Black Ice (24 page)

She took two stealthy steps over to the drawers and slid open the bottom one with infinite care. Taking out her small penlight torch, she shone the beam into the interior, shielding the light from the rest of the room with her body and running her hand beneath the assortment of clothes which had been placed there.

There was no sign of the missing chip.

She checked the other drawers one by one, and then slid each one right out so she could run her hand around the base to see if anything had been taped underneath. Nothing; the chest of drawers was clean.

Lauren crossed to the basin and checked behind the ceramic plinth, where a useful-sized cavity could easily have held something small, then she went through the items in the mirrored cabinet sitting above the sink, removing the caps of shaving foam and shampoo to check that nothing had been secreted inside.

Then to the bed, running her fingers along every inch of the metal frame, and sliding her hands underneath the sheets to see if there were any incisions in the fabric.

A sudden noise made her jump, her heart racing with adrenaline as she froze to the spot. But it was only Murdo, coughing fit to bust in the room next door.

Lauren continued the search, now focusing on the clothes and equipment which had been dumped in a pile on the floor. She worked her way through the assorted thermal gear, running her fingers along the seams, and then went through the boots and skis, again finding nothing suspicious.

She slid the chair across to the window and stood on it while she searched the curtain rail, then turned her attention to the small circular plastic fire alarm which was bolted high on the wall. Each of the rooms had these alarms, and, shining her torch on it, Lauren realised that there might be enough spare space inside to hide something away. She clenched the penlight between her teeth as she clicked the plastic cover off its mounts.

She shone the torch onto the workings of the alarm, finding that there was indeed something hidden inside the alarm case, but not what she'd been expecting. Lauren reached up and pulled the 35mm canister of film from where it had been jammed.

‘Now what the hell is that doing here?' she murmured, replacing the cover of the alarm and stepping to the floor. She looked the canister over, then put it in her top pocket. She had just slid the chair back into place when there was a slight noise behind her, a quiet footfall which turned her blood instantly cold. Before she had time to turn, Lauren felt the blow on the side of her head. It was powerful, feeling more like the impact of an iron bar than a fist, then Fitzgerald was on her, slamming Lauren's face into the top edge of the cupboard and locking a muscular arm around her neck.

‘You've made a big mistake,' Fitzgerald hissed, his grip tightening with terrifying force. ‘Intruders in the night get what they deserve.'

Lauren tried to struggle, but Fitzgerald had her arms pinned, her hands unable to strike a blow. The explorer increased the pressure, quickly reaching the point where Lauren could feel her windpipe beginning to be crushed. She tried to force her throat into a scream for help but could manage nothing more than a croak. No one was likely to hear them, she realised; the triple-insulated walls of Capricorn made for good sound-proofing, and Murdo, the nearest room occupant, slept like a corpse.

I'm dead, Lauren thought. I'm dead if I don't fight.

Lauren tried to twist her body, attempting to wrest herself free, Fitzgerald turning with her to hold the grip. She tried to kick back at the explorer's legs, to knock him off balance, but Fitzgerald was too fast to be caught out.

Lauren could feel her vision beginning to deteriorate as oxygen starvation cut in. She was being strangled to death and for long seconds it felt like there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Then she began to kick against the cupboard, smashing her foot against the panel so hard she splintered the plywood in her desperation to make some noise.

An age seemed to pass, Fitzgerald gradually increasing the intensity of his grip as Lauren began to black out.

Suddenly the room filled with a brilliant intensity of light. Lauren heard a brief flurry of footsteps and then felt Fitzgerald's weight slump against her as the meaty sound of metal against flesh resonated close to her ear.

Lauren, gasping horribly, forced herself upright, shrugging off the weight of the explorer from her back so that the unconscious body fell to the floor.

In front of her was Sean, trembling, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, a fire extinguisher in his hand. He helped Lauren to the bed, where she sat, her face bright purple, hyperventilating as her winded lungs gradually got some air and allowed her to breathe.

‘I thought he was going to kill me,' Lauren told him, looking down with loathing at the motionless figure at her feet.

