by Mike Ashley
Paxton slept badly that night, and was awake well before dawn the following morning. He walked to the kitchen, and found Julie, Hall, and Senko already there, drinking coffee from oversized plastic mugs. He accepted the cup Julie offered him, then struggled into his thick outdoors clothing in preparation for a chilly spell in the drill-house.
Hall helped him start the engine – always a tricky business after a cold night – while Senko and Julie watched. They held their breath as the machine chugged reluctantly into life. With a screech of metal, and a furious hiss of water, the drill began to revolve, faster and faster until the noise of it filled the small room, and its choking fumes made the scientists cough.
Perhaps because the engine had been shut down earlier than usual the previous day, the drill sounded different that morning. It ran more smoothly, and the labouring, wheezing noises usually associated with its early starts were absent. They exchanged hopeful glances: perhaps they’d be successful after all.
The drill was like a giant mosquito, sending a long probe of diamond-hard teeth through the ice, although at a depth nearing four kilometres it was becoming unreliable. However, after a while, the cylinder that carried the ice-cores to the surface began to emerge.
“That’s not ice!” yelled Senko suddenly, making everyone jump. “That’s water! We’re through!”
Paxton saw the Russian was right, and they all clustered around to inspect the container, where tell-tale bubbles indicated that water, not ice, was being sampled.
“Lake Vostok,” said Hall in an awed voice. He tapped the cylinder with his forefinger. “No one’s ever set eyes on this before. We’ve done it!”
Senko gave a whoop of delight, and then grabbed Hall in a bear hug that had the American gasping for breath. Julie joined them, dancing around the chilly hut like an excited child. Paxton watched them, smiling.
“Put your masks on,” he instructed, when their euphoria was spent. “We need to be careful.”
“Why?” asked Julie immediately. “D’you agree that there might be something dangerous down there?”
“No,” said Paxton shortly. “It’s because I don’t want the sample contaminated by our breath.”
Carefully, he began to transfer the water into a screw-topped sterile container that would be shipped home for study. After all the waiting and anticipation, the brownish liquid that the drill produced was an anticlimax. It wasn’t even clear, although Paxton knew that the drill’s lubricants were largely responsible for that. Later, the contaminants would be removed, and the water studied in its clean state.
While he worked, the others fired up the drill again. There was a tearing, screeching sound, and the engine revved furiously. Paxton ducked instinctively as a sharp crack like a gunshot indicated that the probe had sheared. White smoke filled the drill-house, and the engine spluttered into silence.
“That was it,” said Senko, crouching to examine it. “Ice pressure’s finally distorted the borehole to the point where the drill can’t work. We were just in time.”
Hall nodded at the canister that held the murky water. “That’ll be enough. In a few years, someone’ll sink another hole and get more, but until then, this’ll do.”
Senko shook his head over the drill. “I’ll fetch a new bit and try again, but I doubt it’ll work.”
When he had gone, Julie edged towards Paxton, leaning over his shoulder and speaking in a low whisper so that Hall would not hear.
“The drill sounded different from the moment it started this morning. Did you notice?”
Paxton nodded absently, concentrating on his work. “It ran more smoothly than normal.”
“Quite. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Paxton gazed at her when the implications dawned on him. He cursed himself for not being more alert. He had listened to the drill chewing its way through ice for six months and should have realized that the difference in sound that day was significant.
“The drill wasn’t cutting ice,” he said. “It was already in the water when we started it.”
Julie nodded. “The lake must’ve been tapped yesterday, while Tanya was working on it. Perhaps the ice is less dense near the water, and she made better time than our instruments said she would. But it seems Tanya reached the lake first.”
Paxton nodded. “We’ll credit her with its discovery in our reports.”
Julie sighed irritably. “That’s not what I meant. My point is that Tanya broke into the lake and then went missing. Wilkes came here to look for her, and he’s missing, too.”
