Thorpe's Candle

ON ICE

A blast of frigid air blew across the icecap like the vengeful sweep of a giant’s hand. The blizzard brought with it deep cold and driving snow. For two days, the OceanQuest recovery team hunkered down in their tents waiting for a break in the storm. When the sun finally returned, the removal of the ore was delayed while the entire camp dug itself out.

Before the recovery operation began, Skyler supervised the removal of Henry Bristol’s frozen body and had it stored in a packing crate inside a supply tent. The bodies of the pilot and copilot could not be recovered — the nose and cockpit of the DC-4 were crushed. The stolen Barclays half-million pounds were counted and repacked for transfer to Chief Inspector Walter Smyth when he arrived.

For two days, the Inuits brought the korium up a few hundred pounds at a time, placing it in large metal containers on the beds of the two trailers that originally carried the meltdown generators.

As the last of the ore was hoisted to the surface, Skyler stood alone inside the now empty shell of the plane. Earlier, he had discovered a carryall shoved into a small storage compartment — it must have belonged to one of the pilots, he thought. Inside he found a change of clothes, a half-full bottle of English malt whiskey, and an old rusty flare gun. Also some letters from a woman in a town in Scotland and a picture of a young girl, probably the man’s daughter. Skyler decided to give the picture and letters to Inspector Smyth. If the girl in the photo was still alive, she might want to know what happened to the owner of the carryall.

Taking a last look around, Skyler headed through the access tunnel to the hoist shaft. The gentle rain from the water table seepage and the muted suction of the siphon pump hoses were the only sounds inside the glacier. Flipping the lever on the control box at the base of the hoist rails, he heard a thump followed by the familiar hum as the mechanism started its descent.

Keying his two-way radio, Skyler said, “Hey, Mick, I think we're ready to shut down this operation and go home.” He waited a moment expecting to hear his partner’s husky voice bellowing back at him. There was only static. “Mick?” he said. Again, silence. “Just great,” He mumbled as he stepped into the cage that had clanked to a halt in front of him. He flipped the lever and the cage started up with a shudder.

It was a three-minute ride to the top. About half way, the water dripping decreased to a trickle and the light from the Greenland mid-day sun grew brighter. He flicked off his lantern and set it at his feet.

Skyler wondered if his radio might be broken as the top of the shaft appeared. When he emerged, he saw Gates and Dr. Bjoernsson standing just to the side of the shaft. They stared back at him with blank expressions, their hands clasped behind their necks. In the same posture of surrender stood Dr. Bjoernsson’s two assistants along with imaging expert, Billy Manners. Skyler shifted his gaze to Rainier Knebel and the group of Inuit workers. Each held a machine pistol — Knebel pointed his at Skyler.

“Nice of you to join us,” Knebel said.

“What the hell is this?” Skyler took a step forward then stopped.

“A change of plans. You and your crew won’t be going back to the coast with us after all. In fact, you’ll be staying here with your friend, the bank robber. Now put your hands behind your head.” He accented his command with an upward jerk of the gun barrel.

“So you work for Escandoza?” Skyler said.

“No,” Knebel said. “Just a concerned customer. I have a lot invested in Escandoza’s product and I’m here to protect my investment.”

“And you killed Jim Hurst, didn’t you?” Mickey Gates said.

“Ever heard the old saying, Mr. Gates, that when something appears too good to be true…” Knebel smiled.

“These are innocent people here,” Skyler said. “Let them go. You can do whatever you want with me, but killing them serves no purpose.”

“Of course it does. It eliminates witnesses.” He raised the barrel of the machine pistol. “Now, if you and your friends will be so kind as to get onto the hoist.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Bjoernsson said as the five men and one woman moved into the cramped cage.

“Enjoy the ride.” Knebel flipped the lever causing the hoist to descend. Then he said with a laugh, “Try to stay warm.”

He waited until the hoist had traveled the 80 meters and stopped at the bottom. Then he aimed his machine pistol at the junction box housing the hoist’s electrical connections, and pulled the trigger. In a quick burst, 9mm slugs ripped the box into a mangled mess. Finally, he walked over to the siphon pumps and turned off the power switch. The motors sputtered and died.

“Now,” Knebel said to the Inuits, “we have work to do.”