Authors: Bob Mayer
Conner shook her head. "I don't have them yet."
Lallo and Kerns exchanged a look. The older man spoke very carefully. "Ms. Young, may I say something?"
She nodded.
"We're going to be working together for ten days. Now, I know this is probably a very important story to you, since you're new here. Tom and I... well, we want to help you out as much as possible. For this to work, you've got to tell us everything. That goes from the day-today stuff to the story. The better we understand how you are approaching the story, the better we can help you with the shots and the sound. We're all a bit behind the power curve here because we got notified of this tasking less than an hour ago, so you're going to have to bear with us a little bit."
Vickers agreed, pointing at the screen. "Mister Lallo is right about the location. This is a very big area."
Conner tapped the map. "We're pretty certain that the base is to the south or east of McMurdo Station." Her long, manicured finger swept across a large white area labeled Ross Ice Shelf and came to rest on the far side. "It's probably somewhere here in the Transantarctic Mountains or in Marie Byrd Land. Maybe even in the vicinity of a base that was abandoned in 1972: Byrd Station, located right here." Her finger was resting in the middle of what appeared to be a vast expanse of nothingness. She'd studied the map; based on what Devlin had told her and her own common sense, this was the best she could come up with.
"We will be met in New Zealand by an expert on Antarctica, and with his help, and the information we do have, I feel certain we'll find the base. We have four days from arriving at McMurdo, and we will have access to a plane from Our Earth the entire time to help us in the search."
Lallo nodded slowly. "Can I add something else, Ms. Young?"
Conner considered him for a long second and then nodded.
Lallo leaned forward in his seat. "I know you're new here, but I've been on this kind of fishing expedition before. Sometimes Mr. Parker seems to get a wild hair up his ass, and he sends a news team out on some crazy story. Most of the time they come up with nothing, but every once in a while they hit pay dirt." Vickers turned to his young partner, Kerns. "Tom, remember Mexico?"
The soundman put his hands over his eyes. "Oh, God! Don't remind me. I still have nightmares about that."
"What happened in Mexico?" Conner inquired.
"We went down there because someone had some information—or so they claimed—about the lost treasure of Cortez," Lallo explained. "We spent two whole weeks crawling through jungle and climbing mountains. Tom damn near had a heatstroke hauling his gear."
"Yeah, but at least we still have a job," Kerns threw in.
Lallo agreed. "Correct. That poor reporter we went with—what was his name? Hornacek or something? Anyway, Parker fired his ass the moment we got off the plane for coming back with nothing. That man uses people like sponges."
Conner looked at the map once more and turned back to the room with a big smile. "Well, you won't have to worry about heatstroke this time." She pulled the itinerary out of a folder. Time for business—not war stories. "We depart from Atlanta at six this evening. Nonstop to San Francisco. Then from there to ..." Conner ignored the dismayed look on all three men's faces as she ran through the brutal travel schedule. "If all goes as planned, we arrive at Auckland International on Saturday evening at seven. From there we will be met by a representative of Our Earth, who will arrange transportation down to their base in the Antarctic."
She put down that piece of paper and picked up another, a copy of which she handed to each man. "This is the list of equipment I want brought." She looked around. "Are there any questions?"
Three heads indicated negatively. Conner felt good for the first time in a while. She was in charge, and that always gave her confidence.
N
EW
Y
ORK,
N
EW
Y
ORK
The aide to the North Korean ambassador to the United Nations looked through the printout, as he did every day, seven days a week, every week of the year, marking the lines with highlighters. Blue meant forward to higher headquarters; green meant requires more information before forwarding; and yellow, no significance and delete.
Three-quarters of the way through the printout a four-line entry caught his attention:
News team to be dispatched 1130Z, 26th, from Atlanta to Antarctica to investigate report of U.S. Army base constructed there circa 1971. Code name of base: Eternity Base.
The aide reread the lines again. He was intrigued—as much by what wasn't mentioned in those four lines as what was. If his agent at SNN, Loki, had more information on Eternity Base, it would have been included. The lack of information meant that this was the first mention of Eternity Base that Loki had come across. Most interesting. The aide used his green marker and moved on to the next item.
Chapter Seven
A
TLANTA,
G
EORGIA
Conner crossed and uncrossed her legs. She was already feeling cramped and they hadn't even boarded yet. She turned her attention to the portable computer on her lap. She'd spent most of the afternoon packing and checking with Stu and hadn't had a chance to run through the data Miss Suwon had given her. With twenty hours in the air, she would have plenty of time to examine it all in depth and try to condense the copious amount of information into a usable format. For now, she was fascinated with the history of Antarctica, something that hadn't been taught in school. A continent without any native population didn't lend itself to inclusion in standard courses.
The lesson was interrupted as they were called to board. As soon as she'd checked the tickets, Conner had noted that they were traveling economy class. She had a feeling that the long hand of Louise Legere would follow them throughout this journey.
Conner followed the crowd onto the plane, slipping between businessmen hanging their suit bags and grabbing pillows. She claimed the window seat, Keith Vickers the one next to her. After they took off, she reopened her laptop and went back into the history of the seventh continent. By the time they were cruising west at 35,000 feet, she was totally engrossed, and the miles passed below, unnoticed.
E
AST
S
T.
