Ice Station Wolfenstein

Chapter 7

Sam lingered by the bookshelves in the Playfair Library, clutching his champagne glass as if it were a shield. From time to time, eager young research fellows would mistake him for someone important and attempt to strike up a conversation, at which point Sam would develop an instant fascination with the books that lined the alcoves. The sweeping central aisle had been designated as a dance floor, where Nina was allowing the head of the classics department to waltz with her while the string quartet played. Sam had no intention of being dragged out to dance, so he identified the optimum position for accosting the waiters who wove in and out of the shelves proffering drink and canapés, and remained there.

Nina scrubs up well, Sam thought, watching her swirling gracefully in the arms of the elderly academic. Her dark-red cocktail dress flowed as she moved, and she danced well. Sam found himself wondering about her. We've never really talked about anything other than the ice station stuff, he realized. I don't even know how old she is. Early thirties, I'd guess. I wonder what she's done with her life, other than have an affair with a married man?

He glanced down at his own attire. It wasn't full black tie — Sam had never owned a tuxedo and never intended to — but it was a suit rather than a pair of jeans. His shirt was ironed and he had managed to borrow a black bow tie from Paddy. He was clean-shaven for the first time in a long time, and he knew himself to look passable.

"Ugh, I hate dancing." Nina appeared at Sam's side, two fresh glasses of champagne in her hands. "Schmoozing is horrible enough at the best of times, when all you have to do is stand around and chat. But all the pawing… ugh."

"But you dance so well," Sam teased. "From what I could see, your footwork is much better than your conversation."

"Shut up or I'll tell them you're a gatecrasher and they'll make you pay for your booze," Nina shot back. "Oh, god, he's coming over — quick, pretend we're in the middle of a really intense conversation."

"What? Who is it?" Sam scanned the room and spotted a tall, thin man striding purposefully toward them. "Who's he?"

"Dave Purdue," hissed Nina. "He's one of the benefactors. At last year's ball he backed me into a corner and tried to get me to go home with him. I really don't want a repeat performance."

Sam did his best to look as if he and Nina were having a deep and meaningful discussion, but he found that his mind had gone completely blank. He began talking at random about the library, the Old College, the construction of South Bridge, anything he could dredge up from the depths of his memory. Nina hung on his every word, doing a good impression of being fascinated.

It did not work. "Nina!" Dave Purdue cried out as he approached. "Lovely to see you again!" Ignoring Sam completely, he took Nina's hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Hello, Dave," Nina said with a strangled smile. "Good to see you too." She detached her hand as subtly as she could and wrapped it around Sam's arm. "Have you met Sam Cleave?" she asked. "He's…" Nina's sentence ground to a halt as she realized that she and Sam had not prepared for this eventuality. Sam was tempted to help her out, but far more interested in finding out what she would say unprompted. "He's here with me," she finished lamely.

Dave Purdue peered at Sam with quizzical detachment. "Is he your lover?" he asked Nina.

"What? No!" Nina was taken aback. "He's a friend, that's all."

"Good," said Purdue. He appeared to consider the matter closed. "Did you say Sam Cleave?" he asked. "Of the Edinburgh Post?"

"That's me," Sam said. Might as well work the advantages while I still have them.

"How fortunate. I was hoping to meet you in the very near future." Purdue registered Sam's bemused expression. "Your paper's editor was in touch with me recently asking for an interview, since I have recently made Edinburgh my permanent home and he seemed to consider this noteworthy. I have yet to agree or disagree, but I had promised myself that I would allow it on the condition that you were the one to write about me. Will you do it?"

Sam was taken aback. "Thanks," he said, "but it's not really my decision to make. If the editor's been in touch, he probably has someone in mind. I just go where I'm sent."

"Don't spin me a line, Mr. Cleave," Purdue fixed Sam with a hard stare. "Bullshit is beneath you. I am well aware that you have a great deal of leeway at the Post. It's a piffling little paper and they know they are lucky to have you. If you want to profile me, and I want to be profiled by you, I doubt they will stand on procedure. Now will you do it?"

