Chapter 5
CHAPTER
‘I hope you weren’t foraging in rubbish bins.’ The Australian ibis, with long black legs and an elongated beak, is groggy with anaesthetic. Neat stitches mark a line in his chest where the plastic bag he’d ingested had to be surgically removed. ‘You’ll be back with your friends in Mudgee soon.’
By the time the bird, in a cage with his wings strapped to his chest so he can’t move around too much, wakes from the anaesthetic, I’m ten minutes late for my meeting with Sebastien Thorsen. The day after I visited Matilda and her pony, I’d received an email.
Felicity.
Wednesday at 10am confirmed. I’ll have a colleague, Nathan Gillespie, with me.
Seb
Matilda calls me Flicka. Everyone else calls me Flick. I told Thorsen to call me Felicity to get the upper hand but now I might be stuck with it.
Martin told me on Saturday that his dinner party was a great success and many of the guests stayed over because they were in no fit state to drive home.
Were Thorsen and Natasha two of them? The thought has no right to niggle.
I taped Thorsen’s finger. He touched the bruise on my wrist. It meant nothing.
I tuck my zoo-issue khaki shirt into my matching khaki pants as I walk past the hedge that shields the café from the bitumen path.
Sebastien Thorsen is standing near one of the tables.
He’s dressed informally—pale blue shirt, black jeans and dark-brown leather boots.
He stands with his shoulders back and his legs a little apart.
Finn Blackwood, a vet liked and respected by keepers, ground staff and everyone else at the zoo, is talking to him.
The third man’s hair is fair and he’s broad across the shoulders.
Finn smiles as I approach. ‘How did the ibis get on?’
‘He needed surgery but should be okay.’
Thorsen’s fingers are still taped. Even if they weren’t, I’d shake his hand carefully.
His colleague would be in his mid-thirties but has a boyish smile. He holds out his hand.
‘Felicity Atherton, it’s great to meet you.’ An American accent. New York? ‘I’m Nathan Gillespie. Nate.’
‘And I’m Flick. Sorry I’m late.’ I glance at my watch. ‘I’m due back in thirty minutes.’
‘In addition to caring for our avian patients,’ Finn says, ‘Flick is working on a project to track an endangered species of migratory waterbird.’
‘I brief the satellite engineers; they look after the tech,’ I explain.
‘Sounds like teamwork to me,’ Nate says.
Finn smiles. ‘Flick does more than she takes credit for.’
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Jet and the girls on Sunday.’ Nate cuffs Finn on the shoulder. ‘Early Thanksgiving.’
‘No more gifts, Nate, please. You spoil them.’
‘The Taylor Swift concert was a blast,’ Nate says. ‘Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’
‘How do you two know each other?’
‘We met in Geneva many years ago,’ Finn says. ‘Nate was with a UN trade organisation. I was lobbying for elephant conservation.’
‘You thought we’d be a one-off, didn’t you?’ Nate says.
‘I was proven wrong.’
‘Are you still working for the UN?’ I ask Nate.
‘My transnational brief includes Antarctica, hence my gig with Seb.’ He winks. ‘Hopefully yours as well.’
‘You won’t get a better candidate than Flick,’ Finn says.
Was it Finn who recommended me to Thorsen and gave me the reference I didn’t request? It must have been. I like working with Finn and he respects my work—another reason to find the courage to travel to Antarctica to do what I’m qualified for.
Thorsen waits until I’m seated before taking a seat himself. Nate leans forward in his chair and puts his forearms on the table.
‘Can we get you a coffee?’
‘Cappuccino, please.’ I glance at my watch. ‘Take away.’
‘Seb? Would you mind getting that?’
Thorsen’s sharp glance indicates he does mind, but he stands. ‘Would you like something to eat?’
I ignore a stomach grumble. ‘No, thank you.’
When the sun hides behind a cloud, I pull my jacket out of my bag. Thorsen is third in the queue. He glances back. Our eyes meet.
‘Birds, conservation, migration. That’s your specialty, right?’
I pull my gaze back to Nate. ‘Migratory birds have a lot to tell us about air and water quality and the health of flora and fauna.’
‘Including Antarctic air and water quality?’
‘Of course.’
‘What do you know about Seb’s UN project?’
‘He’s looking at the environmental impact of shipping and aircraft that operate in the Southern Ocean. You didn’t explain how you fit in.’
