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VALDEZ, ALASKA:
Alex manages a few hours of sleep on the flight from Brownsville, and during the two-hour layover in Seattle, he purchased warmer clothing and an additional suitcase. His next stop was Anchorage, Alaska, where he joined two elderly women on a small plane bound for the southern end of the Alaska pipeline, in the town of Valdez.
They land on a runway covered with brown-colored snow, and taxi to the air terminal. It’s cold when he steps off the plane, and a sign on top of the air terminal reads twenty-two degrees F. When he enters the small passenger terminal, he looks around and notices a petite woman standing a short distance away. Her long, light red hair hangs loosely inside the pulled back hood of her pale blue snow parka. She smiles warmly as she walks toward him.
“You must be Mr. Cave,” she says in a slightly husky voice and extends her hand. “I’m Christa Avery.”
Alex accepts her hand and feels a strong grip. He notices her eyes are the color of green candy, and small dimples appear at the corners of her mouth as she smiles. She’s not wearing any makeup and doesn’t need it. He guesses she’s in her late twenties. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Avery. Are you in charge here?”
“No, I’m just part of the hired help for the All Alaska Company.”
Alex looks at her. “Come again?”
“All the major oil companies joined forces to build the pipeline under the name, All Alaska Corporation.”
“What do you do?”
“Oh, I do the brain work and chemical tests of the oil for the corporation. It’s pretty boring, and I think I can help in your investigation.”
“Do you know about the tanker incident in Brownsville, Texas?”
“Not all the details. You can fill us in on the way to the loading docks. I have a ride waiting outside.”
Alex grabs his bags, and together they walk across hard-packed snow through the chilly evening air. White smoke blossoms from the exhaust of a black Chevy SUV, with ALL ALASKA in large white letters painted on the door. As they approach, the driver’s door opens and an enormous man crawls out, grinning from inside the hood of a heavy orange parka.
Christa introduces him. “Mr. Cave, this is the head honcho for the pipeline, Jerhamia Peterson.”
Alex’s first impression is Peterson just stepped off a Viking longboat. Judging by his blond hair and light blue eyes, he appears to be of Norwegian descent. The hand he extends is nearly twice as big as his is, and he estimates Peterson stands six-foot-six, and weighs about two-hundred and eighty pounds.
“Everyone calls me Bull,” Peterson says in a deep voice.
“I can see why,” Alex says with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Bull.” He looks at Christa. “Since we’ll be working together, let’s use first names.”
Christa smiles. “Fine with me.”
Bull opens the tailgate. “Put your bags in and I’ll take you to our office.”
Alex tosses his bags inside, and everyone climbs into the front seat, with Christa in the middle. On the drive to the office, Alex fills them in on what he discovered in Brownsville.
“The incidents on the West Gulf tanker are the same as the Defiance. Not a trace of oil was left in the hold. We lucked out with the crew, though. There’s a survivor. When he regains consciousness, I hope we’ll learn what happened. What’s bothers me is what happened to the other crew member? We’ve learned their names and I’ve asked for a background check on each of them.”
As they drive past the loading dock, Alex sees the Defiance moored to the docks. She rides high in the water, apparently still empty. Bull stops in front of a single story building with the company logo above the door. Light gray smoke escapes from a single silver stack on the roof, and soft white light shines through two windows on either side of a metal door in the center.
They climb out and follow Christa into the building. It’s warm inside the sparsely furnished office, so they remove their parkas and hang them near the door. Bull introduces them to a wiry little man sitting at one of the desks. “This is Herb Bell, our station manager.”
When Herb stands, it’s as though he’s still sitting, since he’s only four-foot tall. His dark brown eyes sparkle behind horn-rimmed glasses perched on an oversized nose. His long black hair is streaked with gray and tied in a long braided tail. His dark brown complexion and facial features declare he’s a native Alaskan. Herb’s friendly smile exposes his widely spaced teeth.
“Herb, this is the government man we were expecting, Alex Cave.”
Herb shakes Alex’s hand. “Everybody calls me Herb, Mr. Cave.”
“Just Alex, will do.”
“I’ll show you what’s going on,” says Herb as he walks to a large white-board with columns of numbers scrawled across it. When he releases a pin on either side and flips it over, a large map of Alaska is tacked to the other side, and a narrow red line depicts the pipeline.
“Late yesterday afternoon, the engineers at pumping station thirteen reported a low pressure alarm. We called the main station in Prudhoe Bay, and they were still pumping oil into the line at eighty-three-thousand barrels an hour. We knew immediately something was wrong and shut everything down and closed all one-hundred and forty-two valves in the line. The problem is here, at pumping station twelve, just west of Black Rapids. They’re the only one we haven’t heard from. Unfortunately, the storm is stopping us from finding out why.”
“And here’s the kicker,” Bull adds. “When we checked the reservoirs here, in Valdez, we discovered they were empty except for a few inches of sea water.”
“That’s interesting. I found salt water on the floor in the holds of both ships. How much oil was in your reservoirs?”
“About six-million barrels give or take, plus whatever was in the pipeline.”
