“Hello?” a voice with a rich Australian accent answered.
“Is Devlin there? This is Conner Young calling from the United States.”
“The United States, eh? Must be early in the morning there, isn’t it?”
Conner rolled her eyes. “It’s a little after eleven.”
“It’s a little after midnight here.” The voice waited for an apology, then, getting none, moved on with a sigh. “All right. I’ll see if I can track him down for you, missy.”
There was a thump as the phone was dropped, and Conner started tapping her fingers on the desktop. After three long minutes the phone was finally picked up.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
Conner was startled at the reaction the deep voice brought out. “Devlin, how are you doing?”
“Not bad. How are you, Conner?”
“All right.”
“Where are you calling from? Charlie said it was the States.”
“Atlanta.”
“Atlanta? What happened to Chicago?” Devlin asked.
“I moved over to SNN.”
There was a light whistle. “So you’ve made the big time. Congratulations.”
“Well, actually I’m on the periphery of the big time.” Conner shifted to the task at hand. “That’s what I’m calling you about. I remember you talked about having been to Antarctica several times.”
“Yes. Four times. I also wintered over at the Our Earth base there three years ago. Why? What’s up?”
“I received information about something, and I was wondering if you could give me some help.”
“What’s the information?”
“I’ve been told that the army built a secret installation, called Eternity Base, in Antarctica in 1971.”
“What kind of secret base?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where exactly was the place built in Antarctica?”
“I don’t know. That’s why they call it a secret, Devlin.”
“Well, I’ve been down there and I’ve also talked to a lot of people stationed down there, especially at McMurdo, and I’ve never heard anything about a place called Eternity Base. It would be pretty difficult to cover up something like that, although ‘71 was a long time ago.”
Conner was interested in impact first, details later. “What I want to know is — if this Eternity Base did exist, and no one knew about it, how big a story would that be?”
Devlin whistled. “It’d be big, Conner. First, it would have broken the ‘59 treaty. Any base that is built down there, even if it is temporary, has to be open for inspection by any of the other signees of the treaty. If a base is hidden, well then it certainly isn’t open for inspection.
“Second, if the army built it, then it’s probably some sort of military base. If it still exists, that would be a gross violation of not only the letter of the current 1991 accord governing things in Antarctica but also the spirit of the accord. Our Earth has really been upping the pressure there, and we have a few things planned in the next couple of months. Discovering something like this Eternity Base would be great publicity.”
Conner backtracked a little. “Well, other than a few nebulous records, I have no real proof of anything. I just wanted to find out if this was worth pursuing.”
“It’s definitely worth pursuing. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to call me.” Devlin laughed. “Even if it is after midnight. I remember the last time we talked after midnight.”
Conner didn’t want to discuss that right now. “I’ll do some more checking, and I’ll get back to you if I come up with something.”
“All right. I’ll be at this number for at least another two days. After that, I’m not sure where I’ll be.”
“Bye.” Conner slowly put down the phone. She’d never even asked Devlin what he was doing in Australia. She shrugged. There’d be time for that if she talked to him again.
Damn Sammy. Conner swung her bulky purse up on the desk and started rummaging through, looking for her personal address book. She thought she had Sammy’s work number in there but she wasn’t sure. There it was — under S. Conner punched in the number with her pencil.
“Records Center. Samantha Pintella.”
“All right, I’m sorry. I’ve had a rough day.”
There was no trace of anger in Sammy’s voice. “It’s OK. I shouldn’t have called you anyway.”
“No. I think it’s an interesting story. Will you get in trouble if we do something on it?”
Sammy’s voice was tentative. “Well… I was thinking that you wouldn’t have to say you got it from me. You could probably talk to one of those men in the engineer unit who built the place and maybe they would tell you something about it. You wouldn’t have to tell them that you first heard about Eternity Base from records in the Center.”
Conner got a clear screen on the computer and hit the speaker button on her phone. “All right, give me the names and addresses. I’ll see what they have to say.”
After Sammy was finished relaying the information on the four officers, she added: “Let me know what you find out, all right? I’m interested in this thing. The tie-in with MACV-SOG is kind of strange.”
“Sure. I’ll get back in touch. Bye.” Conner hung up. She was right about Sammy’s special interest in this case. Sammy just couldn’t give up on the possibility that her father might still be alive. She was always reading anything to do with the MIA issue or Special Forces operations in Vietnam.
Conner felt a moment’s guilt for suspecting Sammy of a hidden agenda. This story could help her career — Sammy was right about that. In this business one tended to be paranoid. There was always someone right behind you on the ladder waiting for you to screw it all up so they could stomp over your shattered career to take your place.
Conner shook thoughts of Sammy’s fixation out of her head. I have my own fixation, she thought, smiling. She immediately called information and started working on the first name on her list. Using his last known address, she tracked down Captain Townsend’s number.
The phone was answered by a woman who told her to hold on and she’d get her husband. At last the phone was picked up. She wondered if the man was in a wheelchair, it had taken him so long.
“Hello?” said a man’s voice, tremulous with old age.
“Is this Louis Townsend?”
“Yes.”
“This is Conner Young. I’m with SNN News and I’m doing some research on army installations. I’m particularly interested in something your unit was involved with in 1971.”
“The army? ‘71?” There was a pause. “I was in Vietnam in ‘71. What project are you talking about? We did a lot of work shutting things down there that year.”
“I’m not talking about Vietnam, Mister Townsend. I have some information that your company was sent on temporary duty to Antarctica for four months near the end of the year. Could you shed any light on what you were building in Antarctica?”
There was a long pause, then Townsend’s voice came back, sounding very distant. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ve received bad information. We were in Vietnam from June of ‘71 through May of ‘72. A man doesn’t forget something like that even if he’s as old as I am.”
“I know that’s what your unit is listed officially as doing, Mister Townsend, but I do have some evidence indicating that—”
“Ma’am, I really have nothing else to tell you. I have to go now.”
The phone went dead. Conner felt a lot better about this hang-up than she had about her sister’s. There was a story here. She could feel it. Old soldiers loved to tell war stories, yet this guy had hung up on her.
She quickly tracked down the second name on the list, but there was no answer. She moved on to the third. Conner checked the map on the wall as she called — the area code was in New Jersey. The phone was picked up on the third ring by a woman.