Arctic Fire (32 page)

“Okay, thanks,” K.D. said. She turned around and
leaned back, following the tower all the way until it disappeared
into the ceiling. “All right then,” she said as she turned on the
notebook, “we’re here,” showing Tony on the screen, “and you’re
going to be here.” She said, pointing to the support anchors below
the deck.

“Ah come on, even out here I still get the crap
jobs?” Tony whined.

K.D. looked at him and took her finger and
pointed at herself first and then to him. “Partner in the firm,
intern at the firm. Besides, don’t mess with the GB3 or you’ll be
1-DB.”

He looked at her, not understanding.

“One Dead Boy.” She smirked. “Now get
moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tony replied, his head hanging
down in defeat as he started below deck.

Chapter Thirty T
hree

Mallory looked up from her desk when she heard
the light tap on her office door; it was her secretary, Cindy.
“Senator Williams’ aid, Robert Thornton, is here and would like to
speak with you.”

“Thank you, Cindy. Send him in, in ten minutes
please.”

She nodded and closed the door behind her on her
way out. I wonder what he wants, Mallory thought to herself. She
actually had the time to see Thornton right now but it was always
best to make people wait, reminding them that they were the one who
wanted to see you, a trick she had learned from her boss. Whatever
it was, it couldn’t be good. Old Pug is up to something, she
thought and he’s probably using Thornton to try to pump information
from me, hoping I’ll be all buddy, buddy with his little minion.
She smirked, loving the challenge, divide and conquer.

Just before Cindy let him in, she positioned
herself by the coffeepot. Hearing his knock, she stifled a smile as
she poured a cup of coffee. Show time!

“Hi Bobby,” she said warmly, “I was just having
some coffee, can I pour you a cup?”
Let’s test this boy right
out of the gate and see what he’s got. I know he hates to be called
Bobby so if he corrects me, he has at least a little self-respect
and if he doesn’t then he’s a little puppy dog with his tail
between his legs and I’ll chew him up and spit him out.

“Hi Elizabeth, thank you for seeing me. I know
how busy you are, and yes, some coffee would be nice,”
He’s
polite but…
“and I prefer Robert.”
Good boy.

“Not at all, now what I can do for you,
Robert?”

“Well Elizabeth…”

“Please, call me Beth.”
Lower his defenses
with familiarity.

“Beth, as you know, I work for Senator Williams,
and the Senator has a great many interests…”

Let’s see how this boy does under pressure,
how well he thinks on his feet when he can’t use his practiced
scripted.

“Well, Robert,” she interrupted, “as you said,
my time is valuable, so why not skip the political double speak and
tell me the real reason you’re here?”

Thornton released a small sigh. “Putting it
plain and simple, my boss doesn’t trust your boss and he wants me
to try and find out what Mr. Cain is up to through you.”
An
admission? A frontal assault made to lower my defenses to get me to
trust him? Perhaps Bobby here is not so simple and innocent after
all. This could be interesting.

“What doesn’t he trust? Doesn’t he think the
entire project is real?” Mallory asked.

“What the Senator doesn’t trust are Mr. Cain’s
motivations and his ultimate intentions.”

“His ultimate intentions? You’re kidding right?
Pug doesn’t believe that Nigel wants to bring fresh water to
millions and ease pain and suffering around the world?”

“That he believes, but what he doesn’t trust are
his ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior motives? What ulterior motives? That’s
ridiculous.”

Thornton sighed. “It’s bad enough that the
Senator treats me like an idiot and if you can’t or don’t want to
help me then fine, but please, at least show me a little common
decency and respect. I know how the game is played; I am not a
fool”

Interesting. So he isn’t a total lap dog for
the Senator. Is he showing me he’s brave by speaking out or trying
to play the sympathy card? Let’s see just how loyal he is.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ve heard old Pug
Williams can be a tough S.O.B. If he’s as bad as they say, then why
do you stay with him?”

“Does Mr. Cain always do everything the way you
want? Have you two never had cross words?”

I think this boy really could be a player,
throwing back the question in my face, hmmm.

