Colder Than Ice (7 page)

Hi
Sarah

I’ve
got great news! I’ve met with the CEO of Finlayson Enterprises and it so
happens she’s the grandchild of THE Finlayson. She’s agreed to fund the
remaining two-fifths, so now it’s only a matter of coordinating things with the
Flinders Museum.

I’ve
been in touch with Dr. Shaunessy about the initial $100,000 from my Institute
and she was very grateful. But there are some conditions to the Finlayson
Enterprises donation, which I’m sure she won’t be terribly happy about. I think
I’ll give it some thought before I e-mail her. At last, I can feel it coming
together!

Regards,

Michela

She
touched the send button and then called home. No answer. Disappointed, she
returned the PDA to her jacket pocket.
Natalie must still be at work.
Michela
picked up her briefcase and went into the lounge area. After grabbing a bite to
eat, she made herself comfortable for the long wait before her flight.

GIVEN
THE LATENESS of her return, Michela wasn’t surprised to find a darkened house.
She quietly closed the door behind her, put her briefcase and overnight bag on
the couch and went up the stairs. She smiled in relief at the muted glow
emanating from the door to their bedroom. She tiptoed down the wooden-floored
hallway, opened the door and absorbed the scene before her.

“Frederick.
I’m certain when I told you to keep abreast of things over the next few days I
wasn’t referring to my partner. And Natalie, what a surprise. It seems you
weren’t so lonely during my absences after all.” Before either body on the
bed could respond Michela turned and trotted down the stairs. She grabbed her
overnight bag on her way out the door and walked into the moonless night.

My
Darling Charlotte,

After
being tossed around like a cork in a bathtub, it was wonderful to again stand
on solid ground. We are ten days into our journey and yesterday morning we
awoke to the comforting view of Macquarie Island. It is a rather barren place.
However, after sailing on churning seas, it was a pleasant interlude. Using our
rowing boats we were able to step onto the shores of the island, with no one to
greet us excepting the penguins. You would love them my dear; with their small
wings and predominantly black and white coloring
—
they look like gentlemen dressed for dinner. There
are some amazing varieties among them; one possessing a crested plumage on its
head, making it look as if it wore a wonderful wig or, as was the case with one
small bird, as if he had flared eyebrows.

They
share the beach with sea lions and seals and it is no surprise this Island
attracts the oilers that it does, collecting seal oil from these innocents. Of
course, I cannot complain too readily, considering a complement of my fuel is
just that.

Tomorrow
we will put this small interval behind us and set sail for Antarctica. I am
sincerely hoping the weather is kinder to us this time, for I don’t know if the
crew could take any more of the horrendous seasickness they have suffered
through so far.

My
thoughts again go out to you and Robert. Take care, my love,

ERF

Houston,
Texas—2009

THE
SHRILL RINGING of the cell interrupted Michela from her work. “Hello,
Michela speaking.”

“Hey,
sis, how’s everything going?”

Michela
smiled at the sound of Christine’s voice. “They’re going as fine as could
be expected. I’ve spoken with my lawyer and he’s currently discussing the
settlement with Natalie’s lawyer.”

Christine
let out a mock cheer. “I’m glad to see you’ve learnt from your last break
up. I can’t believe you walked out and left that other woman everything.”

“There’s
a lot more to this relationship, especially from a material perspective. My
lawyer’s preliminary meeting with Natalie’s lawyer indicates she’s still hoping
for a reconciliation.”

“You’ve
got to be joking. Surely she can’t think that you’re willing to take her back.
Or are you?”

Michela
collapsed into a chair and dragged her fingers through her hair. “No,
definitely not. I know that over the past few months things weren’t good
between us, but after this I don’t think I could ever trust her again. I expect
the possible Antarctica trip may well have been the excuse she was looking
for.”

“So
how are the preparations going? Have you heard from Australia yet?”

Michela
looked across the room at her digital tablet, aware she was woefully behind in
answering the e-mails that sat in her inbox. “To tell you the truth, I
haven’t been in touch with them. I’ve been so busy with this thing.”

“I’ll
let you get back to it then. Make sure you let me know if you’re about to
disappear on another of your trips. Okay?”

“No
problem. I’ll drop you an e-mail as soon as I know.” Over the telephone
came the sound of an intercom calling Christine’s name.

“Sorry,
sis, I’m being paged. You know what it’s like. No rest for us surgeons.”

“I
thought the saying was no rest for the wicked. I’ll talk to you later. Take
care.”

Michela
walked to her digital tablet, sat down, and reviewed the messages in her inbox.
There were a number of increasingly insistent notes from Sarah, the last one a
short note, asking Michela if she’d dropped off the face of the earth.

For
the first time in days Michela laughed. She composed a quick reply.

Hi
Sarah,

I’m
sorry I’ve been off-line for a while. There have been some personal issues I
had to take care of. Re whether I’ve spoken to Dr. Shaunessy since my trip to
New York, no I haven’t. But it’s on my short list of things to do today.

I’m
happy to hear Dr. Shaunessy’s offered you a position on the expedition. It
would be great to finally meet you and discuss a few issues over coffee (or
something stronger)—not the least of which is one of the conditions surrounding
Ms. Finlayson providing the additional funds.

I’ll
make this e-mail short so I can check what the good doctor has to say. I’ll
keep you posted.

Regards,

Michela

She
touched the send button and shook her head.
This project is difficult enough
with today’s technology. I’ll never understand how they ever got an expedition
off the ground over a hundred years ago. What a nightmare.
She opened the
e-mail from the Flinders Museum. It was a quick message from Allison, asking
Michela whether she’d had any success with Ms. Finlayson. Michela closed her
eyes and groaned.
I
just know she’s not going to like what I’m going
to tell her. Can this week get any worse?
She checked her world clock and
found it was morning in Australia.

