Dahlgren slipped the stone into his pocket while he picked up the cables, then stepped over to the helm. Without further comment, he opened a panel beneath the ship’s console and began connecting the cables.

“Not an opportune time to be reformatting our nav system, Jack,” Stenseth admonished.

“I’m just borrowing a bit of data for a computer game,” he replied, standing up and turning on his computer.

“I really don’t think we have the need for any games on the bridge,” Stenseth said, his agitation growing.

“Oh, I think y’all will like this one,” he replied, quickly typing in a number of commands. “I call it Shadow Driver.”

The screen on his laptop suddenly illuminated with the image of two boats sailing in tandem from bottom to top. An angular beam of gray spread from a point at the top corner of the monitor, illuminating the majority of the screen, save for a moving shadow behind the upper boat.

“A little software program I just put together, with some help from the ship’s GPS and radar systems. This shaft of gray light is targeted from Bathurst, mimicking the station’s radar coverage.”

“Which will allow us to stay out of the eye of the ground radar system?” Pitt asked.

“You nailed her. Because of our changing angle to the radar station, we’ll have to constantly adjust our position behind the freighter in order to duck the signal. We just can’t chug right alongside her or else we’d be detected at the fringe angles. If the helmsman keeps us locked in the indicated shadow, then we have a darn good chance of sailing past Bathurst like the Invisible Man.”

Stenseth studied the computer, then turned to the helmsman. “Let’s put it to the test before we get in range. Engines ahead one-third. Take us five hundred yards off her port beam, then match speed.”

“And play Shadow Driver?” the helmsman asked with a grin.

“If this works, you’ve got a six-pack on me, Jack,” the captain said.

“Make it a six of Lone Star and you’re on,” he replied with a wink.

The Narwhal kicked it with an extra burst of speed until the running lights of the freighter flickered off the bow. The helmsman nudged the NUMA ship to port and continued drawing closer.

“One thing worries me,” Stenseth said, eyeing the rust-streaked freighter. “Hanging closer to her side for any length of time is liable to generate a radio call from her captain. And I’m sure our Canadian friends at Bathurst have ears as well as eyes.”

“My insurance policy,” Pitt muttered. “I nearly forgot.”

He stepped down to his cabin, then returned a few minutes later with the triangular package he had purchased in Tuktoyaktuk.

“Try running this up,” he said, handing the package to Stenseth. The captain ripped open the package, unfurling the Canadian maple leaf flag that was folded inside.