Mallory shook her head. “Of course we have our
disagreements but we argue from the standpoint of mutual respect,
not master/minion. I don’t think you can say the same.”

“No, no I can’t. There are times I want to tell
him he can take this job and shove it where the sun don’t shine but
then I know that would defeat the purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“He is crafty, sneaky, kind when he wants to be
and manages to get things done when others falter. He can kiss the
babies at the supermarket and hang a political enemy out to dry in
the same afternoon. I’ve seen him take ‘Campaign funds’ from big
business and then turn around and rake them over the coals in the
media to help a lowly widow get her dead husband’s pension.

“Agree or disagree with his style or
personality, he is still one of the greatest, pure politicians to
ever live. If you want to be the best, you have to learn from the
best.”

Mallory leaned back in her chair and considered
this.
Well, well, this boy is ambitious and seems to have a good
sense of how things work. In a few years he could be a real
contender on Capitol Hill. I’ll nibble a little to see what more I
can get out of him.

“Okay, just what is it that Pug is worried
about? Why does he see Nigel as threat?” she asked in a softer,
more conciliatory tone to lighten the mood and put Thornton more at
ease.

“The Senator knows that a man like Mr. Cain
doesn’t sink tens of millions of dollars into a project without
expecting some sort of return. Mr. Cain has more money than he
could possibly ever use so his pay-off must not be financial. So,
the only profit from this venture would be goodwill and the only
place that goodwill is marketable is in the political arena.”

“So you think Nigel has political
ambitions?”

“It makes sense.”

“Your boss doesn’t keep you very well informed
does he?”

Thornton had a puzzled look on his face. “What
do you mean?”

“Williams himself has talked to Nigel about
throwing his hat into the political arena. Your boss wants the
presidency and if he gets it, he wanted Nigel to be one of his
cabinet appointees.”

Thornton looked stunned.

“I can tell by the look on your face that
Williams hasn’t bothered to tell you any of this?”

“Honestly, no.”

“Pug knows all this. He’s either ridiculing you
by sending you here on a fool’s errand or he really has no idea and
is sending you on a fishing expedition and hopes you’ll get lucky.
I have no idea either what he is suspicious of. I’ll talk to Nigel
if you want, to see if he has any thoughts.”

Thornton’s face was a mixture of anger at his
boss and gratitude to Mallory for her help. “Thank you, Beth, I
appreciate it.”

“No problem, and if you pick up anything from
Pug, you let me know too.”

Thornton nodded as he got up. “Yeah, sure
thing,” he replied. His mind was racing a hundred miles an hour and
he didn’t like the direction it was heading.

Chapter Thirty
Four

All the service lights on the main relay panel
were green, indicating that all was well, but being who he was,
Pike didn’t take many things at face value. He didn’t know if it
was some psychological things that the shrinks could trace back to
his childhood and blame his mother for or if it was his study and
training as an engineer that caused him to be nit-picky as K.D.
would say, he preferred to think of it as being precise. Or maybe,
he mused, after all his studies into the world of conspiracies,
things were never as they seemed.

Whatever the reason, he accessed the flow charts
for the starboard relay pump and traced the flow of all the lines
and everything was fine, as indicated on the control panel. Next he
opened up the port relay panel and it too showed a driver’s dream
of all green lights. Undaunted, he checked the flows of the first
three lines and all was well; however, the last line showed a
slight increase in pressure. Not a major concern, he thought to
himself; it could be anything as simple as a faulty sensor to as
serious as a clog somewhere down the line. He would have to trace
the line from here to the secondary relay and farther if necessary.
The secondary relay pump was on the same level as the main but
farther out toward the edge of the iceberg. Pike left the large,
spacious corridor for the confines of one of the service
passageways. It was four feet wide and barely high enough for him
to stand upright, with the ceiling and sides covered with conduit
and piping.

Reaching the relay, it opened up into a room not
much bigger than a walk-in closet. Again, he accessed the control
panel and discovered that there was still back-pressure but it
wasn’t from this station. Then where? He really didn’t want to have
to trace the line to its final distribution point when suddenly it
hit him. He bet the problem was related to the way they had taxed
the system to freeze the water in the anchor room.

