Frozen Solid: A Novel (20 page)

She let the “Ms.” pass this time. “Mr. Graeter, I am not trying to get under your skin or tell you how to do your job.”

“Really? Because it feels like you’re doing both.”

“Others might die.”

“Nobody else is going to die. Jesus Christ. The bodies are quarantined and frozen. Doc has reasonable explanations. What do you have? Some crazy Andromeda strain bullshit? You haven’t been down here three days and you want to tell me how to run my station?” His voice had been rising, and his face reddening.

None are so blind, she thought. Might not be the best time to point out his, but too bad. “You could be compromising the safety of the entire station. You need to think about that.”

She nodded at the three framed photographs on his desk.

His hands balled into fists, stretching the skin, pulling open healed cracks that started oozing blood and fluid. She was sure he was going to slam both fists down onto the desk top. Instead, he opened them slowly and laid his hands flat, palms down. Took a deep breath, let it out. “We’re finished here. If you have a problem with my actions, you can file a complaint with NSF.”

“
I WON’T DO THAT, AND YOU KNOW IT.
”

He picked up a dart and started running his thumb over the point. More calmly, he said, “I have a station full of Polies who have been here a year or longer. Some are okay, but a good many are right on the edge. You’ve seen them wandering around like zombies. An announcement about some killer germ could destabilize this population.”

Should I tell him?
She wanted to.
Needed
to. But not yet. “Could I have a look at the station personnel roster?”

He stared. “Why?”

“I’m looking for a name.”

“Personnel information is confidential.”

She’d been expecting that. “Can you look at it for me, then?”

“What’s this about?”

That, too. “Emily was seeing somebody whose first name started with A-M.”

“And?”

“I’d like to know who it was.”

“Why?”

“He might know something about how she died.”

“We know how she died.”

“You think you do. I’m not so sure.”

“Sherlock Holmes in a dress. You’re beginning to show signs of paranoia. Are you aware of that?”

“I’m not paranoid, Mr. Graeter. And I’m not wearing a dress.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Isn’t a deputy U.S. marshal required to mount an investigation of something like this?”

He rubbed his forehead, took a deep breath. “That marshal stuff is mostly bullshit. More a formality than anything.”

“You said you were trained and sworn, though.”

“Two days of classroom work and two hours on the range. They called it LOST, believe it or not.”

“What?”

“ ‘Limited Operation/Situation Training.’ Translation: just enough to satisfy the bureaucrats.”

“But still. If a crime—”

“First a killer germ loose in the station. Now Emily Durant was murdered?”

“What have you got to lose by humoring me for five minutes?”

She had been choosing her words very carefully and watching Graeter’s reactions as she might have watched a copperhead on the desk in front of her. If he was the one,
something
would show on his face, in his voice, his eyes.

“Leland …” He shook his head but then turned around, looking over his shoulder to make sure his body blocked her view. “What was it, again?”

“Ambie. Probably short for a name like Ambrose. Ambert. Ames. Amos. Can you look for first or last names beginning with ‘Am’?”

“Do you know why I’m doing this?”

“No.”

“That’s too bad. I don’t, either. Thought you might be able to enlighten me.”

“Wow.” The genuine surprise in her voice drew a look from him.

“Wow what?”

“You do have a sense of humor.”

“It’s usually broken. Slips out at odd times.”

“I can see that.”

“Listen. Need to say this. When I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“No need to apologize. Men are prone to such outbursts when they can’t think of anything better to do.”

He gave her an incredulous look, shook his head. “When was this?” he asked. “I mean, when was she supposedly seeing whoever this supposedly was?”

“They hooked up just after Thanksgiving.”

“For the record, I hate that expression. Sounds like railroad cars.”

“You know what? I hate it, too. Consider it deleted from our communications.”

“The station would have been fully staffed then,” he said. “It’s going to take me a few minutes to read through all these names.”

“Wait. You don’t have to do that.”

“How else?”

“Use the Find function. It’ll take half a second.”

“Where’s the Find function?”

“What program is that?” she asked.

“Excel.”

“Up in the right corner of your screen, there are the words ‘Find’ and ‘Select’ with little binoculars beneath them.”

