Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [21]
Schofield looked over at Libby Gant. She was over by the far wall of the dining room, examining the two white containers the Frenchmen had brought with them.
‘Thank you,’ Schofield said, turning back to face Petard. ‘Thank you for all you have done. We arrived here only several hours after you did and the people here have told us how good you have been to them. We thank you for your efforts.’
‘But of course,’ Petard said, his English fluent. ‘One must look after one’s neighbours.’ He offered a wry smile. ‘You never know when you yourself might be in need of assistance.’
‘No, you don’t.’
At that moment Snake’s voice crackled over Schofield’s earpiece: ‘Lieutenant, we have another contact crossing the trip-wire.’
Schofield frowned. Now things were starting to happen a little too fast. Four French scientists, he could handle. Another four, and the French were starting to show a little too much interest in Wilkes Ice Station. But now, if there were more of them –
‘Wait, Lieutenant, it’s all right. It’s one of ours. It’s Riley’s hovercraft.’
Schofield let out a sigh of relief that he hoped nobody saw, and headed out of the room.
Over by the wall of the dining room, Libby Gant was sifting through the two large containers that the French scientists had brought with them. She pushed aside a couple of blankets, and some fresh bread. There was also some canned meat down at the bottom of the container. Corned beef, ham, that sort of thing. All were packed in sealed cans, the kind which have a key attached to the side which you use to peel back the lid.
Gant pushed a couple of the cans aside and was looking for more beneath them when suddenly one of the cans caught her eye.
There was something wrong about it.
It was a little larger than the other, medium-sized cans, and was roughly triangular in shape. At first Gant couldn’t tell what it was that struck her about this particular can. It was just that something about it didn’t look right . . .
And then Gant realised.
The seal on the can had been broken.
The peel-back lid, it seemed, had been opened and then set back into place. It was barely visible. Just a thin black line around the edge of the lid. If you were only giving the cans a cursory glance, you would almost certainly miss it.
Gant turned to look back at Schofield, but he had left the room. She looked up quickly at the French scientists, and as she did so, she saw Petard exchange a quick glance with the one named Latissier.
Schofield met Buck Riley at the main entrance. The two men stood out on the A-deck catwalk, about thirty feet away from the dining room.
‘How was it?’ Schofield asked.
‘Not good,’ Riley said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘That signal we lost, it was a hovercraft. French markings. From d’Urville. It had crashed into a crevasse.’
Schofield looked up sharply at Riley. ‘Crashed into a crevasse?’ Schofield looked back quickly at the Frenchmen in the dining room. Only moments earlier, Jean Petard had said that the other hovercraft had arrived safely back at d’Urville.
‘What happened,’ Schofield said. ‘Thin ice?’
‘No. That’s what we thought at first. But then Rebound got a closer look.’
Schofield turned back around. ‘And?’
Riley gave him a serious look. ‘There were five dead bodies in that hovercraft, sir. And all of them had been shot through the back of the head.’
Gant’s voice exploded across Schofield’s helmet intercom.
‘Sir, this is Fox. There’s something wrong here. Their food containers have been compromised.’
Schofield spun around and saw Libby Gant coming out of the dining room. She was walking quickly toward him, carrying a food can of some sort, peeling the lid back.
Behind her, Schofield saw Petard, in the dining room, rising to his feet, watching Gant, and then watching Schofield himself.
It was then that their eyes met.
It was only for an instant, but that was all either man needed. In that moment, there was a flash of understanding.
Gant cut across Schofield’s line of sight with Petard. She had opened the can now and was