Colder Than Ice (3 page)

“Thank
you, Dr. Peterson,” Allison said as she inwardly cringed at her use of his
honorary title. “I know your day ahead is no doubt busy, but I was
wondering if you’d seen the papers this morning?” Peterson nodded.
“Then I’m sure you read with interest the story about the discovery of
evidence of the Finlayson expedition.”

“Yes,
I did. However the information provided was typical of the meat and vegetable
journalism of the newspapers of this country. Sensationalism, damned sensationalism,
that’s all they’re ever interested in.”

Rick
loudly blew his nose and Allison made a mental note to thank him later for
halting the old man’s rant.

“Unfortunately,
they very rarely give the full story and this one’s no different,” Allison
said. “As I’m sure you’re aware, in the late nineteenth century there was
a race between the civilized nations to see who’d be the first to explore the
Antarctic region. Captain Cook is widely thought to be the first recorded man
to sight Antarctica, or at least the edge of the ice pack in 1773, and Jules
Sebastian was credited as being the first person to set foot on Antarctica in
1840. However, no one had comprehensively explored or established an
exploration base on the continent. There’s anecdotal evidence that before the
turn of the nineteenth century whaling ships found themselves locked by the
pack ice, forcing the ships and their men to face a frigid winter in the
region. But, it’s generally agreed no one had spent any great deal of time on
the ice.

“In
late 1894 the delegates of the Sixth International Geographical Congress met in
London where it was universally declared that exploration of Antarctica and its
environs was the greatest geographic exploration still to be undertaken. The
congress urged that this should commence before the end of the century. At that
meeting was an eccentric called Eric Finlayson, who’d explored most of the
world’s continents. He was an unconventional type, shunned by American society
for his forward-thinking views on women and social democracy. It seemed a quirk
of fate that Finlayson should attend the meeting as he was planning an
expedition to Antarctica, one that supposedly left early the following year.

“Until
now his presence on Antarctica has been hotly debated. After his ship departed
from Christchurch in mid-August, he and his crew were never heard from again.
It’s widely believed the small ship perished in the southern ocean’s
treacherous waters, and that Finlayson never actually set foot on the
continent. The 1899 expedition led by Carsten Borchgrevink was thought to be
the first expedition to spend winter on Antarctica. That was until this recent
discovery.”

Alastair
Peterson narrowed his eyes. “If my memory serves me correctly, all the
drilling team found was wood. How could a piece of wood possibly be conclusive
evidence of Finlayson’s presence, if indeed he made it there in the first
place?”

Allison
forced herself to remain calm. Sometimes explaining anything to this man was
like talking to a petulant child. As she surreptitiously glanced across the
table, she saw the warning signals in Rick’s eyes and collected herself.
“Dr. Peterson, Antarctica has detailed maps which record all historical
sites on the continent. This has been made possible by the fact that expeditions
were widely publicized affairs. This, and the diaries the explorers kept, made
it easier to plot their presence. Given that remains of every other expedition
have been uncovered and duly recorded, it would be reasonable to expect that
the site discovered in the past few days is Finlayson’s.”

“Well,
Miss
Shaunessy, that’s all good and fine, and thank you for your history
lesson. However, what has that got to do with this morning’s proceedings?”

Allison
bit the inside of her cheek to check her verbal retort and arranged her papers.
Sometimes men can be so obtuse, or is it he knows full well what I want and
is just limiting for me to beg for it? Hold it together or you’ll lose the
battle before it’s really begun.
“If this is the Finlayson expedition
then its importance is tantamount to finding Hatshepsut’s gold, the Ark of the
Covenant, the discovery of Earhart’s final resting place. I couldn’t think of
any other organization more imminently qualified to conduct such an excavation
than the Flinders Museum of Australasian Exploration.”

