Deep Ice (8 page)

Three

Next morning at 5:42am the ice shifted.

Henry’s eyes opened wide as he felt it. Then came the sounds: the creaking of buildings, falling dishes, stores and supplies crashing to the floor; clothes, clocks, bacon, bandages. Everything that wasn’t nailed down was thrown around the rooms. Then began the screams, shouts, curses and, from the kennels, barking.

Henry scrambled to his feet and tried to steady himself as he peered out the frosted window to see what was happening. Mount Erebus shot ash and fire into the morning sky, fulfilling the promise it had been making to the geologists for days: full eruption.

Shep stood splay-legged at the base of Henry’s bunk, staring at him as though he was the one who’d caused the quake. Suddenly the bunk’s wooden frame fell apart. Books and papers fell from collapsing shelves and covered the floor.

General Hayes had fallen asleep at his desk in his office waiting for an uplink from Washington that never came. When the quake hit, he wet himself. Kai Grimes came into the room holding his pants in one hand and a.45 automatic in the other. He took a quick look around the room and realized what was happening.

“Welcome to California, sir,” he said.

Hayes looked at his wet lap and swore softly.

A distant rumble broke the eerie minute of silence that followed the earthquake. Suddenly the radio that the general had been unconsciously holding sprang to life.

“
Glomar Explorer
to McMurdo, over. We see you, over.”

Hayes dropped the thing as if it were a bug, staring at it.

Grimes hopped on one leg as he pulled on his trousers. He stared out the window at the bay. The sea ice had split up overnight. In the distance, barely moving as it forced its way through the ice towards the land, the orange hul of the massive icebreaker
Glomar Explorer
could easily be seen.

“Evacuations ASAP, sir,” said Grimes.

#

Before the aircraft carrier
Enterprise
had come within a hundred miles of McMurdo it had gotten what it came for; it turned back north.

Newly aboard: four weatherbeaten Cobra helicopters; General Anthony Hayes and his aide, Embry Hazelton; Lieutenant-Commander Kai Grimes Jake Smithson, one of the general’s other two aides Sarah French of the FBI; and Henry Scott Gibbs of the Antarctic with his wonder dog, Shep.

They walked as a group across the carrier deck towards the conning tower as scores of deckhands wheeled the choppers quickly off the deck and onto massive elevators that lowered them into the bowels of the ship.

Henry had never been on a ship this size before. Its enormity amazed him. As soon as they got below- decks, however, the carrier seemed smaller. Indeed, he thought the passageways seemed much
too
small for such a large ship; they made him feel claustrophobic. Before they’d come aboard the general had told him Shep wouldn’t be a problem on the carrier. Admiral Milborne Schumacher, acting on the orders of President Kerry, had given his personal decree that a section of the flight deck would be allocated for the purpose of walking Henry’s dog. The admiral had said they’d even put down astroturf if necessary.

Grimes chuckled from behind Henry and Shep as they made their way to the main mess. “I don’t think any dog has ever had the run of this ship yet,” said the SEAL. “Told you, if he craps in the admiral’s shoes, they’ll know who to blame.” He laughed. “What is it with you, Henry? Col ectin’ ways to get yourself killed?”

The ensign who’d shown them to their bunkrooms saluted and left. Sarah looked around her cramped room and groaned. A minute later she was in the corridor again, knocking on Henry’s door.

“What’s up, Sarah?” said Henry, opening it. “You lonely already?”

She stood in the doorway for a second, then said, “Oh never mind,” and turned towards her room in disgust.

“I’m sorry,” said Henry. “Why not come in? What’s the problem?”

She obeyed. Since she wasn’t holding her computer he suspected she wanted to talk.

Sarah sat down on his bunk and looked at him. He searched around for a place to sit, and chose a straight- backed chair, turning it to face her. “Spill.”

“I don’t know
what
it is that’s wrong. I’m not sure I understand what’s going on.”

“I’m not sure I do either, Sarah,” he said.

“I mean. . . are we safe here?”

“Got me. But it’s my guess we’re as safe here as anywhere. If there’s a tidal wave, the best place to ride it out is a big ship. They don’t get much bigger than a carrier.”

There was another knock at the door.