“Not this again,” began Paxton tiredly. “I don’t—”
He was interrupted by Senko, who burst into the drill-house so abruptly that he almost ripped the damaged door from its hinges.
“They’ve gone! Both of them!” he gasped. “I’ve checked the kitchen and the labs. They’re not here; they’ve gone the same way as Tanya and Wilkes.”
“Who?” asked Hall stupidly, an expression of puzzlement on his heavy features. “What are you talking about?”
“Morris and Bannikov!” yelled Senko in exasperation. “I went to tell them that we’d broken through. They’re not here. They’ve gone!”
Julie regarded Paxton steadily. “And where did they say they were going, before they went to bed last night?” she asked quietly.
“To check the labs,” said Hall. He swallowed hard. “And the drill-house.”
“Yes,” said Julie softly. “The drill-house.”
Paxton remained convinced that Julie’s explanation was impossible, but was unable to provide her with an alternative one. He radioed McMurdo, and was too disheartened to object when Hall took the microphone to add that the disappearances of Tanya, Wilkes, Morris, and Bannikov were somehow connected to drilling into the lake. Julie nodded agreement, while Senko sighed and indicated with a forefinger tapping his temple that he thought they were both insane.
With the others in tow, Paxton went to inspect Morris and Wilkes’ sleeping quarters. Neither were neat in their habits, and it was difficult to say whether they had slept in their beds the previous night. Therefore, it was not possible to prove or disprove Julie’s suspicion that the last thing they had done was visit the drill-house for one final look for their missing colleagues.
“Their rooms are the two nearest the exit,” said Paxton, frowning. “I never hear them coming or going anyway, because the heating makes too much noise.”
“I think I heard Morris,” said Senko, whose room was next door. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I heard him moving about, moaning.”
“What do you mean, ‘moaning’?” demanded Paxton. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“Because I assumed he was distressed over Tanya and Wilkes, and it didn’t seem right to tell you about it. But I may be wrong: the heaters mask sounds, as you just said yourself.”
Julie stared at her feet. “Tanya and I were good friends and I was upset last night. It was probably me you heard.”
“It may’ve been,” said Senko, shrugging. “I tried not to listen.”
Paxton sighed. “Well, there’s a rational explanation for these disappearances, and I’m going to find out what it is. People simply don’t vanish.”
Hall backed away from him. “Count me out. I’m not going anywhere near that drill-house.”
“Good,” said Paxton. “All of you can stay here. There’s safety in numbers.”
“There wasn’t for Morris and Bannikov,” Senko pointed out. “They were together, but they still went.”
“Stay here anyway,” said Paxton. “You can keep an eye on each other.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Julie, regarding him warily.
“I mean that it’s possible one of us is responsible. If the three of you are together, then nothing untoward’s going to happen.”
“Unless the culprit’s you,” said Julie softly.
“In that case, you’ll be safe with Hall and Senko,” said Paxton shortly. “I’m going to look a
round the drill-house, since that’s where people go missing. I’ll find out what’s going on if I have to tear it apart plank by plank.”
“Wait,” said Julie, running after him. “I’m coming with you. You said we should we stay in pairs, and you’re right. Hall can stay with Senko.”
They reached the drill-house, and Paxton dropped to his hands and knees to begin an intricate inspection of the floor. Julie watched.
“What are you looking for?”
Paxton shrugged. “I’ll know when I find it. Four people don’t disappear and leave no trace. Maybe I’ll find a spot of blood, or something that suggests foul play.”
Julie looked unconvinced, but knelt next to him and poked about with the sturdy penknife she always carried. It was cold, miserable work, and after about an hour, she stood, closing the knife with a snap.
“This is hopeless. There’s nothing here. I’m going back to the others.”
Paxton did not blame her. As the door closed, he moved to a new area, beginning to feel that she was right and that he was wasting his time. He was stiff from kneeling on the ice, and the prospect of a hot drink in the kitchen was an attractive proposition. He was about to give in to it, when a spot of colour caught his eye. It was a fragment of wood, and attached to it were a few hairs – long, dark hairs, like Tanya’s.
