Deception Point (24 page)

As they moved farther away from the habisphere, Tolland felt a growing uneasiness. In his inflated suit, although warm, he felt like some kind of uncoordinated space traveler trekking across a distant planet. The moon had disappeared behind thick, billowing storm clouds, plunging the ice sheet into an impenetrable blackness. The katabatic wind seemed to be getting stronger by the minute, applying a constant pressure to Tolland’s back. As his eyes strained through his goggles to make out the expansive emptiness around them, he began to perceive a true danger in this place. Redundant NASA safety precautions or not, Tolland was surprised the administrator had been willing to risk four lives out here instead of two. Especially when the additional two lives were that of a senator’s daughter and a famous astrophysicist. Tolland was not surprised to feel a protective concern for Rachel and Corky. As someone who had captained a ship, he was used to feeling responsible for those around him.

“Stay behind me,” Norah shouted, her voice swallowed by the wind. “Let the sled lead the way.”

The aluminum sled on which Norah was transporting her testing gear resembled an oversized Flexible Flyer. The craft was prepacked with diagnostic gear and safety accessories she’d been using on the glacier over the past few days. All of her gear—including a battery pack, safety flares, and a powerful front-mounted spotlight—was bound under a secured, plastic tarp. Despite the heavy load, the sled glided effortlessly on long, straight runners. Even on the almost imperceptible incline, the sled moved downhill on its own accord, and Norah applied a gentle restraint, almost as if allowing the sled to lead the way.

Sensing the distance growing between the group and the habisphere, Tolland looked over his shoulder. Only fifty yards away, the pale curvature of the dome had all but disappeared in the blustery blackness.

“You at all worried about finding our way back?” Tolland yelled. “The habisphere is almost invisi—” His words were cut short by the loud hiss of a flare igniting in Norah’s hand. The sudden red-white glow illuminated the ice shelf in a ten-yard radius all around them. Norah used her heel to dig a small impression in the surface snow, piling up a protective ridge on the upwind side of the hole. Then she rammed the flare into the indentation.

“High-tech bread crumbs,” Norah shouted.

“Bread crumbs?” Rachel asked, shielding her eyes from the sudden light.

“Hansel and Gretel,” Norah shouted. “These flares will last an hour—plenty of time to find our way back.”

With that, Norah headed out again, leading them down the glacier—into the darkness once again.

G
abrielle Ashe stormed out of Marjorie Tench’s office and practically knocked over a secretary in doing so. Mortified, all Gabrielle could see were the photographs—images—arms and legs intertwined. Faces filled with ecstasy.

Gabrielle had no idea how the photos had been taken, but she knew damn well they were real. They had been taken in Senator Sexton’s office and seemed to have been shot from above as if by hidden camera.
God help me.
One of the photos showed Gabrielle and Sexton having sex directly on top of the senator’s desk, their bodies sprawled across a scatter of official-looking documents.

Marjorie Tench caught up with Gabrielle outside the Map
Room. Tench was carrying the red envelope of photos. “I assume from your reaction that you believe these photos are authentic?” The President’s senior adviser actually looked like she was having a good time. “I’m hoping they persuade you that our other data is accurate as well. They came from the same source.”

Gabrielle felt her entire body flushing as she marched down the hall.
Where the hell is the exit?

Tench’s gangly legs had no trouble keeping up. “Senator Sexton swore to the world that you two are platonic associates. His televised statement was actually quite convincing.” Tench motioned smugly over her shoulder. “In fact, I have a tape in my office if you’d like to refresh your memory?”

Gabrielle needed no refresher. She remembered the press conference all too well. Sexton’s denial was as adamant as it was heartfelt.

“It’s unfortunate,” Tench said, sounding not at all disappointed, “but Senator Sexton looked the American people in the eye and told a bald-faced lie. The public has a right to know. And they
will
know. I’ll see to it personally. The only question now is how the public finds out. We believe it’s best coming from you.”

Gabrielle was stunned. “You really think I’m going to help lynch my own candidate?”