“I see it.”

“So just pull that down and type ‘Am’ in the search box.”

“Son of a bitch. That’s neat.”

“What did it find?”

“Kramer. Liam. Quamber. Ramirez. Sam. William. Yoaman. A few more like that. But nothing that would shorten to Ambie.”

“Damn it.”

“I’m just the messenger here, Leland. Maybe Ambie was short for something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Ammo. Amber. Ambient.”

“I guess you’re right.” She would have to work on it later.

He swung around to face her. “Will there be anything else?”

“As a matter of fact.”

“My turn: how did I know you were going to say that?” he said.

“I came to see you about Fida.”

“What about him?”

“I can’t find him.”

“Can’t find him? What’s that mean?” Graeter asked.

“He’s not in his room and not in the lab. Didn’t respond to a page. Is there any place where he might not hear it?”

“No.”

“If he was outside, though?”

“SORs require anyone going outside to carry a radio,” Graeter said. “And a page would be broadcast over that. Maybe he’s sound asleep.”

“I knocked hard on his door.”

“Wait one.” Graeter had comms page Fida and direct him to call the station manager immediately. Nothing happened. He said, “Here’s what I think. He’s lying around somewhere stoned out of his gourd, listening to Ravi Shankar on headphones.” He sighed, stood. “But let’s have a look.”

At Fida’s door, Graeter knocked loud enough and long enough to bring the same irate woman out of her room.

“Help you?” Graeter said.

She glared, but closed her mouth and slipped back in.

Graeter took from his pocket a single key, attached by a small chain to a spent rifle cartridge. “GGM,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“The great grand master key. Opens every door in the station. There’s only two. I have one and so does Merritt.”

Inside, Graeter’s nose wrinkled. “Been down here too long. This is what happens. People stop taking care of themselves.”

“We talked yesterday,” Hallie said. “He was aware of it.”

“Being aware and doing something about it are two different things.”

“So if he’s not here, where would he be?” she asked.

“I can’t think of a place where he wouldn’t hear a page.”

“The Underground?”

“PA system goes down there,” Graeter said.

Old Pole? she thought, but she said nothing.

“Maybe he was out and didn’t take a radio. Or didn’t have it turned on.”

Graeter shook his head. “First, SORs forbid egressing without a radio. Second, we’re in Condition One. It’s eighty-four below and blowing with whiteout. Nobody leaves the station.”

“This morning it was seventy and calm.”

“We’re surrounded by thousands of miles of ice. Fronts zip in and out like hockey pucks. There’s a saying: ‘If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.’ ” Hallie had heard that about Alaska, too, and Colorado. But it was even more accurate here. “Why don’t we check the lab again?” he said. “SORs forbid headphones for this very reason, but sometimes …” He shrugged.

Halfway to the door, Hallie had a thought. “Hold on a second.” She moved the mouse of Fida’s computer. The monitor, which had been in sleep mode, illuminated. “Look at this,” she said. On the screen a document was open, with these words:

“Oh God,” she said, thinking, Why would he do that? Then she thought: He wouldn’t. For a moment she felt torn loose from her surroundings, assailed by horror and fear, nauseated and dizzy. She reached for a wall to steady herself.

“What?” Graeter asked.

“I know that quote.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

“Ever read about the Scott polar expedition?”

“I know they died coming back from the South Pole,” he said.

“Four starving, frostbitten, and exhausted men, trapped in their tent by a storm. One, Oates, was in agony. Desperate for relief and to leave food for the others, he said those exact words and walked off into a blizzard. His body was never found.”

“Son of a bitch. Fida took a penguin,” Graeter said.

“What?”

“It’s an expression. Sometimes a penguin will walk away from its flock, off into the wasteland,” Graeter said. “Certain death. No one knows why they do it, but it’s a documented phenomenon. People do, too. Less often, but it happens.”

“He was clearly crisp,” Hallie said. “But I didn’t think he would do something crazy like this. What now?”

“We have to assume he’s gone out,” Graeter said.

“And?”

“There’s a missing person protocol. Search inside and outside simultaneously, two different teams. I’ll start the inside now.”