L
OUIS,
I
LLINOIS
Sammy had been regaining consciousness for brief interludes over the past hour, but every time she approached lucidity, a large wave of blackness had again engulfed her. This time, though, as she opened her eyes, she could actually think. Vague memories flitted about her brain, trying to tell her something had happened over the past several hours that she needed to recall, but try as she might, no concrete memory would form. There were disturbing visions that seemed like very bad dreams, but as she took in her surroundings, the present nightmare banished thoughts of the immediate past.
With slow sweeps of her eyes, she checked out the situation. She was lying on the floor in a filth-strewn room. A single light bulb burned in the ceiling, casting long shadows across the room. A wooden door was the only link to the world outside. Her wrists were handcuffed behind her, the steel cutting uncomfortably into her skin.
She was considering sliding her hands down her back and pushing her feet through to at least get her hands in front of her body when the door opened and the man from the van walked in.
Sammy was truly scared now because the man made no attempt to disguise his identity. He had hair cut tight against his skull, his bright blue eyes emanating both intelligence and malice. After staring at her for a few minutes, he finally broke the silence: "Good day, Miss Pintella. You don't have to worry. I've already gotten what I needed from you." At Sammy's confused look he smiled. "It's part of the miracle of modern medicine. The first shot I gave you caused unconsciousness. The second one made you talk." He squatted down and gazed into her eyes. "You don't remember talking, do you?"
Sammy didn't answer. She curled up in a tight ball, her knees to her chest. The man poked her in the shoulder. "There's no need for you to play dumb. I know quite a bit about you—one of the perks of the job. You told me everything I asked for. I know about your sister, but that's no longer my problem. You also told me some very interesting personal information."
Sammy closed her eyes and starting rocking back and forth. He slapped her on the face. "Don't tune me out." He smiled, but it was only a moving of muscles in his face that didn't touch the coldness of his strange eyes. "It's kind of like looking into someone's soul. Imagine being able to ask someone any question you want and get an honest answer. Psychologists ought to use my techniques. It would save a lot of time. Of course there's too high a percentage of adverse side effects to make it feasible in the real world."
His eyes were flashes of blue, catching the light from the bulb above them. He pulled a pistol with a bulky barrel out of his shoulder holster. He put the muzzle against Sammy's temple and stared at her with a crooked smile. He stayed like that, his eyes boring into hers, for a very long minute, then put the pistol away. "We need another two hours for the drug to clear your system. Wouldn't do to have that found by some enterprising coroner. Might make people ask too many questions." He stood up and looked down at her. "You understand, don't you?"
Sammy gazed back blankly.
He stood and began pacing about the room. "You didn't do very well with your life. Couldn't even keep a husband. Maybe in your next life you'll do better."
Sammy whispered to herself.
The man spun about. "What did you say?"
Sammy muttered again. The man knelt down next to her and reached for her shoulders, pulling her to her knees. "Speak up."
She pressed her chest against his.
"That's not going to work," the man said, as she leaned into him.
Sammy kept her eyes on his. She could feel him growing hard against her stomach. Despite his protestations, he was staying close.
"Not in the head," she said softly.
For the first time the man was confused. "What?"
"Please don't shoot me in the head. I'll make it worth your while. Anywhere but the head."
The man stood up and moved a few feet away. Sammy awkwardly shuffled toward him on her knees until he was against the wall. She pressed her face into his crotch. He was most definitely hard now. Sliding her tongue up the zipper, she flipped out the steel tab and gripped it with her teeth.
Sammy slowly pulled down the zipper. He wasn't wearing underwear, and she could feel flesh for the first time. She pushed in harder, moving her head until she found the tip of his cock, then she drew it into her mouth.
The man moaned. She took it in as far as she could and then let it pop out. She started licking one of his balls gently and then started sucking him again.
"All right," the man muttered as he leaned back against the wall. "I knew you liked to do this. The needle made you tell me all about what you like to do."
Sammy clamped down on the flesh in her mouth with all the power in her jaws, and the man's scream echoed off the walls as he doubled over. Sammy rolled away to the right, tucking her knees to her chest and sweeping the handcuffed wrists down her back, over her feet, and up in front. Staggering to her feet she ran for the man; he was still doubled over, blood pouring over his hands as he grasped his groin.
Sammy first struck him in the face with her manacled hands, then, looping her hands behind his head and pulling down with all her might, she slammed her left knee into his face, doubling the strength of the blow. His teeth clicked shut and his head rocked back. Blood exploded in a spray from his shattered nose.
Sammy snaked her hands inside his jacket and retrieved the pistol as he belatedly tried to stop her. She dove away as he blindly struck out with a flurry of punches. She held the gun in front of her with her manacled hands and pulled the trigger.
There was no sound of a shot—just a sickening thud as the side of the man's head exploded in a spray of brains and blood, adding its own gory mark to the wall beyond. His body crumpled to the ground; an arm briefly twitched and then he was still.
Sammy felt her stomach flip, but the nausea quickly passed and a black sense of calm swept over her. After taking a few deep breaths, she went over to the body and searched the pockets until she found the key for the handcuffs. Holding the key in her teeth, she freed herself. She grabbed a thermos the man had brought and washed out her mouth and cleaned the blood from her face. She took his wallet and key ring and strapped on his shoulder holster. Then she retrieved her crumpled leather jacket from a corner of the room and put it on. Without a backward glance, Sammy left the room and headed out of the abandoned tenement.
A
IRSPACE,
W
ESTERN
U
NITED
S
TATES