“Which is?” Skyler stood.
“I have no idea.”
“Then we’ll have to try it again.” Skyler examined the remnants of his harness.
He had just removed the wires from around his waist when he hesitated and cocked his head. “Did you hear that?”
“I sure did.” Gates stared up the shaft.
Skyler ran back through the tunnel, his boots splashing in the freezing slush. With the beam of the lantern swinging haphazardly, he shot past the small group huddled around the torch and went straight to the small storage locker containing the pilot's carryall he had found earlier. Sifting through it, he grabbed the flare gun and cartridge, and headed back.
“What's wrong, Sky?” Billy Manners asked, his eyes wide.
“Have you found a way out?” Helen Bermannsson asked in a meek, high-pitched voice.
“Say a prayer this thing fires,” Skyler shouted over his shoulder as he held the flare gun up. Coming to a splashing halt beside his partner, he positioned himself in the middle of the shaft and planted his feet shoulder wide. He loaded the cartridge and gripped the flare gun with both hands, then raised his arms over his head. Aiming the barrel at a distant dot of blue sky barely visible through the mist of water seepage, he pulled back the hammer and squeezed the trigger.
Click.
“Damn!” He held the gun at arm’s length. “Shine the lantern on it.”
Gates aimed the beam on the gun as Skyler broke the barrel open and examined the cartridge. There was a thin coating of rust covering where the firing pin would strike. He pulled the cartridge out, wiping it on his coat — a brown smear marked the spot. Then he rammed the flare back in the chamber, slammed the gun shut, cocked the hammer, and again took aim.
Click.
“Let me see it.” Gates broke open the gun and pulled back the hammer. He quickly discovered a coating of rust covered it as well. Taking a small knife from his pocket, he cleaned the end of the pin. Leaving the hammer in the firing position, he closed the gun and handed it back.
Once again, Skyler aimed it over his head and squeezed the trigger.
BLAM!
With a deafening, throaty whoosh, the flare burst from the barrel like a Roman Candle. The flame lit the opaque ice walls with a surreal glow. For a moment, Skyler thought he had just released the ghost of Arctic Air Cargo 101.
A few seconds later, he heard the distant muffled boom as the flare ignited in the air over the mouth of the shaft. Then just as quickly, the shaft fell back into the monotonous patter of the dripping water.
“What's going on?” Peter Bjoernsson called as he led the others down the tunnel to join Skyler and Gates.
“We thought we heard the sound of a prop plane,” Skyler said.
“You mean there's someone up there?” Helen asked.
“Someone besides that son-of-a bitch, Knebel,” Billy Manners added.
“You guys get back to the torch,” Skyler said. “We’re going to try climbing out again.”
Peter Bjoernsson motioned for the group to return to the cargo bay.
Suddenly, the two-way radio attached to Skyler's belt crackled and hissed to life. A strange voice, distant and thin, said, “Hello? Anyone there?”
Skyler yanked the radio off his belt with such force that he broke the clasp. “Yes,” he yelled into the device. “We’re here! Who are you?”
There was a long pause as the group took in a collective breath and held it.
“I’m Chief Inspector Walter Smyth.” The words were half-buried in the static white noise from transmitting through the thick ceiling of ice. “Who's there?”
Surrounded by an immediate outburst of whoops and hollers, Skyler held the radio to his mouth, shouting, “It’s my turn to buy, Walter.”
BACK ON THE SURFACE
“That’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard,” Gates said as the hiss of the suction pumps filled the tunnel at the bottom of the shaft. “Remind me to give that guy a big kiss.”
“I was thinking of calling the Vatican and nominating him for sainthood,” Skyler said. He secured his foot firmly in the loop at the end of the rope dropped down by Smyth. Then he radioed the inspector to pull him up. Five minutes later Skyler emerged from the shaft shoving a grateful hand at Smyth. “You’re truly a sight for sore eyes, Walter.”
“My wife always said I had perfect timing.” The pudgy little Englishman gave a sly smile. To pull Skyler up, he had secured the rope to a snowmobile and let the boy-pilot do the driving.
“She’ll get no argument from me,” Skyler said.
As the boy circled the snowmobile back to where the two men stood, Skyler inspected what was left of the electrical switch box controlling the power to the hoist.
“What do you think?” Smyth asked.
“Knebel shot it up pretty bad but I can repair it. I guess he didn’t anticipate you coming along to rescue us or he would have destroyed everything.”
Skyler retrieved a tool kit from the command hut and within ten minutes had mended and spliced the wires back together. While Smyth and the boy watched, Skyler reattached the generator cables and flipped the power switch. The hoist motor hummed. Then he radioed down for the rest of his crew to climb on. Soon, Gates and the others emerged from the shaft.
“They’ve got quite a head start,” Gates said once the group had gathered in the warmth of the command hut.
“There may still be time to catch up and find out how they plan to get the korium back to Colombia,” Skyler said.
“Think they’ll use some kind of air transport?” Dr. Bjoernsson asked.
“Maybe, but my guess is a freighter — small nondescript, and innocent looking.”
“We passed over a group of tractors pulling heavy cargo on trailers on our way here,” Smyth said.
“That was them,” Gates said.
“Knebel did us a favor by wrecking the satellite communications before he left,” Billy Manners said. “The Phoenix will realize by now that there’s no data link.”
“They will send the helicopter?” Dr. Bjoernsson asked.
“Eventually,” Skyler said. “But we can’t wait.” He studied a detailed map of the coastline spread out on a table. “Once that ore is loaded on a freighter, they could drop out of the shipping lanes and disappear.” He turned to the boy. “Do you have a radio on your plane?”
“Busted.” The boy popped his bubble gum.
Skyler turned back to the map. “All right, here’s what we’ll do. Mick and I’ll fly back to the coast with our young friend here. Once we determine how Knebel is transporting the korium, we’ll head for Scoresby Sund and get word to the Phoenix to notify Argentine and put the military on alert.”
“The generators work and there’s plenty of fuel and provisions,” Gates said to the rest of the group. “Just stay warm and hold on. We’ll get help back here as soon as possible.”
Skyler turned to Smyth. “Inspector, we can’t thank you enough.”
“It works both ways,” Smyth said. “Now I know beyond a doubt what happened to my father and the stolen money. That’s thanks enough to last a lifetime.” After final farewells, Skyler, Gates, and the boy climbed into the Beaver. With a great deal of sputtering and coughing, the old plane taxied to a flat area of the snowfield, lumbered across the ice and lifted into the blue sky. The OceanQuest crew waved as the Beaver made a final circle over their heads before setting a course due east.
Dr. Peter Bjoernsson walked over to the shaft entrance and flipped off the power to the pumps. “Rest in peace, Arctic Air Cargo 101.” After the drone of the Beaver faded, the only sound was the crunch of boots on the snow as he and the others headed back to the warmth of the command hut.