Colony by Benjamin Cross (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗

“The Arctic Council?”

“It is an inter-governmental department promoting cooperation in the Arctic. All eight of the Arctic nations have signed up.”

“I know who they are, Jonas, but what have they got to do with archaeological research?”

“Nothing. At least not directly. But what they do have to do with is regulating the impact of the Arctic oil and gas industries.”

“They’ve struck oil then?”

“Close. The G&S Consortium have found gas in the seabed around the island. A substantial volume by all accounts. They will build a large processing plant and other facilities on the island itself, no doubt making a great big mess of the place. Then they will build a huge underwater pipeline to transport the gas to the mainland.”

Callum whistled. “Sounds like they’re throwing some serious ruble around.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe! This will be a true sea monster.” Jonas cast another glance around, evidently relishing his involvement in something quite so hush-hush. “But also, the company involved is interested to do things properly. They sold Clive a line about wanting to be a responsible twenty-first century corporation, etcetera etcetera, but what it really comes down to is them trying to avoid the condemnation of the international community, though I happen to think that this is inevitable. Anyway, they have commissioned a full environmental impact assessment on the island in accordance with the Russian Federation’s energy strategy and the stipulations of the Arctic Council. They want ecologists, marine biologists, geologists, archaeologists, the full works.”

“An island-wide environmental survey?”

Jonas nodded as if it wasn’t unprecedented.

“And they think there might actually be some archaeology out there?”

“Do you not agree?”

It was not the question. It was Jonas’s bluntness that told Callum the man’s mind was already set. “Look, I can understand them getting eco-geeks and rock-botherers out there, but the likelihood of there being any ancient sites at that latitude is remote, you know that.”

“Prehistoric reindeer antler has already been recovered on at least two of the islands.”

“Yes, I heard about that, and I’m not doubting that there were reindeer there for a second.”

“Where there are reindeer, there are reindeer hunters.”

“Maybe—”

“And just look what Berg’s team turned up on Svalbard only last year. There we are thinking that the earliest inhabitants are seventeenth-century whalers, but then they discover one small prehistoric settlement on Nordaustlandet and suddenly the human history of that island is back ten thousand years!” He banged his palm down. “Just like that and we push back the date of man’s relationship with the Arctic not by years or centuries but millennia. People were living in these areas. You know it and so do I. So why not Franz Josef Land?”

“Okay, but if we’re talking why nots, then why not use Russian archaeologists? Why have they asked a Norwegian? More to the point, why are you asking a Scot?”

Jonas’s eyes flashed. “Well, this is where it gets interesting. Not only have G&S agreed to the Arctic Council’s request for an environmental impact assessment, but they have also agreed that the team will be an international one and not just a bunch of home-grown yes-men. Representatives from all of the Arctic nations will be involved to one extent or another.”

Callum sat back. “Sounds like one big political powder keg.”

“Welcome to the Arctic,” Jonas beamed. “Now, unfortunately time is not on our side. You can appreciate that suitable survey conditions are fleeting at such high latitude, certainly no longer than two months in the year. There is a very narrow window of opportunity for you to get on the ground.”

“So when exactly do you need me there?”

“Two days from now.”

Callum’s heart sank. “Two days? Jonas, I can’t. It’s the first time this year that I’ve had any real time to spend with Jamie.” Their eyes moved in unison to where the boy had kicked a mass of pebbles into a pile and was now attempting to knock the top one out into the loch with a driftwood golf club.

“He is a gorgeous boy and I am sorry to have to ask this of you,” Jonas said, holding Callum’s gaze, “but this is the opportunity of a lifetime for you and a lifeline for the department. Like you said, the company is throwing some serious ruble around and,” he lowered his voice again, “as you know, the department’s future is far from certain right now.”

“I appreciate that, Jonas. But is there nobody else? What about Professor Cunningham?”

“Duncan Cunningham has never been north of Inverness,” Jonas spat. “He has half your field experience and even less knowledge of Russian archaeology. No, you are the only person qualified, the only person that I would trust to take my place. And at best we have only August and September. That’s two months for your survey and that is if the conditions hold out, which I think would be unprecedented. Two days from now is—”

“The first of August,” Callum said, his voice low with resignation.

“Yes, and they have already been very patient with us, given my personal circumstances. The rest of the team are out there as we speak, but they have agreed to hold the show until your arrival.”

Callum released a long, drawn-out sigh. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“There is always a choice,” Jonas replied, placing a hand on Callum’s shoulder. “The hard part is making it the right one.”

5

“This is Ptarmigan.”

For a few seconds the line was silent. Ptarmigan stared out of his cabin window and waited, watching as another fissure opened up in the remnant pack ice. It was melting fast, and the grinding of the fragments against the hull of the icebreaker produced a deep, constant groan that was as much a sensation as a sound.

“You are all set?”

Ptarmigan’s jaw clenched at the sound of the familiar robotic drawl. “I think so.”

“You sound uncertain.”

He caught sight of himself in the polished steel surrounding the window. He looked uncertain too. He also looked like shit; he always did when he was stressed. His skin was pale and clammy, and a