Athabasca

“Now the emphasis has changed – we try to lock the damned door in such a fashion that no-one can open it. In other words, prevention: the maximum tightening of both mechanical and human security. The response to this service has been remarkable – we’re now the most profitable side of Jim’s operations. By far. Capping off runaway wells, putting fires out, can’t hold a candle, if you’ll pardon the expression, to our security work. Such is the demand for our services that we could triple our division and still not cope with all the calls being made upon us.”

“Well, why don’t you? Triple the business, I mean.”

“Trained personnel,” Mackenzie said. “Just not there. More accurately, there are next to no experienced operatives and there’s an almost total dearth of people qualified to be trained for the job. The combination of qualifications is difficult to come by. You have to have an investigative mind, and that in turn is based on an inborn instinct for detection – the Sherlock Holmes genes, shall we say. You’ve either got it or not: it can’t be inculcated. You have to have an eye and a nose for security, an obsession, almost – and this can only come from field experience; you have to have a pretty detailed knowledge of the oil industry world-wide: and, above all, you have to be an oilman.”

“And you gentlemen are oilmen.” It was a statement, not a question.

“All our working lives,” Dermott said. “We’ve both been field operations managers.”

“If your services are in such demand, how come we should be so lucky as to jump to the head of the queue?”

Dermott said: “As far as we know this is the first time that any oil company has received notification of intent to sabotage. First real chance we’ve had to try out our preventive medicine. We’re just slightly puzzled on one point, Mr Finlayson. You say you never heard of us until a couple of days ago. How come that we’re here, then? I mean, we knew of this three days ago when we arrived back from the Mid East. We spent a day resting up, another day studying the layout and security measures of the Alaskan pipeline and –”

“You did that, eh? Isn’t it classified information?”

Dermott was patient. “We could have sent for it immediately on receiving the request for assistance. We didn’t have to. The information, Mr Finlayson, is not classified. It’s in the public domain. Big companies tend to be incredibly careless about such matters. Whether to reassure the public or burnish their own image by taking thoroughgoing precautions, they not only release large chunks of information about their activities but positively bombard the public with them. The information, of course, comes in disparate and apparently unrelated lumps: it requires only a moderately intelligent fella to piece them all together.

“Not that those big companies, such as Alyeska, who built your pipeline, have much to reproach themselves about. They don’t even begin to operate in the same league of indiscretion as the all-time champs, the U.S. Government. Take the classic example of the de-classification of the secret of the atom bomb. When the Russians got the bomb, the Government thought there was no point in being secretive any more and proceeded to tell all. You want to know how to make an atom bomb? Just send a pittance to the A.E.C. in Washington and you’ll have the necessary information by return mail. That this information could be used by Americans against Americans apparently never occurred to the towering intellects of Capitol Hill and the Pentagon, who seem to have been under the impression that the American criminal classes voluntarily retired en masse on the day of declassification.”

Finlayson raised a defensive hand. “Hold. Enough. I accept that you haven’t infiltrated Prudhoe Bay with a battalion of spies. Answer’s simple. When I received this unpleasant letter – it was sent to me, not to our H.Q. in Anchorage – I talked to the general manager, Alaska. We both agreed that it was almost certainly a hoax. Still, I regret to say that many Alaskans aren’t all that kindly disposed towards us. We also agreed that if it was not a hoax, it could be something very serious indeed. People like us, although we’re well enough up the ladder in our own fields, don’t take final decisions on the safety and future of a ten-billion-dollar investment. So we notified the grand panjandrums. Your directive came from London. Informing me of their decision must have come as an afterthought.”

“Head offices being what they are,” Dermott said. “Got this threatening note here?”

Finlayson retrieved 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 public was sceptical. State and Federal agencies withheld comment.”

“What reason did Alyeska give?”

“Mechanical and electrical malfunction.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“The explanation was generally accepted?”

“The explanation was widely disbelieved.”

“Sabotage, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. I was here at the time. I’ve never even seen Pump Station No. 8. Been rebuilt, of course.”

Dermott sighed. “This is where I should be showing some slight traces of exasperation. Don’t believe in committing yourself, do you, Mr Finlayson? Still, you’d probably make a good security agent. I don’t suppose you’d like to venture an opinion as to whether there was a cover-up or not?”

“My opinion hardly matters. What matters, I suppose, is that the Alaskan press was damned certain there was, and said so loud and clear. The fact that the papers appeared unconcerned about the possibility of libel action could be regarded as significant. They would have welcomed a public enquiry: one assumes that Alyeska would not have.”

“Why were the newspapers stirred up – or is that an unnecessary question?”

“What incensed the press was that they were prevented for many hours from reaching the scene of the accident. What doubly incensed them was that they were prevented not by peace officers of the State but by Alyeska’s private guards, who, incredibly, took it upon themselves to close State roads. Even their local PR man agreed that this amounted to illegal restraint.”

“Anybody sue?”

“No court action resulted.”

“Why?”

