Athabasca by Alistair MacLean

Author:Alistair MacLean
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9780007289202
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1980-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Ten

Dermott and David Hendry flew in from Anchorage to Prudhoe Bay in the leaden twilight of late afternoon to find the weather distinctly improved, with the wind down to ten knots, the top of the drifting snow cloud not more than five feet above ground level, visibility in the plane's headlights almost back to normal, and the temperature at least twenty degrees higher than in the morning. In the administration building lounge the first recognizable face Dermott saw was that of Morrison of the FBI, who was sitting with a young, ginger-haired man incongruously dressed in gray flannels and blazer. Morrison looked up and smiled.

"Trust John Ffoulkes," he said. "No faith in the FBI." He gestured toward the ginger-haired young man. "Nick Turner. Ignore the way he dresses. He's been to Oxford. My fingerprint man. On your right, David Hendry, your fingerprint man."

Dermott said mildly, "John Ffoulkes just observed that two pairs of eyes were better than one. No developments?"

"Not one. You?"

"Largely a waste of time. Had a thought on the way up. Why don't we print John Finlayson's room?"

"No dice. We've done it."

"Clean as a whistle?"

"Close enough. Lots of unsatisfactory smudges which can only be Finlayson's, a couple belonging to a plumber who was there on his rounds, and one -- would you believe it, just one -- belonging to the bull cook, who must be a real whiz-kid with duster and polishing cloth."

"Bull cook?"

"Kind of housekeeper, bedmaker and cleaner."

"Could some other industrious soul have been busy in there with a duster?"

Morrison produced two keys. "His room key and the master key. Had them in my pocket since Finlayson was taken out this morning."

"Here endeth the lesson." Dermott laid the buff folder on the low table before Morrison. "Prints from the Anchorage phone booth. Now, I must go and report to the boss."

Morrison said, "It should amuse the two young gentlemen here to compare your Anchorage prints with the ones in the office safe."

"You don't sound very optimistic," Dermott said.

The FBI agent smiled. "By nature I've always been an optimist. But that was before I crossed the forty-ninth parallel."

Dermott found Brady and Mackenzie taking their ease in the only two chairs in Brady's room. He looked on them without favor.

"It's very pleasant and reassuring to see you two so comfortable and relaxed."

Brady said, "Rough afternoon, huh?" He waved a hand toward the serried row of bottles on the sideboard. "This'll restore your moral fiber."

Dermott helped himself and asked, "Any news from Athabasca? How are the family?"

"Fine, fine." Brady chuckled. "Stella passed on a lot more stuff from Norway. Apparently they've got- that fire licked. No need to keep in touch any longer."

"That's good." Dermott sipped his scotch. "What are the girls doing?"

"Right now, I guess, they're touring the Sanmobil plant, courtesy of Bill Reynolds. Very hospitable lot, those Canadians."

"Who've they got to protect them?"

"Reynolds' own security men, Brinckman -- the boss, you remember -- and Jorgensen, his number two."

Dermott was unimpressed. "I'd rather they had those two young cops."

Brady snapped, "Your reason?"

"Three.

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