Subterranean (5 page)

He nodded. “Linda was just telling me about her doctorate research. Evolutionary biology. She's been studying the development of phosphorescent algae in cavern systems. Most fascinating.”

“I've seen some of that glowing algae,” Ben said. “In a cave in Madagascar. There were caverns so thick with the stuff that you almost wished you had sunglasses.”

Linda nodded. “
Rinchari luminarus
. A beautiful species. Comes in a variety of colors too.” She talked about how the individual species differed.

Ashley's attention drifted from the conversation. She studied Linda as she spoke. Her eyes were so blue that Ashley wondered if they were real. Her physique was ample, soft, with small hands, a child's delicate fingers. A direct contrast to Ashley's hard, lean body. No one would ever describe Ashley as soft.

Khalid never took his eyes from Linda, nodding every now and then as she continued her description. He was obviously entranced by more than just the genetic variations of glowing sludge. Even Ben had a perpetual smile on his lips as he listened.

Ashley felt like a piece of granite next to a rose. She swallowed her whiskey.

“. . . and that's how I received my doctorate.”

“I can see why Dr. Blakely wanted you,” Ashley said. The two men seemed to come out of a trance. “Your knowledge of unique evolutionary pathways will be helpful in documenting our exploration.”

Ben cleared his throat. “Definitely an asset.”

Khalid nodded. “Indeed.”

Ben finally turned away from Linda. “So, Khalid, what's your angle? A geologist, huh?”

He sipped his drink, then spoke, “The Antarctic Treaty of 1959.”

“Come again?” Ben asked.

“No one owns Antarctica. The 1959 treaty declared the continent to be used only for peaceful, scientific purposes. A world park.”

“Yeah, I know about that. Australia has a few bases there.”

“Yes, but did you know that because of the treaty's prohibition against mineral exploration, the extent of Antarctica's mineral wealth is still unknown? It's a big blank slate.”

Khalid allowed that to sink in before continuing. “Well, the treaty ended in 1991. The continent is now open for mineral exploration, but with one critical stipulation: The land must be protected from damage.”

It dawned on Ashley. The implications were enormous. “These subterranean tunnels will allow you to explore the continent's mineral wealth without harm to the surface.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “And any deposits—oil, minerals, precious stones—discovered are the property of the government who finds them.”

“With the U.S. government's lust for future territorial claims,” she said, “it's no wonder the National Science Foundation has been so generous with their funding. But who exactly are we in bed with here?”

“I imagine it's a combination of science, commerce, and politics,” Khalid answered—and then with a grin, “I suppose much like your government's Manhattan Project.”

Ashley scowled. “Great. And look how wonderful that turned out.”

“So what do you think the likelihood of a significant find is?” Linda asked, drawing the Egyptian's attention.

“Considering that a researcher discovered Mount Erebus's volcanic plume emits gold dust—the only plume to do so on the planet—I think this research team's salary will be more than adequately covered.”

“Gold in volcano smoke,” Ben said. “Sounds pretty far-fetched.”

Khalid scowled briefly at the interruption. “It's been widely written up.”

The other team members remained silent. Dumbstruck.

Ashley bristled. Once again Blakely had failed to reveal the full extent of this mission. First the armed escort, and now this. “I don't know if I like this,” she said. “Raping a continent. And for whose benefit?”

Linda nodded in agreement.

Everyone sat quietly, pondering the sobering news.

Then Ben, in a sudden outburst, destroyed the somber reverie. “To hell with it. Let's go dancing! It's the flipping birthplace of the tango. C'mon, Buenos Aires is just waking up.”

Ashley frowned. This Australian sheepherder never stops, she thought. “I'll pass. I have a son to tuck into bed.”

Khalid also shook his head. “We don't dance the tango in my country.”

Linda brightened. “I'll go. I'd like to get out of this stuffy hotel.”

“Superb!” Ben said. “I know of a bar in the San Telmo district. Quaint and authentic.”

Ben scooted out of the booth and gave Linda his hand. “The night and the stars await us,” he declared with a slight bow.

