"They're all dead, murdered!"
"Yes, I know," said Pitt gently. He held out his hand. "Let me take you where it's warm and the ship's doctor can tend your injuries."
Pitts face was shadowed by the floodlights irt the forward part of the cabin, and the stronger woman of the two could not read his eyes. "You might be one of the terrorists who caused all this," she said in a controlled tone. "Why should we trust you?"
"Because you'll freeze to death if you don't,"
Pitt tired of the word games. He stepped forward, carefully lifted the flight attendant in his arms and eased her out into the aisle. She offered him no resistance, but her body was stiff with apprehension.
"Just relax," he said. "Pretend you're Scarlett O'Hara and I'm Rhett Butler come to sweep you off your feet."
"I don't feel much like Scarlett. I must look a mess."
"Not to me," Pitt grinned. "How about dinner some night?"
"Can my husband come along?"
"Only if he picks up the check."
She gave in then and he felt her body sag in exhausted relief. Slowly her arms circled his neck and she buried her head in his shoulder. He paused and turned to the other woman. The warmth of his smile was revealed and his eyes glinted in the light. "Hang tight. I'll be right back for you."
for the first time Hala knew she was safe. Only then did the dam holding back the nightmare of fright, the stunning disbelief that any of this was happening to her, flood over the gates.
The suppressed emotions ran free, and she wept, Rubin knew he was slipping away. The cold and the pain had ceased to exist. The strange voices, the sudden display of light, formed no meaning for him. He felt detached, To his confused mind they were like obscure recollections from a distant place, a former time.
Suddenly a white brilliance filled the shattered cockpit. He wondered if this was the light at the end of the tunnel people who had died and returned claimed to have experienced.
A disembodied voice nearby said, "Take it easy, take it easy."
Rubin tried to focus his eyes on a vague figure hovering over him. "Are you God?"
Simon's face went blank for a brief moment. Then he smiled compassionately. "Only a mere mortal who happened to be in the neighborhood."
"I'm not dead?"
"Sorry, but if I'm any judge of age, you'll have to wait at least another fifty years."
"I can't move. My legs feel like they're pinned. I think they might be broken. Please . . . please get me out."
"That's why I'm here," said Simon cheerfully. He used his hands to scoop a good foot of ice and snow away from Rubin's upper torso until the trapped arms came free. "There, now you can scratch your nose until I return with a shovel and cutting tools."
Simon reentered the main cabin as Pitt was easing the flight attendant through the door into the waiting arms of Gale's medics, who gently lowerrd her onto a stretcher.
"Hey, Doc, I've got a live one in the cockpit."
"On my way," replied Gale.
"I could use your help too," Simon said to Pitt.
Pitt nodded. "Give me a couple of minutes to carry another from the aft section."
Hala slid to her knees and leaned over and looked into the mirror. There was enough light to clearly see her reflection. The face that stared back was flat-eyed and expressionless. It was also a disaster. She looked like an over-the-hill streetwalker who had been beaten up by her pimp.
She reached out and pulled several paper towels from a rack. She dipped them in the cold water, then wiped clear the clotted blood and lipstick which had smeared around her mouth. Her mascara and eye shadow looked as if they had been applied by Jackson Pollock on a drip painting. She wiped away that mess too. Her hair was still reasonably intact so she patted the loose ends into place.
She still looked awful, she thought despairingly. She forced a smile when Pitt reappeared, hoping she looked more presentable.
. He looked at her a long moment and then screwed his face into an expression of awed curiosity. "Excuse me, gorgeous creature, but have you seen an old crone anywhere?"
Tears welled in Hala's eyes and she half-laughed, halfcried. "You're a nice man, Mr. Pitt. Thank you."
"I try, God Icnows I try," he said humorously.
Pitt had returned with several blankets and he bundled them around her.
He placed one arm under her knees and the other around her waist and lifted her without the slightest sign of strain. As he carried her up the aisle his numbed legs began to give out and he stumbled for several steps before recovering.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Nothing a shot of Jack Daniel's Tennessee whiskey won't cure."
"As soon as I return home I'll send you a whole case."
"Where's home?"
"At the moment, New York."
"Next time I'm in town, let's have dinner together."
"I'd consider it an honor, Mister Pitt."
"Likewise, Miss Kaniil."
Hala raised her eyebrows. "You recognized me, looking horrible like this?"
"I admit it wasn't until after you'd fixed your face a bit."
"Forgive me for putting you to all this trouble. Your legs and feet must be frozen stiff."
"A minor discomfort is a small price for freezing.I held the SecretaryGeneral of the U.N. in my arms."
Amazing, truly amazing, thought Pitt. This has to be a redbanner day.
Dating the only three women, and attractive ones at that, within two thousand miles of frigid desolation inside of minutes had to be some sort of record. The feat meant more to him than discovering the Russian submarine.
Fifteen minutes later, after Hala, Rubin and the flight attendant were comfortably settled inside the helicopter, Pitt stood in front of the cockpit and waved to Giordino, who acknowledged with a thumbs up sign.
The rotors were engaged and the craft rose in the air above a swirling cloud of snow, swung around a hundred and eighty degrees and headed for the Polar Explorer. Only when it was safely airborne and on its way did Pitt hobble over to the auxiliary heating unit.
He pulled off his waterlogged boots and soggy socks and dangled his feet over the exhaust, soaking up the heat and gratefully accepting the stabbing pain of recirculation. He became vaguely aware of Simon's approach.
Simon stopped and stood, gazing at the wrinkled sides of the aircraft.
It did not look forlorn any more. To him, the knowledge of the dead inside gave it a camel house appearance.
"United Nations delegates," Simon said distantly, "is that who they were?"
"Several were members of the General Assembly," answered Pitt. "The
. lized agencies.
According to Kamil, most of them were returning from a tour of their Field Service organizations."
"Who'd gain by murdering them?"
Pitt wrung out his socks and laid them over the heater tube. "I have no idea."
"Middle East terrorists?" Simon persisted.
"News to me they've taken up murder by poison."
"How're your feet?"
"In a state of gradual thaw. How about yours?"
"The Navy issues foul-weather boots. Mine are dry and warm as toast."
"Hooray for considerate admirals," Pitt muttered sardonically.
"I'd say one of the three survivors did the dirty work."