‘But what were you doing in his room?' Sean asked.

‘I was looking for something. Something Frank and I thought he might have stolen.'

‘Did you find it?'

Lauren pulled the canister from her pocket.

‘No. But I did find this, hidden in the fire alarm.'

Sean took the film and turned it in his hands, immediately spotting the tiny scratched cross on the base of the metal roll.

‘Son of a bitch. That motherfucker stole my film.'

Then the realisation hit him.

‘God, I am so dumb … the pictures of the food and the drugs … I took a couple of photos inside the wreck.
That's
why Fitzgerald stole my film.'

49

‘What the hell's this God-almighty row?' A sleepy-looking Murdo was at the door in his pyjamas, staring in astonishment at the body of Fitzgerald where it lay on the floor.

Mel and Frank were not far behind him, followed by Richard.

‘What happened to you?' Richard asked as he saw the livid red bruising on Lauren's neck. ‘Has he gone crazy?'

‘He tried to kill Lauren,' Sean told him. ‘We have to immobilise him while he's still unconscious. If he comes round, we'll never hold him.'

The Capricorn team bent to the task, lifting the comatose explorer onto the bed. Fitzgerald let out a deep moan as they shifted him.

‘His arms,' Lauren managed to croak through her damaged throat, ‘we have to tie them, fast.'

Sean scanned the room. ‘What can we use? Frank? You got any ideas?'

Frank thought for a few moments and then disappeared to the store room. He returned with a handful of black plastic ties, the type electricians use to bind cables together.

‘I reckon these will do the trick,' he said, sliding one of the sturdy ties into its port until it clicked in place in a ring. ‘Try and break that.'

Murdo took the bracelet of plastic and tried to pull it apart with both hands. ‘You're right,' he said, red with the exertion of the failed attempt. ‘These are as good as handcuffs.'

‘Put three on each wrist,' Lauren ordered. ‘I don't want to take any chances.'

They placed the still-unconscious Fitzgerald in a sitting position against the headboard of the bed and spreadeagled his arms until each wrist was against a bed post. Then they clicked the plastic ties into position, taking care not to pinch the flesh.

‘He won't escape from that,' Frank assured Lauren. ‘He'll slice through his wrist before he'll break that plastic.'

‘What about his legs?' Sean asked. ‘He'll kick if he gets an opportunity.'

‘Tie them together,' Lauren ordered. Frank produced a length of rope, and a few minutes later the task was done, the explorer well and truly trussed up.

‘How bad is his head wound?' Lauren asked Mel. ‘Can you take a look?'

The Capricorn medic made a quick examination of the split in Fitzgerald's scalp.

‘He'll live,' she pronounced, ‘but he'll wake up with a serious headache.'

‘Should have hit him harder,' Sean told Lauren.

‘That's not helpful, Sean,' she snapped.

Lauren turned to the others, trying to sound rational even though her heart was still racing with shock.

‘All right. Someone wake up Carl. I want everyone to the mess room. I want to brief you on what's happened here, and we have to make a team decision on what we're going to do about it.'

They retreated to the mess room table, where Murdo rustled up hot drinks. Mel tended to Lauren's neck, putting an ice pack against the bruised flesh in the hope of reducing the swelling.

‘So what was the fight about?' Murdo began. ‘Was he trying to rape you or something?'

‘Take it from the beginning, Lauren,' Frank told her. ‘It's time they knew everything.'

Lauren breathed deeply to calm her nerves, then began.

‘We suspect that Fitzgerald might have deliberately sabotaged the satellite comms,' she told them. ‘There's a vital chip missing from the transmitter, and I was in his room trying to find it.'

There was a stunned silence as this news sank in.

‘But that's our lifeline,' Mel said. ‘Whatever was he thinking of?'

Suddenly, Carl was animated. ‘I bet this has to do with my manuscript,' he said. ‘I was due to e-mail the first fifty thousand words of my book to a publisher yesterday morning. Fitzgerald must have found out and decided to wipe out the transmitter.'

