Sam knew from the torrent of fury she unleashed in whispers every time they huddled in the doorway to the tent for a smoke that she was still angry about it. He knew that she resented her superior's ability to use his rich, well-connected friends to get what he wanted, and she could see his attempt to steal her discovery for himself. But this was not the place to settle that score, and they all knew it. So Nina continued to feign serenity, letting off steam only when she was alone — or as close as they could get to "alone" — with either Fatima or Sam.
Even though Nina and Sam strung their game out for as long as they could, it still took less than half an hour for Nina to win the rest of Sam's cigarettes from him. "I'm not heartless enough to leave you with nothing to smoke," she said, pushing half of her winnings back toward him. "I'll keep a tally and you can pay off the balance when we're back in Edinburgh. Assuming we ever get back. Now come on. It's been nearly twenty-four hours since my last cigarette and I'm just about ready to strangle someone."
Bundled up in their warmest gear, they crawled out into the outer layer of the tent and unzipped the door to the outside world. Nina stuck her head out for a moment, then led the way toward the side of the tent that offered the most shelter from the wind. They fashioned gaps in their hoods and scarves to allow just enough space for their cigarettes to reach their mouths, then Sam flipped open his Zippo lighter. They each took a deep puff as the cigarettes lit, then paced themselves after that.
"Looks like it's letting up a bit," Sam bellowed optimistically, raising his voice to be heard over the whistling gale. "Maybe we'll get on our way soon."
"Hopefully," Nina yelled back. "I'm beginning to wish I'd never come. If I'd known it was going to be this uncomfortable I'd have left Matlock to get on with it."
"I was wondering," Sam said, "Do you know the old guy's name? I never caught it and now I can't ask him or he'll think I'm an idiot."
"You are an idiot. That's the most British thing I've ever heard. Like the joke about the two men on a desert island who could never talk to each other because they hadn't been introduced."
"Hilarious. Now what's his name?"
Nina shrugged. "I don't know; I never caught it either." Even though hardly any of her face was visible, Sam could see her grin. "You'll just have to ask him yourself."
"I will, then," Sam said. "So have you and Fatima figured out how you're going to check out the ice station, then?"
"She's got friends at Neumayer," Nina nodded. "She reckons that once she's collected her samples and got everything set up in the lab, we'll be able to borrow some transport while her cultures develop. Then we can check out the coordinates and see if there's any sign of a structure having been there, and if there is we can photograph it. All I need is proof that the thing existed, or that the Nazis tried to make it exist, and I should be able to recruit some archaeologists and get together a proper, legitimate expedition — something with academic discovery at its heart rather than Dave Purdue's thrill-seeking."
"You'd do this again?" Sam was incredulous. "You're insane."
"If it got me what I wanted," Nina said.
"And what's that?"
Nina hesitated, the remains of her cigarette poised between her gloved fingers. "I don't know," she said at last. "Perhaps if I found it, I would."
Chapter 12
"For Christ's sake, why can't you just talk normally for once?" Professor Matlock was yelling at the top of his voice as Sam and Nina reentered the tent. They exchanged a brief, puzzled glance. Matlock and Alexandr were on their feet, a mug of coffee dashed to the ground between them. "All this nonsense about spirits and demons! Do you take this seriously, man? Do you? We are out here risking our lives, and we appear to be led by a lunatic!"
Jefferson Daniels stepped in and placed a calming hand on Matlock's shoulder, but it had exactly the opposite effect. Matlock shoved him off, though he did not have the physical strength to make much of an impression on his muscular friend. "Don't you try to defend him, Daniels!" Matlock shouted. "Can't you see this man for the dangerous imbecile he is? Surely you of all people realize the danger in being taken on a wild goose chase around the Antarctic by a man who is half-drunk most of the time?" With his Byronic white hair tousled and the bags under his eyes after a few nights of restless sleep, Professor Matlock looked quite mad himself as Jefferson attempted to restrain him gently.
"Mr. Matlock." Alexandr spoke softly, but at once all eyes were on him. "I appreciate that this is your first time in the Antarctic. I realize that to you, what I am doing must appear to be madness. When you have been here a little longer you will begin to see my reasons, you will learn that all have their ways to cope with this place. For me, it is more fun, more excitement to think of the storms and cold and perils of this place as gods and demons. For you, perhaps, this is not the case. But I do not insult your ways of handling things, and you will not insult mine. I do not question your expertise, and you will not question mine."
He looked straight into Matlock's wild eyes and walked toward him, then grasped the academic's hand in a firm grip. "I swear to you that I will get you home safely from this place. But for this you must trust me. What you are doing now, this is how madness starts. Do not give in to it. Do not trust it." Matlock cried out in alarm as he was dragged into a short, tight hug by Alexandr, who then turned his back and walked away, considering the matter ended.
Jefferson pulled Matlock over to the edge of the floor and made soothing, placatory noises while Matlock continued to mutter, obviously rattled by Alexandr's little speech. Sam sneaked a look around the rest of the tent. Many of the others were hunched, tense, and obviously not happy. Conflict in such a confined space could only lead to more. He looked around for Nina's deck of cards, thinking that perhaps a game would distract everyone. He wracked his brain for a game that could accommodate so many players, preferably one for which he knew the rules.
Before Sam could come up with anything, Dave Purdue clapped his hands together. "Oh, I've always wanted to say this," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and assumed a dramatic tone. "I expect you're wondering why I have brought you all here!"
"Did he really just say that?" Nina whispered. Sam nodded. He wondered what Purdue was playing at. Was this his way of defusing the tension?
Purdue clicked his fingers and Blomstein reached into his pack and took out a large, folded piece of paper. He handed it to Purdue, who unfolded it and spread it in front of him, beckoning the others to draw near and see it. "This," he flung his hands out theatrically, "is the reason we are here. Look at it."
Sam, Nina, and some of the others huddled around. What they saw was a map of Antarctica, with several points marked on it in Purdue's emphatic, sprawling handwriting. Novolazarevskaya, the old Neumayer stations, and the newly opened one that was their destination… and also a large cross with the word Wolfenstein beside it. Sam felt Nina's fingers close around his arm. "I never told him the name," she whispered urgently. "Did you?"
"What name?" Sam hissed back. "What's the matter?"
"I owe some of you an apology," Purdue peered around the group. "I have brought you here on — well, not false pretences as such, but certainly distorted ones. We all came here in search of something. Dr. al-Fayed for the algae, Mr. Daniels for his memoirs, Dr. Gould and Professor Matlock for evidence that a Nazi ice station was once established here, and Mr. Cleave for the obscene amount of money he was promised to profile me on this trip. But all those things are nothing compared to our true purpose. We are here in search… of legend."