Tench’s face hardened. “I am trying to take the high ground here, Gabrielle. I’m giving you a chance to save everyone a lot of embarrassment by holding your head high and telling the truth. All I need is a signed statement admitting your affair.”

Gabrielle stopped short. “What!”

“Of course. A signed statement gives us the leverage we need to deal with the senator
quietly,
sparing the country this ugly mess. My offer is simple: Sign a statement for me, and these photos never need to see the light of day.”

“You want a statement?”

“Technically, I would need an affidavit, but we have a notary here in the building who could—”

“You’re crazy.” Gabrielle was walking again.

Tench stayed at her side, sounding more angry now. “Senator Sexton is going down one way or another, Gabrielle, and
I’m offering you a chance to get out of this without seeing your own naked ass in the morning paper! The President is a decent man and doesn’t
want
these photos publicized. If you just give me an affidavit and confess to the affair on your own terms, then all of us can retain a little dignity.”

“I’m not for sale.”

“Well, your candidate certainly is. He’s a dangerous man, and he’s breaking the law.”

“He’s
breaking the law? You’re the ones breaking into offices and taking illegal surveillance pictures! Ever heard of Watergate?”

“We had nothing to do with gathering this dirt. These photos came from the same source as the SFF campaign-funding information. Someone’s been watching you two very closely.”

Gabrielle tore past the security desk where she had gotten her security badge. She ripped off the badge and tossed it to the wide-eyed guard. Tench was still on her tail.

“You’ll need to decide fast, Ms. Ashe,” Tench said as they neared the exit. “Either bring me an affidavit admitting you slept with the senator, or at eight o’clock tonight, the president will be forced to go public with everything—Sexton’s financial dealings, the photos of you, the works. And believe me, when the public sees that you stood idly by and let Sexton lie about your relationship, you’ll go down in flames right beside him.”

Gabrielle saw the door and headed for it.

“On my desk by eight o’clock tonight, Gabrielle. Be smart.” Tench tossed her the folder of photographs on her way out. “Keep them, sweetie. We’ve got plenty more.”

R
achel Sexton felt a growing chill inside as she moved down the ice sheet into a deepening night. Disquieting images swirled in her mind—the meteorite, the phosphorescent
plankton, the implications if Norah Mangor had made a mistake with the ice cores.

A solid matrix of freshwater ice,
Norah had argued, reminding them all that she had drilled cores all around the area as well as directly over the meteorite. If the glacier contained saltwater interstices filled with plankton, she would have seen them. Wouldn’t she? Nonetheless, Rachel’s intuition kept returning to the simplest solution.

There are plankton frozen in this glacier.

Ten minutes and four flares later, Rachel and the others were approximately 250 yards from the habisphere. Without warning, Norah stopped short. “This is the spot,” she said, sounding like a water-witch diviner who had mystically sensed the perfect spot to drill a well.

Rachel turned and glanced up the slope behind them. The habisphere had long since disappeared into the dim, moonlit night, but the line of flares was clearly visible, the farthest one twinkling reassuringly like a faint star. The flares were in a perfectly straight line, like a carefully calculated runway. Rachel was impressed with Norah’s skills.

“Another reason we let the sled go first,” Norah called out when she saw Rachel admiring the line of flares. “The runners are straight. If we let gravity lead the sled and we don’t interfere, we’re guaranteed to travel in a straight line.”

“Neat trick,” Tolland yelled. “Wish there were something like that for the open sea.”

This IS the open sea,
Rachel thought, picturing the ocean beneath them. For a split second, the most distant flame caught her attention. It had disappeared, as if the light had been blotted out by a passing form. A moment later, though, the light reappeared. Rachel felt a sudden uneasiness. “Norah,” she yelled over the wind, “did you say there were polar bears up here?”

The glaciologist was preparing a final flare and either did not hear or was ignoring her.

“Polar bears,” Tolland yelled, “eat seals. They only attack humans when we invade their space.”

“But this
is
polar bear country, right?” Rachel could never remember which pole had bears and which had penguins.

“Yeah,” Tolland shouted back. “Polar bears actually give the Arctic its name.
Arktos
is Greek for bear.”

