"How come they don't have just porridge-flavored porridge?" Sam asked. "Normal porridge that I can put a wee bit of salt in. Why does everything have to have berries in it?"
"We're stuck in a tent in Antarctica and you're complaining about the food being too luxurious?" Nina ripped open a sachet of porridge with strawberries. "The berries are to stop you from getting scurvy."
"Whisky would stop me from getting scurvy. I'm sure I read that somewhere."
"Probably in an article you'd written yourself." She poured hot water on the freeze-dried oats and handed the sachet to Sam before moving on to offer the breakfast selection to Admiral Whitsun.
Once everyone was awake and finished with breakfast, Purdue clapped his hands for attention. His long face looked more than usually solemn as he glanced around at everyone to make sure they were listening. "I have some news which is . . . a little alarming, possibly," he began. "This morning Alexandr attempted to make contact with Neumayer Station, as usual. Unfortunately, he found that the satellite phone was not operational. I have examined it, and we have tried again a number of times since, but it continues to fail to detect any signal. I believe that a small piece of hardware has malfunctioned within it, making it unlikely that we will be able to repair it."
"Well, that's it, then," said Fatima. "We'll have to go to Neumayer and not this ice station. We can't go traipsing off into unknown territory with no means of contact with the outside world. That would be insane."
"It is true," said Alexandr. "It would be insane. But is this not what the great Scott of the Antarctic did, so many years ago? Is this not was Alfred Ritscher did? Not one of them had the benefit of satellite phones. When they went into uncharted territory, they took their lives in their hands!"
"So that we wouldn't have to!" Fatima wailed. "Is that what this is all about? You want to be like them? Is this all about your ego?"
Sensing another argument in the making, Sam caught Nina's eye and mimed smoking at her. She nodded and pulled on her snowsuit, and the two of them crept out and left Alexandr and Fatima to battle it out.
"It's not so bad without the wind chill," Nina remarked. "Pity the snow's a bit too deep for running around. We could have had an epic snowball fight."
"You're insane," said Sam, flicking open the lighter.
"Probably. I think I'm just glad to be out of there. I can see Fatima's point, but I just don't think we should squander this opportunity—broken satellite phone or not."
Sam's eyebrows shot up. "You really are insane. You think we should keep going?"
"Why not?" Nina asked. "It's not like we'll actually be going into the mountains or anything, and I'm not sure there's any point in chickening out on the grounds that it's not safe. It's the Antarctic, for Christ's sake. It's never going to be safe. Fatima knows that. She's just freaking out because she doesn't trust Purdue or Alexandr. Do you, by the way? I'd love to know."
Sam shook his head. "Not really. I think they're both kind of crazy. Though I would trust Alexandr to keep himself alive, and I suppose that for as long as we're with him that probably means he'll do the same for us. Purdue . . . I don't know. I've got a feeling he'll run headfirst into danger and take us all with him."
Nina closed her eyes and exhaled. "I suppose this means we'll need to do the vote again. Does that mean you're going to vote to head for Neumayer, then?"
"I'm here to profile Purdue," said Sam. "Where he goes, there go I."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Crazy."
"Yeah."
They stood in companionable silence for a little while, concentrating on their cigarettes and trying not to overhear the argument going on inside the tent.
"Nina?" Sam said eventually.
"What?"
"I was wondering . . . what did you make of all that stuff with the phone?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said. "Shit happens, I suppose. Phones break. It's unfortunate, but it's just one of those things. Why, do you think it's something sinister?"
"Hmm." Sam took a contemplative puff. "It's just . . . it seems a bit weird. Coincidental. That's the second important thing to break down, despite the fact that Purdue paid top dollar for all this stuff and probably invented that phone. Did you not think it was a bit odd that the hovercraft blew a cushion when we were right on top of this supposed Nazi ice station? Kind of convenient, wasn't it?"
