Colder Than Ice (4 page)

“Hopefully
it won’t take you all day to find it.” Allison’s withering glare halted
any further sarcastic comments from Rick. “What about trusts? Should we be
targeting these guys as well?”

Allison
straightened. “That could be a difficult task. There’s a heap of them and
trying to ensure the right ones are targeted may be more trouble than it’s
worth.”

“No,
it’s not really,” Dianne interjected. “It’s a matter of knowing where
to look. There’s a group called the Australian Philanthropic Society for
Educational Research and they list all the trusts, along with their aims and
objectives. Father’s a member of the society.”

How
convenient that must be.
Allison
nodded and smiled. “Great. If you two can look at the list and divide it
between you, I’ll get in touch with the Southern Hemisphere Antarctic Division
regarding logistic and legislative requirements for the excavation.”

Rick’s
eyes reflected his amusement at Allison’s restraint. “You might also want
to try the Archaeology Department at the Uni of New England. Weren’t they the
initial group involved in the McKinley expedition?”

Dianne
looked at Rick and then Allison. “What was that one about?”

Hah!
And you call yourself an archaeologist? Any first year student knows about
that.
Allison’s conscience again
kicked her in the butt.
Hmm, gotta stop going there.

“It
was an expedition first conducted in the 1980’s that involved excavating Sir
Daniel McKinley’s hut,” Allison said. “He was the first man to lead a
small team to the South Magnetic Pole. The information’s a little dated but
it’s a start point.” Dianne nodded. “I’ll need some time to get this
pack together. How about we meet tomorrow morning to nut out what we’ve got so
far? How does a working breakfast in the conference room sound?”

Rick
nodded. “Oh, great. I’ll bring the coffee.”

Dianne’s
perfect picket fence smile was almost too much for Allison. “Oh great!
I’ll bring the croissants and French pastries.”

Allison
nodded, like the head of a plastic dog in a car’s rear window, as she ushered
Rick and Dianne to the door.
Oh great! God give me strength.

OVER
THE NEXT six days Allison worked her small team hard and they met regularly,
providing each other with updates. Allison spent the time preparing a brief
that would satisfy Peterson, but as the days passed one thing became clear. The
information she’d gained from both the University of New England and the
Southern Hemisphere Antarctic Division highlighted the need to start detailed
preparation now, if they were to work in Antarctica during the upcoming summer
months.

Allison
started her planning by securing, in principle, limited logistic support from
Wills Station, one of three permanent Australian stations on the Antarctic
continent, and the closest to the dig site. She also received an e-mail from
Sarah Knight, advising her that the station’s tracked vehicle assets could be
relied upon for the transportation of the dig’s larger items. Despite such
support, a surface distance of nine days between the site and the station meant
her team would have to be self-sufficient. This would mean dividing among the
group the more routine tasks, while still maintaining a focus on the dig
itself.

She
also identified the need for any Antarctic team to undertake suitability
testing, to ensure they could actually operate in extreme conditions without
tragic or adverse outcomes. Allison checked the companies conducting such
testing and tentatively booked a fourteen-day camp in Mount Cook, New Zealand.

Allison
couldn’t help but wonder at the seemingly endless list of tasks. There was the
transportation of the team, their stores, and equipment to the white continent
to deal with. She had to establish the site, conduct the dig, and finally
extract the team and any artifacts in only eight weeks. Then when she had the
team and the artifacts home, she had to oversee the creation of an artificial
Antarctic environment to ensure the artifacts didn’t deteriorate in the
museum’s different climatic conditions.

After
the frantic pace of the past week, Allison’s presentation to Mr. Peterson felt
anti-climatic. She was grateful for Dianne’s smooth handling of Peterson’s
belligerent interjections. It was obvious to Allison that Dianne had worked on
her father before the project brief.

Allison
collected her papers as Peterson slammed the door on his way out.
“Two-fifths of the funding. At least that’s a start. Still, it seemed to
go a little bit too well, especially given the old, er, Mr. Peterson’s
objections last week. Rick, how did we go with securing private funding?”
Her stomach sunk at the look on Rick’s face.

“No
go on donations from the business sector. All the institutions I approached
have locked in their donations for the next financial year and have published
those bequests. To go back on their word would be very untidy. That, and the
recent economic downturn, meant they weren’t all that keen to part with any
more funds.”

Allison
shook her head. “Great. Is there any good news?”

“A
little. Financial donations might have been hard to come by but we’ve gained
some attractive material donations and sponsorship, including clothing and
accommodation contributions for the duration of our stay on Antarctica. Another
company has agreed to provide some specialist equipment and air fares to our
departure point if we get past the selection stage in New Zealand,” Rick
replied.

Allison
smiled. “Well, at least that’s something, but it’s not going to cover all
the expenses. What about you, Di? Did you manage to drum up any support from
Sydney’s social community?”

Dianne
shook her head. “It’s the same story as Rick’s. But I did get an offer
from the Double Bay Ladies Croquet Club to knit some lovely woolen socks for
the expeditionary.”

Allison
shrugged.
Great, just what
I
need.
“At least that’s
something. Please thank them and let them know we’ll be in touch. What about
the Trusts, any luck?”

“Same,
same. Wrong time of year. Those who were most interested are more focused on
seeing if they could fund an expedition themselves.”

Allison
searched her mind for any other funding options the team hadn’t already
exhausted and then it dawned on her.
That’s why the old bastard looked so
smug during the presentation. He knew that even if he committed funds to the
excavation, we’d never be able to fund the rest.
She forced herself to
refocus on the problem at hand. “What about a Government Grant? Surely the
State and Federal Governments would be interested?”

