Clive Cussler - The Eye of Heaven

“You really like your good-luck talisman there, I see.”

“It’s served us well so far. We just discovered a perfectly preserved longship and we weren’t even looking for it.”

“Can’t argue with success.”

Remi dug around in her oversize explorer jacket and found the satellite phone. She pressed a speed dial number and waited for the call to connect. Kendra answered on the third ring, and Remi was happy to note that she sounded sharp and efficient.

“Kendra? It’s Remi Fargo.”

“Mrs. Fargo, how are you? We got the messages you sent about the longship. That’s got to be exciting.”

“Yes, it is. It’s amazing. One of the most exciting finds we’ve ever made. But that’s not why I’m calling. How’s Selma?”

“The surgery went as planned and she’s starting her physical therapy in the hospital. They expect to keep her another two or three days and then she’ll be home. All the equipment’s arrived so that Selma can continue her PT at the house.”

“Be sure to tell her that we called and are wishing her well.”

“Of course.”

“Did Pete and Wendy have any luck on the research we asked them to do?”

“I’m helping them and we’re still running checks, but while it looks like there are a number of reports of Vikings in the Americas before Columbus, there’s no evidence on any one of them as being genuine. There are those who claim they were here and others who have alternative explanations.”

“Welcome to the world of archaeology. The good news is that this find will close any further debate. There’s no other explanation for the artifacts we’re finding. But all of you keep looking.”

“We will. We’re all getting along great, and Pete has been especially helpful.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, Kendra, moving and restoring this ship is going to be a huge project. Years back, we had a similar challenge, on the confederate submarine CSS Hunley . When Selma makes it back in, would you have her touch base with Warren Lasch, who headed up that project, and see about putting him together with Dr. Jennings? They’re going to need all the expertise they can get.”

“Of course. Consider it done.”

Remi signed off, wanting to conserve their battery time, and moved back to the Viking ship, where Sam had resumed his seemingly endless chore of picking away at the vessel. They spent the remainder of their daylight hours like that, painstakingly removing ice from chest after chest and making copious notes of their findings.

At night, the specially designed heater kept the temperature in the tent bearable. They fell asleep quickly after a full day working on the ship, which slowly but surely was yielding more treasures.

One night drifted into the next, and it was with some surprise that they realized over a week had gone by. When the satellite phone chirped on the morning of their ninth day camping, it so startled Sam that he almost dropped it in his haste to answer.

“Yes?”

“Sam Fargo? Dr. Jennings from Montreal. I’m on my way there with a team. We should make it to the fjord by early tomorrow. How are you holding up?” Jennings was one of Canada’s top archaeologists and the head of the group that would eventually be transporting the ship and its contents to a controlled lab in Montreal.

“As well as can be expected. Although I’ll admit that sleeping on the ice is getting old.”

Remi rolled her eyes as she continued working nearby.

“I’ll bet. We’re bringing an entire camp with us. You’ve been fortunate that no storms have moved through. But it doesn’t look like we’ll be so lucky. There’s a front headed toward Baffin and it’ll hit tomorrow in the late afternoon or evening. The first order of business will be to get the camp set up and the longship under cover, and to get you out of there before the worst of it starts.”

“Will you be all right on the ice in a storm?” Sam asked. “Maybe the ship could wait for a day or two until it passes …”

“That’s up to you. Depends on your schedule and your level of urgency to get back to civilization.”

“I’ll talk to my wife, but it seems like the most prudent course would be to wait it out with you on board after securing the site, doesn’t it?”

“I won’t argue that, but I can’t ask you to do it. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sam terminated the call and explained their options to Remi, who concurred that they weren’t in such a rush to leave that they would risk their colleagues to the brutal force of a storm. Now working with a renewed sense of urgency, they reviewed the contents of all of the chests, each numbered and with the items cataloged, as the ten dead Viking warriors watched over them. They’d had the luxury of taking their time, documenting everything in meticulous detail for later research — something all too rare, given the high-profile nature of many of their more visible discoveries.

When the archaeology team arrived the next morning just after sunrise, Sam and Remi heard the ship enter the fjord before they saw a massive red hull squeeze through the gap with no more than twenty feet of clearance per side. Almost twice the size of the Alhambra , the CCGS Cameron was a Canadian Coast Guard A1 Lloyd’s ice-class two-hundred-twenty-six-foot offshore oceanographic science vessel with a forty-eight-foot beam. Entry into the fjord would pose no great problem, according to the bottom-mapping data supplied by the Alhambra —the depth varied from sixty to a hundred forty feet, easily accommodating the enormous craft’s fifteen-foot draft.

The Cameron ’s high bow crushed through the surface ice with ease and slowed to a stop twenty-five yards from the Viking longship’s stern. Sam and Remi could make out the captain and his mate in the towering pilothouse, and then a tall man in his forties emerged from the superstructure and moved to the bow, almost three stories above them. He waved and called out.

“Ahoy there! You must be the Fargos.”

“Dr. Jennings, I presume. I recognize the voice,” Sam answered, returning the wave.

“And that’s the Viking ship. Goodness. She looks like she was just built.”

“It’s remarkable. We left much of the hull with ice on it to preserve it.”

“I can’t tell you how excited we are about this. It’s an honor to meet you both.”

“Likewise, Dr. Jennings,” Remi said.

“Please, it’s Matthew. It’s a bit chilly to stand on pointless formality,” he said, his breath issuing fog with every word.

The archaeology team on the Cameron wasted no time. After testing the ice to ensure that it was stable enough to walk on, they began carting tools and sections of temporary buildings to the area by Sam and Remi’s tent. It took the better part of the morning and much of the afternoon to erect five structures: a portable field kitchen, a bathroom-and-shower facility, two barracks, and an equipment room with a communications center. The eight-man building crew worked with quiet efficiency as Sam and Remi luxuriated in a stateroom, enjoying their first hot shower in over a week, followed by a massive meal of seafood washed down with beer and white wine, compliments of the Canadian government.

Sam met with the archaeologists after lunch and spoke to a packed house. After a report of their progress to date on excavation and news of their incredible discovery of pre-Columbian artifacts, a spirited discussion ensued.

Jennings cleared his throat and said, “We know that there was contact between the Viking settlements in Greenland and the one discovered on southern Baffin Island, in the Tanfield Valley. So it’s obvious that there was a trade route of some kind, even if irregular. But we’ve never seen any hard evidence of Vikings journeying farther south. There’s been speculation about trips to the Canadian mainland for logging, but nothing conclusive ever surfaced.”