved head followed behind. 'Loosen up, will you? We had to wait for Danny.'

Anawak shook hands with the other man, who flashed him a smile. He was a marksman in the Canadian army and had been placed at Anawak's disposal. He was carrying his weapon, a state-of-the-art, high-precision crossbow. 'Nice island you got here,' he drawled. A piece of gum travelled across his mouth as he spoke. 'You need me to take care of something?'

'Didn't they tell you?' asked Anawak.

'Sure – that I needed my bow to shoot at some whales. Kind of surprised me, though. Never thought it was legal.'

It isn't. I'll tell you all about it in the plane. Let's go.'

'Hang on.' Shoemaker held up a newspaper. 'Have you seen this?'

Anawak scanned the headline. '"The Hero of Tofino"?'

'Greywolf sure knows how to sell himself He's all modest in the interview, but see what he says further down. It'll make you want to puke.'

' ". . . did my duty as a Canadian citizen, that's all," muttered Anawak.' "Sure, we could have died – but I had to do something to make up for the damage caused by irresponsible whale-watching. My organisation has been warning for years of the dangerous levels of stress that whale-watchers inflict on the animals, which leads them to behave in unpredictable ways." My God, he's crazy!'

'Read on.'

"Davie's Whaling Station can't be accused of dishonesty, but it hasn't been completely honest either. In dressing up a money-making tourist business as an environmental research project, the whale-watchers are as bad as the Japanese, whose flotillas prey on endangered species in the Arctic. The Japanese also talk about the scientific value of their activities, even though in 2002 over four hundred tonnes of whale meat went on sale as a delicacy in wholesale markets. DNA tests traced the flesh to the objects of their so-called scientific study."

Anawak lowered the paper. 'That bastard.'

'But he's right, isn't he?' Delaware demanded. 'The Japanese really are spouting all that crap about their research. At least, that's what I heard.'

'Of course he's right,' snorted Anawak. 'That's why it's so damn cunning. He's trying to implicate us too.'

'God knows what he hopes to achieve by it,' said Shoemaker.

'He's just attention-seeking.'

'Well, he…' Delaware's hands waved in gesture of appeasement. 'I guess, he is a hero in a way.'

Anawak glared at her. 'Oh, really?'

'Without him people would have died. It's not fair of him to lay into you like that but he was brave and he-'

'Greywolf isn't brave,' growled Shoemaker. 'That shit only ever does anything for effect. But he's screwed up big-time now. The Makah won't like it. I can't imagine they'll thank their self-elected blood-brother for his impassioned speech against whaling – right, Leon?'

Anawak didn't reply.

Danny pushed his gum from one cheek to the other. 'All set?' he said.