Clive Cussler - Fast Ice

Kurt pointed it out to Joe, who was just as baffled. “Makes no sense,” he said. “A few more years of rising seas and that island will be gone.”

Kurt nodded. There had to be a reason for Ryland’s actions, but at the moment he couldn’t see it.

By now, they’d left the suburbs around Johannesburg and traveled out through the farmland beyond. A hundred miles later, they crossed into Limpopo Province, the northernmost part of South Africa, where they stopped briefly to change into their evening wear.

The countryside resembled a postcard from a bygone era, with grassy meadows divided by meandering streams. Exotic trees and animals spotted the rolling hillsides. Water buffalo could be seen roaming in one valley while several dozen crocodiles lay on the banks of a stream.

Returning to the car, they drove the rest of the way, turning onto a red dirt track as the sun began to set behind them.

“This is Ryland’s property,” Leandra said.

The new road ran beside a twelve-foot wrought iron fence with angled barbs at the top. Five miles later, they turned once more, passing between two huge stone lions and traveling down a thousand-yard driveway toward a sprawling villa constructed to resemble a nineteenth-century hunting lodge.

The exterior was rustic, with a thatched roof supported by beams of yellow pine. The lobby was spacious and open, its charm enhanced by period furniture and waiters wearing pith helmets and Victorian-style uniforms. Up above, ceiling fans turned slowly, their blades made of decorative local woods carved into the shape of acacia leaves and palm fronds.

“Nice place,” Kurt said.

“Is this a home or a hotel?” Joe asked.

“A little bit of both,” Leandra told him. “Ryland spends a fair amount of time here, but guests are welcome to rent it for lodging or events.”

“Sounds like you looked into it,” Kurt joked.

“I did,” Leandra replied. “If I ever get married, this would be a great place for the reception. A little out of my price range, unfortunately.”

“Depends who you marry,” Kurt said.

Leandra smiled. “I go for poor and self-reliant, I’m afraid.”

Kurt glanced back at Joe. “You may have a chance after all.”

Joe got momentarily flustered. “He doesn’t know what he’s . . . I mean, I’d be flattered, but I haven’t said . . .” He paused to collect himself, then looked out the window. “Thank God, the valet is here.”

One of the runners dressed in safari gear had reached them and was opening Leandra’s door. He looked at their invitations and pointed them toward the main entrance, where a short line of people waited to go through a security checkpoint.

All the guests were dressed to the nines and the three of them were no exception. Kurt and Joe wore tuxedos with French-cuffed shirts, crisp bow ties and polished Italian shoes. Leandra wore a black dress with embroidered details on the body and sheer sleeves. Stiletto heels completed her look.

After they stepped through a metal detector, a hostess offered flutes of champagne. “Please enjoy the run of the lodge,” she said. “The main bar is one floor down while the items on silent auction are on the lowest level. Dinner will be served on the veranda in one hour.”

With champagne glass in hand, Kurt took the lead. “Let’s explore.”

They stepped into the lodge, discovering a spacious, terraced interior. They were on the top floor, standing on a balcony that overlooked the rest of the lobby. The luxurious lower floors spread out before them, all three levels linked by a pair of curving staircases and framed by a transparent wall at the back of the lodge. The wall was made from sixty-foot panels of translucent acrylic, as clear as any glass and stretching the entire length of the lodge. It framed a view that was nothing short of spectacular.

Out in the distance, the mountains were turning red and brown as the setting sun painted them in glorious bands of color. The valley before them was a mixture of green and yellow, the dry grasses waving in the breeze acting like a shag carpet beneath the bushes and small trees. Wildlife flocked around a large pond in the center of the valley. Kurt saw elephants drinking along one shore, while giraffes stood on the far side, stretching their necks to soak in the last rays of the setting sun.

“Now, that’s what I call a million-dollar view,” Joe said.

“A million wouldn’t cover the interest,” Leandra said. “Ryland spent fifty million on the land alone.”

Taking a sip of champagne, Kurt turned to the steps. He could have gone either direction, since the marvelous staircase divided and swept off toward both sides of the room before curving back and meeting again on the second level, where a luxurious bar was manned by a trio of bartenders.

Descending the stairway, Kurt had to admire the setup. The bar top itself was made of thin granite and lit from beneath, creating a warm yellowish light. Behind it, a huge fish tank, one that would have been at home in any major aquarium around the world, added a hue of aqua to the scene.

Reaching the bar, Kurt placed his champagne glass down and requested a tumbler of whiskey. As the bartender poured the drink, exotic fish swam in endless circles behind them.

“Interesting collection,” Kurt said, recognizing several rare species, including a European eel and a small group of pinkish fish near the bottom of the tank that Kurt knew to be a type of rockfish.

“They’re pretty,” Leandra said.

“They’re also critically endangered,” Kurt pointed out. “Interesting.”

The bartender poured Kurt’s whiskey over a single globe-shaped ball of ice and then handed him the glass. Kurt thanked the man and turned away, taking in the scene.

Guests were still streaming in, with each level of the lodge slowly filling up. “It’s going to be a full house before too long.”

“That should help us keep a low profile,” Leandra said.

“Helps the other guests do the same,” Kurt said.

After scanning a few dozen faces he didn’t recognize, his attention was drawn to a video screen playing an informational piece about the game park. The sound was off, but, from what Kurt gathered, the animals were allowed to roam free, kept away from the main buildings and the roads by electrified fences carrying a pain-inducing one hundred and forty volts.

A second set of graphics told him the park had forty-nine elephants, three hundred critically endangered black rhino, five hundred zebra and unknown numbers of water buffalo, crocodiles and hyenas. A recent addition were fifteen lions, purchased from zoos and parks around the world. Ryland’s stated plan was to turn this mixture of males and females into a free-roaming pride.

“Quite a collection,” Kurt said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Animals and people,” Leandra said. “I have some intel, if you want it.”

“Absolutely,” Kurt said.

She nodded toward the stairs. “The Russian we passed was Sergei Novikov. He’s a big name in the construction world. His company builds ports and shipping terminals.”

“I knew I’d seen him somewhere,” Joe said.

“He’s on record insisting that climate change will be good for world trade and that it will be great for Russia in particular,” Leandra said. “Once all the Arctic sea ice melts, he has plans on drilling for oil above the Arctic Circle.”

“Which makes him a natural ally of Ryland,” Kurt noted.

“I noticed him talking with a group speaking Mandarin,” Joe said. “I could be wrong, but the leader of the group looked a lot like Zhao Liang.”

“Of Liang Shipping?” Leandra asked.

Joe nodded. “Tanker group. Have over a hundred oceangoing vessels in all sizes.”