Colin and Kate had been plotting the progress of the berg for more than a year now and the denser series of points showed the regular readings obtained on a twelve-hourly basis since the full station had been set up less than three months ago. And in all that time, the berg had been literally going round in circles.
But not now.
Richard had lent the scientists a satnav system from one of his ships against this very moment. The first flimsy Colin had brought up to Richard on the forecastle head was the test printout from the equipment. Kate was now receiving the first official confirmation of their exact location on the surface of the globe as read by a low-orbit satellite somewhere not too far above. She took the reading across to the chart and plotted it. She drew a line up to the previous mark and straightened. Then she turned to the men, her face alight, the whole of her slim body vibrant with excitement. ‘Look!’ she whispered. And they did.
For the first time since the readings started, the iceberg was moving in a straight line.
A straight line heading due south.
A beam of sunlight came in through the window and surrounded the map with a glory.
And Sam came in through the door with an empty coffee mug in his hand yelling, ‘Your men have fallen over the cliff! The edge of the ice collapsed and I think all three of them are gone.’
Chapter Six
Disaster struck Dr Paul Chan, medical doctor, scientist, explosives expert, jack of all trades and United Nations worker, with a sound like a rifle shot. Later he rather fancifully thought that perhaps it had been the sound of Death’s scythe hitting the ice. But he never really got it out of his head that it all began with a rifle shot.
There was no overhang and the new ice cliff had seemed to be absolutely safe, which was why the engineering team had chosen this particular spot to check their handiwork in the first place. The cliff was sheer. At first glance it looked disturbingly like a wall of green glass but there were fissures and even a small gallery or two and the way down looked easy — another good reason for checking here. Even so, Paul had insisted on full safety gear, including hard hats, and he had been careful to anchor the ropes securely at the top before he and the others went over.
They each had a rope of their own and were spread along the whole section of this face. The other two had gone first, with Paul checking the anchorage of their lines. Then he had caught up an ice axe from the equipment box beside the anchorage point of his own rope and gone over himself. He had half-expected to be abseiling down a massive slope of glass, which was why he had brought the ice axe, but the cracks and ledges he had seen from the top in fact made his descent easy. It wasn’t even climbing, really. He found himself turning side on to the crystal cliff and walking down an overlapping series of ledges like a complicated staircase. Even in his bulky bright orange survival suit with its built-in Mae West, it was easy. A glance down showed that the others were doing very much the same thing. It was a brief glance down, however, for Paul was all too aware that nothing lay below them but the freezing depths of the North Atlantic; one slip would mean a swim, something he didn’t fancy, even in this outfit. It was a brief glance also because he wasn’t here to admire the view. He was here to check the state of the newly exposed ice.
Blowing the ice hook off the front of the berg was only the beginning, really. They had to make sure, as far as was possible, that the new cliffs were going to stand the pressure of being the bow of a ship one hundred kilometres long. The weathered cliffs on the other side were obviously up to the job; they had been standing up to the full force of the sea for however many years the berg had been afloat. These new cliffs might not be so strong, impenetrable cloud of mist and spray which roared up into his face. It was unexpected and wildly disorientating, as was the thunderous noise which told of a massive battle being fought between water and ice somewhere invisibly below. He was a fisherman, however, and his fingers read the rope as well as they could read a fly line; he knew there was a body on the end of it. A live body, by the feel of it. ‘There’s someone down there on the end of this rope,’ he called into the freezing fog and the deafening thunder.
‘That’s Paul’s rope,’ came Kate’s reply indistinctly, seemingly from some distance.
‘No such luck with the other two,’ observed Colin grimly. His voice was suddenly clearer. Richard looked back over his shoulder to see the loom of Colin’s great body through the thinning vapour.
The mist fell away then and Richard was able to follow the orange thread of the rope down and down until at last it was connected to the bulk of an inert body hanging helplessly against the sheer cliff face.
‘Quick! Pull him up!’ called Sam as he scrabbled to a slippery halt beside them. The other three hesitated, looking at each other.
‘Just a second,’ temporised Richard. ‘We don’t know how badly he’s hurt.’
‘He’ll be dead for sure if you don’t hurry,’ insisted the helicopter pilot.
‘I know—’
‘Richard’s right,’ Kate interrupted. ‘It’s no use rushing if we put him more at risk. I’m going down to him. I can check that it’s safe to move him, it’ll only take a moment. I’ll get my bag.’
‘She’s a doctor,’ Colin explained to Sam who was looking after the determined woman with wonder on his face.
While they waited, Richard kept an eye on Paul’s inert body and Colin prowled the very edge, searching in the surf below for any sign of the other two. There was nothing to be seen but grey waves, white foam and a restless jumble of ice. The big glaciologist’s lips tightened in a grimace of frustrated anger at his inability to help the missing men.
Kate was back after a few moments carrying her bag and another length of nylon rope. It was taken for granted she would go; she was the best qualified, though her doctorate was in biology, not medicine. She was the expedition medic. She was also the lightest and perhaps the weakest. The men could lower and lift her easily and relatively safely. She could not do the same for either of them.
She tied the rope round her waist and looped it round the handle of her medical bag.
‘Keep an eye on Paul’s line, would you please, Sam?’ asked Richard, picking himself up.
By the time the pilot was crouching over the orange rope, the two other men were standing side by side, ready to lower Kate over the edge. No words were exchanged between them, but they worked with a mechanical precision — a perfect team. It was hardly surprising that Colin and Kate should have this facility, but Sam was struck by the ease and efficiency with which Richard Mariner fitted in. When all the knots were tied and tested, and Kate was ready to go, Richard stooped and handed her the little ice axe from the equipment box at their feet. ‘You may need to cut yourself a foothold,’ he said.
The slim figure of the doctor backed over the edge and began to walk carefully down, with the men paying out the rope as she went. There was quite a slope, but because a whole section had fallen away, the cliff did not become vertical until she was quite near the unconscious man. It was hard work keeping her footing, for the surface of the ice was flat, featureless, slick and slippery. After her first fall, she learned to twist her body so that her shoulder hit first, not her forehead. Richard could well be right; she might indeed need to cut herself a foothold or two.
Like her husband, she was coldly furious that fate should have robbed her of two, possibly three, important colleagues just at the moment of apparent triumph. Typically, she was less concerned about herself and the danger she was going into than about the wellbeing of the victims and the potential damage to Colin’s plans. What effect would this accident have on the still sceptical men at the United Nations? They were already voicing some concern about the potential cost. Chartering Richard Mariner’s ships would not be cheap, even though he was offering a special rate, and there were no others on offer. Would this accident give the doubters the excuse they needed to pull out? Would this be the end of their research, their plans, the iceberg itself? She was not a sentimental person, but she had formed some attachment to this great timeless piece of ice during the year she had spent camping on it and the thought of having the US Navy blow it out of the water was not a pleasant one for her.