Part 1 (1/2)

Arctic Enemy.

By Linda Harrel.

CHAPTER ONE.

Sarah Grey placed a neat sheaf of papers on the secretary's desk. 'Done,' she said, 'and I've never been so delighted to have an a.s.signment behind me.'

The young girl smiled and shook a halo of blonde curls. 'Complaints, Sarah? Not from you, surely!'

Sarah knew her boss's secretary held a resolutely romantic view of the life of a science reporter. 'Trish,' she said firmly, 'a study of recycling our mountains of waste is hardly a glamorous a.s.signment. Not that I'm against it, mind you, but days spent in rubber boots prowling catwalks while miles of garbage-laden conveyor belts rumble on beneath you is not my idea of fun. Nor, I might add, is it likely to win me national acclaim as a scintillating writer.'

Trish, unmoved, grinned and flicked an impatient wrist. 'No matter,' she said breezily, 'your next story should more than make up for your days on the trash circuit.'

Sarah straightened her back, alert as a doe. 'D'Arcy's got something for me?'

'Yes-but I can't say another word. He practically made me take a vow of silence on this one. So do me a favour, will you, and go in there and speak to him? I'll see that your story gets filed.'

Sarah slid off the corner of Trish's desk, revealing a trim curve of calf beneath the tailored wool skirt-a fact not unnoticed by Terry West, filing a story on pre-season hockey training in Montreal, nor half a dozen other males busy that morning in the Herald's' editorial offices. But Sarah, as usual, had her mind on work and was blind to the wistful glances. She knocked, waited for the usual barked reply, and went into her employer's office, instantly shutting out the clangour of telephones and typewriters, and shouts for copy boys.

The Herald's managing editor looked up from under an untidy shock of salt and pepper hair, smiled ever so briefly, and indicated with a stab of his finger the chair across from him.

As she settled into the leather chair, she said easily, 'Trish has been tantalising me with hints of a new a.s.signment, D'Arcy. Is this more of her irrepressible romanticism, or have you got a real plum?'

He hesitated just a second. 'It's possible,' he conceded gruffly. 'Does the name Tony Freeland ring a bell?'

Sarah frowned, then brightened. 'In s.h.i.+pping, isn't he?... Wait a second... of course! He was the one who represented Freeland s.h.i.+pping at that big news conference last year on the Arctic gas project, wasn't he?'

'He was,' D'Arcy agreed. 'Stood in for his uncle, Julian Freeland, the chairman of the board, who was ill. Well, he was back in Ottawa last week while you were off poking around in people's trash pails.'

'About the gas project again?'

'Yes-last-minute details with some government types about the maiden voyage of Freeland's ice-breaking super-tanker. And, being the aggressive newsman that I am, I cornered him over at the Parliament Building to feel him out about press coverage of their first trip into the Arctic.'

The implications of D'Arcy's news were not lost on Sarah, who leaned towards him intently. 'Oh, D'Arcy, you didn't get him to agree, did you? What a scoop-this has got to be one of the biggest stories in the world right now!'

Her boss allowed himself a rare smile. 'I did, as a matter of fact. And between you and me, I'm still somewhat stunned myself. This voyage, as you well know, is the most controversial in seafaring history. I expected Freeland to be leery, if not downright hostile, to the idea of close press coverage.'

'Close... just how close, D'Arcy?' Sarah's voice was very quiet.

D'Arcy Turner picked up his pipe and studied it. 'What would you say, Sarah, to accompanying the Arctic Enterprise on her maiden voyage. With an exclusive on the entire story?'

For once, Sarah Grey was speechless. She sank back into the chair, the wide lavender eyes enormous.

Her boss chuckled and picked up the slack. 'I know,' he said nodding. 'The most I'd hoped for was some pre-sailing interviews, a tour of the s.h.i.+p. And I'd planned to fly a reporter and photographer up to the Arctic to cover the docking and loading operations, of course. But Freeland is actually willing to have a reporter on board.'

Sarah turned her head to one side on the delicate, ivory neck and looked askance at D'Arcy. 'And you're really giving the job to me?' she asked breathlessly.

At this, the amiable manner vanished and the gruff, irascible one for which D'Arcy Turner was both famed and feared returned. 'I'll tell you straight out, Sarah, that I'm not entirely happy with the thought of sending you out on this a.s.signment, for lots of reasons.'

'Is there someone else you'd prefer?' she asked, unsuccessfully trying to conceal her alarm.

