Death by Exposure (4 page)

The chief grinned. “Sixteen pictures.”

“That's amazing!”

“It's a pretty special camera that can stay waterproof that long. Here, let me show you.” The chief opened the envelope, took out the pictures, and placed them side by side on a table.

“These are beautiful!” the coroner said as he picked up one of the black-and-white photographs.

“They are indeed. This man wasn't just some tourist out taking snapshots on his vacation. He had to be a professional photographer, a well-travelled one, or someone who knew his way around a camera better than most people.”

“Had to be,” the coroner agreed. “These pictures are from a lot of different places.”

“As far as I can tell. Look,” he said, pointing at one shot, then another. “This is an ocean, and while I can't put my finger on it, this looks a bit like Newfoundland.” He pointed to a third picture. “And this one has a polar bear in it, so it must be somewhere up north.”

“And this is somewhere in the mountains,” the coroner said, picking up another picture. “Beautiful...any idea where it's from?”

“Not really. Nearest I can figure, these shots are from all over Canada.”

“Why would somebody be doing that?”

“Now
that's
a good question.”

“I just wish we had an answer,” the coroner said. “There must be some reason why... Wait a second. Let me have a look at that notebook.”

The chief extracted the notebook from the briefcase and handed it to the coroner. “Be careful. The pages are pretty fragile.”

Slowly and with great care, the coroner opened the notebook. At the top of the first page there was the number 1. The first few lines, written in the same ink, were barely legible. Below that the words were blurred and had smeared beyond recognition. He turned the page. The number 2 was atop the page and again just the first sentence could be read. Slowly he continued through the book page by page until he reached the final entry on page 16.

The coroner glanced up and gestured at the pictures. “Didn't you say there were sixteen? That's not a full roll.”

“The others were unexposed. And, as you can see, the rest of the journal has no entries. Looks as if our friend didn't get a chance to finish his project.”

The coroner rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “So what do you think? The numbered pages refer to the order of the pictures he took?”

“Something like that. I've marked the backs of these photos with the corresponding numbers, you know, one, two, three, and so on. Do you think there are clues about this guy hidden in the photos or the journal entries or both?”

“Maybe... There's something going on here. Did you notice the numbers in pairs at the bottom of each page of the journal?” The coroner pointed at the first page of the notebook.

“Not really. Hmm, 47 59, 48 35, 47 39...? Seems kind of meaningless to me.”

“Maybe not. I think it's some kind of code. Who knows? Perhaps our iceman was a spy!”

The chief frowned. “Now you're really letting your imagination run away with you.”

“Let me hold on to the photos and notebook for a while. Ever since I was a kid I've played around with puzzles, ciphers, and secret codes. Maybe I can figure this out. But I think we'll need some help...”

A couple of days later the coroner and the police chief stood together on the elementary school gymnasium stage. On the other side of the closed curtain they could hear the muttering, chattering, and laughing of the audience. The chief stuck his head through the curtain and looked at the assembled group.

“Are there a lot of them?” the coroner asked.

The chief closed the curtain. “Full house.”

“Then I guess I better get started.”

“Just let me introduce you and then I'll go to the back and run the projector. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

After the chief made his introductions and welcomed everyone, the coroner slipped between the curtains and strode to the podium. He tapped the microphone with his finger, and sound bounced around the room, silencing the crowd.

“Thank you, members of the media, for coming here to attend this press conference. My apologies for the delay in the originally scheduled time, but we had to prepare a few things first.”

Gathered in front of him in the gym were more than fifty members of the media. They sat in four rows of folding metal chairs. On both sides of the chairs there were television crews bristling with cameras and bright lights. Every time the coroner glanced in the direction of the lights he was almost blinded. Two special guests were also on hand—Ben and Julia, the kids who had found the frozen body.

“I'll begin by giving you the information that's been obtained through the autopsy and the preliminary investigation.” The coroner quickly gave them the basic facts-Caucasian, male, mid-fifties, brown hair, brown eyes, weight, and height.

“We believe this man fell into the crevasse and suffered facial injuries and a broken leg that made it impossible for him to climb back up. We found a number of cameras with the body and think the man was probably taking
photographs prior to his fall. It appears he may have lain at the bottom of the crevasse for some time, resulting in death by exposure due to the cold.”

One of the reporters leaned close to a colleague beside him. “I think my headline tomorrow is going to read
PHOTOGRAPHER DIES FROM EXPOSURE.
”

The second man chuckled.

“Are there any specific questions you want answered?” the coroner asked.

“Is there any indication as to how long the man was entombed under the ice?” one of the reporters called out.

“It's difficult to provide an exact date.”

“Stephen Bradley,
CTV
news,” a reporter said as he rose to his feet. “Is it possible that he's from prehistoric times-a
true
iceman?”

“Not unless prehistoric man had already invented the wristwatch, the camera, and the flashlight,” the coroner answered, and the room burst into laughter.

“Oh...I'm sorry...I didn't know about those things,” the reporter muttered as he quickly sat and slumped in his chair, trying to make himself invisible.

One of the newspaper reporters in the back row leaned close to the woman beside him. “Typical television guy. Too busy making sure his hair looks good to bother reading the background notes or listening to the coroner.”

