Laline Paull - The Ice - A gripping thriller for our times from the Bailey’s shortlisted author of The Bees

4th Estate

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This eBook first published in Great Britain by 4th Estate in 2017

Copyright © Laline Paull 2017

Cover design by Heike Schuessler

Cover images © plainpicture/Mira/Conny Ekstrom

Interior engravings © Chris Wormelll

Map © Joy Gosney

With grateful thanks to the following for their permission to reproduce copyright material: Extracts from Arctic Adventure by Peter Freuchen by permission of Echo Point Books. Extracts from Farthest North by Fridtjof Nansen by permission of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc. Extracts from Lost in the Arctic by Ejnar Mikkelsen, published by William Heinemann. Reprinted by permission of The Random House Group Ltd. © Ejnar Mikkelsen 1913. Extract from Polar Bears by Nikita Ovsyanikov by permission of Quarto Publishing Group. Quote from Judge Rüdiger Wolfrum courtesy of the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea. Extract from ‘Century of the Wind’ from The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World , copyright © 2009 by Wade Davis and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Reprinted by permission of House of Anansi Press, Toronto, www.houseofanansi.com, and the University of Western Australia Press. Extract from Northern Lights; The Official Account Of The British Arctic Air-Route Expedition by F. Spencer Chapman, published by Chatto & Windus. Reprinted by permission of The Random House Group Limited.

While every effort has been made to trace the owners of copyright material reproduced herein, the publishers would like to apologise for any omissions and would be pleased to incorporate missing acknowledgements in future editions.

Laline Paull asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007557776

Ebook Edition © May 2017 ISBN: 9780007557769

Version: 2017-12-21

For my brothers

Geoff and Gordon

with love

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

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Author’s Note

A Very Partial Bibliography

Acknowledgements

Also by Laline Paull

About the Author

About the Publisher

Among dogs are found characters almost as various as among men. Some dogs do not give a damn what they eat; some will eat their own mothers, as I have often witnessed, and others will starve to death before touching the bodies of their team-mates. Again, some refuse to eat the meat while it is still warm, but perhaps after it is cold they forget what it is and devour it greedily.

Arctic Adventure: My Life in the Frozen North (1936)

Peter Freuchen

They were rich, they were ready, they were ravenous for bear. Nine days into their fourteen-day voyage on the Vanir , the most expensive cruise ship in the Arctic, the passengers’ initial excitement had turned to patience, then frustration, and now, a creeping sense of defeat. As sophisticated travellers they knew money didn’t guarantee polar bear sightings – but they still believed in the natural law that wealth meant entitlement. Ursus maritimus sightings very much included.

‘Realm of the Ice King’ stated the brochure, featuring competition-winning photographs of sparkling ice and polar bears with cubs and kills, taken by recent passengers on this very route. But now instead of high blue heavens, the skies were overcast. Instead of a crisp and exhilarating minus three or even ten degrees (they were eager to test their new clothing), they suffered a vile gusty swelter that turned the Arctic dank as an English summer, and for which no combination of clothing was right. Plus the endless daylight was oppressive – medication schedules went awry and watches became meaningless.

There were several lawyers among the passengers. They invited the tour leader to the bar to look at the brochure and hear their formal complaint. The voyage was misrepresented. They had been mis-sold. Enough with the beach landings to stare at derelict huts and piles of whaling junk. Enough birds too, that didn’t fob them off. What they’d all paid for were sightings of live ice-obligate mammals. That was the primary focus of the text and image of the brochure, a sales document with a legal duty to accuracy. No icebergs either, just some dirty glaciers. They were considering a class action for compensation.

The passengers repaired to the salon and put on the compilation film that had become their envious obsession. With the blinds down to keep out the bullying daylight, they stared avidly at the on-screen polar bears; the one standing on a crimson mat of ice ripping flesh from a red rack of seal carcass, then the mother and her yearling swimming between the floes. Best of all was the large male standing on his hind legs, staring into the camera, his muzzle bright red. That was what they wanted.

The tour leader ran to the bridge to confer with the captain and the ice-pilot, who by law they were still required to employ, even though the summer sea ice was two years gone. They stared out at the grey chop of the Barents Sea. All knew, though they would not say for fear of their jobs, that the animals had all but vanished and the footage in the salon was several years old. There was one solution, prohibited, but every tour company knew it as a last resort. Send up a drone and find a bear.

Two miles away around the coast, down a deep M-shaped fjord, a large silvery wood cabin blended with the dark cobble of its beach. Modern extensions at its rear and sides were made of the very rock of the mountain that rose up behind it, and a close look would reveal several windows that reflected sea, sky and rock. But no one did look, in that intrusive unwelcome way, because this was Midgard Lodge in Midgardfjorden, and by direct intervention of Oslo, to the Sysselmann’s office in Svalbard, special rules applied.

Most outraging to those who knew of it, was the one which flouted a major conservation regulation and allowed Midgard Lodge helicopter flights between Longyearbyen airport and the tiny beach in front of the Lodge, which was just large enough to land a twelve-person Dauphin.

The second was that no cruise ship penetrate the Wijdefjorden system past a certain point, thereby closing the spectacular rock stratification of Midgardfjord and its peculiar forked glacier Midgardbreen, one side blue, one white, off to tourism.