"I suppose so," said Nina. "I did think it was a bit weird. But I haven't been able to come up with a plausible explanation for why anyone would go to that much trouble. I mean, if it was Purdue, he could just have had the hovercraft drop us off and said 'Right, we're not going to Neumayer, we're going Nazi-hunting, everyone out.' We're here on his money, after all. It's not like we'd have had a huge amount of choice."
"I don't know," Sam stared out across the snow, trying to work it out. "On the one hand I agree with you. It's a hell of a faff when he could just have made us all do what he wants. But on the other hand, look at him. He likes drama. He likes putting on a bit of a show. For someone who can be so zipped up the back, he certainly likes to be the center of attention. I'm not sure what to believe. But as you say, we're here now. The opportunities aren't going to get any better. I'm trying to live by the motto I had when I was a teenager: just because you can doesn't mean you should—but you might as well."
"Fair enough," said Nina. "Well, if he's that determined to get us to do what he wants, there doesn't seem to be much sense in resisting—it's what we're here for anyway. Now, I've been meaning to ask, what happened to you yesterday? When Admiral Whitsun was talking, you nearly dropped the tea. I wanted to ask, but judging by the look on your face it wasn't anything you would have wanted to talk about in front of everyone else."
For the first time in their short acquaintance, Nina saw Sam withdraw into himself completely. His eyes went blank and his face hardened a little. She could hardly believe that she was looking at the same man whose sardonic smile she had grown so use to seeing during the past month.
"I'm sorry, Sam, I shouldn't have asked—"
"No," he said quietly. "It's fine. I just hadn't realized it was him. I'd never seen him before. His son got busted for running an international arms-dealing ring. Killed himself rather than face a trial. It was me that broke the story. Really, it was me that discovered that Charles Whitsun was involved."
"Charles Whitsun?" Nina was suddenly alert. "Steven's friend?"
"Yes. Sorry, I had forgotten there was a connection there. Well, I don't know whether Admiral Whitsun knows who I am yet, but I can't imagine that he's forgotten that I was largely responsible for getting his son arrested. He hasn't said or done anything to suggest that he's figured it out, but it's got to happen at some point and it's going to be pretty bloody awkward when it does."
Nina gave a long, low whistle. "It certainly will," she agreed. "Look, Sam, I don't know the ins and outs of the case . . ."
"No reason why you should," Sam said. "There wasn't that much coverage, seeing as how there was no trial. There were a few mentions of the arms ring in the coverage of his suicide, but only in the tabloids, really. The broadsheets thought it would be a bit insensitive. Rich, powerful families get that kind of consideration, apparently. The rest of us don't."
"I'm sure you did what needed to be done, Sam."
"I did." The light drained from his eyes once again. "And everybody paid the price for it." He fell silent, staring out at the soft drifts of snow. Nina watched him, intrigued, trying to judge whether she could get any more out of him or whether she would stir up too many painful things. She concluded that she would, and that she should leave him alone.
When Sam and Nina returned to the tent, the argument seemed to have blown over. Fatima still did not look happy and the tension was almost palpable, but at least no one was yelling at anyone else any more. It was Fatima herself who brought up the matter of the vote. She said that once again, she would abide by the majority's decision, but she t
hought it was only fair that those who had voted in favor of searching for the ice station before should be given the chance to revise their choices in light of the problem with the phone.
Not a single member of the group decided to change his or her vote. Professor Matlock remained sulky and reiterated his previous point, that he would continue if the others did but wanted his reticence to be noted. Fatima, likewise, voted to go straight to Neumayer, but refused to leave the others. The decision remained unchanged. With or without the satellite phone, they would go in search of the ice station. As soon as they had repacked their equipment and provisions, they would make a start.
Chapter 15
"I THOUGHT THERE would be penguins," Sam mused idly. He was tagging along at the end of the column, where Professor Matlock and Jefferson Daniels were bringing up the rear. Mixed in with the soft whistle of the wind and crunch of their shoes, Sam heard the satisfying sound of Matlock's jaw grinding.
