Roughly half of the little group shuffled off toward the phones. Fatima disappeared to speak to some of the Novo team members whom she knew already, taking Nina along to introduce her. Purdue collared Alexandr and demanded to be shown the hovercrafts at once, as impatient as a schoolboy. Jefferson Daniels and Professor Matlock, who both had wives and children back home, took the opportunity to seek out the phones, as did the elderly gentleman. For want of anything else to do, Sam tagged along behind them. With every step he took in the thick, fleece-lined boots and unfamiliar cleats, he cursed his decision to join the expedition.
When his turn on the phone arrived, he rang DCI Patrick Smith. There was no one else to call apart from his sister, and he had spoken to her on Christmas Day, just before leaving for the airport. She had been disappointed not to have her brother spend Christmas with her, but he could hear the relief in her voice when he told her that he was joining an expedition to research something he couldn't really talk about. That, she had said, sounded like the old Sam Cleave. A return to form. The first signs of Sam getting over what had happened that day in that warehouse.
Sam was glad that she had taken some comfort in what she had heard rather than worrying about his safety in such hostile terrain, but he had nothing further to say to her at present and he lived in dread of her tendency to put the toddler on the phone. "Uncle Sam" had little to say that he thought would be a suitable topic of conversation for a two year old. He had little to say to Paddy either, but at least he could check how Bruichladdich was doing.
"Aye, he's fine," Paddy's voice was distant over the crackly phone line. "Bruich's just fine. Thinks he's on his holidays. I come home after work and get a big ginger lump sat in my lap while I have my tea, and he gets a bit of whatever I'm having. It's a good system."
"That's good," Sam said with a smile. He knew that Smith would spoil the cat rotten before his return. "Thanks for looking after him. I'll probably be out of contact until we get back to Novo, so don't worry if you don't hear from me — I'm not planning to die out here and stick you with the big ginger lummox indefinitely. Scratch him behind the ears from me. I'll be back when I'm back, and in the meantime, Happy New Year."
"Happy New Year, Sam," said Paddy. "Hope you're having a good time out there. Stay safe."
Sam stepped out of the rickety booth and braced himself for another crunchy, slippery trip across the ice to rejoin the group by the hovercrafts. As he took his first steps he noticed the old man in the next booth, with the phone pressed to his ear and a blank expression on his face. Sam paused for a moment. The man did not appear to be engaged in a conversation. He did not look as if he was listening to someone on the other end of the phone. He simply looked as if he was not present.
Should I knock on the door? Sam wondered. See if there's anything I can do? He tried to watch surreptitiously, out of the corner of his eye, but it was difficult to be subtle in such an empty place. There was nothing he could pretend to read or be preoccupied by, no reason he could think of for continuing to stand there. Maybe that's just what he's like, Sam thought. Maybe he's talking to someone who just likes to ramble on and he's not really listening. Maybe that's the kind of relationship he's got with his wife, or his kids, or something. Or maybe he's just pretending to be using the phone so that people won't think he's lonely. Kind of like what I was doing, I suppose… except without Paddy as a convenient cover. He wouldn't thank me for pointing that out. I should probably leave him be. I've been here long enough that if he wasn't ok, if he needed any help, he'd have said by now.
Sam turned away from the old man in the booth, left the ramshackle building, and picked his way across the ice toward the three waiting hovercrafts.
"And then I told Ran that you can't let these little things get you down, you just have to go for it," Jefferson Daniels was in full flow as the hovercraft sped over the ice, sweeping away the kilometers beneath its thick cushions. "I mean, yeah, of course his family is going to worry about a man his age setting out on that sort of expedition, but they were worried the first time he climbed Kilimanjaro and he was fine. If we all let ourselves be held back by our families, nobody would ever achieve anything!"
Sam leaned his head against the cold windowpane and stared out at the endless ice. He had expected there to be lots of snow in Antarctica, but all he had seen so far was ice — vast, dense sheets of it, all the way to the horizon where it met a slate-grey sky. A little way off he could see one of the other hovercraft buzzing along. He wished he was aboard it, rather than trapped in this confined space with Jefferson Daniels and Frank Matlock.
"That's why I told Paige that we can't stand in Henley's way," Jefferson droned on. "She's sixteen now, and if she's ready to compete we have to let her."
"Quite," Matlock chimed in. "Remind me though, what's her sport again? Skiing, was it?"
"Snowboarding. She was real close to the halfpipe speed record last summer, but then she broke her collarbone and now Paige is worried and thinks we shouldn't let her train any more. But I said to her that the girl's a natural, and if we take that away from her we'll just be mean old mom and dad, and what will it do to her competitive spirit? She's a great kid, and she gets that you have to work hard and push yourself to get ahead. Undermining that right now would be the worst thing we could do."
"Well, indeed. How is Paige, by the way? You must give her my love. I can hardly believe that it's been a year since I saw her last. The memory of her excellent New Year's Eve dinner lives on." Professor Matlock drew a deep sigh. "I think we can say with certainty that this year's celebration will not compare. What's happening here?"
Sam turned his head to look out of the window on the other side of the hovercraft. Following Matlock's line of vision, he saw that one of the other vehicles, the one which had been farthest ahead, was rapidly slowing down. "Looks like they have a problem," Jefferson said, as their own transport began to decelerate.
They came to a halt a short distance away. Partly curious and partly just bored of his companions, Sam wanted to climb out and find out what was going on, but the passenger door did not open. Only the pilot got out, returning some minutes later with Alexandr
"We have what you might call a minor issue," Alexandr announced, pushing his ski goggles up onto his forehead as he climbed into the cramped vehicle. "And we have what you might call a major one. The hovercraft in which Mr. Purdue is traveling is experiencing some slight difficulty with one of its air cushions. This is nothing that I cannot repair, but for that I would require time. This, unfortunately, we do not have. The Neumayer Station has alerted us that we are in the path of a storm, so we must make camp and wait it out before we continue our journey. Gentlemen, if you would be so good as to step outside, we shall erect the Space Station. With any luck, we shall be at Neumayer this time tomorrow." Abruptly, with no time for questions or responses, Alexandr ducked out of the passenger door and set off toward the remaining hovercraft.
Sam, Jefferson, and Matlock glanced at one another. "Best do as he says," Jefferson said. "Last thing we need is to get caught in a storm with no shelter. Antarctic weather gets pretty vicious." For want of a better idea, Sam obediently followed the other two out onto the ice, where Jefferson made a beeline for an orange duffel bag lying on the ground nearby. Sam wondered what was so important about it, but it quickly became clear as Jefferson tugged it open and began to take out canvas and an assortment of poles.