Part Seven
A Novel with No Title (as yet)
A work in progress
Parts 1–2–3–4–5–6 are linked below.
When Katherine got back to her room, the phone was ringing. “Hello, Alex.”
“Katie, where the damn hell have you been?” were the first words Alex spoke.
“Alex, please don’t call me Katie; that was Dad only, no-one else,” Katherine said in a severe tone.
“Dammit, Katherine. I’ve been trying to get hold of you,” he said, a hair beneath screaming.
Katherine pulled the phone away from her ear. “Yes, I know; I got a message earlier today. I was going to call you back immediately, but I don’t know, I was tired, had a bath and forgot. Also, there’s nowhere around has a Wi-Fi signal, not even the hotel. What’s going on?”
“Oh, like you care,” Alex said sarcastically. “You and that Alaska project, there’s been a development,” he said, beginning to calm down. “Do you recall, when you were younger, your father was working on several projects with that environmental group?”
“Greenpeace, yes.”
“Yes, that’s them. Max, our Science Editor, came into the office to show me an article in the NYT. It was about the rise of contamination in the Aleutian Islands, similar to what you were trying to tell me a month ago or whenever. It seems that DoE has taken an interest, but government sources are keeping it pretty quiet. Wasn’t it you who told me that three divers had been subjected to radioactive waste some years back?”
“Yes, they were diving for blue mussels. It was June of ninety-six. One diver, I think it was about a year later, had become sick, and the man had been exposed to radioactive contamination. The other divers were checked out; they, too, while not yet as ill as the first, showed signs of contamination. But here’s the rub, Alex: all three men had worked at the Pentagon. Later, all three were transferred to a military base on Adak. A year after that the base was closed. I tried checking up on them. I wanted to know where the divers were after the closure in 1997, but there’s nothing to be found on them once they had left the Pentagon,” Katherine explained.
“Yes, and after the 911 fiasco, and your father was fired, he joined Greenpeace. Is that correct?” Alex asked.
“Yes, it was quite a bit later, I think 2004. Then, in 2006, Greenpeace drafted a report intimating that Russia was discreetly breaking international rules and dumping waste into Alaskan waters. My father drafted that report. Two years later, my father disappeared.”
“And you went to Alaska to somehow connect all these dots together?” Alex said.
“Damn right, I did. Something very secretive is going on in the Aleutians, Alex. In September 2000, an agreement was signed by the Navy, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and The Aleut Corporation (TAC), which allowed the Department of Interior (DOI) and the Department of the Navy to enter into a land exchange agreement with TAC.
It doesn’t take a genius to understand the scope and history of nuclear testing and, plus, keeping up military operations over the years; there had to be hazardous chemicals in the land and Aleutian waters via spills, leaks, and historical disposal practices. Naturally, long before the base was to be closed, the Navy was responsible for restoring, cleaning up, and beginning the closure activities on Adak. It is common knowledge that the DEC Contaminated Sites Program oversaw the cleanup to ensure it met the State of Alaska standards for protecting human health and the environment.”
“Okay…okay…I’m getting it. Get yourself back here, pronto. We can discuss what we do when you get back,” Alex told her.
“But what about the cover photo?”
“This is bigger; we can get back to this; maybe I’ll send Dustin out; he’s good,” Alex said.
“Dustin? He uses his bloody cell phone. That’s how good he is,” Katherine charged back.
“Don’t be ridiculous; you two have always had it in for each other,” Alex laughs down the phone.
“Oh, shoot! Alex, my car is in the repair shop. I’m four hours from San Francisco with no transport.”
“Katherine, I’m not interested in your problems. Find a way back.” The phone went dead.
Katherine looked at the phone. Fuck you! she mouthed silently.
The bar had filled when she came down. “Here’ya go, girl, I saved your seat,” Cyril said, calling Katherine over.
Katherine smiled. “And I see you saved my Martini. Thank you,” she said cheerily.
“If I’m going to have a pretty girl sat next to me, I think I’ll have another,” Cyril said in that tone of his, which means you can offer to buy me a drink.
“Cyril, let me get you that. You saved my seat, and your son saved me from walking here. That’s worth a drink,” and she looks over to Brian, helping behind the bar. He comes over.
“Don’t tell me you’re buying this older fart a drink?”
“I would like to do that, Brian, and if I can get another Martini, stirred, please.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Cyril. Your boy’s as bad. He won’t show his face in here tonight, that’s for sure. Not until he’s paid for the damage he caused last night,” said Brian, throwing a drying towel over his shoulder and pulling a pint of ale.
“You know what he’s like. The lad’s still suffering. He’ll put things right.”
“Yes, he will, or he’ll not get another drink in this bar, you tell him,” Brian said, putting down the ale in front of Cyril. “And a Martini, stirred, for the lady. Coming up.” Brian moves to the other end of the bar.
“I take it this conversation is about Joseph?” Katherine asks.
“The boy’s bull-headed. Say the wrong word, and he lights up,” Cyril answered.
“You mean he gets into brawls?”
“Yes, girl, goes up like a Roman candle. Boy’s not over her yet.”
“Her?”
“Cancer, they’d only been married three years. She was a beauty, that one. He was head over heels. They tried for children, but it wasn’t happening. When Rachel went for a check-up, they discovered it. Stage four already,” and Cyril stopped to take some ale, curling his tongue over his whiskers, and carried on. “Two years ago, almost. It was quick. From the time they found out, it took three months. She was always bound for Heaven, that one.”
“And here’s the lady’s Martini,” Brian said, setting it down gently on the bar. Jessica asked me to tell you dinner is served at seven. Pork Roast tonight, or fish, whatever. She’s saved you a table at the window for the sunset.”
‘That’s wonderful, thank you both.”
With froth on his whiskers, Cyril said, “That’ll be the table that was always Joseph and Rachel’s. Do you remember, Brian? In fact, didn’t Joseph help you build this place?”
“Yes, Cyril, he did, and he’s tore it down several times since. This time, he’s paying, you tell him.”
“Tell him yourself, Brian, the boy’s just walked in.”
Adrienne Beaumont, The Sturg, Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles, Trisha Faye, Karen Schwartz, Nancy Oglesby, Katie Michaelson, Bernie Pullen, Michelle Jimerson Morris, Amyy, Julia A. Keirns, Pamela Oglesby, Tina, Pat Romito LaPointe, Brandon Ellrich, Misty Rae, Karen Hoffman, Susie Winfield, Vincent Pisano, Marlene Samuels, Ray Day, Randy Pulley, Michael Rhodes, Lu Skerdoo, Pluto Wolnosci 🟣, Paula Shablo, Bruce Coulter, Ellen Baker, Kelley Murphy, Leigh-Anne Dennison, Patricia Timmermans, Keeley Schroder, Jan Sebastian 🖐👩🦰, James Michael Wilkinson, Whye Waite, John Hansen, Trudy Van Buskirk, Robert Bush | Dixie Dodd
(No offence will be taken if you dislike being tagged for various reasons. Please let me know, and I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen on my posts again. If, on the other hand, you’d grace me by allowing a tag, I’d be thrilled to add you.)
Thanks for reading.
