The world was changing, melting before his eyes. Someone had to take a stand to protect mankind.
Even if it had to be a bloody Viking, he thought with a grim smile.
He shook his head at such foolishness. Especially at his age. It was strange how history weighed more heavily upon one's heart as one grew older. Ivar was fast approaching his sixty-fifth birthday. And though his red hair had long since gone snowy, he wore it shaggy to his shoulders. He also kept fit with a vigorous exercise routine, laboring both in steam lodges and out in freezing temperatures, as in his long cold climb this morning to reach this high perch. Over the years, the routine had left his body hard, his face weathered to a ruddy leather.
He checked his watch. Though the UNESCO summit was not due to start until tomorrow officially, he had several organizational meetings still to attend.
As the storm rolled up the fjord, Ivar headed back down the tower. He caught glimpses of the preparations below in the courtyard. Despite the threat of rain, booths and tables were being set up. Luckily, most of the talks and lectures would occur in the grand upper rooms and banquet halls of Akershus Castle. Even the medieval fortress church would host a series of evening concerts, encompassing choral groups from around the world. In addition, the military museums associated with the fortress-the Norwegian Resistance Museum and the Armed Forces Museum-were being readied for the visiting groups, as were the lower sections of the castle itself, where guides would lead tours into the ancient dungeons and dark passages, sharing the stories of ghosts and witches that had always haunted the gloomy fortress.
Of course, the reality of Akershus was just as gruesome. During WWII, the fortress had been occupied by the Germans. Many Norwegian citizens were tortured and murdered within these walls. And afterward, war trials were conducted and executions performed, including those of the famous traitor and Nazi collaborator Vidkun Quisling.
Reaching the bottom of the tower, Ivar passed into the courtyard. With one foot in the present and the other in the past, he failed to note the round-bellied man blocking his way until he was almost atop him. Ivar recognized Antonio Gravel immediately. The current secretary-general for the Club of Rome did not look pleased.
And Ivar knew why. He had hoped to put the man off for another few hours, but clearly it could not wait. The two men had been butting heads ever since Ivar joined the ranks of his organization.
The Club of Rome was an international think tank comprised of industrialists, scientists, world leaders, and even royalty. Since its inception in 1968, it had grown into an organization encompassing thirty countries across five continents. The main goal of the organization was to raise awareness of critical global crises that threatened the future. Ivar's father had been one of the founding members.
After his father died, Ivar assumed his position and discovered the Club of Rome suited both his personality and his needs. Over the passing years, he thrived in the organization, rising to take a leadership position. As a result, Antonio Gravel felt threatened and had spent the past months growing into an ever larger thorn in Ivar's side.
Still, Ivar kept his expression warm and inviting. "Ah, Antonio, I don't have much time. So why don't you walk with me?"
Antonio followed him as he set off across the courtyard. "You'll have to find the time, Ivar. I allowed this year's conference to be hosted here in Oslo. The least you can do is to properly address my concerns."
Ivar kept his face passive. Gravel had allowed nothing, but fought Ivar every step of the way. The man had wanted this year's summit to take place in Zurich, home of the club's new international secretariat. But Ivar had outmanipulated the secretary-general, coaxing the summit to Oslo, mostly because of a special excursion Ivar had arranged, scheduled for the last day of the conference, a trip limited to the top tier involved in the summit organization.
"As secretary-general of the Club of Rome," Antonio pressed, "I think it's only fitting that I accompany the VIPs who are heading to Spitsbergen."
"I understand, but I'm afraid that's not possible, Antonio. You understand the sensitive nature of where we're headed. If it were just me, I'd of course welcome your company, but it was the Norwegian government that limited the number of visitors to Svalbard."
"But..." As Antonio struggled to find a suitable argument, the raw desire shone from his face.
Ivar let him stew. It had cost Viatus a mint to arrange a fleet of corporate jets to fly the elite of the conference to the remote Norwegian island of Spitsbergen in the Arctic Ocean. The goal of the trip was a private tour of the Svalbard Global Seed Vault. The vast underground seed bank had been established to store and preserve the seeds of the world, specifically crop seeds. It had been buried in that perpetually frozen and inhospitable place in case of a global disaster-natural or otherwise. If such an event should ever transpire, the frozen and buried seeds would be preserved for a future world.
It was why Svalbard had earned the nickname the Doomsday Vault.
"But...I think on such a trip," Antonio continued, "the executive board of the Club of Rome should show a united front. Food security is so vital today."
Ivar forced his eyes not to roll. He knew that Antonio Gravel's desire had nothing to do with food security, but everything to do with his aspiration to rub elbows with the next generation's world leaders.
"You're right about food security," Ivar conceded. "In fact, that very topic will be the focus of my keynote speech."
Ivar intended to use his keynote to swing the Club of Rome's resources in a new direction. It was a time for true action. Still, he read Antonio's darkening expression. Anger had replaced the man's coddling tones.
"Speaking of your speech," Antonio said bitterly, "I obtained an early draft and read it."
Ivar stopped and turned to the man. "You read my speech?" No one was supposed to know its content. "Where did you get it?"
Antonio dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that you can't give such a speech and still expect to represent the Club of Rome. I've brought the matter up with Copresident Boutha. And he concurs. Now is not the time to broadcast warnings of imminent world collapse. It's...it's irresponsible."
Blood burned the chill from Ivar's face. "Then when is that time?" he asked, working his tight jaw. "When the world has slid into chaos and ninety percent of its population is dead?"
Antonio shook his head. "That's what I'm talking about. You'll make the club look like madmen and doomsayers. We won't tolerate it."
"Tolerate it? The core of my speech comes from the Club of Rome's own published report."
"Yes, I know. The Limits to Growth. You cite it often enough in your speech. That was written back in 1972."
"And it's even more timely today. The report outlines in great detail the collapse that the world is currently barreling straight for."
Ivar had studied The Limits to Growth in great detail, mapping out its charts and data. The report modeled the future of the world, where population continued to grow exponentially while food production only grew arithmetically. Eventually the population would outstrip its ability to produce food to sustain itself. It would hit such a point like a locomotive and overshoot it. Once that happened, chaos, starvation, and war would ensue, with the end result being the annihilation of mankind. Even the most conservative models showed that 90 percent of the world population would die as a result. The studies had been repeated elsewhere with the same dire results.