He studied them thoughtfully. He had found what seemed to be a clue, but had no idea what its significance could be. Had the hairs been in the drill-house for some time – before Tanya had disappeared – or had they been pulled from her head during some kind of struggle? He realized that there was no way to know.
Placing his find in a sample bag, he began to walk towards the kitchen. He was tired from tension and lack of sleep, and walked unsteadily over the slick ice. He stumbled over a carelessly placed wire, and grabbed at a high stack of crates in an attempt to steady himself. Without warning, they began to totter, and he hurled himself to one side just as the whole pile came crashing down, narrowly missing him. They were heavy, filled with canned food, and smashed open as they hit the ice, spilling tins that rolled in every direction.
He scrambled to his feet and gazed at the crates in bewilderment, not understanding why they should suddenly become unstable, but knowing he would have been killed had they landed on him. He gazed around wildly, but there was nothing to see. The door to the kitchen burst open and Julie rushed out, Hall and Senko on her heels. She gaped at the scattered cans in horror.
“What’ve you done? Surely you didn’t expect to find one of your clues among those?”
“They fell,” said Paxton lamely. “I’m getting paranoid. I was beginning to wonder whether someone tried to push them on top of me.”
“Who?” demanded Hall. “We were in the kitchen, and the others’ve gone, remember? No one pushed them. You are paranoid!”
Julie went to the broken crates and inspected them carefully. “Someone put an empty box on the bottom that made the stack top-heavy. It was only a matter of time before it went.”
“Coincidence,” said Senko, patting Paxton on the shoulder. “Come inside. The last thing we need to do is start getting suspicious of each other.”
“Right,” agreed Hall. “We’ve got the Lake Vostok monster to contend with.”
“Did you find anything?” asked Senko, ignoring Hall’s comment as he followed Paxton into the kitchen. “Any clues as to what happened to the others?”
Paxton shook his head, not wanting to mention the hairs. Although he was convinced they were somehow important, he also thought that speculation would do them no good. Julie started to make some coffee.
“We’re out of condensed milk,” she said, waving an empty tin.
“Already?” asked Hall. “I opened a new can yesterday.”
“I’ll get another,” offered Senko. “I saw one in the crates Paxton tipped over. I won’t be a minute.”
He left, closing the door behind him. Paxton watched him through the window. The Russian crouched down, and began poking among the spilled cans on the ground. Then there was a sudden loud pop that made Paxton almost leap out of his skin. Julie gave an apologetic grin.
“Sorry. It’s the gas on the cooker. It does that sometimes.”
“Not to me,” said Hall, taking the matches from her and lighting the flame. “It only does that when you light it.”
Paxton smiled, and then turned to look out of the window again. Senko was not there. With a growing fear, Paxton raced outside, his feet skidding on the slick ice. But the Russian, like the others, had disappeared.
“I was watching him!” Paxton yelled in angry frustration. “I saw him kneeling here, looking through the cans. How can he have disappeared?”
Julie glanced around her. “Perhaps there’s something here that’ll tell us what happened to him – drag marks or something.”
“Drag marks?” asked Hall in a squeak. “What do you think’s going on around here?”
“I don’t know,” snapped Julie. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “We thought everyone disappeared from inside the drill-house, but we were wrong – Paxton virtually saw Senko go, and he was out here.”
Hall gazed about him fearfully, as if he imagined something might come barrelling out of the snow and bear him away to its air, while Paxton wondered what to do next. Absently, he picked up a tin and tossed it from hand to hand as he watched Hall and Julie prod among the spilled crates. Hall was using a pencil and Julie had her penknife. Paxton glanced at the can he held. It was the milk Senko had been searching for. He gazed down at it, wondering why the Russian hadn’t found it immediately, when it had been lying on top of the pile. Then he inspected it more closely. The rim was damaged, as though something had hit it very hard, and a fibre of red wool clung to it. Senko had been wearing a red hat. Had he banged his head on the can as he had fallen? Or had someone hit him with it? If Senko had fallen, then he had done so very hard, because the dent was a deep one.
