'You know, if you take up whaling you'll make a lot of enemies,' said Anawak, after a while.

'And how do you see it?' asked Frank.

'If you want my opinion, it's not wise.'

'I expect you're right. They're a protected species, why hunt them? Not all of us are in favour of resuming whaling. For a start, does anyone know how to hunt any more? And what about the spiritual preparation? It's hard to imagine people submitting to the 7uusimch, these days. But, that said, our people haven't hunted whales for nearly a century, and in real terms we're talking five or six creatures per year – a truly insignificant number. There aren't many of us left, you know. Our forefathers lived off whales. The hunters observed rituals that lasted months and even years. Before they set out they purified their spirit in readiness for the gift of life that the whale would make to them. It wasn't a question of harpooning the first animal they set eyes on. They were drawn to a particular whale by unknowable forces, in a kind of vision uniting hunters and whale. It's that spirituality we want to preserve.'

'Sure, but whales are worth a lot of money,' said Anawak. 'A spokesman for the Makah set the value of a grey at half a million US dollars. Whale and whale oil sell at a premium overseas, he said. In practically the same breath he mentioned the Makah's economic problems and high unemployment. That wasn't very clever – and it's a far cry from spirituality.'

'Oh, you're probably right there too. All the same whether you think it's greed or tradition that motivates the Makah, you can't ignore the fact that they refrained from whaling and set aside their right to do it at a time when whales were being hunted to extinction by whites. Commercial whaling isn't exactly spiritual either. It was whites who started to treat life as a commodity. They were quick to help themselves to whatever they wanted – but now if we mention money it causes such outrage that you'd think the survival of the planet was at stake. Funny, isn't it? The Aboriginal peoples take only what they need of the supplies that nature gives them, but the whites treat them wastefully. It's only when there's almost nothing left that they wake up and want to protect our resources – which means saving nature from those who never posed a threat. If whales are still endangered, then the Japanese and the Norwegians are to blame. We've never been guilty of wiping out a species, but we've been made to take the punishment.'

Anawak was silent.

'Our people are trapped,' said Frank. 'Things have got better, but I can't help thinking we're trapped in a conflict that we can't escape on our own. Have I ever told you that after every catch, every successful business deal, every celebration, I put something aside for the Raven?'

'No.'

'Do you know about Raven and his hunger?'

Anawak shook his head.

'Raven isn't actually the main animal spirit here. For that you'd have to go further north, to the Haida or the Tlingit. On the island you'll hear stories about Kánekelak, the changer – but we like Raven too. The Tlingit say that he speaks for the poor, like Christ, so I always break off morsels of meat or fish to leave for him. He was born the son of a beast-man and put into a raven's skin by his father, who named him Wigyét. As he grew up, Wigyét ate his people out of house and home, and they sent him into the world. He was given a stone to take with him so he had a place to rest, and the stone became the land in which we live. He stole the sunshine and brought it back to Earth. I give to Raven what belongs to him. At the same time I know that he is the result of evolutionary processes that started out with proteins, amino acids and single-cell organisms. I love our creation myths, but I also watch TV, read, and know about the Big Bang. So do Christians though, but that doesn't stop them learning about the seven days of creation and Adam and Eve. They had centuries to adjust their thought, find a way to unite mythology and modern science. We were given barely any time at all. We were thrown into a world that wasn't ours and never could be. Now we're returning to our own world and discovering that we no longer know it. That's the curse of being uprooted, Leon. You don't belong anywhere, neither in the old nor the new. The Indians were uprooted. The whites are doing their best to make up for it, but what can they do when they're uprooted too? They're destroying the world that created them. They've gambled away their homeland. We all have, in one way or another.'

Frank gave Anawak a long look. Then his face creased into a smile. 'Wasn't that a stirring Indian lecture, my friend? Come on, we should drink to it. Except you don't drink…'

1 May

Trondheim, Norway

Still no sign of Lund. They were supposed to meet in the canteen, then make their way to the conference hall upstairs. Johanson stared at the clock on the wall above the counter, watching the hands creep round the dial. Steadily, remorselessly, the worms crept with them, never flagging. With each passing second they burrowed deeper into the ice. And there was nothing he could do.

Johanson shivered. Time isn't just passing, it's running out, a voice whispered inside him.

This is the beginning.

The beginning of the plan.

Now, that was ridiculous. Locusts weren't planning anything when they ruined a harvest they were hungry. Worms didn't plan and neither did jellyfish, nor algae.

Did Statoil have a plan?

Skaugen had flown over from Stavanger for the meeting. He'd asked for a detailed account of the findings. He seemed to have made some headway with his enquiries, and was keen to collate their results. Lund had wanted to meet Johanson beforehand so that they could agree on a strategy.

She must have been delayed, probably by Kare. They hadn't talked about her personal life since they'd left Trondheim for the Sonne. He'd avoided asking questions: he didn't like to press, and he hated indiscretion. Besides, he'd had the impression that she needed time to herself.

His mobile rang. It was Lund. 'What's happened to you?' he asked. 'I had to drink your coffee for you.'

'Sorry.'

'What's up?'

'I'm in the conference hall. I meant to ring ages ago, but I haven't had a second.'

There was an edge to her voice. 'Is everything all right?' he asked.

'Sure. Are you coming up?'

'I'll be there in a tick.'

So, she was upstairs already. Some business he wasn't supposed to know about, no doubt. Not that he minded. It was their bloody project.

He walked into the conference hall. Lund, Skaugen and Stone were standing in front of a large chart, which mapped the proposed location of the unit. Stone was talking in hushed tones to Lund, who seemed irritated. Skaugen didn't look too happy either. He turned as Johanson came in and gave a half-hearted smile. Hvistendahl was standing in the background, talking on the phone.

'Shall I come back later?' Johanson asked.

'No, you're just the man we need.' Skaugen gestured towards the table. 'Take a seat.'

Now Lund seemed to see Johanson for the first time. Leaving Stone in mid-sentence, she walked over and kissed his cheek.

'Skaugen wants to get rid of Stone,' she whispered. 'We need you to help us.'

Johanson showed no outward reaction. She was asking him to stir things up for them. What the hell was she thinking, getting him involved?

They sat down. Hvistendahl flipped his phone shut. Johanson was tempted to leave them to it. 'Right,' he said, sounding frostier than usual. 'A quick explanation before we get going. I had to narrow my investigation from its original focus, which is to say I specifically targeted scientists and institutes with known connections to energy conglomerates.'