He headed toward the anchor room, inspecting the
piping as he went. After several minutes of walking, he spotted
something odd on the wall just ahead. The normally pristine white
wall had a green stain on it that looked like mold. When he got
closer, he could see that it wasn’t mold but a stain from a leak.
During the storm, the stress on the iceberg from the wind and
tossing ocean must have caused several of the fittings to rupture,
causing leaks.

Like antifreeze dripping from the radiator of a
car, several green patches lined the passageway, making the walls
look like they’d been vandalized. Though the leaks were not
significant, he made notes of their locations to give to Miles when
he got back. He also noticed that it seemed just a tad warmer in
the passage. He would have to talk to Miles to see if it was just
because he was in an enclosed space or if it had anything to do
with the juice.

He reached the end of the passage and climbed up
the ladders to the same level as the anchor room. According the
schematics on his c-pad, this passage should parallel the side of
the berg, zigzag near the anchor room, then open out into the main
corridor.

Coming to the end of the corridor he turned
left, then stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up. The entire
passageway was covered in green. It looked like a scene from a
Hollywood horror film with green stains covering the walls, ceiling
and floor with small streams of slime oozing down the walls. As if
the sight alone were not enough, he realized it was now noticeably
warmer. He wouldn’t be taking his shirt off, but it felt about ten
degrees warmer in the passageway.

He carefully followed the main piping and found
where it fed into the anchor room. About three feet up from the
floor, he found a T-joint that split the pipe that sent coolant
wrapping around the room. He could see that when they filled the
room with water and it froze, it had expanded just enough to kink
the joints in several of the lines and he found one four-foot
section that had nearly been pinched in two.

Being in all this ice and eerie frozen wasteland
brought the movie,
The Thing
, suddenly to mind. He looked
around, then continued walking slowly. He felt silly as he let out
an almost inaudible sigh of relief when he came into the main
corridor in front of the anchor room.

He went over and began examining the anchor room
door again, making sure that the leaking coolant hadn’t affected
the stability of the ice or the seal. Suddenly he stopped and
turned around, thinking he had heard something. He stood for a
moment, listening intently, but heard nothing more than his own
imagination getting the better of him. He turned back around but
suddenly heard the noise again, only this time he knew it was real
and it was getting closer.

It wasn’t the monster from the movie, but
something nearly as bad, a flock of reporters, all armed with
cameras and microphones. A camera crew and five other reporters
were following Cain and Williams as they walked. Pike saw that
Tabatha was among the reporters, along with Toupee man.

“Gabriel!” Cain said, as he saw Pike standing
there. “I see you are hard at it, making sure everything is ready
for our grand entrance into New York harbor.” Cain was talking as
much to the cameras as he was to Pike. Pike smiled and held out his
hand as Cain approached; thinking that now would not be the best
time to tell him about the leak.

“You remember Senator Williams?” Cain said as
the short, round man bullied his way in front of the pair. “Of
course,” Pike lied. With that answer, Pike realized that he was
getting used to being The Blast from the Past and was fitting into
the role, knowing what to say and what not to say; at that moment
he wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

“Fine work you did the last night,” Williams
said, shaking Pike’s hand and posing for the cameras in one fluid
motion, a skill he had honed to perfection during his many years on
the campaign trail.

“Thank you sir,” Pike replied, remembering to
smile.

“We’re filming a short documentary about the
iceberg,” Williams began, “you know, showing the folks back home
that I really am working out here and not working on my suntan.” He
winked. Everyone laughed appropriately at the Senator’s joke.
“Bobby, why don’t you take everyone and head over to the other
anchor room? I want everyone to see what a Cracker Jack job our boy
here did.” Williams said, putting his arm around Pike. Thornton
nodded and gathered his flock of reporters. The lights went off,
and the cameras dropped as the group went back the other way. As
soon as everyone was gone, Williams reached into his coat pocket
and pulled out a cigarette. “It’s not that you didn’t do a great
job,” Williams said, turning to Pike, “it’s just that I was dying
for a smoke.”