D'Arcy knocked his pipe against the rim of the large, pottery ashtray. 'There's Ted Benson, of course, who's qualified. He's out in Calgary doing a piece on nuclear energy, but I could recall him.' Antic.i.p.ating her protest, he added quickly, 'But you are the one who's been covering the exploration for natural gas-you've got all the data at your fingertips. And there's another point in your favour-young Freeland himself.'

Sarah raised a perplexed eyebrow. 'Tony? In what way?'

'He remembered you from that press conference. I got the distinct impression that knowing you would land the job was a spur to giving his consent. He didn't say it in so many words, of course, but the implication was there.'

'There were dozens of us there that day. I don't see how he could remember me out of that sea of raised hands.'

D'Arcy smiled. 'You aimed some very good questions at the gentleman that day, my dear. Apparently he's not forgotten the reporter who did her homework.'

'He acquitted himself rather well, as I recall,' retorted Sarah. 'Perhaps a bit too smoothly, even. But my being a woman-that won't throw a monkey wrench into more practical s.h.i.+pboard matters?'

'No, he was quite definite about that. In fact, he said there'll be two other women, officers' wives, on board. But Sarah. I still don't know, on purely personal grounds, if I want you on that great monster of a super-tanker with its belly full of liquid gas up there in a sea mined with icebergs. It sounds b.l.o.o.d.y suicidal.'

Sarah set the firm little chin at a defiant angle. 'I thought the whole thrust of the engineers' arguments last year when this project was so hotly debated was the safety of the tanker. Because of the horrendous consequences of a gas explosion, this is supposed to be the most carefully orchestrated s.h.i.+pping adventure ever undertaken!'

'I know, I know.' He shrugged his shoulders.

Sarah crossed her legs and turned her eyes on her boss. 'You didn't show such touching concern for my safety last month when I flew to British Columbia on that logging industry story-there was a million times more chance of my plane cras.h.i.+ng than there's supposed to be of this supertanker exploding. And besides,' she pressed, 'if it's safety you're really worried about, may I remind you that Ted Benson is the father of three young children while I'm alone in the world, independent and very unmarried. Besides, I'll not get anywhere in this business shrinking from the thought of what might happen. You're a dear to worry about me, D'Arcy, but please-I want this. Very much.'

Shrugging again, D'Arcy pulled open his top drawer.

'Time's a bit of a problem, so I've had Trish make the preliminary arrangements. She's been in touch with Freeland s.h.i.+pping's executive offices in London. Here's your itinerary, plane ticket, plus a list of clothing they suggest. Trish also has an expenses cheque waiting for you.' He handed a plump manilla folder to her.

'Freeland finished construction of the Arctic Enterprise last month in their j.a.panese s.h.i.+pyards. They've just finished bringing her on sea trials from there to Rotterdam for some last-minute outfitting and taking on supplies. You're to fly to Rotterdam and board her there two days from now.'

Sarah scanned the itinerary, shaking the glossy curtain of hair. 'Through the English Channel, north past Greenland to Baffin Bay, and on to Melville Island. The old Northwest Pa.s.sage that every Canadian school child knows by heart! It makes you s.h.i.+ver, doesn't it, D'Arcy, just to think about those old sailing s.h.i.+ps trying to find a pa.s.sage through the Arctic to the Orient? It's everybody's dream to really see it some day.'

'Well, not everyone's, perhaps. It's not exactly a tropical cruise. But it does have a certain adventuresome ring to it, I'll grant you.'

Sarah shot him a knowing look. 'You don't fool me for a minute. If you weren't saddled with managing this paper you'd have grabbed your pencil and parka and been off on this one yourself! Which reminds me: two days is nothing at all. I've got research to do, files to pull-not to mention all this shopping and packing!'

And so she thanked him, promised him the best exclusive he'd ever seen, blew him a kiss, and vanished into the windowless depths of the newspaper file room.

There, she snapped the plastic lid off her coffee container and took a small sip. In her quick, neat fas.h.i.+on she sorted the folders and stacks of microfilm the library clerk had piled on to the long wooden table, rejecting some, setting others aside.

With her chin resting on her tiny hand, she reread the story she herself had written the year before on the tapping of the Arctic's trillions of cubic feet of natural gas. The engineers she had interviewed were just completing work on a mammoth refrigeration plant on Melville Island that would liquify the gas at a temperature of minus a hundred and sixty degrees Celsius and pump it into waiting tankers.

At first, they had thought that the process could only take place during the brief period when the northern waters were relatively ice-free. But then they had devised the ambitious plan to build giant ice-breaking super-tankers that would turn a limited venture into a profitable year-round one.

Bitter controversy had swirled around the project from the beginning. Promoters claimed it heralded a new era of technology for the world while offering Canada security and independence at a time of frightening energy scarcity.