Dianne
looked down at her briefing points. “State Government, no. They suggested
that the discovery was one of national significance and should be funded by a
Federal Government Grant. I wasn’t having much luck with the Federal Government
either so I spoke to Uncle Conrad. You remember, he’s a Federal sitting
member?” Allison and Rick nodded. “He spoke with his party members
and they’ve agreed to fund our team accommodations on one of the Antarctic ice
breakers. We’ll have to pay for cargo space though. He didn’t think the Party’s
generosity would spread that far.”

Bloody
tightwad politicians. Of course they’d support the least financially draining
aspect of the journey. Then they could say they’d done something.
“That’s better than nothing. But where do we get
the remaining three-fifths of the funding before someone else galumphs us and
gets there first?”

My
Darling Charlotte,

It
seems days since I have been able to share my thoughts with you. The sea swells
I mentioned in my last entry developed into one of the most ferocious storms I
have ever encountered. The sea itself boiled in an ugly green anger, as if
affronted at our small craft’s incursion into its territory. The waves, like
towering mountains, were bigger than anything I have ever seen before. It was
not unusual for our little vessel to enter the trough of a wave, and for us to
look up and see nothing but water above the highest point of the ship. It was as
if the ship was no more than one of little Robert’s toys, being tossed about in
the frothy water of his bath at home.

Seasickness
then struck the crew. Although they were reticent to take even the smallest
morsel of food, I ordered cook to prepare a light meal for consumption at least
once a day. To lose one’s stomach and strength in such foul weather may well
have been our undoing. As for cook, he was magnificent. Regardless of his
seasickness, he soldiered on
—
I
bless the day I signed him to the expedition’s company.

Perhaps
the most tragic outcome of this horrible storm was the loss of six of our dogs.
The lashings on the deck could not withstand the force of the waves and sadly
the dogs were swept to their death. It was a terrible loss for the crew, but
thankfully the rest of us remain intact.

We
are in relatively calmer waters now and hoping for a safer passage for the rest
of our journey. God bless.

ERF

Houston,
Texas—2009

MICHELA
DEGASSER’S FOCUS on her digital tablet was broken by the arms that traced a
path down her shoulders before coming to rest on her chest. “Hey
there.”

A
soft kiss grazed Michela’s cheek.

“Hey
yourself. What’s keeping you up so late?” Natalie asked.

Michela
glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Is that the time? I didn’t
realize. I was looking at the
Antarctica Today
website. There’s a report
suggesting they’ve found the remains of an historical expedition, previously
thought to be a myth.” Her voice command took Michela to the pertinent
area in the article. “He’s an American called Finlayson and they’re saying
if the remains are genuine, then his would have been the first party to
actually have spent time on Antarctica.”

Natalie
ruffled Michela’s hair. “Still ruing not seeing a winter out on the
Continent? I thought your current job would occupy enough of your time.”

Michela
shrugged and shifted in her chair. “It wasn’t my fault my leg broke when
it did. Instead of my own studies into humans in extreme environments, I ended
up having to rely on the findings of others.”

Natalie
leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I don’t understand. What’s
this got to do with you?”

Michela
wiped an invisible speck of dust from the side of her digital tablet. “The
name of the glaciologist who made the discovery was mentioned and so I e-mailed
her. Apparently there’s a group in Australia attempting to mount an expedition
to excavate the actual hut and surrounds. But they’re struggling to raise
funds.”

“This
isn’t getting any clearer,” Natalie said.

“If
they manage to get the funding, Sarah, the glaciologist who made the discovery,
said the archaeological team would be going down to Antarctica for about eight
weeks to conduct the dig. It would be a great opportunity for me to conduct the
practical aspects of my Mars mission research. The Institute might even agree
to provide some funding.” Natalie abruptly disentangled herself from
Michela. Michela turned in her chair and looked at her. “What’s the
matter?”

Natalie
bitterly laughed. “How many years have we been together?”

“Four-and-a-half.
Why?”

“During
that time, how long have we actually been in the same location?”

Michela
sensed where the conversation, no argument, was heading. She stood and reached
for Natalie’s hand but Natalie backed away. Michela tilted her head and crossed
her arms. “Honey, you’re a model and I’m a psychologist. We’ve both got
established careers. We’ve always known that travel would be a part of our jobs
and that sometimes we’d be away from each other.”

Natalie
snorted. “That’s an understatement. We’ve spent less than a
year-and-a-half in the same location and I’m getting a bit tired of it.”

“We’ve
been able to spend a lot of time together lately,” Michela said calmly.
“Besides, you’ve had your fair share of trips away. Why don’t we sit down
and talk about it over a cup of coffee—”

Natalie
glared. “God damn it! I’m not one of your subjects. I’m your lover. Every
damn time I try and discuss something you make me feel as if I should be
looking for a couch!”

“I
do not. I’ve never spoken to you in that manner. And while we’re on the
subject, what’s this obsession with me being so far away from you?”
Michela unfolded her arms and took a step toward Natalie. “Regardless of
where I am in the world, it’s you I love. Do we need to be in the same place
for you to know that?”

Natalie
paced. “Hell, yes, I do! On top of never knowing when you’re going to
return, everything you do is damn dangerous. In Alaska you were nearly killed
by a Polar bear. And then there was Nepal and your altitude sickness, just so
you could assess the effect on the thought processes of humans. That trip
almost killed you.”

Michela
inwardly cringed.
But this is what I do.
“You’ve always known my
job came with the occasional occupational hazard. But, at no time has my life
been actually threatened.”