‘Bit of an extreme measure, wasn't it?' Mel questioned. ‘What's so bad about your book that he'd go to those lengths to stop you sending it out?'

‘All I've done is tell the truth,' Carl said, ‘but the truth and Julian Fitzgerald don't get along too well. Suffice to say that his glorious reputation will be taking a bit of a knock when my account hits the bookshops.'

‘So, if you're determined to get the story out, what's he got to gain by delaying it?'

‘He's threatening legal action. He's e-mailed his lawyer in London to get him to put legal pressure on my publishers not to go ahead. It all rests on the pre-expedition contract I signed before we set out. I suppose he's waiting for his lawyer to check the fine print.'

‘But surely he must have known Frank would spot the satcomm had been nobbled?' Murdo observed.

‘Not necessarily,' Frank told him. ‘We had no reason to suspect sabotage, at least not initially. It was only because we checked through the circuit diagram that we discovered the component was gone.'

‘And did you find the chip?' Mel asked Lauren.

‘Not yet. But as soon as we can move Fitzgerald to somewhere more secure, we'll go back in and do a fingertip search. But I did find a film which Sean lost at the beginning of the winter.'

The team turned to Sean.

‘I took a roll of stills on the rescue,' Sean explained, ‘and I tried to process them months ago. But the roll was blank, and I put it down to a camera fault. Now it turns out Fitzgerald switched the film for a blank one.'

‘Why would he steal your film?' Richard asked.

Sean looked to Lauren and got her confirming nod to continue. ‘Because I took some pictures which I believe might incriminate him.'

‘Incriminate him? How?'

‘There was an emergency box down in the plane. It was packed with food and drugs. One of my pictures showed all the wrappers and stuff.'

Richard was stunned. ‘You're wrong. There wasn't any food. We didn't eat a damn thing until you and Lauren…'

‘Fitzgerald ate the lot,' Sean told him bluntly, ‘while you and Carl were starving to death. Every time he abseiled down to the plane, he was feeding himself up.'

‘I can't believe it…' Richard was dumbfounded. ‘No one would do that … would they?'

Suddenly, Carl was making a curious muffled sound, a sniffling which Lauren at first took for tears, but when he raised his face she saw that it was laughter.

‘None of you have any idea,' he muttered, laughing insanely. ‘Fitzgerald only ever cared about himself. The man is not to be trusted, take my word for it. But Sean got a picture down in the plane? How beautiful … now we've got the proof. We can destroy him with that.'

‘Assuming all this is true,' Frank addressed Lauren, ‘what the hell are we going to do with him?'

‘He's dangerous,' Lauren said, ‘and he's violent. I don't intend to give him a chance to hurt any more members of my team.'

‘I think he's paranoid,' Carl told the group. ‘I've thought that for months. You can't let him free again … he'll really hurt someone.'

‘But how the hell are we going to keep him a prisoner in there?' Frank asked. ‘What about feeding him; what about when he needs the toilet?'

‘We'll have to construct something better,' Lauren proposed. ‘Frank, can you strengthen one of the rooms, reinforce it so he can't get out?'

‘I could do,' Frank replied after some thought. ‘I'd have to weld up some bars for the window, maybe plate up the door with some four-millimetre steel so he can't kick it out. It would take me a day or so, but it's feasible, yes.'

‘Do it. As soon as you can tomorrow,' Lauren ordered him. ‘We'll keep Fitzgerald tied on his bed until we can move him into something more humane. Meanwhile, I don't want anyone going in there. That room is out of bounds except to me and Mel.'

‘I have to tell my editor,' Richard told her. ‘Put the record straight about that bastard. To think I was setting him up as the great hero. How soon can you get the satellite link fixed?'

‘We're still missing the vital component,' Frank told him. ‘It'll take me another week or so to design a way around it.'

‘In any case,' Lauren added, ‘I'm not sure I want this story broadcast to the world when I'm just about to announce the results of the scientific work. We've already attracted too much sensational publicity thanks to Fitzgerald.'

‘But that's totally unethical … it's censorship of the worst kind. I
have
to tell this story. You
must
give me that chance.'