by Bob Mayer
“SNN. Conner Young.”
“Hey, Constance.”
There was only one person who called her that, and to be honest, Conner hated her given name. But she’d never tell Sammy that. “Hey, Samantha. How’re you doing?”
“All right.”
There was a long pause. Sammy had never called her at work before, even when she’d been up in Chicago. “Are you OK, sis?”
“I’m fine.”
Conner waited, aware of an awkwardness that was always present in their conversations. Well, then, what the heck are you calling me for? she thought. “How’s mom?”
“All right. She’s in England with Nelson.” Conner frowned. Sammy had never called Nelson dad even though her mom had married him more than nineteen years ago. It bothered Conner.
This father issue had always been a wedge between them. For Conner, middle childhood had been like growing up in a house of mourning—a strange situation, since the loss of her father meant nothing to her. It was hard for her to miss something she’d never really had. But even as a child Conner could see how devastating it was for Sammy. Whereas their mother was able to replace the husband she lost, Sammy couldn’t replace her father.
Sammy had fallen victim to her mother’s inability to start a new life without negating the old. It was as if the only way her mom could make room in her heart for Nelson was to destroy all the emotional evidence of the young soldier she had loved. Sammy felt betrayed. Conner had always thought this was what had driven her sister into two quick marriages and that dismal job she couldn’t seem to leave.
Her own situation had been much different. With Nelson, Conner had found a man who was hungry to love and be loved. His younger step-daughter became the focus of his life, and he made sure she had few wants. Though Conner felt on the surface that Sammy had thrown away a chance for paternal affection, the selfish child in her was glad that she’d never had to share Nelson with her sister. In Conner’s mind, Sammy had tied herself emotionally to a dead man, which seemed a foolish thing to do. The differences in the way they lived seemed ample evidence of Sammy’s folly.
It took Conner a moment to realize that Sammy was still silent even though she was the one who had called. For the first time Conner could remember, her older sister was hesitant. Conner decided to wait it out. She returned her gaze to the computer and clicked the mouse, looking at a new screen.
Finally Sammy spoke. “Conner. Listen, I’ve found something strange in the Records Center.”
“Yeah. What?” Jesus Christ, Conner thought as she read her screen, the UPI had actually carried a story on UFO landings in Idaho. Idaho of all places! How come the damn things never landed in Central Park?
“There’s this place, it’s called Eternity Base, and it was built by the military in 1971, and there’s no record of it anywhere.”
“If there’s no record, how do you know it exists?”
“I’ve got photos of it. That’s what started me on it. I found this file in unit histories and then ...”
As her sister related her search, Conner forgot about the computer screen. She was surprised at Sammy’s investigative skills. When her sister finally drew to a close, though, Conner was confused.
“Antarctica? Why would the army build a place in Antarctica?”
“I don’t know. But they certainly went to a lot of trouble to hide it.”
“Well, even if they did, what’s the big deal? I mean we’re talking twenty-five years ago. Who cares? Maybe it was just some temporary thing and it’s gone now.”
Sammy’s voice was sharp when she answered, and Conner belatedly realized her mistake: everything that happened twenty-five years ago was important to Sammy. “That may be true, but the simple fact that the United States built something secret down there is pretty significant.”
“Why?”
Sammy sounded surprised. “It violated the treaty.”
“What treaty?”
‘The 1959 Antarctica Treaty the United States signed along with seventeen other nations. It suspended all territorial claims for thirty years and also specifically prohibited any military presence in Antarctica. It’s the one place on the planet where weapons are outlawed.”
Conner considered that. “Did these engineers have weapons with them?”
“Well, no, not that you can see in the picture. But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” Conner didn’t like asking so many questions. It seemed to give Sammy an edge.
“The point is that something was built down there in 1971, something that somebody took a lot of trouble covering up, to the extent of altering and hiding official records. Something that was important enough to pull an army engineer company out of a war zone to build.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?” When she heard Sammy’s reply, Conner realized that her tone must have been harsher than she intended.
“I don’t expect you to do a damn thing about it. I just thought that maybe you could use something interesting in your new job to get a leg up, but obviously you don’t need any help. I shouldn’t have called you in the first place. Bye.”
The phone went dead. Conner slowly put down the receiver and considered what her sister had said. Why did Sammy think she needed a leg up? For a second she felt a flash of irritation at an offer of help from a woman who lived above a garage. Maybe it was her sister’s way of hanging on: by helping her, Sammy could feel some personal sense of responsibility for Conner’s success. Conner had felt it before—the subtle innuendos meant to remind her that self-reliance and competence played a small part in her current position. Conner knew she had earned her way to this tiny cubicle, and she didn’t want to hand anyone else—even her sister—any share of that.