"For the last time," Matlock said, barely containing his annoyance, "we are inland. We are hundreds of miles inland, at the foot of a mountain range. Why on earth, Mr. Cleave, would there be penguins here?"
Sam scuffed his feet along the ground, or at least gave an approximation of doing so. Winding up Professor Matlock made him feel like he was fourteen years old again and getting a rise out of his teacher. "Dunno," he said. "Don't penguins like mountains?"
"They eat fish, you fool! How do you suppose they would feed themselves so far from the sea?"
"They could eat us," Sam suggested. "I'd do that if I were a penguin. Never mind eating fish, I'd be hiding out in the foothills eating lost expeditions."
"We're not lost."
"Then where are we?"
Just as Matlock was on the point of losing his cool completely, Jefferson stepped in and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Simmer down, Frank," he said. "I think Cleave's just trying to get a reaction. We all know we're not lost. We're not even that far from the campsite. I could still get us back there without even having to use a compass." He flashed his tombstone smile, evidently picturing himself as a movie star.
Sam waited until Matlock had finished grumbling and Jefferson was congratulating himself on a mediation job well done, then dropped in one last facetious remark. "I bet there's polar bears around here."
The explosion Sam was anticipating never came, though. It was averted by Alexandr calling the group together. They gathered into a rough circle, but as they shuffled into place Purdue hauled Alexandr aside and the two men began an intense conversation in heated undertones. Sam took the opportunity to chat to Nina, who had been up at the head of the party since they left the base camp. She was carrying one of the three metal detectors that they had brought, with Blomstein and Alexandr wielding the other two.
"How are you getting on with that thing?" Sam asked, pointing to it. "Found any buried treasure yet?"
Nina rolled her eyes. "Not yet, no. I don't know how far we're going to get with these things. We might be looking for a needle in a haystack here."
"How's that? I thought we were looking for an ice station? How do you miss that? Come to think of it, how come we're trying to find it with tiny wee metal detectors?"
"From Kruger's notes, I wouldn't expect to find it up here. There should be an entrance somewhere around here, but it's concealed. The ice station itself would be underneath us, built into the tunnels."
"So we're looking for a door?"
"Not quite. Well, kind of. If that's what we find, then that would be great. But no, the reason we're using these is that we're looking for the markers that the Nazis left here to claim the land. You know how you're meant to claim territory by sticking a flag in it, right? Well, that wasn't incredibly practical here—it would have meant getting people onto the land and faffing around with poles and suchlike. So instead, they did a flyover and dropped a whole lot of iron swastikas in lieu of a flag. Apparently we'll find the entrance wherever we find the iron swastikas. But I don't even know what size they are, or how many were dropped, or even whether they were definitely iron. So basically, I have no clue. But we're in the right place, so if there's anything to find—"
She was interrupted by Alexandr turning back to the group, waving them toward him while Purdue stormed off, closely followed by Blomstein.
"Mr. Purdue and I, we are in the middle of a slight disagreement," Alexandr announced. "I am of the opinion that the storm that kept us trapped for so many days is not finished with us yet. I look at the sky, I feel the quality and taste of the air and I believe that there will be more snow within hours, so we must make our way back toward base camp and be prepared to set up a temporary camp if necessary. Mr. Purdue, however, does not believe this. He wishes to continue. So he and Mr. Blomstein have elected to continue their hunt a little longer and find their own way back. As for the rest of us, we shall head for shelter and resume our search when the storm clears again. This way!"
Sam looked in the direction Purdue had gone. He and Blomstein had vanished into the snowdrifts, and Sam could see nothing but their footprints. If the crazy Russian guy wants to turn back, it must be pretty dangerous, he thought. I hope Purdue will be ok. He's a mad bastard too, but I wouldn't like to think of him freezing to death out here. Then he turned around and shuffled off in the same direction as the rest of the group, covering the ground slowly, restricted by the pace of the group's slowest member, Admiral Whitsun. The old man was coping well with the strenuous hike over the frozen territory. He was evidently in excellent shape for his age, but there was no denying that his exertions were taking a lot out of him. Getting him back to the safety of the base camp before he ran out of energy seemed like a very good idea.