“Sheeesh,” said Henry. “Never a dul moment.” When he opened the door Grimes stuck his head into the room, and immediately his eyes fell on Sarah. “Well,” he said, “can’t keep you two apart, can we?”

Henry opened his mouth to protest but Grimes cut him off. “The admiral wants to see you. Both of you.”

After a dizzying walk through dimly lit corridors, they entered a room lit only in red. Once Henry’s eyes had adjusted to the dark he could see the computers, the lights and the display screens. Compared with the tight quarters everywhere else on the ship, the room was almost labyrinthine.

“This is the com,” said Grimes.

A large blue screen blinked on before their eyes. A glowing tactical display grid was superimposed over a ghost image of the Ross Ice Shelf as seen from space. The screen shifted to complex topographic maps rendered in green grid lines, then back again to the tactical display. A blinking red square showed the position of McMurdo Base. Near it, a large green square outlined the mountainous terrain Henry recognized as the area of the volcano, Mount Erebus. He immediately noticed that the display also revealed data he hadn’t thought anyone actually knew – for example, there was a rendition of the bottom of the ice shelf as well as its top.

Admiral Schumacher, a small man in a white uniform, stood talking on a phone while gazing at the display. As the group entered the room he waved to General Hayes. A moment later he hung up the phone and took the general’s hand.

“Nice to see you, Tony.”

He and Hayes exchanged pleasantries for a while. Then Hayes introduced his guests by name.

The admiral smiled at everyone but Henry. In fact, the admiral couldn’t seem to call Henry by name, even after they’d been introduced, referring to him only as “the witness”. It made Henry feel like a nonentity.

Assuming the rudeness was because he was the only civilian in the room, he took it in his stride. He’d been treated that way by the military before.

Schumacher pointed to the tactical display and announced to the group that the
Enterprise
was authorized to monitor the situation in western Antarctica. Although he never mentioned the atomic blast, Henry could see the spot where it had occurred marked by a flashing yellow circle. The admiral told them his people had detected a subductive anomaly below the ice shelf that morning, and that the geologists theorized that the “shock wave” had blasted loose a massive piece from the bottom of the ice shelf. He added that the geologists were still trying to determine what had happened, since no tsunamis had been reported.

“We have tentatively concluded that the ice may have sustained major damage – way beyond the obvious cracks and the huge hole on the surface. The tremor that shook you awake this morning was not related to the volcano, as we originally thought.”

The phone rang and the admiral picked it up. A minute later he excused them all, saying he’d have to continue the briefing later – they’d be notified.

They found themselves back in the hall.

Later, when Henry thought about it, he realized that the admiral had never even shaken his hand, and nor had he looked him in the eye.

One of the admiral’s aides, escorting them back to their quarters, informed Hayes that the witnesses were “officially under Naval protection and might be required to assist in matters supporting the interests of the United States and the world”.

“Did you hear that, Gibbs?” asked the general.

“I did, sir,” said Henry. “Do you care to translate?”

The general smiled. “I’ll have to work on it.”

#

“What was that Schumacher said about the ice?”

Grimes asked the general. Hayes took another sip of coffee and passed the plate of sweetrol s over to Henry, who’d been eyeing them greedily. Sarah took one too. They were sitting in a small lounge area that was reserved for guests of the admiral. It had a TV, a card table and a stereo. Unlike the bunk rooms, it was panelled in wood. It even had a bar, although this was locked – not even the general knew anything about a key.

Henry waited for someone other than him to answer Grimes’s question, but it seemed he was the only one with any knowledge on the subject.

“Well, Grimes,” he said, “I think the admiral was saying a chunk has fall en off the bottom of the ice shelf.”

“And what does that imply?” asked Sarah.

“No one knows,” said Hayes, examining his sweetrol. “They think it may have drifted to the bottom and rebounded back to the ice. That might have been what rocked McMurdo this morning.”

“How big a piece would that be?” said Grimes.

Henry tried to remember the tactical display. “If what I recal on the screen was actual scale, then I think it was as big as. . . say, Long Island.”

The general nodded. “That sounds about right.”

“Long Island?” exclaimed Sarah. “You’re joking.”

“No,” said Henry. “A few years back, the Ross Ice lost a piece – an iceberg – the size of the state of Delaware. And there’ve been bigger ones than that. Pieces of ice the size of states – of small countries, in fact – break off from a lot of the different shelves; Ross, Larsen, all of them. It’s a normal occurrence.”

