Whiteout! Page 17

  'Which means,' Kelleher said, 'that the stuff could already have been wearing off?'

  'Right.' Allen turned, put his feet on the floor.

  'Stay where you are,' I said.

  He shook his head weakly. 'I can go into the command office for the keys. You guys can't do that.'

  'You'd never make it,' Kelleher said.

  Allen swallowed again painfully. 'I'll make it.'

  I glanced at Kelleher. We were both reluctant even to let Allen try. All the same, weak and shaky though he was, he'd forced himself to his feet and now he took two or three slow steps. 'I ain't gonna win no marathons,' Allen said, 'but I'll make it.'

  He was determined and Kelleher and I conceded, feeling guilty about it. We helped Allen into his parka and boots, and went to the door with him. As he was about to go, I said, 'Doc Kirton's effects. Where will they be?'

  He turned. 'They're still on his body. What's left of it. We figured we'd leave all that. He was kind of a mess.'

  Kelleher patted his shoulder. 'Listen, take your time.'

  'Sure.' Allen looked as though he was about to be sick again, but he fought it and won. Then he said, 'Reckon I'll try talking to Major Smales.'

  'Don't,' I said.

  'Maybe he'll listen to me.'

  'Don't bank on it.'

  He went down the two steps and slowly off along the trench. We watched through the open door until he reached Main Street and turned towards the command hut.

  There was nothing we could do, except wait for Allen's return.

  We talked desultorily, almost pointlessly, going over the ground again and again. Kelleher, who knew Camp Hundred and its personnel far better than I, found himself totally unable to pick out a suspect. All I got from him was a new light on Barney's character: new and rather revealing. Ten years earlier, it seemed, when Darney had been in Antarctica on Operation Deep Freeze, he and half a dozen men had spent a winter on a big ice-floe. There had been trouble of various kinds: one man had fallen into super-cooled water off the edge of the floe, and the shock had killed him; another had died of peritonitis following a ruptured appendix, and there had been a fire in one of the huts. Barney had sent out an SOS and Deep Freeze had mounted a massive, difficult and wildly expensive operation to lift off the five remaining men. It had been held at the time that the SOS had been unnecessary; that Captain Smales, as he then was, had not shown sufficient durability. He'd almost been thrown off Cold Regions Research and it had taken him a long time to work himself back into favour.

  I said, 'He worked himself back, though. They'd never have given him Camp Hundred otherwise.'

  'Oh sure. But it's in his record, and he knows it. So he won't be exactly keen to admit it if things start slipping beyond his control.'

  The minutes ticked by. Twice I went to the door and looked along the trench, hoping to see Allen returning, but there was no sign of him. After half an hour, when the two soldiers returned to duty in the ward, Allen still had not shown up and, what made it worse, there was no message from him. By now both of us were worried. It seemed to us that there were three possibilities : that Allen had collapsed somewhere and was being looked after; that he'd collapsed and was not being looked after. Or, the possibility that loomed in the forefront of both our minds, that he had been attacked and disposed of in some way.

  At length Kelleher rose, crossed to the wall speaker, moved the switch and spoke into the address system. 'Will Master Sergeant Allen please report at once to the medical block.' He repeated the message and switched off. 'He ought to hear that.'

  'If he's in a position to hear it.'

  'Yeah.' Kelleher sat down heavily, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He was frowning, staring straight ahead. After a moment he said, 'There's one thing's bugged me from the start.'

  'Go on.'

  'The water. Impurities in the water. That's what stopped us on the reactor, and I just don't understand it. Look, normally we use distilled water because you can't afford any contamination in the reactor. But melted snow, in effect, is distilled. It's been sucked up from the ocean, turned to vapour and then precipitated. So up here there's no need for distillation. Nowadays there's maybe some smoke mixed up in new snow, some pollution. But the snow that fell a hundred, two hundred years ago, well, water from that's as pure as you can get, right?'

  I nodded.

  'So all of a sudden it's polluted.'

  'How badly?'

  'Bad enough. Looks to me now as though our friendly maniac must have dropped something down the well.'

  I said, 'Sergeant Vernon went down. He didn't see anything.'

  'Don't mean a thing. You could let go any of a hundred things down there. Chemical salts, cleaning fluids, metal dust -there's a whole lot of ways - and the stuff's either so dispersed or dissolved nobody'd see anything. You'd need a real good lab to isolate what it was.'

  I said, 'The top of the well's open. It wouldn't be difficult. But how many people are likely to know that the reactor could be disabled as easily as that ?'

  He shrugged. 'Hell, anybody would know. All the reactor people anyway. There'd be plenty who'd know.'

  'I didn't.'

  He gave me a dismissive glance. 'You haven't read the manual.'

  'Perhaps our friend has. Where is it?'

  'Plenty around. There's copies here in the camp library.'

  Still no word from Allen. As we talked, we read the worry in each other's faces. Kelleher's feelings matched my own: frustration at our confinement and consequent helplessness, a resentment that was the stronger because it was, in a way, voluntary; we were confined only by orders, and they were orders neither of us much respected.

