“I’m not trying to erase what we are, Anna. I’m trying to give us a choice. Right now, the only choice is fish or starve. But if Phillips finds what I think they will…” He let the sentence hang, heavy as a trawler’s anchor.
Anna laughed, but there was no joy in it. “The future? My father says you’re a fool. Drilling in the North Sea—he calls it ‘fighting God for a coin.’”
“Then I’ll be a wrong man with a right heart,” HC said. “But if I’m right…”
“Your father also said the Germans would never leave. He was wrong twice.”
HC Eriksen stood at the edge of the harbor, the North Sea wind cutting through his wool coat like a disappointed father. Behind him, the fishing boats creaked in their berths, their nets hanging slack. In front of him—nothing but gray water and the impossible promise of oil.
She stepped closer. “And what about the ones who don’t want oil? What about the fjords? The cod? My mother’s grave is up on that hill, HC. She used to say the sea was our only honest neighbor.”
He pulled a folded telegram from his inside pocket. It was brief, typed in the clipped language of American oilmen: HC ERIKSEN – SEISMIC PROMISING. EKOFISK STRUCTURE CONFIRMED. STOP. NEED LOCAL LIASON. STOP. YOU IN OR OUT? STOP. Anna read it twice. Her hand trembled slightly—from cold, or from fear, she didn’t know.
“Just promise me one thing,” she said.
Privacy Policy, Terms and Conditions, DMCA Policy and Compliant
Copyright © 2018-2026 BrainKart.com; All Rights Reserved. Developed by Therithal info, Chennai.