When Finlayson shrugged, Dermott went on: “Could it have been because Alyeska is the biggest employer in the State, because the lifeblood of so many companies depends on their contracts with Alyeska? In other words, big money talking big?”

“Possibly.”

“Any minute now I’ll be signing you up for Jim Brady. What did the press say?”

“Because they’d been prevented for a whole day from getting to the scene of the accident, they believed Alyeska employees had been working feverishly during that time to clean up and minimise the effects of the accident, to remove the evidence of a major spillage and to conceal the fact that their fail-safe system had failed dangerously. Alyeska had also – the press said – covered up the worst effects of the fire damage.”

“Might they also have removed or covered up incriminating evidence pointing to sabotage?”

“No guessing games for me.”

“All right. Do you or Bronowski know of any disaffected elements in Fairbanks?”

“Depends what you mean by disaffected. If you mean environmentalists opposed to the construction of the pipeline, yes. Hundreds, and very strongly opposed.”

“But they’re open about it, I assume – always give their full names and addresses when writing to the papers.”

“Yes.”

“Besides, environmentalists tend to be sensitive and nonviolent people who work within the confines of the law.”

“About any other disaffected types, I wouldn’t know. There are fifteen thousand people in Fairbanks, and it would be optimistic to expect they’re all as pure as the driven snow.”

“What did Bronowski think of the incident?”

“He wasn’t there.”

“That wasn’t what I asked …”

“He was in New York at the time. He hadn’t even joined the company then.”

“A relative newcomer, then?”

“Yes. In your book, I suppose that automatically makes him a villain. If you wish to go ahead and waste your time investigating his antecedents, by all means do so, but I could save you time and effort by telling you that we had him checked, double-checked and triple-checked by three separate topflight agencies. The New York Police Department gave him a clean bill of health. His record and that of his company are – were – impeccable.”

“I don’t doubt it. What were his qualifications, and what was his company?”

“One and the same thing, really. He headed up one of the biggest and arguably the best security agencies in New York. Before that he was a cop.”

“What did his company specialise in?”

“Nothing but the best. Guards, mainly. Additional guards for a handful of the biggest banks when their own security forces were under-staffed by holidays or illness. Guarding the homes of the richest people in Manhattan and Long Island to prevent the ungodly making off with the guests’ jewellery when large-scale social functions were being held. His third speciality was providing security for exhibitions of precious gems and paintings. If you could ever persuade the Dutch to lend you Rembrandt’s ‘Night Watch’ for a couple of months, Bronowski would be the man you’d send for.”

“What would induce a man to leave all that and come to this end of the world?”

“He doesn’t say. He doesn’t have to. Homesickness. More specifically, his wife’s homesickness. She lives in Anchorage. He flies down there every weekend.”

“I thought you were supposed to do a full four weeks up here before you got time off.”

“Doesn’t apply to Bronowski – only to those whose permanent job is here. This is his nominal base, but the whole line is his responsibility. For instance, if there’s trouble in Valdez, he’s a damn sight nearer it in his wife’s flat in Anchorage than he would be if he were up here. And he’s very mobile, is our Sam. Owns and flies his own Comanche. We pay his fuel, that’s all.”

“He’s not without the odd penny to his name?”

“I should say not. He doesn’t really need this job, but he can’t bear to be inactive. Money? He retains the controlling interest in his New York firm.”

“No conflict of interests?”

“How the hell could there be a conflict of interests? He’s never even been out of the State since he arrived here over a year ago.”

“A trustworthy lad, it would seem. Damn few of them around these days.” Dermott looked at Mackenzie. “Donald?”

“Yes?” Mackenzie picked up the unsigned letter from Edmonton. “F.B.I. seen this?”

“Of course not. What’s it got to do with the F.B.I.?”

“It might have an awful lot to do with them, and soon. I know Alaskans think that this is a nation apart, that this is your own special and private fiefdom up here, and that you refer to us unfortunates as the lower 48, but you’re still part of the United States. When the oil from here arrives at Valdez, it’s shipped to one of the west-coast states. Any interruption in oil transfer between Prudhoe Bay and, say, California, would be regarded as an unlawful interference with inter-state commerce and would automatically bring in the F.B.I.”

“Well, it hasn’t happened yet. Besides, what can the F.B.I. do? They know nothing of oil or pipeline security. Look after the pipeline? They couldn’t even look after themselves. We’d just spend most of our time trying to thaw out the few of them that didn’t freeze to death during their first ten minutes here. They could only survive under cover, so what could they do there? Take over our computer terminals and master communications and alarm detection stations at Prudhoe Bay, Fairbanks and Valdez? We have highly trained specialists to monitor over three thousand sources of alarm information. Asking the F.B.I. to do that would be like asking a blind man to read Sanskrit. Inside or out, they’d only be in the way and a useless burden to all concerned.”

