Far ahead of them, Annja thought she could make out something dark. It looked like it was growing.
Godwin pressed on the gas pedal. His eyes narrowed and he gripped the wheel tighter. âOur turnoff should be coming soon.â
âNot soon enough,â Annja said. âItâs going to be close.â
âWhat is?â Derek asked. âWhat is that thing ahead of us? Whatâs going on?â
Annja looked at him. âCanât you hear it?â
Derek stopped and sat back in his seat. He closed his eyes and then Annja saw his body stiffen appreciably. His eyes popped open. âTell me thatâs not what I think it is.â
Annja nodded. âIt is.â
Godwin pointed up ahead of them. âItâs growing.â
Annja looked and saw it was true. Shooting down the ice road toward them was a giant fissure of blackness.
The ice road was cracking all around them.
â¦THE ENGLISH COMMANDER TOOK JOANâS SWORD AND RAISED IT HIGH.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed
the hilt deep into the crowd.
Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France,
but her legend and sword are rebornâ¦.
Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada
âItâs been my experience,â Annja Creed said, âthat the motives of private industry and those of the public donât usually make for good bedfellows.â She reclined a bit farther back into the deep chocolate leather of her armchair and waited for the man sitting across from her to respond.
âThatâs a pretty narrow way to look at things.â Derek Wainman took a sip from a steaming mug of coffee before setting it on the frosted-glass table. âAfter all, itâs in our best interests to work with the public to make sure they donât feel slighted. These are, after all, potential customers.â
Annja considered the map in front of her. This time of year, most of the Northwest Territories of Canada was frozen. The arctic tundra was a mass of brittle green amid the snows and winds. She shivered just thinking about how cold it was out there.
But it couldnât be worse than Antarctica, could it? She smiled at the memories of that adventure and then noticed Derek watching.
âYou okay?â
âThe cold weather makes me reminisce about the other times Iâve been in the thick of it,â she said.
Derek took another sip of his coffee. âThatâs been quite often, hasnât it?â
Annja looked at him. He smirked and waved his hand.
âDonât be so concerned. We take great pains to find out all we can about people we might be interested in working with. And thereâs never been anything that the right amount of money canât purchase. Information especially.â
Annja smiled. She was one hundred percent positive there was at least one small nugget of intelligence that their money hadnât been able to procureâthe presence of the sword that she always carried with her.
âThatâs a curious grin,â Derek said.
Annja made her face expressionless. This guy didnât miss a thing. Sheâd have to remember that.
âHow successful has the mining operation been at Ekati?â
âBy all accounts, incredibly so,â Derek said. âItâs expected to yield five hundred million Canadian dollars a year for the next twenty-five years. Who would have thought that the earth could have such a repository of untapped wealth?â
âI might have,â Annja said. âBut then, I dig for a living. That kind of knowledge is my thing.â
âYou like getting dirty,â Derek said.
Annja watched his face for any signs that he was already tossing innuendo around. But to his credit, he kept his expression firm and unyielding. No sign of mirth tinged it.
âGetting dirty comes with the territory,â she said. âIt canât be helped. And itâs only when youâre truly down in the thick of it that you find the most precious treasures. So yes, I like getting dirty.â
âWhere were you before this?â
Annja raised an eyebrow at him. âNow, why would you ask me such a question? After all, I thought you had a complete workup on my recent activities?â
âWe do.â
âSo, what, you want to see if I lie about my whereabouts?â
Derek held up his hand. âCalm down. It was just a friendly question.â
Annja looked at the map again. Frozen lakes, frozen rivers, frozen everything. It would be a damned cold jaunt; she knew that.