‘Signal jammers.’ Aaron shrugged. ‘What are the chances that you fly to an isolated bunch of Nissen huts on an ice floe in the Davis Strait and Eskimo Nell is running a signal jam from her kayak?’
‘Chances are slim,’ said Gallen.
‘So I told Piers I’d been cut off from this subject by Mulligan, and Piers told me he’d take it up with Harry himself.’
‘He could do that?’
‘Yeah, Harry and Piers got along well. Couple tough guys with hard backgrounds. Shared the belief that just about everyone else was a complete fairy.’
‘So?’
‘I didn’t learn all this until the dust had settled,’ said Aaron, ‘but basically, Harry rings Newport Associates, who do a lot of private intel for the oil and gas industry.’
‘Tell me about Newport,’ said Gallen.
‘Newport is to private intel what Halliburton is to oil services or Blackwater is to private armies,’ said Aaron. ‘They used to run reports for foreign governments until 9/11 came along, and then Uncle Sam got the shits with that. So they reverted to their core business — doing intel and counter-intelligence for North America’s largest corporations.’
‘Never heard of them,’ said Gallen.
‘But they’ve heard of you, Marine.’
‘Okay, so Harry goes to Newport?’
‘But he does it without Mulligan knowing,’ said Aaron.
‘Ouch,’ said Gallen, smiling. ‘He cut out the main man?’
Aaron laughed. ‘Totally cut him out.’
‘So?’
‘So,’ said Aaron, ‘I’m working up a security schedule for Harry one morning, up in head office, and Mulligan storms in.’
‘Angry?’
‘Purple. Asks me what the fuck I know about the TTC and Reggie Kransk and why he’s been ant-fucked.’
Gallen drank the beer.
‘I knew nothing about it — then,’ said Aaron. ‘My ignorance must have been obvious. I didn’t even know who Reggie Kransk was. Mulligan left me alone after that, but that must have been the morning that Harry got the report from Newport and challenged Mulligan with it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the Brits were suddenly sacked, but Mulligan was telling Harry that they got a better offer in Iraq and just fucked off.’
‘So Mulligan was working for Reggie, keeping his agenda secret?’ said Gallen.
‘I assumed that — so did Harry,’ said Aaron.
‘And that’s where we come in?’
‘And that’s where you come in,’ said Aaron. ‘I’m sorry about the icy reception but you were a Mulligan hire, with Mulligan loyalties.’
‘You ever see the report?’
‘No, just what Florita told you, which is pretty much what she told me.’
‘Pretty much?’
Aaron sighed. ‘Okay — she told me no more details, just that the report could never see the light of day.’
‘Why not?’
Aaron ignored the question. ‘The point, Gerry, is that with Newport’s regular accounts, they offer a burn service.’
‘What’s a burn service?’
Aaron looked around. ‘Let’s say you’re a CEO of a big corporation, and you’re in discussions with new partners in… shit, I don’t know, Rwanda — but you want to know more about them.’
‘Okay,’ said Gallen. ‘I call Newport Associates, right?’
‘Sure,’ said Aaron. ‘But because you don’t want your company annoying a regulator, or the shareholders, you want to be sure that having been informed of something, you can turn around and disavow.’
‘Disavow? You mean, deny that I know anything?’
‘Yes.’ Aaron smiled. ‘Newport informs you that your new partner, the Minister for Resources, is also a trafficker in stolen children, or an opium grower. But you look at that information, and as repulsed as you are, you don’t see how that is going to mess with your intention to take as much copper ore out of there as possible.’
‘Jesus,’ said Gallen, shaking his head. ‘Newport tells me more than I want to know…’
‘So you pay an extra million for the burn service, and Newport will burn any evidence or paper trail that led to that report.’
‘Burn?’
‘Wipe, eradicate, burn,’ said Aaron. ‘The slate is clean — there’re no files slipped to journalists, no whistleblower sending copies to the SEC, no tree-hugger standing up at the AGM and waving a bunch of papers, asking embarrassing questions about what happened to a tribe in the Andes.’
‘So the only evidence that I know the truth about Reggie Kransk and the TTC is sitting in the actual report, which is in my possession?’
‘Hah!’ said Aaron, leaning back, slugging his beer.
Gallen was missing something. ‘What’s funny? ‘
‘Newport Associates’ burn service doesn’t come with one report,’ said Aaron. ‘It comes with two.’
‘So one report goes missing from Florita’s safe…’ said Gallen. ‘And the other?’
Aaron raised his glass. ‘The other, my captain, is a mystery.’
Gallen’s memory swirled in and out of focus, the days peeling back, the layers coming off, thinking. Thinking!
As he looked at Aaron, he remembered Harry Durville’s empty satchel, remembered wondering aloud why the managing director of a massive company would go all the way to a meeting and not carry any papers. He recalled a girl in Red Butte, drinking beer and telling him that Mulligan was cosy with Donny McCann.
‘You okay, Gerry?’ said Aaron. ‘Looks like you seen a ghost.’
‘I think I know where that second report is,’ said Gallen, finishing the beer in one draw.
‘Where?’ Aaron leaned forward.
‘Don’t worry about where,’ said Gallen. ‘Just get me a helo.’
‘No, Gerry. I have to know.’
‘This is a burn service.’ Gallen stood up. ‘You get to disavow.’
CHAPTER 49
‘This Martina Du Bois…’ said Kenny Winter, two hours into the flight to Baker Lake. ‘I don’t get where she fits in.’
Taking the Ariadne launch document that Winter had been reading, Gallen snapped out of his obsessive thinking about the hit teams.
‘Isn’t she that ArcticWatch activist?’ said Gallen, looking at the page of the document entitled Personnel. ‘I saw her on CNN.’
‘Yeah, so why’s she on the maiden dive of this Ariadne thing?’ said Winter. ‘I thought the green protestors were against drilling in the Arctic? ‘
Reading down the list of the vessel’s complement, Gallen saw Martina Du Bois’ name and three men from ArcticWatch.
‘It must be some publicity stunt.’ Gallen flipped through the file of backgrounders at the back of the press kit and found the one headed: Ariadne gets the thumbs-up from environmentalists. ‘There it is,’ he said, handing over the press release.
Reading from it, Winter raised an eyebrow. ‘Who’s this Dave Joyce, at the end here?’
‘Vice-president, corporate communications. The head PR guy for Oasis,’ said Gallen.
Winter smirked. ‘He sure writes a pile of shit for a veep. Listen to this: “ArcticWatch has awarded the Oasis Energy Ariadne Project five ‘Polar Bears’—the highest award ArcticWatch can bestow on a company for actions that support the environment and the indigenous concerns of the Arctic Ocean.” ‘
‘Five Polar Bears,’ said Gallen as the stewardess brought him a coffee from the kitchenette at the back of the Challenger jet. ‘That sounds important.’
‘Well it must be, because these ArcticWatch people are going down there with the Oasis drilling crews and engineers.’
‘You sure?’ said Gallen.
‘What it says.’
Picking up the phone built into his seat, Gallen put in a call to Aaron.