But Conner couldn’t completely deny her professional interest. Sammy had always seemed to possess an innate ability to sense the hidden and darker sides of the world around her. As soon as her sister had mentioned the acronym MACV-SOG, Conner had known that Sammy would hold onto this issue like a dog with a bone until she sucked it dry of every piece of available information. Her sister would continue to dig; if she unearthed more, there might very well be a story. Maybe not the one Sammy wanted, but one that could push Conner out of the cubicle and into an office with a real door. As Stu had said—it was an up or out business.
Antarctica. Maybe there were other hooks that could be tied in. The environmental group Our Earth might be interested in something involving that area of the world. Conner had done a story on an Our Earth protest about pollution in Lake Michigan, and she’d been impressed with the group’s ability to generate publicity.
That thought reminded her of Devlin, the man who had run the protests. He was the only person in the four years she was in Chicago who had managed to penetrate her professional cloak, albeit only for a brief moment. She remembered that he’d talked for a while about Antarctica, even mentioning that he’d spent a winter down there.
Conner grabbed her Rolodex and flipped through to O. She dialed the number for the Our Earth headquarters in California. A cheery sounding young woman told her that Devlin was currently in Australia. With a little coaxing, the girl gave an overseas number where he might be reached.
Conner looked at the clocks posted on the wall. It was after midnight in Tokyo, which she guessed was somewhere near the same time zone as Australia. She dialed the international code and then the number. When the phone was picked up on the other end, she was surprised at the clarity of the transmission.
“Hello?” a voice with a rich Australian accent answered.
“Is Devlin there? This is Conner Young calling from the United States.”
“The United States, eh? Must be early in the morning there, isn’t it?”
Conner rolled her eyes. “It’s a little after eleven.”
“It’s a little after midnight here.” The voice waited for an apology, then, getting none, moved on with a sigh. “All right. I’ll see if I can track him down for you, missy.”<
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There was a thump as the phone was dropped, and Conner started tapping her fingers on the desktop. After three long minutes the phone was finally picked up.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
Conner was startled at the reaction the deep voice brought out. “Devlin, how are you doing?”
“Not bad. How are you, Conner?”
“All right.”
“Where are you calling from? Charlie said it was the States.”
“Atlanta.”
“Atlanta? What happened to Chicago?” Devlin asked.
“I moved over to SNN.”
There was a light whistle. “So you’ve made the big time. Congratulations.”
“Well, actually I’m on the periphery of the big time.” Conner shifted to the task at hand. “That’s what I’m calling you about. I remember you talked about having been to Antarctica several times.”
“Yes. Four times. I also wintered over at the Our Earth base there three years ago. Why? What’s up?”
“I received information about something, and I was wondering if you could give me some help.”
“What’s the information?”
“I’ve been told that the army built a secret installation, called Eternity Base, in Antarctica in 1971.”
“What kind of secret base?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where exactly was the place built in Antarctica?”
“I don’t know. That’s why they call it a secret, Devlin.”
“Well, I’ve been down there and I’ve also talked to a lot of people stationed down there, especially at McMurdo, and I’ve never heard anything about a place called Eternity Base. It would be pretty difficult to cover up something like that, although ‘71 was a long time ago.”
Conner was interested in impact first, details later. “What I want to know is—if this Eternity Base did exist, and no one knew about it, how big a story would that be?”
Devlin whistled. “It’d be big, Conner. First, it would have broken the ‘59 treaty. Any base that is built down there, even if it is temporary, has to be open for inspection by any of the other signees of the treaty. If a base is hidden, well then it certainly isn’t open for inspection.
“Second, if the army built it, then it’s probably some sort of military base. If it still exists, that would be a gross violation of not only the letter of the current 1991 accord governing things in Antarctica but also the spirit of the accord. Our Earth has really been upping the pressure there, and we have a few things planned in the next couple of months. Discovering something like this Eternity Base would be great publicity.”
Conner backtracked a little. “Well, other than a few nebulous records, I have no real proof of anything. I just wanted to find out if this was worth pursuing.”
“It’s definitely worth pursuing. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to call me.” Devlin laughed. “Even if it is after midnight. I remember the last time we talked after midnight.”
Conner didn’t want to discuss that right now. “I’ll do some more checking, and I’ll get back to you if I come up with something.”
“All right. I’ll be at this number for at least another two days. After that, I’m not sure where I’ll be.”
“Bye.” Conner slowly put down the phone. She’d never even asked Devlin what he was doing in Australia. She shrugged. There’d be time for that if she talked to him again.
Damn Sammy. Conner swung her bulky purse up on the desk and started rummaging through, looking for her personal address book. She thought she had Sammy’s work number in there but she wasn’t sure. There it was—under S. Conner punched in the number with her pencil.
“Records Center. Samantha Pintella.”
“All right, I’m sorry. I’ve had a rough day.”
There was no trace of anger in Sammy’s voice. “It’s OK. I shouldn’t have called you anyway.”
“No. I think it’s an interesting story. Will you get in trouble if we do something on it?”