Allison
nervously took a sip of water as an uneasy silence enveloped the room. She
tentatively glanced across the table at Rick and caught his quick reassuring
smile. Looking back at the head of the table, she was accosted by Peterson’s
squinting features, encased in a semi-opaque halo of expensive cigar smoke.

“So
let me clarify what it is you’re asking. You’d like the Museum to fund such an
excavation?” Allison nodded. “Have you any idea how much such an
expedition would cost? Or are you suggesting we cut one of the already agreed
upon projects in favor of yours, only verbally briefed, with no supporting
documentation, unlike the others presented today? And what about the logistics
of the matter? Going to Antarctica will require specialist training and
equipment, long before you even get close to what may amount to no more than a
wild goose chase. Furthermore, if my memory serves me correctly, under a
protocol ratified by the Antarctic Treaty, people undertaking research in Antarctica
must first prove they’re mentally and physically capable of actually operating
on the continent. Your project costs alone would be tantamount to cancelling at
least two of the projects on the table this morning.” He coughed through
the miasma surrounding him.

“I
think this would be a wonderful idea.”

Allison
turned her head and looked in shock at the woman beside her. Not once since
taking up tenure at the Museum had Dianne Peterson, the daughter of the
Museum’s Patron, supported her in any conceivable way. If anything, Dianne
often went out of her way to make things difficult for her. So
why is blimbo
so interested in this all of a sudden?

“What
is it with young people these days?” Peterson demanded in a booming voice.
“Dianne, do you think I’m made of money? This archaeological chasing of
rainbows would cost a fortune.”

Dianne
benignly smiled. “I understand that. But think how academic institutions
and society would regard the Museum. Surely such an undertaking has the
potential to attract more patrons to the Museum, which in turn would increase
its credibility in both national and international circles?”

God,
she’s good,
Allison thought.
She’s
clearly identified the critical vulnerability of this man and has him wrapped
around her finger.
Allison recognized the references to the Museum and its
credibility as a thinly disguised allusion to how Peterson’s credibility would
increase in society’s eyes. She knew that while Peterson had grudgingly been
the Museum’s patron for so many years, the main reason he held such a position
was the doors that it opened for him in political, business, and social
circles.
But why? Why is she so interested in this? I’d think that somewhere
a hell of a lot warmer would be more to her liking.
She glanced at Rick and
found him entranced by Dianne’s words.
Why doesn’t that surprise me?

The
room collectively held its breath as Peterson considered Dianne’s words.
“I’ve no doubt there’d be a lot of positive publicity, not to mention
first rights to any viewing of retrieved artifacts. However, Dianne, the matter
is one of economics. I simply cannot afford to solely fund such a venture.

“The
costs of this would be astronomical. But, I’m willing to provide in-principle
funding for two-fifths of the costs of the excavation.” He imperiously
held up his hand. “I want to see numbers; a more concrete proposition of
the finances involved. Then and only then if I agree, you may seek the
additional funding and make the appropriate press releases. If it proves too
expensive then the damned hut or whatever it is can remain down there for
another hundred years.”

Before
Allison could reply, Peterson stood, signaling an end to the meeting. Allison
watched as Dianne’s svelte figure followed behind her more rotund father.

Allison
smiled at the effect created by Peterson’s departure. A positively joyous
atmosphere quickly replaced the tense and businesslike mood of the room. She
watched as those around the table congratulated each other on their project’s
funding successes. She congratulated each team, in turn receiving offers of
support for her expedition. She acknowledged their support and then looked
across the room and sent a non-verbal cue to Rick that she wanted to leave.

As
they entered Allison’s office, Rick went straight to the top drawer of the
filing cabinet. He retrieved her secret cache of whiskey, poured a small
measure into the two tumblers, and handed one to her. He raised his glass in a
toast. “You know, you could talk the legs off a chair.”

Allison
winced as the liquor traced a mercurial path down her throat. She leant against
her table, silently yet begrudgingly acknowledging it hadn’t been her efforts
that had given her a foot in the door. “If I can talk the legs off a
chair, that woman could charm candy from children. The way she pressed her
father’s buttons, not to mention some of the other men in the room was
amazing.”