Good
morning Dr. Shaunessy,

My
apologies in not getting back to you sooner but I had some immediate personal
business to see to. You’ll be pleased to know that Ms. Finlayson has agreed to
funding the remaining $200,000 and I’ll be speaking with a representative from
her company regarding the arrangements for the money.

Unfortunately
her donation is conditional. She’s asked that should you find the body of her
ancestor that he be returned to her. The second condition is that I lead the
expedition. I would have preferred to discuss this with you in person, however
distances make this a little difficult. Rest assured that I see this position
as one of managerial oversight only and do not intend to interfere with the
actual dig.

I
look forward to your reply,

Michela

Hoping
she’d explained herself without sounding too abrupt, Michela sent the message
and then settled down to answer the remaining messages in her inbox. She was
two-thirds of the way through the task when her phone beeped.

“Dr.
DeGrasse, it’s Eric Stephenson. I’ve just had another meeting with Natalie’s
lawyer and it seems they’re ready to sign the settlement papers. Would you be
available this afternoon?”

Michela
looked at the digital tablet’s screen. “I do have a bit of work to do, but
I’d really like to get this over and done with. Did they suggest a time?”

“They’d
like to meet at two. Does that suit?”

Michela
looked at her watch. An hour to travel what was only a small distance, at least
practically, if not emotionally. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll see you
then.”

Michela
hung up, went upstairs to change, and prepared herself for another painful
closure in her life.

Sydney,
Australia—2009

ALLISON
PICKED UP her stress ball and launched it at her door. “For Christ’s
sake!”

Rick
Winston ducked and just managed to avoid the forcefully thrown missile.
“What’s wrong?” He picked up the sponge ball and placed it on
Allison’s desk.

Allison
furiously pointed at the digital tablet’s screen. “We’ve got the
money.”

“That’s
great news.” Rick looked at the firm line of Allison’s mouth and the scowl
on her face. “It’s not?”

“We
only get it if DeGrasse can head the expedition.” Allison turned the
screen. “Here, read for yourself.”

Rick
scanned the e-mail. “I think she’s made it clear that she sees the role as
only a coordinating one.”

“That’s
not the point. She’s a bloody psychologist and has no experience in leading an
archaeological dig,” Allison said with a pout.

Rick
laughed. “I think you’re forgetting something here. Correct me if I’m
wrong, but it’s the $300,000 she’s managed to get that’s allowing the dig to
get off the ground.”

Allison
shook her head. “That’s not the point. This is my dig.”

Rick
laid a soothing hand on Allison’s arm. “Be reasonable. You might see
yourself as the leader. But you’d be the leader of nothing if she hadn’t gained
the additional funds.”

Frustrated,
Allison slapped Rick’s hand. “Damn it, Rick. Can’t you humor me and be on
my side for once? I hope this bloody Yank doesn’t turn the whole thing into a
social experiment.”

Rick
stepped away, rubbing his hand where Allison had hit him. “Oh, for
heaven’s sake, Alli, grow up. I doubt she’s going to make it anything like
that. In fact, I’d be surprised if half the time you know she’s even
there.” He turned to leave.

“Where
are you going?”

“Di
and I have to go over to Greeton’s and pick up the first of the equipment for
New Zealand training. We shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.”

Allison
crossed her arms. “So it’s Di now. What happened to blimbo?”

Rick
tilted his head to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “I give up,” he
muttered and closed the door behind him.

Allison
again picked up the stress ball and threw it at the closing door, gaining
satisfaction as it hit the polished wood with a resounding thud.

Houston,
Texas—2009

MICHELA
POURED HERSELF a glass of red wine and went to her digital tablet. The
meeting hadn’t been as bad as she expected it to be.

She
worked through the messages in her inbox and cringed when she saw the response
from Dr. Shaunessy.

Dr.
DeGrasse,

You
can imagine my surprise at your last e-mail. I accept Ms. Finlayson’s
conditions but I believe we need to be clear where your delineation of
responsibility lies. As you’ve already mentioned, your role as leader will be
purely managerial. The oversight of the dig is my responsibility.

We
will only be a team of eight. As well as your research and oversight, you’ll be
expected to help with everyday tasks. Hopefully you won’t mind getting your
hands dirty.

There’s
also a legislative requirement for any group going to Antarctica to undertake
training prior to arrival on the continent. I’ve approached the Christchurch office
of the Southern Hemisphere Antarctic Division and they’re willing to provide
their training location near Mount Cook in about two week’s time. Regardless of
Ms. Finlayson’s donation, if you’re to be part of the team you’ll have to
attend this training. The rest of the team will look at meeting at 2.00 pm, New
Zealand time, Friday 8 May at Christchurch Airport. You should meet us there.

Regarding
e-funds transfer, I’ve placed at the bottom of this e-mail an electronic
encoder that will allow you to access the expedition account. If you’ve any
problems operating this, let me know.

Dr.
Allison Shaunessy

Michela
snorted at Allison’s officious response. It was obvious from her words that
Allison had assumed she’d be the team leader.
So you’ll accept
Ms.
Finlayson’s
conditions. When should I point out that if you didn’t, you officious twit,
then this expedition wouldn’t be going anywhere.
She shook her head at the
direction regarding the training requirements in New Zealand.
So, Drill
Sergeant Shaunessy, I’m to report at 1400 hours and no later, to Christchurch
Airport in order to undertake my induction training? If your last e-mail is
anything to go by then two weeks at Mount Cook is just going to be a ball.