Nate sits back in his chair. ‘Many countries, including Australia, the US and Norway, have claims to Antarctic territory. Other nations operate out of there too and that’s okay, so long as there’s no military or commercial exploitation.
The UN does its best to ensure all countries play by the rules.
Scientific bases, research, regulated tourism activities.
Nothing else. Seb will be keeping tabs on that too. ’
‘Because of his air force training?’
‘This UN role doesn’t involve flying jets, NATO operations, cave diving or mountain climbing, but there’ll be plenty of things he’s familiar with.
’ Nate smiles. ‘In Antarctica, the UN focus is observation and surveillance, keeping an eye on shipping routes and bases. Like I said, we want to make sure countries play by the rules.’
‘The environment comes first.’
‘Have you heard of The Admiral Vladimirsky? It’s a Russian research vessel that, after turning off transmitters so it couldn’t be detected, surveyed North Sea power and communications infrastructure.’
‘That’s against the rules?’
‘Sure is, which is why UN satellites monitor shipping and other movements down south as well as other places. Being halfway between Antarctica and Australia, Morrison Island is geographically and strategically useful.’
‘Would any of this be relevant to my role?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Another smile, then Nate glances at Thorsen, who is now at the front of the queue. There’s no way he could hear us, but Nate leans in and whispers, ‘Just between us, Seb is having second thoughts about whether you’ll fit in at Morrison.’
‘Because he doesn’t rate me?’
‘According to him, you gave him a hard no. He wants to know why you did a one-eighty.’
‘I always wanted to go. The environment, the work I’d get to do there, it’d be an amazing opportunity.’
‘So how about you tell me what changed?’
I’d like to tell Nate I’ve overcome my fear of flying, but that would be a lie. Letting him know my fears are a work in progress wouldn’t help either. ‘It was a combination of things.’
Again, I follow Nate’s gaze to the counter. The barista, a young woman with bright pink hair, wedges cups into a holder. When the holder shifts on the bench, Thorsen keeps it steady and the woman smiles her thanks.
‘How long have you worked with Captain Thorsen?’
‘Long enough to know he lives on the edge.’ After drumming a tattoo on the arm of the chair, Nate sits back and stretches out his legs. ‘Did he tell you what happened in Finland?’
A shadow falls across the table. ‘Shut up, Nate.’
Nate laughs as he straightens. ‘Just letting Flick know what she’s in for.’
‘Don’t complicate things.’ Thorsen, after handing me my coffee, takes the lid from his. Looking up, he waits until he has my attention. ‘The ship voyage. Does it concern you?’
‘Why would you want to know that?’
He frowns. ‘Seasickness.’
‘Oh.’ I lower my voice. ‘I think I’ll be okay.’
‘You’ll work primarily with Professor Johnson, but you’ll be expected to perform other tasks within the community.’
‘I’m aware of that.’ Too defensive? Thorsen is frowning again, but Nate is smiling.
‘Work with us, Flick,’ he says. ‘You’ll see precious little of me, and once you get accustomed to Seb, you’ll like him, I promise.’
‘I have reservations.’ Thorsen’s expression is getting more serious by the second.
‘You’re young, talented and passionate about what you do,’ Nate continues. ‘This is not only a great career opportunity, you’ll get a good income, full board and all expenses paid.’
Tick, tick, tick. ‘I want to do it.’
‘There’s something you’re not telling us.’ Thorsen’s eyes are narrowed. ‘Your position at the zoo, your niece, they weren’t the only reasons you refused the role at Morrison. You were vehemently opposed to it.’
‘You can be intense, Seb.’ Nate smiles. ‘Maybe it was you.’
‘I want to know.’ Thorsen leans forward in his chair. ‘What is it?’
A direct question. A question requiring a response. But explaining what I’m not telling him, that I have two flights to worry about in addition to travelling on a ship, is out of the question. I link my hands in my lap.
‘You want me to put data in a form that’ll be useful. Professor Johnson wants my assistance with other projects. I’m qualified to do those things. I can work not only independently, but collegially.’
The silence lengthens. Thorsen opens his mouth and closes it again. Then, after turning his coffee cup three hundred and sixty degrees, he glares at Nate.
Nate, as if concerned about what Thorsen will say next, springs to his feet, walks around the table and holds out his hand.
‘Welcome to the team.’