Authors: Bob Mayer
"Mister Parker gave you ten days. I've given you ten days from leaving Atlanta until returning."
Conner felt a small knot of panic form in her stomach. "I need more than four days."
Legere wouldn't negotiate. "No. Those crew members will be on special duty pay. Do you know how much that is per day? The commercial plane reservations are already made.
"Now, also, don't forget your communication requirements. Your commo man knows about it, and he'll have the frequencies and satellite information, but it's your responsibility to make contact with us here on schedule. Everything on this trip is your responsibility. Do you understand?"
Conner looked into the face of the older woman, noting the lines around her eyes and the sharp red gash her lips made in the pinched face. "I understand."
Legere slid a folder across the desk. "Here's your authorization and tickets. Stop by Miss Suwon's desk down in records for your background packet and personnel roster. I'll see you when you get back."
Conner picked up the folder and left the office. She took the elevator down to the basement where the large mainframe computer for SNN was housed along with its human servants. She found Miss Suwon seated in a large office that made Conner's cubicle look tiny. A massive desk with four separate computer terminals on top dominated the room. A sophisticated laser printer in the corner of the room was spewing out a piece of paper every few seconds.
Miss Suwon was a young Asian woman with the petite figure that women from that part of the world seem to have stamped in their genes. She was dwarfed by all the electronics. Her hair was straight and long; cascading to her waist in a graceful line that even Conner had to envy. Suwon was dressed very well for someone in a basement office, and Conner wondered if maybe she had chosen the wrong job in this organization.
Suwon smiled as Conner came in the door. "Miss Young. I am glad to finally meet you." She swiveled in her chair and frowned at the computer screen. "I do not yet have your roster—there have been two other crews requested this morning, and personnel is still trying to rework their schedule. I assure you that you will have a good crew and they will be at your meeting this afternoon."
Miss Suwon passed over a bulging binder. "This was the best I could do on such short notice. I hope it will be helpful."
Conner looked at the label on the cover: SNN/CONNER YOUNG/ ANTARCTICA/BACKGROUND DATA/25 NOVEMBER 1996. She flipped through, amazed at the amount of information it contained and how well organized it was. There were sections on the history of Antarctica, the weather, environment, exploration, political status—everything Conner could possibly need as background for a story.
“Thank you very much. I've heard so many good things about what you do here, but this is truly amazing."
Miss Suwon smiled demurely. "I am glad to be of help. If you need anything else, please feel free to stop by." She held out a 3.5-inch diskette. "This is all the information in the binder on disk so you can cut and paste on your laptop if you need to." She then slid across several large brown envelopes. "These are maps of various scales of Antarctica, which might prove useful."
With a final thanks, Conner made her way back to the news section.
N
ATIONAL
P
ERSONNEL
R
ECORDS
C
ENTER,
S
T.
L
OUIS,
M
ISSOURI
The phone was ringing as Sammy approached her desk, still shivering from the motorcycle ride to work. "Records Center. Samantha Pintella."
"It's Conner. What'd you get?"
"Well, good morning to you too. I got nothing, to put it bluntly. I did a search using all the information you'd uncovered. As far as the classified d-base is concerned, Eternity Base never existed.
"What I did find backed up the cover stories for both B Company, 67th Engineers, and the aircrew. Both are listed as being in Vietnam working for MACV-SOG."
"Shit," Conner muttered. She wasted no time getting to the next angle of attack. "Sammy, I need those photos."
"Why?" Sammy asked.
"Because if any of them have something in the background, especially a significant terrain feature, we might be able to triangulate the location from known features." Conner was obviously looking at a map—Sammy could hear paper rustling in the background. "There're a lot of mountains and glaciers down there. We might be able to recognize something in the photos."
Sammy remembered the three peaks she'd noticed in the background of the group picture. "I put the folder back in the box and it's on the loading dock. It might even be on the trailer and on the way to the Archives in Washington."
"Could you check to see if it's there at least? Sam, my job rides on this story. Please."
Sammy sighed. "All right, all right. I'll check. Hold on."
Sammy put the down phone and headed for the back of the basement. She went up a ramp to the inside loading dock. There were twelve pallets of records sitting there. Sammy immediately saw that the one holding the 67th's unit history was still in the same place. She retrieved the record and took it back to her desk.
"I've got it, but I can't take the pictures, Conner. They'd hang me. Digging around in the computer is one thing. But taking documents from the Center is a direct violation of the rules."
"I won't use them on the air, Sammy. I promise."
"No." Her sister was making good money at SNN, but Sammy needed two more years of government service to get her minimum retirement pay. "There's no way I'm removing these from the file."
"How about a photocopy then?"
Sammy frowned. "Photocopy?"
"I'll take anything I can get, Sam. Can you copy them and fax them to me right away?"
Sammy thought about it. There was a copying machine right near her desk. She could easily hide the copies under her shirt and go to a nearby store and fax them. With the originals still in the file, it wouldn't be a direct violation of the rules. "The quality will be pretty crummy, you know. You promise not to use them on the air or even refer to them in a story?"
"I promise."
"Give me your fax number."
Sammy copied the number.
"I really appreciate this, Sam. I'll talk to you when I get back, OK?"
