"I'm fine," Nina sighed, shrugging off the comforting arm that Fatima tried to put around her. "Honestly. I'm ok. It's just so bloody frustrating! First Matlock and the fact that everything that man does has to be a pissing contest, then Alexandr suddenly taking his side, then Purdue… I'm not crazy, am I?" She glanced imploringly from Fatima to Sam and back again. "It's dangerous. It really is. We're underground, we know there's got to be a flood mechanism for the pens, and we're just pushing buttons and throwing switches — am I the only person here who doesn't want to end up drowning under here? God, I need a cigarette."
"Me too," Sam said. "Look, let's go and take a few pictures of this door and then head back upstairs. We can shift our stuff into some of the officers' quarters and then you'll have somewhere to smoke."
"He's right, Nina," said Fatima. "It'll be good to break out into individual rooms, so we'll all have a little more space. Come and take a look at the door first, though. Sam will need you to tell him which details to focus on."
Biting back her anger, Nina pushed her hands through her hair, took a couple of deep breaths and forced herself to look calm. Then she led Sam and Fatima over to the door, pushing past Purdue and the others with a swift, barely civil explanation that Sam should be allowed to photograph the door as they found it, before anyone started fooling about with it. Working to her instructions, Sam took shots of the door as a whole, of its hinges, its seals, the dial, and the strange lock. Then he, Fatima, and Nina left Purdue and the others to play safe-cracker while they went to claim rooms in the officers' quarters.
"That's better." Nina blew out a long stream of smoke and stretched out on the bottom bunk. She handed the cigarette packet to Sam, who was unpacking the contents of his rucksack into drawers. "So what made you choose this room? The ones at the other end of the corridor are nicer."
Sam shrugged. "The wee bit of me that's still six years old couldn't pass up the chance to get the top bunk. Besides, everyone will pick rooms at that end. I fancied a bit of distance."
"Makes sense. God, I love being able to smoke indoors." She eyed his attempts at unpacking with amusement. "Sam, is that what you call unpacking? If you're not going to organize your stuff, what's the point in taking it out of the rucksack?"
"There's a system!" Sam shoved a handful of socks into the bottom drawer. "Clothes in here, stuff that isn't clothes in the drawer above. Camera and general Nazi memorabilia stay on the top." He retrieved the little pouch that had belonged to Kruger from the depths of his pack. "Look, I could even make a little display with them." One by one, he took out the little brass pieces and arranged them on top of the pouch — first the tiny cog, then the thin disc, the cylinder, and the brass ring.
Nina picked the ring up for a closer look. "This is such a strange piece," she said. "It looks like a little one-finger knuckleduster, don't you think?" She slipped it onto the middle finger of her right hand and drew back her fist as if to punch Sam.
"You can take the girl out of the west coast of Scotland…" Sam teased. He caught Nina's hand as it arced in a lazy, slow-motion punch toward his jaw. Then his gaze fell on the ring, and realization hit him far harder than Nina ever would. "Is that…? Give it here!" He flapped urgently at Nina, who tugged the ring off her finger and gave it back to him.
"What?" she asked. "What is it?"
Sam grabbed his camera and began flicking back through the images on his view screen. When he came to the close-up of the strange keyhole, he held it out to Nina. "You don't think this would fit, do you?" He held up the ring next to the little screen, inviting her comparison.
"I'm not sure." Nina scrutinized both the image and the ring. "It does look like it's about the right shape and size, and it's not as if we have any idea what else it does. Want to give it a try?"
"What did I tell you?" Purdue was yelling at the top of his lungs when Sam and Nina re-entered the tunnel. "I told you it would be easy!" He was capering from foot to foot, fists above his head in celebration, wearing a face-splitting grin. The others were cheering and congratulating him. Evidently he had cracked the code — yet the door remained obstinately closed.
"Surely that's a partial victory?" Sam could not resist playing devil's advocate for a moment. "It's still shut."
Regaining his composure, Purdue gave Sam a look of polite annoyance. "I did not say that I would open it, Mr. Cleave — only that I would work out the combination. That much I have done."
"But how do you know, if the door's still shut?"
"By the feel and the noise, Mr. Cleave. One by one I could hear the tumblers fall into place, and now the dial has sprung forward ever so slightly. It is minute, but it is enough. Now all we need is to find something that can serve as a key and we can discover what—"
Without a word, Nina stepped forward and slotted her single-finger knuckleduster into the key slot. It clicked into place and the handle popped out, unlocked, and ready to be turned.
"Moment of truth, Dave," she murmured, looking Purdue straight in the eye and daring him to open the door. He shot his cuffs, stepped forward, and closed his fingers around the handle, drawing out the drama of the moment. The door creaked and complained as he tried to pull it open, protesting after years of not being touched. In the end, Ziv Blomstein had to step in and provide the muscle. At last, after a good three minutes of the two men working against the stiff hinges, it stood open before them, revealing a brightly-lit white corridor. No corrugated metal or smoothed stone here — this looked like a much better maintained and more permanent structure. With Blomstein at his shoulder, Purdue was the first to step through.
"Freeze!" A voice rang out from the corridor. "Down on the ground! All of you! On the ground right now!"
Sam saw a horde of black-uniformed soldiers sweeping toward the group from the other end of the corridor, wielding machine guns. Immediately obedient, he dropped to the floor and lay as still as he could while numerous pairs of heavy army boots tramped past his head.
Chapter 18
The soldiers swarmed in and swiftly confiscated Blomstein's gun, the only visible weapon the group had. "Who's in charge here?" the major barked.
That's a good point, Sam thought. Who actually is in charge of this group? He raised his head as much as he dared to see who stepped up.
Purdue was the first to speak. "You can speak to me," he said. "I commissioned this expedition and am ultimately responsible for it."
"Then I'll ask you to get to your feet, sir," the major said. As Purdue straightened up, two soldiers briskly patted him down. "What is your purpose here, sir?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Purdue blustered. He waved grandly at the rest of the group. "We are a group of scientists and historians who came in search of Ice Station Wolfenstein, to verify its existence and learn its secrets. And you are?"
The major regarded Purdue with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "I am not at liberty to tell you that, sir. Please ask the rest of your party to stand so that we can check for weapons."
Purdue did not actually repeat the command, but everyone had heard it clearly and no one was in the mood to argue. Even Blomstein restricted himself to simply eyeing the newcomers suspiciously. The major began firing off questions about which countries they had come from, the exact nature of their business, and of course their names and professional capacities. One by one they answered, until he came to Admiral Whitsun. As soon as the old man gave his name, the major snapped to attention and saluted him.