"WAIT!"
They spun around to see Purdue lurching across the ice with his clumsy, gangling gait, arms flailing. Once again, Alexandr was first to reach him, but this time their conversation was short and characterized by considerable amounts of wild gesticulation. Then Purdue propelled himself forward, into the thick of the group, and ripped off his goggles to reveal his flushed, exhilarated face.
"It's over there," he yelled, waving madly. "We found the iron swastika! And I think there's a door, we can see it through the ice—come on! We've going to need help getting through this!"
He was clearly expecting the whole group to follow him at once, but no one did. They stood and exchanged confused glances.
"Dave," Nina said. "Are you being serious? You actually found an iron swastika?"
"Yes!" Purdue cried. "You could see it for yourself if you would only follow me!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him, and the rest of the expedition began to follow. Sam took up his usual position toward the rear. It was only now that Purdue claimed to have found something that Sam realized that he had never expected their search to lead to anything other than frostbite and frustration. Yet when they rounded the snowdrift, there was Ziv Blomstein holding a titanium shovel—and next to him, half-buried in the frost, was a large, crooked iron cross.
Within seconds, barely even aware of what he was doing, Sam had flung his pack to the ground, hauled out and assembled his own shovel, and rushed over to Blomstein's side to help him dig. Moments later he was aware of Nina beside him, thrusting her shovel downward with all her strength to break through the ice. Sure enough, beneath the thick layer of ice and frost and snow, they could see something that looked remarkably like a circular metal door.
Chapter 16
THE FIRST HOWLING gust of sleet-laced wind tore across the ice field just as Blomstein hauled the heavy metal door open. It groaned and squealed, but it swung open with surprising ease. A dark tunnel lay beneath.
"Jefferson!" Alexandr called over the mounting gale. "If I lead the way, will you see that everyone is in safely?" Jefferson nodded and waved a thumbs-up in response, and Alexandr bounded forward and seized hold of the ladder enthusiastically. In just a couple of seconds he had vanished into the blackness.
Nina was right behind him, scrambling eagerly into th
e dark. Purdue followed with Blomstein, then at last Sam saw a flicker of light down below as someone switched a torch on. He waved at Admiral Whitsun to go next, thinking it would be a good idea to get the old boy out of the storm. His instinct was to send Fatima down next, but when he made eye contact with her she shot him an amused look. Sam remembered then that she had far more experience in the Antarctic than he did and was much better equipped for all of this, so he closed his fingers around the metal ladder and began his descent.
By the time Sam reached the floor there were several torches lit. Their thin beams showed that the group had arrived in a tunnel with arching corrugated metal walls. Shuffling to one side to make room for the rest of the party, Sam bumped into a banister set into the wall. A little more shuffling confirmed that the floor sloped downhill. Above his head he heard the ominous clang of the circular door being pulled shut. He had never been claustrophobic, but for the first time in his life Sam experienced a pang of nerves at being shut in an enclosed space. He was not the only one. From somewhere behind him he heard a quickly-stifled whimper from Nina.
"You ok?" he muttered to her.
"Yes," she snapped. "I'm fine. Why shouldn't I be?" She shone her torch along the downward slope. "I think we should go this way," she called. "If we head uphill all we're going to find is another exit. This must be the way toward the main complex."
They filed slowly down the corridor, Alexandr and Nina at the front. The place had an odd smell of disinfectant, stale air, and dust, but the one thing that was missing was the odor of rusty metal. Sam directed his beam toward the walls and noticed that they were indeed rust-free. I wonder how that works, he thought. I'll have to ask Alexandr I'd have thought that if this place has been abandoned for so long it would be falling to bits by now. Ah well. I suppose we should just be glad that it isn't.
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