Sammy’s voice was tentative. “Well ... I was thinking that you wouldn’t have to say you got it from me. You could probably talk to one of those men in the engineer unit who built the place and maybe they would tell you something about it. You wouldn’t have to tell them that you first heard about Eternity Base from records in the Center.”
Conner got a clear screen on the computer and hit the speaker button on her phone. “All right, give me the names and addresses. I’ll see what they have to say.”
After Sammy was finished relaying the information on the four officers, she added: “Let me know what you find out, all right? I’m interested in this thing. The tie-in with MACV-SOG is kind of strange.”
“Sure. I’ll get back in touch. Bye.” Conner hung up. She was right about Sammy’s special interest in this case. Sammy just couldn’t give up on the possibility that her father might still be alive. She was always reading anything to do with the MIA issue or Special Forces operations in Vietnam.
Conner felt a moment’s guilt for suspecting Sammy of a hidden agenda. This story could help her career—Sammy was right about that. In this business one tended to be paranoid. There was always someone right behind you on the ladder waiting for you to screw it all up so they could stomp over your shattered career to take your place.
Conner shook thoughts of Sammy’s fixation out of her head. I have my own fixation, she thought, smiling. She immediately called information and started working on the first name on her list. Using his last known address, she tracked down Captain Townsend’s number.
The phone was answered by a woman who told her to hold on and she’d get her husband. At last the phone was picked up. She wondered if the man was in a wheelchair, it had taken him so long.
“Hello?” said a man’s voice, tremulous with old age.
“Is this Louis Townsend?”
“Yes.”
“This is Conner Young. I’m with SNN News and I’m doing some research on army installations. I’m particularly interested in something your unit was involved with in 1971.”
“The army? ‘71?” There was a pause. “I was in Vietnam in ‘71. What project are you talking about? We did a lot of work shutting things down there that year.”
“I’m not talking about Vietnam, Mister Townsend. I have some information that your company was sent on temporary duty to Antarctica for four months near the end of the year. Could you shed any light on what you were building in Antarctica?”
There was a long pause, then Townsend’s voice came back, sounding very distant. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ve received bad information. We were in Vietnam from June of ‘71 through May of ‘72. A man doesn’t forget something like that even if he’s as old as I am.”
“I know that’s what your unit is listed officially as doing, Mister Townsend, but I do have some evidence indicating that—”
“Ma’am, I really have nothing else to tell you. I have to go now.”
The phone went dead. Conner felt a lot better about this hang-up than she had about her sister’s. There was a story here. She could feel it. Old soldiers loved to tell war stories, yet this guy had hung up on her.
She quickly tracked down the second name on the list, but there was no answer. She moved on to the third. Conner checked the map on the wall as she called—the area code was in New Jersey. The phone was picked up on the third ring by a woman.
“Hello?”
“May I please speak to William Freely?”
“He’s at work. May I take a message?”
“Could I get his work number, please?” “It’s 654-9329.”
“Thanks.” Conner dialed the new number.
“Freely’s Building Supply. This is Anita. How may I help you?”
“Is Mister Freely in?”
“Hold on. I think he’s out back on the loading dock.”
While she waited, Conner drew up a blank screen on her computer and began typing questions.
“Bill Freely here
.” The voice sounded slightly out of breath and very deep.
“Mister Freely, this is Conner Young from SNN news. I’m doing research on army installations and I’m particularly interested in a project your unit was involved with in 1971.”
“Yeah?” The voice was not friendly. “Which project? We did a whole lot of stuff that year.”
“I’m interested in what B Company, 67th Engineers, built down in Antarctica between August and December 1971.”
There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, miss, but you’ve got your facts wrong. We were never in Antarctica. I surely would have remembered that.”
“I’m sure you would have, Mister Freely, especially since you were treated for severe frostbite on two fingers on your left hand at McMurdo Station, Antarctica, on 19 November 1971. Tell me, did you get frostbite while taking those photographs of Eternity Base? The photos I have copies of?” Conner waited. The fact that he didn’t hang up right away was a good sign.
Freely’s voice was sharp. “Listen, lady. We were told that everything about Eternity Base was classified. I mean, it was a long time ago and all that, but still a guy can get in trouble. I forgot all about taking those pictures.”
Conner leaned forward in her seat. “I have them here on my desk and they have your name on the back.”
Another long pause. Finally Freely came back, his voice resigned. “Yeah, I took those damn pictures. I don’t see what the big deal about the whole thing was anyway. They told us not to talk about it—national security and all that—and we were just so happy to be out of Vietnam that everyone went along with it. At least in the beginning. But after a couple of weeks down there in that hellhole, Vietnam started looking like a good deal.”
Conner thought quickly. She’d learned to keep people talking by shifting subjects. They were so busy thinking about the answers that they’d forget the importance of what they were saying. “What about the aircrews that flew you in there? Do you know where they were from?”
“There was only one aircrew. I think they were home-based in Hawaii.”
Conner cut back to something else that might get a reaction. “How’s your hand doing?”
