Free Athabasca by Alistair MacLean

experts than in any Army Ordnance Corps. The killers wouldn't have left a trace of explosives at Pump Station Number Four."
    If a silence can be said to be cold, the ensuing silence was downright chilly. Finlayson said stonily, "Does that statement mean what I think it means?"
    "I should imagine it does," said Brady. "Explain, George."
    Dermott explained. When he had finished, Finlayson said, "Preposterous. Why should any of our pipeline employees want to do a thing like that? It doesn't make sense."
    "It's never a pleasant thing to nurture a viper in your bosom," Brady said agreeably. "Mr. Black?"
    "Makes sense to me, if only because no other immediate explanation occurs. What do you think, Mr. Brady?"
    "Exactly what I was asking Mr. Bronowski as we touched down."
    "Yes. Well." Bronowski didn't seem any too comfortable. "I don't like it. An inside job is all too damn plausible. Point is, carry this line of thinking a little further and the finger points at Tim Houston and myself as the two prime suspects." Bronowski paused. "Tim and I had a helicopter. We were in the right place at approximately the right time. We know of a dozen ways to sabotage the pipeline. It's no secret that we're both pretty experienced in the use of explosives, so taking out Station Four would have presented no problem for us." He paused. "But who's going to suspect the security chief and his number two?"
    "Me, for one;" said Brady. He sipped his drink and sighed. "I'd have you clapped behind bars right now were it not for your impeccable record, lack of apparent motive and the fact that it's incredible that you should have acted in such a clumsy fashion."
    "Not clumsy, Mr. Brady. The killers were stupid to the point of insanity... or badly frightened. The job certainly wasn't the work of professional hit men. Why shoot the two engineers? Why leave any evidence that murder had been done? Just knock them unconscious -- a dozen ways that can be done without leaving a mark -- then blow them to pieces along with the pump station. Act of God, and no hint of foul play."
    "Amateurism is a grievesome thing, is it not?" Brady turned to Finlayson. "Could we have a line to Anchorage, please? Thank you. Give him the number, then take the call, George." Dermott did so and within four minutes had hung up, his part of the conversation having been limited mainly to monosyllables.
    "Wouldn't you know," Dermott said.
    "No luck?" said Mackenzie.
    "Too much. The Anchorage police have located not one but four hot phone booths. Suspicious characters either inside them or lurking in the vicinity, and this at that most ungodly hour. All four of them, dammit, with a disproportionate number of high-denomination coins inside them. All four have been dismantled and taken along to the cop shop. But they haven't been fingerprinted yet, and it may be hours before the cops can check the prints against their files."
    Black said with sardonic restraint, "The relevance of this call escapes me. It has something to do with Pump Station Four?"
    "Maybe," said Brady. "Maybe not. All we know for certain is that Sanmobil -- the people who have the tar-sands concession north of Fort McMurray, in Alberta -- have also received a threat against their oil production lines. Couched in almost identical terms with the threat you received, the only difference being that while yours arrived by mail, theirs came from a public phone booth in Anchorage. We're trying to trace which booth and, with any fingerprint luck, who the caller may have been."
    Black thought briefly, then said, "Curious. A threat against Alaskan oil from Alberta, and one against Albertan oil from Alaska. Must tie up with Pump Station Four... the arm of coincidence isn't all that long. And while you're sitting here, Mr. Brady, some ill-intentioned person or persons may be planting an explosive device at some strategic point in Sanmobil's tar sands."
    "The thought had not escaped me. However, surmise and speculation will serve no point