Byron tapped that marked spot. “That’s the search zone, as near as I can assess.”
Gray pictured that small mountainous island on Mercator’s map. It must lay somewhere in that region. There was only one problem. “That’s still a big area.”
“Around thirty thousand square kilometers,” the navigator confirmed.
Jason stared across the map at Gray. “Kat was still working on acquisitioning satellites equipped with magnetometers to pick up micro changes in the Earth’s magnetic field. The ideal choice is the European Space Agency’s SWARM satellites. They’re in low polar orbit and outfitted with both vector field and absolute scalar magnetometers. But the solar storm is wreaking havoc there, too. We may have to wait out this flare.”
Gray sensed they did not have that time.
Kelly frowned and tapped a finger on that hatched circle. “What are you looking for here? And what does it have to do with the Earth’s magnetic field?”
“You’ll have to bear with me.” Gray removed his digital tablet. “It’s a story going back centuries, if not millennia.”
He started at the beginning and laid out all they had learned. Both Anna and Jason added or confirmed many of the details. The captain and the navigator’s expressions went from incredulousness to wary curiosity, but never settled on complete acceptance.
Can’t blame them.
“And you believe some island is out there,” Kelly said. “One with strange magnetic properties. A place that could be the birthplace of the legends of Hyperborea.”
“And one that holds a dark secret,” Gray added. “A danger that required hiding a lost library and burying its location in an ancient map.”
Byron shook his head. “Such an island might not require some mysterious threat to be a problem. The marked search area is in troublesome waters. While it may beinternational, the zone sits between Russia and the United States. In fact, the basin of the East Siberian Sea is shared between those two countries.”
“That’s why we intend to find it first. Not to plant a U.S. flag, but to try to keep the siteinternational, like the waters it sits in.”
“Plus, we need to identify the nature of the danger out there,” Jason added. “Before it falls into the wrong hands.”
Gray turned to Kelly and Byron. “I recognize the risk we’re asking you to take. Russia will not sit idly by during all of this. They’re already fortifying and arming their northern coast. This is what we could be facing if we’re not careful.”
Gray brought up a map onto his screen. Two dozen stars marked the locations of the new and refurbished Russian bases. They spread across the breadth of the country’s northern coast.
He studied Kelly as the man reviewed the map. Gray wanted the captain to get a better visualization of the stakes at hand before the man fully committed himself and his ship to the task ahead.
“I won’t direct you to go along with this,” Gray said. “If you wish to countermand the order from your CEO, I’ll support it.”
Kelly turned to the navigator, seeking his insight, the sign of a good captain. “What do you think?”
“That path leads into deep ice,” Byron warned. “Old ice. Centuries old.I looked into it. The last time those waters thawed was the middle of the 1700s.”
Gray shared a look with Anna.
That was the period of Catherine the Great’s reign, when it was said she sent out expeditions searching for Hyperborea, based on Lomonosov’s research in the Golden Library.
“What difference does it make if the ice is old?” Jason asked, drawing back Gray’s attention.
Kelly answered, “Newly formed ice is easier for our ship to cut through. Older ice is more stubborn, compacted, harder to crack. We risk getting trapped.”
Yet another danger...
“From my charts and satellite maps of ice thickness, theKingshould be able to make that transit,” Byron judged, rubbing at his mustache. “Just don’t suggest we hang around there long.”
Kelly continued to study both the map on the screen and the printout from his navigator. “The East Siberian Sea is one of the least explored regions of the Arctic. Also, one of the most treacherous. With its shallow waters, barely mapped sea ridges, and persistent fogs, sailors despise it, and ships wisely avoid its northernmost reaches.”
Byron added to the gloom. “Keep in mind, beyond a few rocky islands near the Russian coast, those seas areemptyof any land.”
From these statements, Gray could guess where the scales on this decision would tilt.
A voice rose behind them, from the doorway. “That’s not necessarily true.”