“Alaska State Troopers could survive. I guess they’d survive where even some of your own men couldn’t. Have you been in touch with them? Have you notified the State authorities in Juneau?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t love us. Oh, sure, if there was physical trouble, violence, they’d move in immediately. Until then, they’d rather not know. I can’t say I blame them. And before you ask me why I’ll tell you. For good or bad we’ve inherited the Alyeska mantle. Alyeska built the pipeline and they run it; but we use it. I’m afraid there’s a wide grey area of non-discrimination here. In most people’s eyes they were pipeline, we are pipeline.”

Finlayson reflected on his next words. “It’s hard not to feel a bit sorry for Alyeska. They were pretty cruelly pilloried. Sure, they bore the responsibility for a remarkable amount of waste, and incurred vast cost over-runs, but they did complete an impossible job in impossible conditions and, what’s more, brought it in on schedule. Best construction company in North America at the time. Brilliant engineering and brilliant engineers – but the brilliance stopped short of their PR people, who might as well have been operating in downtown Manhattan for all they knew about Alaskans. Their job should have been to sell the pipeline to the people: all they succeeded in doing was turning a large section of the population solidly against the line and the construction company.”

He shook his head. “You had to be truly gifted to get it as wrong as they did. They sought to protect the good name of Alyeska, but all they did, by blatant cover-ups – it was alleged – and by deliberate lying, was to bring whatever good name there was into total disrepute.”

Finlayson reached into a drawer, took out two sheets of paper and gave them to Dermott and Mackenzie. “Photostats of a classic example of the way they handle those under contract to them. One would assume they learnt their trade in one of the more repressive police states. Read it. You’ll find it instructive. You’ll also understand how by simple thought-transference we’re not in line for much public sympathy.”

The two men read the Photostats.

Alyeska Pipeline Service Company Supplement No. 20 Pipeline and Roads Revision No. 1 Job Specification April 1,1974 Page 2004

C. IN NO EVENT SHALL CONTRACTOR OR ITS PERSONNEL REPORT A LEAK OR AN OIL SPILL TO ANY GOVERNMENTAL AGENCY. Such reporting shall be the sole responsibility of ALYESKA. CONTRACTOR shall emphasise this to all its supervisory personnel and employees.

D. Further IN NO EVENT SHALL CONTRACTOR OR ITS PERSONNEL DISCUSS, REPORT, OR COMMUNICATE IN ANY WAY WITH NEWS MEDIA whether the news media be radio, television, newspapers or periodicals. Any such communication by CONTRACTOR shall be deemed to be a material breach of CONTRACT by CONTRACTOR. All contacts with news media regarding leaks or oil spills shall be made by Alyeska. If news media people contact CONTRACTOR or CONTRACTOR’S personnel they shall refer news media to Alyeska without further discussing, reporting or communicating. CONTRACTOR shall emphasise the aforementioned ALYESKA news media requirements to all its supervisory personnel and employees.

Dermott rested the Photostat on his knee. “An American wrote this?”

“An American of foreign extraction,” Mackenzie said “who obviously trained under Goebbels.”

“A charming directive,” Dermott said. “Hush-up, cover-up or lose your contract. Toe the line or you’re fired. A shining example of American democracy at its finest. Well, well.” He glanced briefly at the paper, then at Finlayson. “How did you get hold of this? Classified information, surely?”

“Oddly enough, no. What you would call the public domain. Editorial page, All-Alaska Weekly, July 22, 1977. I don’t question it was classified. How the paper got hold of it, I don’t know.”

“Nice to see a little paper going against the might of a giant company and getting off with it. Restores one’s faith in something or other.”

Finlayson picked up another Photostat. “The same editorial also made a despairing reference to the ‘horrendous negative impact of the pipeline on us’. That’s as true now as it was then. We’ve inherited this horrendous negative impact, and we’re still suffering from it. So there it is. I’m not saying we’re entirely friendless, or that the authorities wouldn’t move in quickly if there were any overt violations of the law. But, because votes are important, those in charge of our destinies rule from behind: they sense the wind of public opinion, then enact acceptable legislation and adopt correspondingly safe attitudes. Whatever happens, they’re not going to antagonise those who keep them in power. They are not, with the public’s eye on both them and us, going to come and hold our hands because of any anonymous threat by some anonymous crackpot.”

Mackenzie said: “So it amounts to this: until actual sabotage occurs, you can expect no outside help. So far as preventative measures are concerned, you’re dependent solely upon Bronowski and his security teams. In effect, you’re on your own.”

“It’s an unhappy thought, but there it is.”

Dermott stood up and walked back and forth. “Accepting this threat as real, who’s behind it and what does he want? Not a crackpot, that’s sure. If it were, say, some environmentalist running amok, he’d go ahead and do his damnedest without any prior warning. No, could be with a view to extortion or blackmail, which do not have to be the same thing: extortion would be for money, blackmail could have many different purposes in mind. Stopping the flow of oil is unlikely to be the primary purpose: more likely, it’ll be a stoppage for another and more important purpose. Money, politics – local or international – power, misguided idealism, genuine idealism or just crackpot irresponsibility. Well, I’m afraid speculation will have to wait on developments. Meantime, Mr Finlayson, I’d like to see Bronowski as soon as possible.”