Alexis dipped her head and started reading again. “Okay, okay. No more personal stuff — if there’s anything in here, I’ll find it.”
Sam picked up another journal. He skimmed through the pages and put it back down. It was mostly irrelevant. He went outside and climbed into the Snow Tractor. He turned the key and the main diesel engine fired up. Sam waited until the amp meter began showing power coming in from the alternator and then switched the GPS on.
The advanced global positioning system, based on triangulating satellites to determine exact positions was once considered something akin to science fiction. Modern advances and competition within the automaker industry had placed a similar system inside just about every modern car. And like all computers, they have a memory of where they’ve been.
Sam pressed recent locations and a list of fifteen GPS coordinates became highlighted. He pressed on the most recent one. He stared at the location as the GPS zoomed into the coordinates. Sam had been there before — it was the Taylor Valley.
What were they doing there?
Then the answer came to him. Were they trying to run?
He scrolled down to the previous coordinates. The location was closer to the coast, but still on the eastern side of the Trans Antarctic Ridge.
Sam stared at the image of the place. It looked vacant. What did you find there? He took a picture of the rest of the recent locations with his smartphone, but was willing to bet his year’s salary that the second most recent location was the one that counted. He switched off the GPS and shut the diesel down and then stepped inside.
“I know where they’ve been recently,” Sam said. “I just don’t know what they found there.”
Alexis looked up at him. The slightest of smiles formed on her beautiful face. “I do. And I think I know why they were murdered.”
“Really, why?”
She sighed. “Do you remember me telling you the primary research objective for the Pegasus was to locate an ice tunnel large enough to feasibly house a Massive Hadron Collider?”
“Yeah.”
“Well. It appears they found the perfect place to build one.”
“Where?”
“On the eastern side of the Trans Antarctic Ridge,” she said. “It was beneath the ice flats and less than a hundred miles from the coast. There was just one problem.”
“And what was that?”
Alexis stood up and closed the journal. “Someone else had already built a Massive Hadron Collider inside.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Elise stared at the results of the blood test. Every one of them had a large amount of both the narcotic morphine and the sedative midazolam in their system. The biggest guy had a slightly lower amount than the rest. But was that because he’d intentionally dosed himself with a smaller amount, or because he was so damn big the medication had been diluted in his larger blood volume and worn off faster in his system? It was just one more thing that didn’t make any sense in an entire mangled mess of riddles and confusion. The radios were still jammed with the Hungarian song, Gloomy Sunday and so they couldn’t get a message to Sam and Alexis that they were heading for trouble. She’d suggested moving the Antarctic Solace to McMurdo Sound so they could at least reach the Maria Helena and then Tom could take the helicopter out to retrieve them. But Veyron couldn’t get the diesels to start, which meant the Antarctic Solace was stranded — and they were helpless.
“No good?” Tom asked.
“They all have drugs in their system. The big guy has a lower ratio of the drugs in his blood. It might have been intentional, or it could have been the side effect of being so damned big.”
Tom opened another packet of cable ties. “No reason to wait until we find out which one it is. Let’s attach a few more ties to his arms and wrists.”
“Good idea.”
“Any idea when our reinforcements are going to get here?”
Elise shook her head. “Satellite imaging showed they passed Cape Horn yesterday. At a guess I would say they’ll be here by tonight. Do you know who the Secretary of Defense was sending?”
“No. Sam just said she’d make sure we had reinforcements and that we were to hold the ship, no matter what happens.”
She watched as Tom bound the giant’s wrists and ankles with another set of cable ties. Elise kept her Uzi pointing at the man from a distance of eight feet. She figured if he broke free she’d need at least that much room between him and her to put him down with a burst of nine millimeter Parabellums. The elevator door opened and Veyron stepped out.
Elise turned her head to face him. “Any luck with those engines yet? I don’t care what the Secretary of Defense advised us to do with the Antarctic Solace — I can’t get through to Sam and I think it’s time we move to McMurdo Sound.”
“No. We’re stuck here until reinforcements arrive.”
“What do you mean? You couldn’t fix it?”
“Not before the ice had well and truly bound the Antarctic Solace to the sea.” Veyron grinned. “You’re not going to believe this, but someone’s completely reconfigured the Antarctic Solace’s main powerhouse!”
“The diesels are gone?”
“No. They’re there all right. Only, they have been completely disconnected from the ship’s main systems.”
“Why?”
“Because now they’re entirely free from all electronics.”
“Don’t they need electricity to start?” Elise asked.
“Not anymore!” Veyron clenched his jaw. “The entire thing has been retrofitted with hand operated starting mechanisms and although the steering is still hydraulic, instead of being power assisted, someone has increased the ratios of the gears so that the entire thing can be steered by hand.
“Why would anyone go to such trouble?” Tom interrupted.
“Unless…” Elise started to say.
Veyron sighed. “They knew an electromagnetic pulse was going to shut everything down!”
Chapter Fifty-Two
A black ship approached. Its dark outline formed a menacing silhouette on the horizon. It was a battleship, but whose was impossible for Tom to identify from such a distance with plain eyesight. He reached for a pair of binoculars and stepped out onto the deck along to the bow to get a better view. Veyron trailed behind, eerily whistling the tune to Gloomy Sunday.
Tom looked at Veyron. “Do you have to?”
Veyron sighed. “I’m not saying I necessarily like the song, but there’s no doubt about it — the melody becomes catchy.”
Tom shook his head and focused the binoculars until the port side of the battleship came into view. It looked recently painted in matt black from the waterline to the top of its bridge, which looked as though it extended at least fifty feet in the air. Just forward of the bridge were two massive gun turrets, each with twin fourteen inch guns. Aft of the bridge triple boiler towers formed a triangle and released thick dark smoke high into the atmosphere, giving it an even more intimidating presence, like some evil monster in the night. He moved his line of sight towards the hull and stopped.
BB-35 was painted in bold letters and numbers.
“My God!” Tom swore. “It’s the USS Texas!”
“You must be wrong,” Veyron said. “The USS Texas is supposed to be in Texas as a permanent National Monument! Besides, the thing’s over a hundred years old — there’s no reason for it to have come down this far, and certainly no way it would have survived the dangerous seas.”