Cold War - Jerome Preisler [86]
“Any reason why I can’t come along? We could shoot right over Bull Pass after your last hop.”
Granger had anticipated the question. He pretended to think through an answer that had been readied well beforehand.
“It’d be fine with me,” he said. “But we’d need to head out together right away, so I can have time for everything. Figure you’d be gone from here at least twenty-four hours. It’s either that or wait until the blow’s over—”
Nimec waved an abortive hand in the air.
“Then we go now,” he said. “Otherwise, we could be talking about a holdup of almost a week. We couldn’t afford that kind of delay under any circumstances. But the bad weather puts us in a vise. If our people are still alive out there, they need to be pulled out.”
Granger nodded again. That was definitely what he’d figured the UpLink security chief would say. It was also very much what he had wanted Nimec to say. The sooner they were up and out of Cold Corners, the better. He couldn’t know precisely when the sabotage squad would show, or how their progress would be affected by the storm. He was, however, positive that Burkhart wouldn’t quit on his mission. It just wasn’t in his hardwiring.
“Okay,” Nimec said. “You mentioned there was something else on your mind.”
“Right.” Granger set for his payoff pitch. “Say we visit all the field camps and maybe have to deliver some canned food, meds, equipment, and so on. It would mean a few refuelings at Marble Point, plus back-and-forth loops to McMurdo for the requested supplies. That gives us a full slate right off the top. And like you said, we’re cutting it close. Working against the storm.”
“The bottom line being . . . ?”
“I can promise we’ll get to Bull Pass. But that twenty-four-hour timetable was just a guess. Depending on how many resupply drops I have to make, and when the blow hits, we might wind up having to stick around MacTown a few days before I can bring you back here. And I want to make sure you don’t have any problems with that.”
Nimec was quietly thoughtful. Megan had told him that Annie Caulfield and her small bundle of Senators had opted to cut their stay at Cold Corners to a few hours, overnight at the longest, and arrange for a return to Cheech before they found themselves snowbound. Meaning it was almost certain that he wouldn’t have the chance to see Annie again before she departed. Which was likely for the best anyway.
“No,” he said after a moment. “I’ve got no problem at all.”
THIRTEEN
COLD CORNERS BASE, ANTARCTICA MARCH 13, 2002
THE SQUAWK CAME OVER THEIR HEADSETS JUST AS Granger was about to release the chopper’s main rotor brake.
“Abort takeoff, Macbird,” the comm tech radioed over the base freq. “I say again, it’s all fliers down. Over.”
Nimec looked at Granger from the passenger’s seat.
“What the hell’s going on?” he asked.
Granger shrugged uncertainly, pushed his helmet microphone’s “talk” button. At the edge of the landing zone, a flight director was slicing his right hand across his neck in a throat-cutting motion. Granger watched him through the Plexiglas windscreen and felt a sudden crick of tension in his back.
“Rob, we got clearance from you not three minutes ago,” he said into his mouthpiece.
“I know,” the comm tech said. “And I’m sorry. This is an all-points travel advisory out of your home nest. NOAA synoptics show the storm’s accelerated on a north-easterly track. Present movement has it heading straight toward us over the Ross Shelf, and McMurdo says there’s been more strengthening to the system. We’re looking at a possible upgrade from Condition II. Over.”
Both men were silent in the chopper’s cabin. Its engines kept running. After a few moments Granger reached toward the instrument panel to cut them, then leaned back in his seat staring outward as the twin-turbine whine died away.
Nimec was still looking at him with a sunken expression.
“I don’t believe this,” Nimec said. His hand was balled into a fist against the metal frame of his window. “There