Terrific.
Rachel gazed nervously into the dark.

“Antarctica has
no
polar bears,” Tolland said. “So they call it
Anti-arktos.”

“Thanks, Mike,” Rachel yelled. “Enough talk of polar bears.”

He laughed. “Right. Sorry.”

Norah pressed a final flare into the snow. As before, the four of them were engulfed in a reddish glow, looking bloated in their black weather suits. Beyond the circle of light emanating from the flare, the rest of the world became totally invisible, a circular shroud of blackness engulfing them.

As Rachel and the others looked on, Norah planted her feet and used careful overhand motions to reel the sled several yards back up the slope to where they were standing. Then, keeping the rope taut, she crouched and manually activated the sled’s talon brakes—four angled spikes that dug into the ice to keep the sled stationary. That done, she stood up and brushed herself off, the rope around her waist falling slack.

“All right,” Norah shouted. “Time to go to work.”

The glaciologist circled to the downwind end of the sled and began unfastening the butterfly eyelets holding the protective canvas over the gear. Rachel, feeling like she had been a little hard on Norah, moved to help by unfastening the rear of the flap.

“Jesus, NO!” Norah yelled, her head snapping up. “Don’t
ever
do that!”

Rachel recoiled, confused.

“Never unfasten the upwind side!” Norah said. “You’ll create a wind sock! This sled would have taken off like an umbrella in a wind tunnel!”

Rachel backed off. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

She glared. “You and space boy shouldn’t be out here.”

None of us should,
Rachel thought.

•   •   •

Amateurs,
Norah seethed, cursing the administrator’s insistence on sending Corky and Sexton along.
These clowns are going to get someone killed out here.
The last thing Norah wanted right now was to play baby-sitter.

“Mike,” she said, “I need help lifting the GPR off the sled.”

Tolland helped her unpack the Ground Penetrating Radar and position it on the ice. The instrument looked like three miniature snowplow blades that had been affixed in parallel to an aluminum frame. The entire device was no more than a yard long and was connected by cables to a current attenuator and a marine battery on the sled.

“That’s radar?” Corky asked, yelling over the wind.

Norah nodded in silence. Ground Penetrating Radar was far more equipped to see brine ice than PODS was. The GPR transmitter sent pulses of electromagnetic energy through the ice, and the pulses bounced differently off substances of differing crystal structure. Pure freshwater froze in a flat, shingled lattice. However, seawater froze in more of a meshed or forked lattice on account of its sodium content, causing the GPR pulses to bounce back erratically, greatly diminishing the number of reflections.

Norah powered up the machine. “I’ll be taking a kind of echo-location cross-sectional image of the ice sheet around the extraction pit,” she yelled. “The machine’s internal software will render a cross section of the glacier and then print it out. Any sea ice will register as a shadow.”

“Printout?” Tolland looked surprised. “You can
print
out here?”

Norah pointed to a cable from the GPR leading to a device still protected under the canopy. “No choice but to print. Computer screens use too much valuable battery power, so field glaciologists print data to heat-transfer printers. Colors aren’t brilliant, but laser toner clumps below neg twenty. Learned that the hard way in Alaska.”

Norah asked everyone to stand on the downhill side of the GPR as she prepared to align the transmitter such that it would scan the area of the meteorite hole, almost three football fields away. But as Norah looked back through the night in the general direction from which they had come, she couldn’t see a damn thing. “Mike, I need to align the GPR transmitter with the meteorite site, but this flare has me blinded. I’m going back up the slope just enough to get out of the light. I’ll hold my arms in line with the flares, and you adjust the alignment on the GPR.”

Tolland nodded, kneeling down beside the radar device.

Norah stamped her crampons into the ice and leaned forward against the wind as she moved up the incline toward the habisphere. The katabatic today was much stronger than she’d imagined, and she sensed a storm coming in. It didn’t matter. They would be done here in a matter of minutes.
They’ll see I’m right.
Norah clomped twenty yards back toward the habisphere. She reached the edge of the darkness just as the belay rope went taut.