Athabasca. Alistair MacLean

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СКАЧАТЬ a single sheet of notepaper from a drawer and passed it across.

      “‘My dear Mr Finlayson’,” Dermott read. “Well, that’s civil enough. ‘I have to inform you that you will be incurring a slight spillage of oil in the near future. Not much, I assure you, just sufficient to convince you that we can interrupt oil flow whenever and wherever we please. Please notify ARCO.’”

      Dermott shoved the letter across to Mackenzie. “Understandably unsigned. No demands. If this is genuine, it’s intended as a softening-up demonstration in preparation for the big threat and big demand that will follow. A morale-sapper, if you will, designed to scare the pants off you.”

      Finlayson’s gaze was on the middle distance. “I’m not so sure he hasn’t done that already.”

      “You notified ARCO?”

      “Yup. Oilfield’s split more or less half-and-half. We run the western sector. ARCO – Atlantic Richfield, Exxon, some smaller groups – they run the eastern sector.”

      “What’s their reaction?”

      “Like mine. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

      “Your security chief. What’s his reaction?”

      “Downright pessimistic. It’s his baby, after all. If I were in his shoes I’d feel the same way. He’s convinced of the genuineness of this threat.”

      “Me too,” Dermott said. “This came in an envelope? Ah, thank you.” He read the address. “‘Mr John Finlayson, B.Sc., A.M.I.M.E.’. Not only punctilious, but they’ve done their homework on you. ‘B.P./Sohio, Prudhoe Bay, Alaska’. Postmarked Edmonton, Alberta. That mean anything to you?”

      “Nary a thing. I have neither friends nor acquaintances there, and certainly no business contacts.”

      “Your security chief’s reaction?”

      “Same as mine. Zero.”

      “What’s his name?”

      “Bronowski. Sam Bronowski.”

      “Let’s have him in, shall we?”

      “You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. He’s down in Fairbanks. Back tonight, if the weather holds up. Depends on visibility.”

      “Blizzard season?”

      “We don’t have one. Precipitation on the North Slope is very low, maybe six inches in a winter. High winds are the bugaboo. They blow up the surface snow so that the air can be completely opaque for thirty or forty feet above the ground. Just before Christmas a few years ago a Hercules, normally the safest of aircraft, tried to land in those conditions. Didn’t make it. Two of the crew of four killed. Pilots have become a bit leery since – if a Hercules can buy it, any aircraft can. These high winds and the surface snowstorms they generate – that snow can be driving along at 70 miles an hour – are the bane of our existence up here. That’s why this operations centre is built on pilings seven feet above ground – let the snow blow right underneath. Otherwise we’d end the winter season buried under a massive drift. The pilings, of course, also virtually eliminate heat transfer to the permafrost, but that’s secondary.”

      “What’s Bronowski doing in Fairbanks?”

      “Stiffening the thin red line. Hiring extra security guards for Fairbanks.”

      “How does he set about that?”

      “Approach varies, I suppose. Really Bronowski’s department, Mr Dermott. He has carte blanche in those matters. I suggest you ask him on his return.”

      “Oh, come on. You’re his boss. He’s a subordinate. Bosses keep tabs on their subordinates. Roughly, how does he recruit?”

      “Well. He’s probably built up a list of people whom he’s personally contacted and who might be available in a state of emergency. I’m honestly not sure about this. I may be his boss, but when I delegate responsibility I do just that. I do know that he approaches the chief of police and asks for suitable recommendations. He may or may not have put an ad. in the All-Alaska Weekly – that’s published in Fairbanks.” Finlayson thought briefly. “I wouldn’t say he’s deliberately close-mouthed about this. I suppose when you’ve been a security man all your life you naturally don’t let your left hand know what the right hand’s doing.”

      “What kind of men does he recruit?”

      “Almost all ex-cops – you know, ex-State troopers.”

      “But not trained security men?”

      “As such, no, although I’d have thought security would have come as second nature to a State trooper.” Finlayson smiled. “I imagine Sam’s principal criterion is whether the man can shoot straight.”

      “Security’s a mental thing, not physical. You said ‘almost all’.”

      “He’s brought in two first-class security agents from outside. One’s stationed at Fairbanks, the other at Valdez.”

      “Who says they’re first class?”

      “Sam. He hand-picked them.” Finlayson rubbed his drying beard in what could have been a gesture of irritation. “You know, Mr Dermott, friendly, even genial you may be, but I have the odd impression that I’m being third-degreed.”

      “Rubbish. If that were happening, you’d know all about it, because I’d be asking you questions about yourself. I’ve no intention of doing so, now or in the future.”

      “You wouldn’t be having a dossier on me, would you?”

      “Tuesday, September 5, 1939, was the day and date you entered your secondary school in Dundee, Scotland.”

      “Jesus!”

      “What’s so sensitive about the Fairbanks area? Why strengthen your defences there particularly?”

      Finlayson shifted in his seat. “No hard and fast reason, really.”

      “Never mind whether it’s hard and fast. The reason?”

      Finlayson drew in his breath as if he were about to sigh, then seemed to change his mind. “Bit silly, really. You know how whisperings can generate a hoodoo. People on the line are a bit scared of that sector. You’ll know that the pipeline has three mountain ranges to traverse on its 800-mile run south to the terminal at Valdez. So, pump stations, twelve in all. Pump Station No. 8 is close to Fairbanks. It blew up in the summer of ’77. Completely destroyed.”

      “Fatalities?”

      “Yes.”

      “Explanations given for this blow-up?”

      “Of course.”

      “Satisfactory?”

      “The pipeline construction company – Alyeska – were satisfied.”

      “But not everyone?”

      “The СКАЧАТЬ