Sam shrugged. He was not sure whether he found this stranger's directness refreshing or irritating. Judging by the look on Nina's face, which she was trying and failing to conceal, she found him irritating. "Go on then," said Sam. "I might as well."

"Hmm. Good." Purdue gave a small, contented nod, then demanded that Nina join him on the dance floor. With a despairing look at Sam, she complied.

Sam had expected that Purdue would eventually leave them alone and choose to mingle with the other guests, but he was wrong. Purdue attached himself firmly to Sam and Nina and refused to be separated from them. Nina was clearly feeling the pressure of having to be nice to the man with all the money, and while Sam felt a little sorry for her he also had to admire Purdue's tenacity. He ignored any subtle hints about circulating and stuck close to Nina. Any suggestion that Sam and Nina might be planning to leave together went straight over his head, or at least appeared to.

Purdue's presence had a couple of major benefits, though. First, it kept anyone else from trying to engage Sam in conversation and absolved him and Nina of the need for any further socializing. Second, Purdue was clearly another heavy drinker. No champagne tray was allowed to pass without new glasses being collected, and Sam found himself beginning to get a little dizzy. Whisky he could handle, but his system was not use to champagne. He scrutinized Nina in case she needed help, but despite her petite stature she was holding her drink better than Sam was. Perhaps if you have to go to a lot of these things you build up a tolerance, Sam speculated. Either that or Nina just happened to be remarkably hardheaded.

Several glasses and increasingly clumsy dances later, Purdue suddenly announced that he wanted to go home.

"Are you sure?" Nina asked. "I know the dean of faculty was particularly hoping to speak to you and I don't think he's had a chance to catch you yet."

Purdue glared over at the dean. "Nonsense," he said. "If he needs to contact me, he can email me. I've had enough of crushes for tonight." He reached for his mobile phone. The device he pulled out looked the way a Smartphone might be expected to look in fifty years. It was smart and shiny, nearly paper thin. Purdue held it delicately in his hand and spoke into it. "Call driver," he said, then looked up. "There. We will be on our way shortly." A brief moment later it beeped in confirmation that Purdue's driver was indeed on the way to collect him.

"Now," he said, draping one arm around Nina. "All I need to make tonight perfect is for you to join me for a nightcap. Don't worry. I shall have my driver drop you off at home afterward."

Sam hurried forward, certain that Nina's look of apprehension was not motivated by concern about travel arrangements. He laid a hand on Purdue's arm. "Sorry, Mr. Purdue," he said gently. "But I promised Nina that I would see her home. I really can't let you…"

"Nonsense." Purdue's look of annoyance gave him the air of a discontented heron. "She will be perfectly safe with me. I shall make sure that she gets home in one—"

"Excuse me," Nina piped up. "I'm quite capable of seeing myself home. Thanks, Mr. Purdue, but I'm really not looking for anyone to go home with. Thanks all the same." She disengaged herself from Purdue's hold, but he caught her by the wrist.

"Forgive me, Nina," he said. "I believe you have the wrong impression. I am not asking you to join me for a nightcap because I hope that you'll sleep with me, although I would be delighted if you would. No, I am asking you because there is something I need to discuss with you and do not wish to do so here, surrounded by prying eyes and ears." Sam thought he detected a sidelong glance from Purdue.

"What is it you need to discuss?" Nina asked suspiciously.

"Your Antarctic expedition."

Nina gaped at Purdue. Sam caught himself doing the same. How does he know about it? he wondered.

"Now if you will come with me, I can discuss it with you."

Nina was torn. On the one hand, she clearly did not want to go with Purdue and find herself at a disadvantage, stuck in a strange place with a man who had been making his intentions clear all evening. On the other, she did not want to reject the possibility of help. As subtly as she could, she gave Sam a nudge.