“I’m going back to the drill-house,” he said, not knowing what else to do. “I think we’ll find answers there, not here.”
“I’m not going in there,” whined Hall. “It’s too dangerous.”
“We’d better stay together,” said Julie nervously. “And we should finish searching here first.”
“I’ll leave the door open,” said Paxton. “We’ll be able to see each other.”
Hall and Julie exchanged a glance that suggested visual contact was not especially reassuring, given what had just happened to Senko. Paxton propped open the door to the drill-house and walked inside, crossing the ice floor to examine the drill itself.
He leaned his head against the cold metal, wondering what was happening to the team that had rubbed along so well for six months. They were all dedicated scientists, almost fanatical about the work they did, and there was a degree of rivalry. But it was usually friendly, and Senko and Hall were the only ones who ever had any serious arguments. Paxton glanced across at the American. Was he responsible for the mysterious disappearances? Paxton did not think so, and would have laid his money on the infinitely more cunning Senko as being the culprit.
He was about to resume his search, when he glimpsed a glitter of metal half buried in the snow at the foot of the drill. He reached down and picked it up, startled to find himself holding Bannikov’s hip-flask. He inspected it carefully. It was dented, which it certainly had not been when in Bannikov’s care. He unscrewed the top and sniffed at the contents. Whisky. His thick gloves made him clumsy, and the flask slipped out of his fingers. Swearing under his breath, he stopped to retrieve it – and then froze when he saw that the liquid that seeped from the flask was bright orange. It was, without doubt, the cadmium compound they used for lubricating the drill-bit.
Paxton was horrified. Is that what had given the contents of the hip-flask the bite that each of them had experienced once and would never try again? If so, it was a dangerous thing for Bannikov to do, because cadmium was a serious poison – even if its taste and smell could be
masked by whisky. He recalled the last time the Russian had produced his flask – just before his disappearance, when he had gone with Morris to inspect the drill-house for a last look for Tanya.
Paxton was still staring at it when there was an agonized scream, full of fear and pain. Hall! He raced outside to see Julie running from the opposite direction. She grabbed Paxton’s arm and gazed around her.
“Did you hear that?” she gasped. “It sounded like Hall.”
“It was Hall,” said Paxton. “Where is he?”
“I went to turn off the gas in the kitchen,” said Julie. “We left it on when we rushed outside to look for Senko. I didn’t want a burned camp to add to our problems, so I went to see to it.”
“Hall would never let you leave him alone,” said Paxton, snatching his arm away. “You saw how terrified he was. He’d have gone with you.”
“Well, he didn’t,” said Julie angrily. “He stayed here, looking through the cans for the clues you seem so sure we’ll find.”
“I’ve got all the clues I need,” said Paxton harshly. “It was you.”
“Me?” asked Julie, startled. “What was me?”
Paxton pointed to a spray of tiny red spots that stained the cuff of her coat. “You’ve just done something dreadful to Hall. You’ve got a knife – I’ve seen it. Hall would never’ve allowed you to leave him alone while you went to the kitchen. You killed him. Where’s his body?”
“This is nonsense,” said Julie, starting to laugh uncertainly. “You’ve gone mad! The stress has finally got to you and you’re losing your reason.”
“No,” said Paxton. “You killed Bannikov and Morris by poisoning them – there was cadmium in Bannikov’s flask, and he doubtless offered a nip to Morris when they walked together to have one final look for Tanya in the drill-house.”
Julie shook his head. “You’re insane. How d’you imagine I could dispose of six bodies? And I was with you when Senko disappeared. How am I supposed to have killed him, when I was with you?”
Paxton gave a humourless smile. “Tanya’s been helping you.”