Rick
took another generous sip of the eighteen-year-old malt. “What do you mean
the other men?”

Allison
laughed. “When I looked at you, you couldn’t keep your eyes off her, nor
could anyone else, including some of the women. It was as if she’d bewitched
you all.” Allison contemplated the effect Dianne had on the gathering.
“In fact, maybe she’s not a blimbo at all. Maybe she’s that witch from that
old sixties television program. You know, the blonde headed one.”

Rick
chuckled. “Sometimes you make me laugh. I look at a number of women and
yet Di always seems to get under your skin. You’re seeing things. I think that
whiskey’s already gone to your head.”

“No,
I’m not, but it’s a little early for this stuff, no matter how good it
is.” Allison returned the bottle to its hiding place and sat down behind
her desk. She scratched a small spot above her eyebrow, an unconscious habit
when she couldn’t figure something out. “So why did she decide to support
my proposal? She’s never done that before.”

Rick
shrugged. “I don’t know, but obviously she’s interested in the project.
Who knows, maybe it’s her goal to go to Antarctica and look at the geology
there. Apparently the formations are quite amazing, not to mention among the
oldest in the world.”

“If
she hadn’t been there, I’ve no doubt Peterson would’ve refused the project
outright.”

Rick
nodded. “If we’re to have any chance of success with your proposal then
she’s going to have to be part of the project team.”

“You’ve
got to be kidding. You know what we’re like when we’re put together. I don’t
know if I could put up with her moods on a regular basis. It’s bad enough when
I only see her for a few hours every day.”

Rick
held up his hand. “That may be the case, but face facts. Do you want to
get this project off the ground?” Allison nodded. “If you want to
succeed then you have to ensure you minimize any potential hurdles, and this
includes a possible about face by the old man. Di may be the key to ensuring
this doesn’t happen.”

Allison
objected to the idea but she could see the inherent sense in Rick’s words.
She’d worked with difficult people before so, at least, she was in practice.
She picked up the phone. “B…er Di, it’s Alli. Do you have a minute? Rick
and I are in my office brainstorming the proposal for the Finlayson Project and
we were wondering if you were free to join us? Great. We’ll see you in a tic.
Bye.” She hung up and smiled at Rick. “There, I did it.”

Rick
smugly grinned. “Yeah, but how long can you remain level-headed about the
whole thing?” Allison’s answer was belayed by a knock on the door. Dianne
entered without waiting for a response.

Allison
joined the two at her small coffee table. She silently laughed as Rick
gallantly offered Dianne a chair. “Di, thanks very much for supporting me
this morning. It was really touch and go there for a while.”

Dianne
graciously tilted her head. “No problem. I was very excited by the
discovery and think it would be a great project for the Museum. So how do we
tackle what needs to be done? Father said he was keen to see something in
writing by Monday week and that leaves us six working days.”

Allison
bit her tongue over Dianne’s use of “we.”
I haven’t even asked her
to join the group and yet she’s already trying to run the damn thing!
“I
think the rule here will be divide and conquer. I’ll work on the written
proposal if you, Di, can canvass your social contacts regarding possible
funding. Rick, you can work on the academic contacts and see if we can get any
from those groups. In fact, both of you should work together to avoid any
possibility of doubling up. I want this to look as professional as possible.
I’ll work on a short presentation brief that could be used to explain the aim,
objectives, and outcomes of the expedition.”

Rick
nodded. “How soon could you have the briefing pack complete?”

Allison
stood up and went to her bookcase. “My Doctoral papers are here somewhere.
They contain the Finlayson information.” She knelt and attempted to pull a
well-lodged wad of notes from her overflowing bookcase. “On one of these
shelves is also the funding proposal I did during my first year here for the
refurbishment of the south wing. Now if I can only lay my hands on it.”