“My god,” said Sarah. “I had no idea.”

“Few do,” answered Henry. “The problem with the Ross Shelf is that all that ice is just hanging there over deep water – at least, that’s what we think. There’s lots of debate about it but most people reckon that if it should ever break. . .”

“We’ve heard it, Gibbs,” said Grimes. “You said it yourself. It ain’t gonna happen.”

The general chewed thoughtfully on his roll. “If we were sure of that, Kai, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking about it, would we?”

“No comment, sir,” said Grimes, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

The general looked back at Henry. “I was enjoying your lecture on the big ice. Care to continue?”

Henry smiled. “You just happened to hit on a favourite topic of mine. Some day I’d like to write a book about it.”

“I guess that was a loaded question,” said Hayes wryly. “Treat us to just the short form this evening, if you don’t mind.”

Henry got out of his chair to get more coffee. Shep was immediately on his feet, panting and wagging his tail. Henry noticed Shep’s tongue dripping on the carpet.

“It’s hot as hell in here. Look at Shep. He’s not used to this heat. Is there somewhere we could stay that’s not so hot?”

He poured his coffee and put about five packs of sugar in it. Sarah noticed the sugar and raised her eyebrows. Henry laughed. “Sugar freak. Old icer’s habit.”

“Quickest energy on earth,” said Hayes. “Tell me, Gibbs, what do
you
make of that chunk that fell off the bottom of the ice shelf?”

Henry, patting Shep, didn’t answer at once. “Just hang in there, old boy. I’ll find you a cool spot.”

An ensign sitting at the next table overheard him and looked at the dog. “Nice malamute, sir. Half-dog, half- wolf.”

Henry smiled. “I wouldn’t pet him without letting him smel you first.”

“I know. I wouldn’t,” said the ensign. “It
is
hot in here, sir. Especial y for an ice dog. I’ll get the heat turned down some if I can.”

Henry watched the man leave the room and smiled. Then he looked at the general.

“The ice?” prompted Hayes.

“Oh, yeah. My guess is that, when the nuke went off, it was like a pellet or a beebee hitting a sheet of glass; little hole on one side, big hole on the other. Something about resonance in a super-cooled fluid.” Then Henry shrugged. “Just a wild guess.”

Hayes was impressed. “You know, I spent an hour on the horn today with the geologists and they didn’t come up with that.”

“I have a question for you by way of return, General,” said Henry.

“Okay,” said Hayes. “Ask away.”

“How did they get that image of the bottom of the ice shelf? How the
hell
did they know the size and shape of that chunk that fell off?”

“HAARP,” Hayes replied. “That’s H-A-A-R-P.”

“What’s HAARP?” asked Sarah.

“A secret,” said Grimes, tapping his boot on the table leg.

Henry laughed. “That’s one of your favourite phrases, I’ll bet.”

“Yup,” said Grimes.

Sarah was listening to the banter with growing disgust. “Is this some kind of testosterone thing?”

Henry looked at Grimes. “It’s no secret – or, at least, if it is I’m not duty bound to keep it. Sheeit, we’re on the USS
Enterprise
. I’d say that’s pretty secure.” He turned back to Sarah. Something about her expression awoke the animal in him again. This seemed to be happening fairly regularly, and it bothered him. “Besides, I’m the official bean-spiller on this ship. Isn’t that right, General?”

Hayes lit a cigar and smiled. “I admire a gentleman who knows his place in the world, Henry.”

Henry looked at Sarah. Whether it bothered him or not, he did like looking at Sarah. And now he had a good excuse.

“HAARP, as I understand it, is the code name for an experiment with low-frequency radio waves being conducted somewhere in Alaska. The feds say it’s auroral research, to do with the ionosphere and the northern lights. Others say it’s a global communications device that could screw up the ozone layer more. But the scuttlebutt is that the thing can see through solid matter – right through the earth, if you wanted.”

Sarah looked at the general. “With radio waves? Wouldn’t that have to be awful y powerful? Is that safe?”

Henry continued to smile at her, hoping his smile wasn’t turning into a leer. “Powerful? Yes. Safe? Nope.”

Grimes righted his chair and stood up. He adjusted his belt over his belly and walked across to the coffee machine.