Hallie headed down the hall. Graeter locked Fida’s door and trotted after her. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“To get my ECW gear. I want to help search.”

Graeter grabbed her elbow. “Negative. Nobody egresses in Condition One. That’s the SOR.”

She pulled free. “We need to search now.”

“Not in Condition One.”

“I won’t stand by while a man might be out there freezing to death.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“The hell it isn’t.” She walked away.

When she was out of hearing, he keyed his radio.

A few doors down, the angry woman stepped out of her room.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi.” Hallie kept on going.

“
Wait
a sec. I’m sorry I was rude before. I want to talk to you.”

Hallie stopped, turned. Over the woman’s shoulder, she saw Graeter’s back. He was still talking on his radio. “I’m sorry. There’s something I have to do. It’s really important.” The woman didn’t need to know that one of her close neighbors might have just committed suicide.

“I have something important, too.” The woman’s face was reddening. “It will just take a minute.”

“Sorry. I’m in Room A-237. Come see me later.” Hallie hurried on.

“Asshole,” the woman called.

“Dr. Leland.”

Hallie was almost to her room when someone spoke from behind. She turned and saw two big men approaching. One wore a Dragger’s dirty Carhartt overalls and black boots. The other was tall and powerfully built, with a white lab coat on over jeans, a blue shirt, and a red sweater.

Dragger and Beaker, she thought. I wonder what brings these two together. But she had a pretty good idea.

“I’m Ben Lowry, biochemistry,” the Beaker said. He was clean-shaven and had huge hands. She could see him as a forward for Duke or UNC. His voice was flat.

“Jake Grenier. Diesel mechanic,” the Dragger said. Hallie recognized him.

“You were out on the ice. When Rockie’s Cat went down.”

“Yep. You did good out there, Doc.”

“Thanks. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“Not make any trouble, would be a good start,” Lowry said.

“Excuse me?”

“We’ll be escortin’ you to your room,” Grenier said.

She took a step back, her face hardening, anger kindling. “I don’t think so.”

“Zack Graeter called,” Lowry said, tapping the radio in his coat pocket. “We’re on the station security team.”

“It’s for your own good, Doc,” Grenier said, and she heard real
concern in his voice. “You can’t imagine what it’s like out there right now. Flesh freezes solid in seconds. Cracks like glass if you tap it. You can frostbite your lungs.
Eyeballs
freeze, for Christ’s sake.”

“That’s exactly why somebody has to go after Fida.”

Grenier said, more gently, “Look, it warms up a little, I’ll be the first on the ice with you. But nobody’s goin’ out now.”

She must have looked unconvinced, because Lowry said, “I’m told you go on expeditions. Mountains and caves and such. Done a bit of that myself. Alps, Andes, some others. Cardinal rule: Don’t make more victims. Am I right?”

He was correct, and she knew it. “Okay. What will happen when it warms up?”

“A Search and Rescue team’s gonna be staged and ready to roll,” Grenier said. “We plan and practice for this, Doc. Ain’t a bunch of Boy Scouts fallin’ over ourselves down here.”

“After you,” Lowry said politely. “We’ll just see you to your room and leave it at that.”

“How long do you intend to keep me confined here?”

“Until dinner hours in the galley, Zack Graeter said. Just enough for you to cool down, was the impression I got.”

“How do you know I won’t go out anyway? After you leave?”

“Because I’m going to ask you to give me your word of honor that you won’t. Unless there’s an emergency of some kind, of course. Otherwise, we’ll have to post a Polie here, and that would be a shame because with winterover coming, we all have way too much to do.” He put out his hand. “So: word of honor?”

She sighed, then shook.

“
BRANK!
”
GUILLOTTE EXCLAIMED, WALKING INTO THE STATION
’
S
grimy weight room. Though Guillotte’s expression and tone were friendly, Brank took a step backward. He and Guillotte had not spoken since the incident in the dive shed. Guillotte came forward.

“I am sorry for what happened,” Guillotte said. “We should not let Beakers get between us.” He winked. “And besides, what is the harm in a little drink, right?” He took a flask out of his gym bag, uncapped it, drank, offered it to Brank.