The shipyard was even quieter than he had expected. Now the damnable fog was muffling and blending every sound together as it rolled in like a noxious cloud. All he was able to distinguish was the sound of a distant ship’s horn and the barking of agitated guard dogs blocks away.
The alley opened into a deserted street lined with industrial buildings. Broken streetlights flickered and flared down one side and were entirely absent on the other. He was glad it was that way. Not the kind of place where locals feel comfortable, Simon thought, and then smiled at himself. Let alone foreigners.
He had seen this street in the GPS imagery when they had planned their rendezvous coordinates with Ryan. It was a particularly accurate rendition: the garbage in the gutters, the broken windows and stuttering lamps, the grimy whitewashed building with an open gate and a sign on the door that read Deportes de Motor.
At last, he thought, as he stepped into the alcove in front of the repair warehouse. His heart began to pound when he heard voices coming from inside. Voices he recognized.
Thank god, he thought. At least some of them made it. Simon’s life had been turned around over the last few weeks; tonight it would take yet another spin.
And he was ready.
He raised a fist and rapped on the sheet metal door, sharp and quick: rap-rap-rap. The voices inside stopped abruptly, and a tiny security cam in an upper corner swerved and pointed its single eye toward him. Simon raised a hand, spread his fingers, and waved them in greeting.
He heard footsteps approaching from inside. There was the screech of a barricade being pulled back and the squeal of the door pulling open on un-oiled hinges.
Andrew’s smiling face appeared under his typical rat’s nest of blonde hair. “Well, well,” he said. “Right on time.” He pulled the door open a bit more, and Simon strode in, trying to look in every direction at once.
He waited for Andrew to re-secure the door before shaking his hand warmly. “Good to see you all again,” he said. “I didn’t really know…”
The building they had chosen was a manufacturing facility for boat engine mounts that had closed due to renewable fuel mandates. It reminded Simon oddly of the Spector construction domes under Oxford: huge, high ceilings, but nearly empty-this one wasn’t stuffed with equipment or exotic power conduits. It looked as if it would never be filled again.
Simon’s team was waiting in the center of the huge, unheated room, where a dimly lit lamp hovered over a large table, and the team members sprawled on couches and huddled in a few random chairs, trying to keep warm.
Hayden was the first to spot him. “Well, well,” he said, giving his usual sarcastic grin.
“Looks like we all made it,” Simon said, smiling at each of them. His eyes lingered on Sam a bit longer than the others. She looked good-better than he could have hoped.
“All and then some,” Andrew said, scowling. He had gotten the call from Simon like the rest of them had, explaining the newest addition to their team, and looked less than pleased. Now he was glaring at the shadows over Simon’s shoulders.
Simon turned and peered into the shadows at the edge of the warehouse. A large figure was moving urgently but systematically from window to door to window again, checking locks and seals. There was an undeniable intensity about the silhouette; Simon recognized it immediately, even from a distance.
“Max!” Simon called out, “It’s clear! Andrew’s already gone through the motions.”
Max’s shadow turned to look at him. “Just like to check for myself,” he said with false good cheer. Then he turned and finished what he was doing.
Simon let him be. He turned back and gave the rest of the team an indulgent smile as he sat down and poured himself a generous cup of coffee from a kettle sitting on the table. After a moment, he reached into his jacket pocket, took out his silver hip flask, and added a dollop of scotch. He lifted the flask and offered it to the others; more than half of them gratefully responded, and gradually the sour mood shifted.
Hayden lifted his mug, into which he’d poured a generous serving of scotch. “Thank heavens for the Scots. This is one invention they can be proud of.”
Max moved out of the shadows, his self-appointed mission at an end. “Thanks,” he said to Hayden. “You knew I was part Scottish, right?”
Hayden cocked an eyebrow at him. “‘Course I did,” he lied.
Max stood at the edge of the circle and took his time looking at each face, old and new. After a moment, he pulled out a chipped and rickety old chair from under the table, spun it around, and sat on it backwards.
Andrew was to his right, busy calibrating a holographic display unit, which was acting up. Samantha was to his left, and he offered her a smile, glad to see she was still with them. Hayden was the most distant from the table, but he was clearly engaged, watching everything carefully. Ryan, who knew him the least, was watching Max very carefully, very warily, almost as if he expected him to explode at any moment. And Simon, in the middle of the table, watched everything.
Suddenly, there was another quick rap at the door. Simon flinched in surprise at the sound, then cursed himself for flinching. The others looked at each other, panic flooding their faces. Max stood up fast, right hand automatically went to his lower back to grab his pistol, ready to address the situation. Simon stopped him quickly.
“Hold on,” he said. “She’s expected.”
“Wonderful,” Hayden said as he glared at Andrew’s work. “Another newbie.”
The others watched silently as Simon crossed the deserted work floor and opened the metal door to the outside. Nastasia entered, sweeping in as if she owned the entire installation.
As she joined the others, Simon noted just how shocked both Max and Hayden looked. The last thing you were expecting was a woman who looks more like a supermodel than a scientist, he told them silently. Nastasia herself must have seen the same expressions, but she chose to ignore them. She simply moved forward with a smooth, professional gait and offered her hand.
“Hayden. Max. A pleasure to meet you.” She gave a small but powerful smile to the others, her stark blue eyes sweeping the group. “All of you.”
“Everyone,” Simon said to the mildly hostile gathering, “this is Nastasia. She’s a research specialist from Russia working here in Chile for the Antarctic Weather and Scientific Institute (AWASI). Nastasia knows more than anyone else out there about the Antarctic infrastructure and the recent activities of UNED immediately prior to the quarantine. She’s also providing us with the gear we’ll need once we land on the ice. To all intents and purposes, she will be our guide when we make it to the ice.”
“Hrmph,” Hayden grunted, not believing a word of it.
Andrew barely glanced up. They needed this holographic display to work perfectly for the briefing; his attention was there, until he saw just how beautiful the new arrival was.
As he looked at her directly for the first time, he stopped working. Completely. And just stared and smiled at her for an unusually long moment.
Simon looked at Max, who was looking at Nastasia. His suspicion was painfully plain on his face. Simon guessed that her beauty and even her prominent Russian accent actually worked against her; beautiful women and Russian spies were archetypal enemies for men like Max.
Getting his old friend past that assumption was going to be difficult, but necessary. Still, there wasn’t much he could do about it at this second. He just frowned as he watched Max fold his arms across his chest and study the mysterious, beautiful woman in the dim light. Simon knew what he was thinking: this one is not to be trusted.
The men and woman who had given up their lives to be here, who had traveled literally halfway around the world to help Simon and his father, stared at the new arrival with a slowly dawning realization. This was actually going to happen. They were actually going into Antarctica-the most desolate continent on earth. And now, in addition to every other risk they had already taken, every other sacrifice they had already made…they would have to put their fates in the hands of a total stranger, or it would all be for nothing.