Dead Ice

TWELVE

They settled the refugee inside one of the tents, and gave him a mug of steaming hot coffee and something to eat. His hands clutched the cup tightly. He held it close to his face, the warmth melting some of the frost that rimed his beard. He had fallen silent once they’d given him the food, his teeth snatching at it and gulping it down as quickly as he could. Every now and then he cast an eye at the others, fearful that they’d try and snatch it away from him. His eyes were still wild.

“He’s not a local,” Professor said as they stood outside the tent.

Maddock wasn’t quite sure what he meant by it, but said nothing. He was more concerned about how long it was going to take for the second set of scouts to report back. Every moment that passed made him feel a little itchier.

“His features are inconsistent with the people who settled on the island,” Professor continued. He fell into a comfortable — long — rambling speech about the Chukchi people who had settled Wrangel Island. Maddock switched off. Bitter experience had helped him develop a boredom filter; he knew the difference between the times when Professor had something interesting to say and the times when he merely trotted out something he’d learned along the way.

“Shaw and Lewis should have been back by now,” Maddock said, breaking the spell Professor had worked hard to weave.

“Chill,” Bones said. “Those two guys seem to know what they are doing.”

Maddock checked his watch.

They’d been back for more than half an hour, and even though their expedition had been cut short by the discovery of the wild man, it was still getting into the kind of time when they should have been able to see the guys returning across the ice at least. There was still no sign of them. It didn’t necessarily mean something was wrong, but no matter how experienced the two of them might be, it was harsh out there. A mistake could prove fatal, and that wasn’t even considering the Russians.

“We need to know who he is,” he said at last.

There was still a mission on the table. And while there was no reason to imagine that the old man was part of it, he couldn’t shake the sense that he was, somehow.

“Then Leopov needs to turn the thumbscrews,” Bones said.

The words echoed Maddock’s own thoughts. That was the reason the Lieutenant was here. Interaction. Translation. Time for her to start earning her keep. Use all the assets at your disposal, wasn’t that what Maxey kept banging on about. He turned to finding that she was watching him. He tried offering a smile. It wasn’t a natural look on him.

Leopov folded her arms across her chest, her gaze boring into Maddock. “So now you want my help?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Maddock said.

“It’s what I’m here for,” she replied, echoing his thoughts.

He glanced down at his watch. It was creeping toward the three hour mark since they’d sent the scouts out. That wasn’t good. They should have had eyes-on by now. They were going to have to go looking for the two scouts.

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

“If you say so,” she said, not exactly accepting the apology, as half-hearted as it was.

Maddock wasn’t focused on her reply. “I’m going to have to take another walk on the ice,” he said. “I would say you’re welcome to join me, Zara,” he said, deliberately using her first name for once. “But honestly, if those guys are in trouble out there I’m not sure what you can bring to the party.”

She took a deep breath, biting down on the objection, and nodded. He was right.

“Give me some time and I’ll have this guy’s life story for you. Anything specific you’re looking for?”

“You know the drill: where he’s come from would be a good start, how he managed to get here. Anything else would be a bonus. Willis is keeping an eye on him. We’ll leave him with you in case you need the extra muscle.”

“I doubt I’ll need him, but that’s fine. Just leave it with me. Now go bring those boys home, Maddock, while I try to get some sense out of the Russian.” She turned and headed inside the tent.

“You okay to take another walk?” Maddock asked Bones.

The Cherokee had been taking a load off by perching on the sledge. He was ready to move out in an instant. He had a single stretch of his limbs, arcing his back, then slung the rifle over his shoulder. “Good to go.”

Maddock turned to Professor. “Professor, see if the ship’s got a better fix on that location while we’re away,” he said. “We’re losing time.” He didn’t need to say anything else.

“Sure thing,” said Professor, and stealing a line straight out of Hill Street Blues, added, “Let’s be careful out there.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Maddock heard the unmistakable report of a single gunshot, though it echoed and folded around the mountains, seeming to roll like thunder for seconds.

Though he didn’t know who had fired it, or for what reason, in his gut Maddock feared that that gunshot would be heard all around the world.