"Why didn't it work?" I asked.
"That's just the thing. It should've worked. And it did work, at least for a few months. Then we started experiencing shortages. I tried adding more solar panels and circular fans. But the shortfall just got larger. Eventually, I had no choice. So, Jim and I snuck a diesel generator in here."
His revelation answered a few of my questions. Unfortunately, it didn't get me any closer to unmasking the murderer. "I think someone blew up the plant. Probably the same person who killed Ted."
"Why in God's name would anyone want to do those things?"
"The bombing knocked out our communications. So, maybe the bomber was afraid you'd call for back-up."
"Why would I call for back-up?"
"To hunt down Fenrir."
Baxter's visage tightened. "Even if Fenrir existed, I wouldn't call for back-up."
"But the bomber wouldn't know that," I pointed out. "As for Ted, I imagine he died because he saw the bomber setting the charges."
"That's crazy."
"It's crazier than you think. Whoever blew up the power plant might've been the same person who blew up the Desolation."
"I don't get it." He shook his head. "This is Antarctica. There's nothing here but research."
The Amber Room popped into my mind. Could someone else be after it? But how? Only three people knew about it, four if I included Jeff Morin. And yet, it was the only explanation that made sense. "Don't be too sure about that."
He shook his head. "I can't imagine anyone at Kirby being a murderer."
"There's another possibility. Remember those tire tracks near the Desolation? It looked like a couple of vehicles were offloaded prior to the explosion. So, maybe we're dealing with an outside party." I shivered. "Anyway we can brainstorm suspects later. Right now, we need to find Beverly, Jeff, and Jim."
"They could be anywhere."
"Let's start with Beverly and Jeff. Do you have access to their recent transponder records?"
"Sure, we print them out at the end of each day. My bosses are sticklers for paperwork. But they won't help us."
"Why not?"
"They turned off their transponder a few days ago."
"But you have their old records right?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose I do."
"Go get them." I firmed my jaw. "Now."
Chapter 53
I kept my eyes glued to the landscape. Two hours had passed since we'd tracked down Beverly's last known position. It had yielded no new information. So, we'd decided to drive circles around it, gradually moving further away from the center.
"Up there." Baxter pointed straight ahead. "Do you see that? It looks like a tent."
Through the falling snow, I noticed patches of red, flapping crazily in the wind. "Or a parka."
The Sno-Cat slowed to a crawl. Baxter directed it a little further before bringing it to a stop. I climbed out of the vehicle. The wind blew harder. A patch of snow kicked into the air.
I trudged across the tundra. It felt firm, yet soft beneath my heavy boots. A shape started to form. At first, it looked like a pile of snow. But as I drew closer, the shape took on a more defined edge.
My stomach felt queasy as I laid eyes upon the corpse. The tattered remains of a red parka hung from its body. The wind attacked the parka relentlessly, causing it to whip about in the air.
I bent down and studied the person's face. Then I let out a long breath. "It's not her."
The corpse belonged to a grizzled man, probably in his mid-fifties. His muscles were firm and taut. His bearded face was pockmarked with old cuts and scratches.
I studied his injuries. A severe case of frostbite. An arched back, clearly broken in several places. Left arm severed at the shoulder. Left foot snapped off at the ankle. Face scratched to hell. Insides turned outside. Outsides turned inside.
"It's Jeff Morin." Baxter knelt down next to me. "Good god. What the hell happened to him?"
I didn't know Morin. But I knew his name. He was an experienced polar guide and explorer. He was well known for his willingness to lead expeditions anywhere on the continent, given the right price. As a result, he'd worked for many customers over the years. But only his most recent customer concerned me.
I took a deep breath. "So, it was just Beverly and Jeff?"
Baxter nodded.
"It looks like he fell from a cliff." Graham craned his neck. "Only there isn't one for miles."
"No." Baxter shook his head. "Someone ran him over. Only a Sno-Cat could do this kind of damage. Judging from the ice, it must've happened recently too, sometime in the last forty-eight hours."
"Actually, there's another possibility," I said. "Fenrir."
Baxter didn't meet my gaze. "Fenrir's a legend."
"It attacked me," I said. "You saw it."
"I didn't see anything. For all I know, you scratched yourself."
"Then why'd you fire your gun at it?"
Graham knelt down next to the stump where Morin's left arm used to hang. "These are bite marks. Big ones too."
"You're mistaken," Baxter insisted. "The only creatures that venture inland are emperor penguins. I'm telling you someone ran him over."
"This is a giant continent," Graham said. "Only a few thousand people live here and they congregate near the ocean. The vast interior remains largely unexplored. Maybe it hides a few animals."
"Like the Abominable Snowman?" Baxter's mocking tone turned serious. "It's not just the weather and wind. It's the isolation. Large animals don't exist by themselves. They need water, soil and plants, other animals to eat. They need viable ecosystems."
"There's no use denying it." I twisted toward Baxter. "We know Fenrir exists."
His face clouded over.
"Tell us what you know," I said. "We need to be prepared in case we run into it."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not your responsibility." His eyes narrowed. "It's mine."
Chapter 54
"You don't belong here." Baxter's tone turned bitter. "What are you trying to do anyway? Relive your glory days?"
"At least I had glory days," Graham retorted. "You wasted your whole life on this ball of ice."
"I did research," Baxter replied in a huff. "I've published over forty papers."
"Too bad no one's ever read them."
"At least I'm not a joke in the scientific community."
I stared out the windshield, doing my best to ignore their bickering. I tried to see as far as possible into the blowing snow. Twenty minutes had passed since we'd found Morin's body. Twenty minutes of anxiety. Twenty minutes driving in concentric circles. And twenty minutes of listening to Baxter and Graham tear each other apart.
Initially, Graham had tried to goad Baxter into talking about Fenrir. But Baxter kept his lips sealed. So, Graham had changed subjects. A lively multi-faceted argument had erupted, covering everything from science to history to geography. They didn't agree on anything.
I listened as their conversation changed to politics. Then it turned to welfare. And then it somehow segued into a debate over charity.
"Charity is evil," Graham said. "If God had half a brain, He would've made it a sin."
"Damn, you're cold," Baxter replied.
"Charities are no different then welfare. Both of them encourage sloth and mediocrity."
"They also help people. Or would you rather poor kids starve to death?"