Bashfully, Linda smiled at Ben's drama.

As the two walked away, Ashley noticed Khalid's brows lower. He mumbled something in Arabic, then said his good-byes to her and slipped from the table also.

She watched as Ben escorted Linda across the bar. A small burst of her tinkling laughter could be heard as the two exited onto the street.

Ashley remained, nursing the rest of her drink. As if on cue, the plangent chords of a tango began wailing from the bar's speakers. The sultry music just made her feel that much lonelier.

I
N A PLANE AGAIN
, A
SHLEY THOUGHT SOURLY, HER NOSE
pressed to the window. Down below, glacier fought granite from horizon to horizon.

This was the final leg of the two-day journey. Yesterday, they had flown the eight hundred miles from Buenos Aires to Esperanza, the Argentine army base on the tip of an Antarctic Peninsula. There, Ashley had her first taste of Antarctic air—like ice water poured into her lungs. The team overnighted at the base's military barracks and the next morning were hauled once again aboard the Argentine transport. By noon, Blakely had promised, they would reach their final destination, the U.S. naval base McMurdo.

Ashley longed to spend more than twenty-four hours outside an airplane's cabin. She pushed herself up a bit to see if Jason was behaving himself. He was seated across the rattling cabin next to Ben, talking animatedly, his hands expressive. The two had become fast friends since bunking together in the male dormitory of the barracks in Esperanza.

Ben noticed her stare and grinned over Jason's head at her. The Australian was demonstrating admirable patience. Jason's stories could get long-winded.

“He's fine,” said Major Michaelson, seated next to her.

Startled, she snapped at him. “I didn't ask for your opinion.”

“I just meant . . .” He shook his head with a frown. “Never mind.”

Ashley bit her lower lip. He was obviously just trying to reassure her. “I'm sorry. That wasn't directed at you. I just have these nagging doubts about bringing Jason along.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to relax. “Your son has a lot of spunk. He'll do fine.”

“Thanks. But what about Ben? He didn't come on this mission to be my baby-sitter.”

The major smiled. “Maybe some of Jason's maturity will rub off on him.”

She chuckled. “That man sure is a walking showboat.”

“At least he knows his business.” He nodded toward Ben. “I read his file. A celebrated search-and-rescue worker, specializing in cave reconnaissance. Two years ago, he rescued an experienced research crew in the Lechuguilla caves. The researchers had disappeared for eight days, and no one could find them. Ben went in alone and came out with a broken leg and the four crew members. He knows his caves. Almost a sixth sense.”

“I didn't realize . . .” She glanced at Ben, who was now playing cards with Jason. She sat there pondering the revelation.

“Your file was just as impressive,” the major said.

“My file?”

“You seem to have an amazing ability to ferret out new discoveries in otherwise heavily researched sites.”

She just shrugged at his praise. The major seemed extraordinarily talkative. He'd otherwise been so close-lipped and stoic. She turned to him. “You sure as hell know a lot about us, but all I've received were tickets and a schedule. I don't even know your first name.”

“It's Dennis,” he said. “Dr. Blakely plans a full debriefing at Alpha Base.”

Major
Dennis
Michaelson, she thought. With a first name, the major almost seemed human. She settled back in her seat. “Where are you from, Dennis?”

“Nebraska. Our family's farm is just outside North Platte.”

“So why did you join the Marines?”

“My brother, Harry, and I joined together. He's a big motor buff—cars, bikes, drag racing, that sort of thing. He joined to get his hands dirty on even bigger engines. The guy was never happy unless his hands were filthy with oil. Always needing to tinker.” An affectionate smile had appeared on Michaelson's face as he described his brother.

“And what about you? What drew you away from the farm?”

“Partly to keep an eye on Harry. But also, as I said, our family farm's just outside North Platte. And North Platte is just outside of nowhere.”

“So you joined to see the world. And now here you are. Serving at the bottom of it.”

“Yes,” he said almost fiercely. “And right now North Platte never looked so good.”

“So why not quit and go back to the farm?”

His face suddenly clouded over, black eyebrows pulling together. He shook his head but remained silent.