"All right." Before Conner could hang up, though, Sammy continued. "Listen, Conner, I want you to be careful. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to hide the existence of this place. Even though it was twenty-five years ago, that doesn't necessarily mean it's a dead issue. The fact that my boss couldn't find anything in the classified files worries me more than if he had found something. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yes."
"All right then. You take care and be safe."
Sammy hung up the phone. She took the photographs and copied them, then returned the folder to the loading dock. She went to the ladies' room, where she slid the pictures under her T-shirt and tucked it back in. At her desk she put on her leather jacket, then went over to Brad's office to tell him she'd be out for a little while.
She made it past the guard without arousing any suspicion and hopped on her motorcycle. There was an office supply store less than three blocks away. Sammy roared over there and parked her bike between two cars out front. She hurried in and gave the copies to the lady behind the counter along with Conner's fax number. It all took less than a minute. Then she tore the copies into little pieces and deposited them in a trash can on her way out.
Sammy opened the door with a feeling of relief that this whole episode was now out of her hands and into Conner's. As she grabbed her helmet off the motorcycle seat, she noted a Chevy van blocking her in. Sammy put the helmet on and cranked the engine, waiting for the driver of the van to take the hint and move. After thirty seconds she beeped her horn. She couldn't make out the truck's occupants through the tinted windshield.
"Goddamnit," Sammy muttered. She got off her bike, walked up to the passenger side, and rapped on the door. The cargo door slid open and a man leaped out. He wrapped her in a bear hug and rolled back into the rear of the van, the door sliding shut.
Sammy kicked backward, feeling her boot strike home, but the man holding her didn't make a sound. Sammy struggled desperately, but her arms were locked to her sides with a grip of steel. She felt a prick in her wrist and looked down to see a needle sliding into the flesh. As she watched, the plunger was pushed.
The last thing her conscious mind processed was the van pulling out into traffic.
Chapter Six
C
OLORADO
S
PRINGS,
C
OLORADO
The phone woke the old man out of a deep sleep. The young woman who was sharing the bed rose without a word and slipped toward the door, not even taking the time to put on a robe. As the door closed on her pert rear end, the man hit the speaker button.
"Peter here."
"This is Lazarus. I've checked out the Pintella woman. She knows little other than that the base is in Antarctica. The exact location is secure. She found some old photos in a file from the engineer unit that built the place. I will secure the photos."
"Good."
"We have another problem, though." The man's voice paused and then continued. "Pintella told someone about what she found."
"Who?"
"Her sister. Conner Young. She's a reporter for SNN. Apparently SNN is planning to send a news team down to Antarctica to check out the story."
Peter sat up in the bed, flexing the muscles in his right arm as his eyes focused on the phone. "I already know about the SNN contact. Is that the only person she told?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right. I'll handle SNN. You take care of your end there in St. Louis."
"Yes, sir."
Peter terminated the conversation. He sat for a long time, thinking of options. He knew better than to react immediately—there were possibilities to be explored. And, of course, he already had a plan in place at SNN to provide damage control. After forty minutes and several phone calls, the course of action was determined. He dialed Atlanta.
SNN
H
EADQUARTERS,
A
TLANTA,
G
EORGIA
"
I'm Conner Young.
I
will be the team chief for this trip." Conner looked at the three men assembled around the conference table.
"
I'd like each of you to introduce yourself."
An overweight man with thinning gray hair took the initiative. "I'm Les Lallo. Cameraman."
Seated next to him, a young man with a sallow face under an unruly mop of blond hair bobbed his head nervously. "Tom Kerns. Sound."
The last man's voice rumbled. "Keith Vickers. Satellite communications and computer." Vickers was a large man and looked as though he spent all his time off in the weight room. The muscles under the black skin of his arms rippled and flowed. His shaved head reflected the fluorescent lights in the ceiling.
Conner reached forward and hit a button on the remote built into the tabletop. The men studied the map that appeared on the screen. "What are we going there for?" Lallo asked as he recognized the location.
"The purpose of our trip is to find a place called Eternity Base. It was constructed somewhere in Antarctica in 1971 by a U.S. Army engineer company."
"What do you mean 'somewhere in Antarctica'?" Lallo pointed at the screen. "That's a pretty big place."
"Right now, all we know is that this place is a little less than a two hour plane ride from McMurdo Station." Conner wanted to keep the information about the faxed pictures to herself for the time being. Sammy's warning had made some impression.
"What kind of place is this Eternity Base?" Kerns asked. "And why do we want to find it?"
"It's a group of buildings constructed under the ice. We want to find it because the existence of the place has been secret."
Lallo was interested in her first sentence. "If it was built under the ice, how are you going to find it?"
Conner fixed him with a stare. It was time to establish the chain of command. She'd found that men tended to usurp control unless firmly kept in their place. "You're here to work the camera, right?"
Lallo shrugged. "Yes."
"How we find Eternity Base is my problem and I'll take care of it. The purpose of this meeting is to work out the logistics of getting from here to Antarctica."
Lallo obviously felt put in his place, and he shut up. It was Kerns who asked the next question. "How do we even know it exists?"
"Because there were photos taken of it."
The communications man, Vickers, stirred for the first time. "Do you have the photos? I'd like to take a look."