“Pick us up a mile down the coast in exactly two hours,” Zak ordered the pilot, waving an arm to the west. Then he helped shove the Zodiac back into the water and watched as the rubber boat sped to the Otok, idling a half mile away.
Zak could have stayed in the warmth of his cabin, reading a biography of Wild Bill Hickok that he had brought along, but he feared the geologists would dawdle in the cold. What actually drove him ashore, he didn’t want to admit, was the disappointment he felt with their geological assessment of the Mid-America mining camp.
While it was hardly a surprise when they confirmed the rich ground content of zinc and iron on the south side of the island, he had expected that some trace elements of ruthenium might be present. But none were found. The geologists in fact found no evidence of any platinum-related elements in the exposed stratum.
It meant nothing, he assured himself, since he knew exactly where the ruthenium would be found. Digging into the pocket of his parka, he pulled out the journal pages that he had stolen from the Miners Co-op. In heavy charcoal was a hand-drawn circular diagram that clearly resembled West Island. A small X was marked on the northern shore of the island. At the top of the page, a different hand had written “Royal Geographical Society Islands” with a quill pen in a Victorian script. It was, according to an earlier page in the journal, the copied diagram of an Inuit map where the Adelaide seal hunters had obtained the ruthenium they oddly called Black Kobluna.
Zak matched the contours with a modern map of the islands and identified the targeted spot slightly west of their landing site.
“The mine should be a half mile or so down the coastline,” he announced after the group had hiked over the ice to a rock-covered beachfront. “Keep your eyes open.”
Zak marched off down the beach ahead of the geologists, anxious to make the discovery himself. The cold seemed to fade away as he envisioned the potential riches that waited just down the coast. Goyette would already owe him for ridding the Canadian Arctic of American investors. Finding the ruthenium would be frosting on the cake.
The rugged shoreline was fronted by an undulating series of gullies and bluffs that climbed toward the island’s interior. The ravines were filled with hard-packed ice, while the hilltops were bare, creating a mottled pattern like the dappled coat of a gray mare. Trudging well behind Zak, the geologists moved tentatively in the cold weather, stopping frequently to examine exposed sections of the hillsides and collect samples of rock. Reaching his target area without finding physical evidence of a mine, Zak anxiously paced back and forth until the geologists drew near.
“The mine should be in this vicinity,” he shouted. “Search the area thoroughly.”
As the geologists fanned out, the security guard waved Zak over to the edge of the sea ice. Splayed at the man’s feet, he found the mutilated carcass of a ringed seal. The mammal’s flesh had been torn from its skin in large, jagged chunks. The guard pointed to the animal’s skull, where a wide set of claw marks had scratched through the skin.
“Only a bear would have left a mark like that,” the guard said.
“By the look of the decay, it was a fairly recent meal,” Zak replied. “Keep a sharp lookout, but don’t mention this to our scientific friends. They’re already distracted enough by the cold.”
The polar bear never materialized, and, to Zak’s dismay, neither did the ruthenium. After an hour of diligent searching, the frozen geologists staggered to Zak with confused looks on their faces.
“The visual results are on par with the south side of the island,” said one of the geologists, a bearded man with droopy hazel eyes. “We see some outcrop mineralization with signs of iron, zinc, and a bit of lead content. There’s no obvious evidence of platinum-group ores, including ruthenium. However, we’ll have to assay our samples back on the ship to definitely rule out its presence.”
“What about indications of a mine?” Zak asked.
The geologists all looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Any mining performed by the Inuit one hundred and sixty years ago would be by primitive means at best,” the lead geologist said. “There would have been evidence of surface disruptions. Unless it is under one of these ice sheets, we didn’t see any such indications.”
“I see,” Zak said in a pallid tone. “All right, back to the ship, then. I want to see your assay results as soon as possible.”
As they marched across the sea ice to their pickup site, Zak’s mind churned in bewilderment. It didn’t make sense. The journal was clear that the ruthenium had come from the island. Was it possible that the ore had all been played out in a small quantity? Was there a mistake in the journal or was it all a ruse? As he stood waiting for the Zodiac to arrive, he stared offshore, suddenly spotting a turquoise research ship bearing down on the island.
His bewilderment quickly turned to rage.
62
Pitt and Giordino were three hours into their review of the sonar data when the shipwreck appeared. Giordino had set the viewing speed at double the capture rate, so they were nearly complete with the first grid’s results. The rapidly scrolling seabed images had turned the men glassy-eyed, but they both popped out of their seats when the wreck appeared. Giordino immediately hit a keyboard command that froze the image.
It was a distinct shadow image of a large wreck sitting upright on the bottom, tilted at just a slight angle. The perimeter of the wreck appeared fully intact, except for a mangled crevice running horizontally across the bow.
“She’s a wooden ship,” Pitt remarked, pointing to a trio of long, tapering masts that stretched across the deck and onto the adjacent seafloor. “Looks to have a blunt-shaped bow, characteristic of the bomb ships that the Erebus and Terror were originally built to be.”
Giordino used the computer’s cursor to measure the wreck’s dimensions.
“How does thirty-two meters in length fit?” he asked.
“Like a glove,” Pitt replied, flashing a tired smile. “That’s got to be one of the Franklin ships.”
The door to the viewing room burst open and Dahlgren strode in, carrying a hard drive under his arm.
“Second AUV is back on board, and here’s what she’s got to say,” he declared, handing Giordino the device. He glanced at the screen, then stared with bulging eyes.
“Shoot, you already found her. Mighty fine-looking wreck,” he added, nodding at the clear image.
“Half of the pair,” Pitt said.
“I’ll start getting the submersible prepped. That will make for a sweet dive to the bottom.”
Pitt and Giordino finished reviewing the first AUV’s imagery, then tore through the data from the second vehicle. The remaining data came up empty. The sister shipwreck was somewhere outside the two initial search grids. Pitt decided against expanding the grids until they determined which wreck they had found.
He made his way to the bridge with the wreck coordinates, where he found Captain Stenseth gazing out the starboard wing. Less than two miles away, the icebreaker Otok came steaming north with its empty barge in tow.
“Lo and behold, a match for one of your friend Goyette’s barges,” Stenseth remarked.
“A coincidence?” Pitt asked.
“Probably,” Stenseth replied. “The barge is riding high, so she’s empty. Likely headed for Ellesmere Island for a load of coal, then back through the passage to China.”
Pitt studied the vessels as they moved closer, marveling at the massive size of the barge. He stepped over to the chart table and retrieved the photograph Yaeger had provided of the Goyette barge under construction in New Orleans. He looked at the picture and saw it was an exact duplicate of the vessel approaching off the starboard beam.