She tried to extract more from him. “How did you get hitched with such a dull assignment? Guarding a bunch of scientists.”

“I volunteered,” he mumbled.

She crinkled her nose. Not exactly the expected decision of a career military man. No prestige, no glory, stationed at the ass-end of the world. “Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I have my reasons.” He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the seat, grumbling about using the restroom.

Alone, she went back to studying the landscape passing below the skis of the aircraft. Sun reflected off the ice. The more she got to know her teammates, the less she seemed to understand them. But what else was new? She never understood people. Look at her marriage. A honeymoon that lasted eight years until one day she came home early from a dig—nauseated by morning sickness—and discovered her husband in their bed with his secretary. No warning signs. No lipstick on a collar. No blond hair on his jacket. Nothing. A mystery to her.

Ashley placed a hand on her belly. Scott's infidelity was not the worst of it. She remembered the cramping pain and the rush of blood. The emotional overload from his betrayal had triggered a miscarriage. Losing the child had almost destroyed her. Only Jason, then seven years old, had kept her sane.

Even though years had passed, a part of her ached when she remembered how much she had lost. Not just the baby, but her faith in people. She refused to let herself be so gullible, so vulnerable again.

Slumping into her seat, she stared out the frosted window. Just at the edge of the horizon, a tower of smoke rose into the air, a dark signature against the blue sky. She sat up straighter. As the plane droned on, the source of the gray plume appeared, rising from the flat surface like some awakening giant. Mount Erebus.

The interior of the Dodge van reeked of cigarette smoke and bounced in rough sync with the bass beat of a Pearl Jam cassette. A tired midday sun protruded wanly over the summit of Mount Erebus. The driver, a young Navy ensign, bobbed his head to the music. “Almost home,” he called over his shoulder. “Just around the next ridge of ice.” The road from Williams Field to McMurdo Base was a rough-hewn stretch of carved ice. With a final molar-jarring bump as they circled the ridge, Ashley viewed their destination.

She swiped a glove over the steamed passenger window. The other team members were doing the same. Beside the blue ice shelf encasing the Ross Sea, McMurdo Base was a black smudge. An industrial complex of gray buildings dwarfed by a huge junkyard to the south. The van trundled past an ignited trash dump fuming oily smoke into the blue sky.

A Navy helicopter screamed over the van, the pressure and sound vibrating the windows. Jason covered his ears. The base buzzed with other helicopters. Ashley tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Is it always this busy here?”

The driver gave her a thumbs-up sign. “This is a slow day,” he yelled.

She leaned back into her seat. Great.

Blakely smiled. “We'll only be stopping here for a couple of hours, then we'll proceed directly to Alpha Base. It's much quieter down there.” He glanced wistfully out the window. “Actually, after a year or so, you get accustomed to the commotion and smell up top here. I almost miss it.”

“Seems like a lot of pollution for a scientific station,” Linda said with a grimace. “These surrounding biocommunities are fragile.”

Blakely shrugged. “We've been allocated a ten-million-dollar cleanup fund. It'll get better.”

“I sure hope so,” Linda said.

They were dropped off near a cement-block building. Ashley tightened her parka around her; the wind burned as it whipped across her cheeks. Frostbite could set in within mere minutes if unprotected. Her teammates dashed for the entryway. She made sure Jason was ahead of her. She didn't want him wandering off and getting lost.

Warmth. The interior was heated but felt humid and sticky, the pungent odor of sweat prevalent. Crinkling her nose, she noticed the hallway was lined with a rainbow of colored parkas hung on pegs.

Blakely directed them to hang up their parkas. “Don't worry about them being stolen. To steal someone's coat is a hanging offense here.”

Ashley helped Jason off with his parka and hung it next to hers.

“We'll only be stopping for lunch, then proceeding directly to Alpha Base,” Blakely continued. “The E-mess is at the end of this corridor. Help yourselves and unwind. We'll meet back here in two hours. There's also a recreation room with Ping-Pong and pool tables around the corner from E-mess. Enjoy yourselves.”