“And it just vanished without a trace?” He looks at Herb. “Can you estimate when this started?”
“Already have. We move two million barrels a day through the line. It figures the sea water began replacing the oil on the twelfth of March.”
“That’s the same day the Defiance was attacked,” Bull adds. “She was the last tanker to receive a full load of crude. What bugs the shit out of me, is how in the hell did sea water get into the line from the middle of Alaska?”
“Any idea when the storm will break?” asks Alex.
Herb shrugs his shoulders. “Sometime tonight, if the forecasters are right.”
“I’ve made arrangements for you at the hotel,” Christa tells Alex. “It’s just down the street.”
“Thanks. It’s getting late, and I have a few calls to make. I’ll meet you here in the morning.”
Christa watches Alex leave the office, then turns to Bull and Herb. “A good-looking stranger comes to town, and you’d think he could have at least invited me out for a drink.”
“Maybe he’s married,” Herb offers.
“I didn’t see a wedding ring. Maybe he’s the bashful type. Goodnight, boys. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Christa steps outside and sees Alex pulling his suitcase across the snow. On impulse, she jogs up beside him.
Alex stops and looks down at her. “Is there something else?”
Christa grins, feeling a little ridiculous. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Alex smiles. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
They walk without speaking and enter the hotel where Alex checks in and asks for his bags to be taken to his room. Once he has his room card, they enter the dimly lit cocktail lounge and sit at a small table.
“Where are you from?” Christa asks.
“I have a small ranch outside of Bozeman, Montana.”
“And you work for the government?”
Alex grins. “Sometimes. I’m more of a consultant, now. I spend most of my time teaching at the college.”
“Oh? What do you teach?”
“Geology and geophysics.”
The server arrives and they order, and Christa’s curiosity is driving her mad. She feels strangely attracted to Alex, and wonders why. He isn’t exactly handsome, but decent looking. When he walks, it’s with an easy stride, as though unconsciously knowing where each step will land. He seems so self-confident. Not egotistically, but like he knows who he is, what he wants, and is at peace with himself.
She can’t restrain herself any longer. “Are you married?” she blurts. She sees a trace of anguish as he looks away. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, feeling foolish for being so blunt. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Alex looks back, sees her embarrassment, and smiles. “Don’t be. It’s just a sore spot, is all.”
He put that part of the past out of his mind for a long time, and the question suddenly brings back a flood of painful memories. He looks over at Christa, who is staring at her folded hands on the table. He hasn’t spoken about his past to many people, but something about Christa’s bold and affable personality appeals to him, and he feels he can confide in her.
“I was married. She was killed three years ago.”
Christa looks up, sees his painful smile, and feels a strange urge to share his misery. “I’m sorry. What happened?”
“I met Sevi when I was an agent in Holland, and after a whirlwind courtship, we were married.”
Christa sees him smile at the thought and wonders what Sevi looked like. “Agent, like in CIA?”
Alex’s smile suddenly turns to a look of hatred. “Yeah. I made a few enemies over the years, and they decided to get even. They planted a bomb in our apartment. One with a timer activated when the door was opened. I was five blocks away when I heard the explosion, but wasn’t sure what it was from. When I arrived at our block, I saw the windows blown out of the apartment. The police and fire departments had already arrived, and the ambulance crew was bringing a body out on a stretcher. I had a sinking feeling deep in my stomach, even before I pulled back the blanket. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My mind just went blank. I don’t remember everything that happened over the next few days. I guess I went crazy for a while and went after the men responsible. The CIA finally tracked me down and my best friend pulled me out of Russia, but only after I killed the three men responsible.”
“Is that how you got those scars?”
Alex looks at her, then smiles and touches the scar on his nose. “Doesn’t help my appearance much, does it?”
She smiles. “So, then what happened?”
“I came back to the states, finished school and got my degree, and got a job at the college in Bozeman.” Alex feels a little foolish and changes the subject. “Enough of my rambling on. Tell me about yourself.”
“Oh, not much to tell, really. Born and raised in Salem, Oregon. After college, I was hired by All Alaska. Pretty boring, huh?”
“Never married?”
Christa grins shyly and shakes her head no. “Just never met the right man, I guess. I’ve had a few boyfriends, but can’t seem to get into a long-term relationship.” She notices Alex stifle a yawn. “Listen, I imagine you’ve had a long day, with the flight and all. I’d better let you get some sleep.”
“It’s been a long couple of days.” He reaches for his wallet.
“Oh, no,” Christa tells him as she reaches into her coat pocket. “I said I’d buy you a drink. Women’s lib and all.” Christa sets a few bills on the table and gets up.
Alex stands, too. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
Christa smiles and has to restrain herself from reaching up and hugging him. She extends her hand instead. “You bet.” When Alex takes her hand, she can swear she feels a mild tingling sensation from his touch.
Alex feels a strong desire to hold her. Perhaps it’s because he just shared something very personal with her. He watches her leave the cocktail lounge. Is it more than sharing my past with her?
A picture of Sevi lying on the stretcher flashes through his mind. “Damn! Don’t do it again, Alex,” he whispers as he heads out of the lounge and walks down the hall.