"What? Oh, errr — yes." Sam stuttered. "Look, Mr. Purdue, I really did promise Nina that I'd get her home safely, so maybe—"

Purdue cut him off. "As the lady herself has said, she is more than capable of looking after herself. However, since you feel so vehemently about protecting her, why don't you come too? If you're going to write about me you might as well see my new place, and my driver can just as easily take two of you home."

So Sam and Nina found themselves in the back of Purdue's 4x4. "Less stylish than a limousine, I know," he said, as the driver moved aside to let Purdue climb into the front and take the wheel. "But you'll see why I prefer this when we get to my place. Especially if it keeps snowing."

Sure enough, a thin layer of snow had settled over the Old Town while they had been at the ball. The snow was intermittent, taking the form of occasional swirls rather than anything heavier, but Sam guessed from Purdue's words that they would be going out of town. Even on the cobbles of the city center, the four-wheel drive was proving its worth. Sam had never traveled in such a comfortable vehicle.

They wound through the city streets, sparkling with fairy lights as the tourists poured in for Christmas, then out through the quiet suburbs. Eventually they sped out of the city entirely, tearing along the main road toward the Forth Road bridge. I'm hardly ever out this way, Sam thought, but that's twice this month. This was the route he and DCI Smith had taken on their journey out to the retirement home. Only at the end of their journey did the 4x4 turn in a different direction, heading off the main road and onto a series of twisting dirt tracks.

"This isn't the actual road up to the house, of course," Purdue called back over his shoulder. "But it's by far my preferred route. I do hope you're both properly strapped in back there."

As the car swung gut-churningly off the main road, Sam noticed a light coming from behind them. He craned his neck to look behind and saw another 4x4 hot on their heels. "Is that other car meant to be following us?"

Purdue stared at his rearview mirror for a moment. "Yes," he said. "That's Blomstein. My bodyguard. Discreet, isn't he?"

"Has he been around all evening?" Nina asked. "I didn't notice a bodyguard at the ball."

"I asked him to keep his distance. He's rather imposing, and I didn't want you to think that you had no choice about accompanying me here."

Despite the car's excellent suspension, Sam and Nina were bounced about until their teeth rattled as Purdue raced along the dirt track. Ditches and potholes only encouraged him to go faster. "This is why I love private roads!" he yelled. "Welcome to Wrichtishousis!"

They rounded one last bend at high speed, then screeched to a halt before an impressively grand house. Sam guessed that there were about fifty windows on the front side of the central building alone. Other buildings sprawled out to the sides, but he could only guess at their function. Stables, perhaps? Servants' quarters?

He and Nina climbed out onto the gravel while Purdue tossed the keys to his driver and instructed him to come back when called to take the guests home. The driver nodded and took off again, steering the 4x4 around one of the adjoining buildings and out of sight. Blomstein, the bodyguard, simply swung his car into place in the driveway and left it there. As he climbed out Sam and Nina could see what Purdue had meant about Blomstein's presence making people feel they had no choice but to do as Purdue wanted. He was a tall, stocky man with scornful eyes, and his nose and cheekbones had clearly been broken several times. His jacket flapped in the wind as he stepped out of the car, giving them a brief glimpse of the gun in the holster at his hip.

"This way!" Purdue called, showing Sam and Nina into an imposing hallway. Staircases swept up the walls on either side, supported by elegant white marble pillars. Thick red carpet lined the floors. "The tour would take far too long," said Purdue, "so you will have to come back for that. For now, let's go to the conservatory."

Both Sam and Nina had pictured a small glass structure when Purdue mentioned his conservatory, but their expectations were far too small. After cutting through several large rooms containing strange, oversized sculptures, lavish modern furnishings, and discreetly concealed technology, they arrived in Purdue's library. "It's up here," he said, sliding open a hidden door to reveal a spiral staircase. They followed him up.