“We do believe, however,” the coroner continued, “that judging from the unfortunate man's clothing, as well as the cameras, watch, and flashlight we found with him, that he's most likely been dead for about fifty years.”

“Have you identified him yet?” another reporter asked.

“Yeah, do we know who he is?” a second reporter added.

“As you're all aware, we didn't find any identification on the body. Subsequently we circulated a picture of the man to the general public, but so far no one has come forward to claim him. Of course, due to
decomposition and the man's original facial injuries, his features are somewhat distorted, which would make identification difficult. There was no hit with the fingerprints, and the national missing-persons database indicates no one in that time period who matches the general description of the dead man. So, that brings me to the main reason I've called you all here today. We need your assistance, and the help of the general public, to figure out who this man is and how he came to this end.”

Suddenly there was complete silence in the gym as everybody stopped fidgeting and talking and stared up at the coroner.

“Could you please dim the lights?” the coroner asked the police chief. The room darkened, and a beam of light projected a picture of a forest and a ghostly bear onto the screen to the right of the coroner. “This is a picture we developed that was in the only camera belonging to the unknown man that had film in it.”

“It's beautiful,” a voice called out from the audience.

“Can we use it...can we get copies of it to use in our articles?” a newspaperman asked.

“That's
exactly
what we want you to do,” the coroner replied eagerly. “In total there are sixteen different exposures. And we'd like you to publicize all of the pictures. But there's more. The notebook we found with the dead man contained fragments of notes that we believe are linked to the photos.”

The screen to the left of the coroner came to life as a beam projected the faded words from the notebook that corresponded to the bear in the forest.

The coroner waited a moment for the audience to digest the words, then said, “You'll also notice the number 1 at the top of the page and some other numbers in pairs-47 59, 48 35, 47 39-at the bottom. Chief, could I have the next slides please?”

Another picture, showing strange rock formations, appeared on one screen, followed by corresponding words on the second screen.

“Now at first we strongly believed there was some kind of code or pattern
in the pictures and words that, once deciphered, would tell us who our iceman is, and maybe what happened to him. And although we haven't completely ruled that possibility out, we now think the numbers at the bottom of each page of the notebook might contain the key to our mystery.”

As soon as the coroner got the last words out of his mouth, the audience exploded into a babble of voices. The loudest demanded, “Didn't you say this man's death was accidental? If that's the case, what's the big mystery?”

The coroner cleared his throat. “I said he fell into the crevasse, but I didn't say what made him fall.”

This comment caused an even greater commotion until a radio reporter managed to be heard. “Are you suggesting he might have been murdered?”

Grinning slyly, the coroner said, “Anything's possible. We know this man was at the bottom of the crevasse for some time before he died of exposure. He had a flashlight and we believe he made these journal entries for a reason.”

A reporter wearing a Russian-style fur cap got to his feet. “Jim Anderson,
CBC
. The next thing you'll be telling us is that this fellow was a spy.”

The coroner chuckled. “Like I said, anything's possible. But let me finish, then I'll take more questions or comments. After a lot of digging and consulting with experts, we were able to identify where these pictures were taken. We haven't had enough time yet to check, but we had an idea that the numbers at the bottom of the notebook pages might refer to latitude and/or longitude. Personally, though, I think they're code. And just a few minutes before this press conference I think I might have hit on the key.”

The coroner paused either to catch his breath or for effect.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the CBC man almost yelled. “What is it?”

The coroner inhaled deeply, then continued. “Due to certain repetitions of numbers, I think our iceman has hidden a message in which 35 stands
for A, 36 for B, 37 for C, and so on, with Z as 60.”

“Why start at 35?” a female Internet reporter asked.

“That's where the latitude and longitude come in again. You see, he might have been trying to confuse people by giving us all kinds of possibilities for patterns or codes-the photos, the words, the numbers. And having 35 to 60 represent A to Z would give him numbers that could be mistaken for real latitudes and longitudes.”

“So maybe our iceman was leaving fake clues, like red herrings in a detective novel?” the police chief at the back spoke up.

“Precisely!” the coroner said. “First, however, we have to find out the exact latitudes and longitudes of these photos and see if they match any of the numbers at the bottom of the pages. If they don't, we can rule that out as a code. Then we can see if my number/letter code tells us anything. In any event, we believe that the more people who see these photos, words, and numbers, the better. So we'd like to see them broadcast and printed across North America. By doing so, we hope somebody, or possibly more than one person, will help us solve this mystery.”

“Can we help, too?” piped up the simultaneous voices of two children.

Every eye in the gym focused in on Ben and Julia.

“Of course,” the coroner said. “After all, you two found the body.” He smiled at the kids, then returned his attention to the members of the media. “In closing, just let me add that you'll all be provided with a complete copy of the pictures and text. So, let's all pitch in and find out who this man was and what happened to him.”

1.

Through the early-morning mist the mighty white spirit silently appeared. Pausing, silhouetted against the green of the

47 59 48 35 47 39 43 53 36 49 52 43 53 38 52 35 41 49 56 45 48 49 57 48 35 53

2.