“Used to call it ‘chokedamp,’ ” the veteran medical examiner told reporters at an assembled press briefing. “Haven’t seen a case of it in years.”

Chapter 91

91

NEARLY A HUNDRED MEMBERS OF THE MEDIA, more than half from the Canadian press, pushed and jostled on the Coast Guard pier in Anchorage as the Otok appeared in the harbor. The big icebreaker approached slowly, allowing the press an ample photo opportunity to capture her smashed bow and multiple paint jobs, before tying up behind a Coast Guard cutter named Mustang.

The White House and the Pentagon wasted no time in defusing the hostility between Canada and the U.S., bypassing diplomatic channels by taking their case directly to the public. Press briefings had already been distributed, documenting the Otok’s role in destroying the Canadian ice camp under the guise of an American warship. Enlarged color photos of her hull, taken by the Santa Fe, revealed the gray undercoat and the Ford’s number 54 hidden beneath a coat of red paint. An eyewitness had even been produced, who testified about seeing a gray ship entering a Goyette-owned dry dock near Kugluktuk in the dead of night, only to reappear a few days later painted red.

The press delighted in photographing the captain and crew of the icebreaker as they were marched off the ship under armed guard and placed in immediate custody until later extradition by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Word was quickly leaked of the crew’s admission to destroying the ice camp, as well as their kidnapping of the Polar Dawn’s crew.

Captain Murdock and his crew then met with the reporters, who were stunned to learn of their abduction in Kugluktuk and their near-death ordeal in the barge. Roman and Stenseth took their turns at answering questions until the overwhelmed journalists and broadcasters began trickling off to file their stories. Within hours, a horde of investigative reporters began descending on Terra Green Industries to scrutinize Mitchell Goyette’s corrupt activities in the Arctic.

The press was long gone when Pitt hobbled off the ship with a crutch under one arm. Giordino walked by his side, hefting two small duffel bags and the logbook from the Erebus. As they reached the end of the dock, a slate-colored Lincoln Navigator with black-tinted windows pulled up in front of them. The driver’s window lowered just a crack, revealing a thickheaded man in a crew cut who gazed at them with unblinking eyes.

“ The Vice President requests that you climb in back,” the driver said without pleasantry.

Pitt and Giordino gave each other a look of trepidation, then Pitt opened the rear door and threw in his crutch, then climbed inside as Giordino entered from the opposite door. Sandecker eyed them from the front passenger seat, a thick cigar protruding from his lips.

“Admiral, this is a nice surprise,” Giordino said with his usual sarcasm. “But we could have taken a cab to the airport.”