Purdue's conservatory contained nothing but the tiniest of plants. A painstakingly cultivated collection of bonsai trees was lined up against the back wall. The rest of the room was given over to large, luxurious couches, all arranged to face the windows. Even for a cynic like Sam, the view was breathtaking. South Queensferry was completely obscured by the woods surrounding Wrichtishousis, and beyond that lay the vast expanse of the River Forth, inky black beneath the clear night sky. Beyond that, the hills of Fife, impossibly white with snow. All three stood quietly, looking out at the panorama. Their silence had the muffled quality that only a snowy night can provide.

It was Purdue who eventually broke the silence. "I am glad that you seem to enjoy the winter scene, Nina," he said. "You'll be seeing plenty of it in Antarctica."

"What?" Nina whirled around and stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Have you changed your mind? Do you not still want to go? I believe you did earlier today."

Nina stormed across the room and slammed her fists into a sofa cushion. "That bastard!" she snarled. "It was Matlock, wasn't it? I bet he just couldn't wait to tell anyone who would listen about my stupid application."

Purdue crossed calmly to a section of wall and pushed it to reveal a well-stocked drink cabinet. "Professor Matlock did mention your application to me," he said. "But I have other sources of information. Now let me guess… a whisky for you, Mr. Cleave? Lagavulin? And Nina, for you…"

"Whisky," she said, "straight. But if it wasn't Matlock who mentioned Antarctica to you, who was it?"

"The important thing is not where my information comes from, but the fact that I have it. You are seeking a lost Nazi ice station. I find these things fascinating. I have never been to Antarctica, and for a man such as me this is a most serious omission. I have done most things, you know. I've leaped out of planes, I have climbed mountains, and I have taken submarines to the deepest parts of the oceans. I have a place reserved on the first commercial spaceflight. I've designed nano-electronics and software that you both use daily, though you don't realize it. I have made myself extremely rich. And yet I have never been to Antarctica. So I would like to join your expedition." For the first time, Purdue began to look less like a mechanized heron and more like a human being. In fact, he was beginning to remind Sam of a toddler becoming overexcited.

"Mr. Purdue," Nina said softly, "I wish I could help, but there is no expedition. My application for funding was turned down. Besides, I wasn't in charge of it. It was being led by Jefferson Daniels and the lead academic was Fatima al-Fayed."

"I am aware of all this, Nina," Purdue replied, settling himself on one of the couches with his whisky. "And I know that you are a friend of Dr. al-Fayed. So I have a proposition for you. If you can persuade Dr. al-Fayed to allow you, me, and a few carefully selected companions to join the expedition, I will meet the cost of the whole thing."

Nina stared at him. "Have I had too much to drink?" she wondered aloud. "No, scratch that — I know I've had too much. You're seriously offering to pay for the expedition on the condition that you can bring a couple of people along?" Purdue nodded. "Well," said Nina, "I'll have to think this through. This really isn't a decision I can make after quite a lot of champagne. And I'll have to ask Fatima. I'm sure she'll appreciate the offer to pay, but I don't know how she'll feel about having a group of tourists in tow."

Purdue sipped his drink, a contented smile playing around his lips. "Oh, I'm quite sure that when she considers the sum involved she will find it in her heart to accommodate us." He turned to Sam, who was trying not to doze off on the comfortable couch. "And you, Mr. Cleave — will you join me?"

"What, in Antarctica?" Sam laughed. "I can just see me thriving there. I'd get eaten by a polar bear or a penguin or whichever it is that they have there."

"I promise that you won't be eaten by penguins," Purdue said solemnly, "and there are no polar bears. We will need someone to document our adventures, and I feel in my gut that you would be just the man to do it, Mr. Cleave."

Sam was quiet for a moment. He rolled his head back to look at his surroundings. I'm sitting in a billionaire's pad, watching snow fall on the Forth and talking about a wee trip to Antarctica, he thought. A trip with this fucking weird billionaire, Nina, and a marine biologist or virologist or horologist or whatever she is. How the fuck is this my life?

"What the hell," Sam said. "Yeah, I'll come."