  The Tannoy came on then, with a click, and Coveney's voice boomed out of it. 'This is the Acting Commander, Camp Hundred,' he began, in one of those sharp military voices that snap and crackle like Rice Krispies. He sounded a bit like Field Marshal Montgomery with an American accent. The instructions came pouring out. Hundred was a shambles and must be cleaned. The men were scruffy and had been letting themselves go in the last few days. Starting now, all empty huts were to be fumigated and thoroughly cleaned and then the sick were to be transferred into them. Starting next morning, there would be an inspection parade in Main Street and he expected everything and everybody to be clean, pressed and shiny. And so on and so on.

  I said, 'There'll be a bloody mutiny!'

  Kelleher cocked art eyebrow at me. 'Don't bet on it. But you can bet there's gonna be chaos.'

  'Opportunities for the maniac'

  He nodded. 'Sure. For us, too.'

  Chapter 14

  'Coveney will be back,' I said.

  Kelleher gave me a tight little smile. 'I got a contract. It says a whole lot of things, and one of them is that I'm in no way attached to the Corps of Engineers for discipline, right?'

  'I'm not talking about afterwards. At the moment he's in a mood to mount guards.'

  'Don't worry. I got it figured.' His voice took on urgency. 'First thing is to find Allen. Get going.'

  'What about you?'

  'I got a little ole trick to set up here. Then I'll go to the reactor trench, okay? See you there in twenty minutes.'

  I nodded, wondering about the little ole trick, then decided not to wonder any more. As I began to slip on my parka, Kelleher said: 'Take one of the others. Those guys in the ward sure won't be needing parkas.'

  So I borrowed one that belonged to a sleeping victim called Douglas - the name was on a strip of tape above the breast pocket - put the hood up and pulled the drawstring tighter to conceal as much of my face as was reasonable. To have drawn it really tight would have attracted, rather than diverted attention. It wasn't much of a protection, but I wasn't going far and if I kept my head down it ought to suffice.

  As I stepped down into the tunnel, closing the door behind me, I looked carefully around, but the long, ice-walled trench was deserted. Walking briskly, 1 turned into Main Street, heading for the command hut. There was nobody a
bout and I wondered cynically whether they were already busy with razors and furniture polish. The command trench was two along and I made directly for it, but stopped as I passed the entrance to the ablution block. Could it be that Allen, struck by a further bout of nausea, had gone in there and perhaps collapsed?

  But he hadn't. Or if he had, he'd left. The ablution block was deserted, the shower stalls and baths empty, the long line of unscreened lavatory pans unoccupied - probably for the first time in hours. As I left, three men came hurrying in, too preoccupied with speed and discomfort even to glance at me.

  The command hut was manned through the whole twenty-four hours : by Smales and Allen during the day and then by the duty officers. But it wasn't manned now. There was no sign of Allen and no duty officer, but the lights were on. It occurred to me that Coveney, having moved in, must now be making a tour of inspection. Probably a thorough one. And a time-wasting one, too: his own time and everybody else's. In that case, I might not be disturbed for a few minutes. I went into Barney's office, just to be sure. Allen wasn't in there, and the room was empty. So where the hell was Allen ? There was a kind of certainty and assurance about the man, and I'd been fairly sure I'd find him here. My stomach tightened suddenly. Allen had left the medical block to come here, intending to get the keys and come straight back. But I hadn't passed him and he wasn't here. So ...

  There was one of those flat key cupboards on the wall. I opened it quickly and began inspecting the labels. Beneath the blue and white plastic strip that said 'Medical Block Duplicates' was an empty hook. I gave a little sigh of relief. At least Allen had been here. Then 1 corrected myself. It didn't mean that, at all. He might have been here, that's all it meant. And if he had, if he'd taken the keys and left, why hadn't he come back to the medical block?

  I closed the cupboard doors, turned to leave and swore softly to myself as a foot sounded suddenly on the wooden step outside. The door swung open and Sergeant Vernon came in. A ridiculous impulse made me turn my back on him to hide my face. I must have looked as guilty as a dog caught with the Sunday joint in his mouth.

  'Okay, who is it?' Vernon said.

  I turned, reddening.

  'Mr Bowes? What are you - ?'

  I said quickly, 'Have you seen Master Sergeant Allen ?'

  He was looking at me levelly. Did he know about Coveney's orders ?

  He knew all right. 'Sir, you are under orders to remain in the medical block.'

  'Allen,' I insisted. 'Have you see him?'

  'Sure I've seen him. He's in the medical block.'

  'No,' I said. 'He left, half an hour or so ago, to come here. He hasn't come back. I came to look for him.'

  Vernon nodded. 'I heard the Tannoy. What did he want?'

  'I don't know. Didn't ask.'

  Vernon said, 'You shouldn't have let him go. Allen's sick.'

  'Also determined. And I lack authority. But he's got to be found. He might have collapsed somewhere.'

  'Okay, Mr Bowes.' Vernon nodded. 'I'll handle it. I'll get some guys out looking. Now I have to ask you to return to the medical block.'

  'I'll go,' I said. There was nothing else I could say. 'But Allen's ill. It's important to - '

  Vernon's sternness relaxed a trifle. 'Joe Allen's a friend of mine,' he said. 'I'll comb the whole goddam camp. Don't worry.'

  'Right.' 1 moved past him towards the door.

  'How are those guys in there ?'

  'Smelly,' I said. 'A bit more peaceful now. But Mr Coveney hasn't exactly made a friend of Kelleher.'

  He gave a little shrug, expressive for all its economy. It reflected wry patience, long experience of the curious ways of officers. 'We got a slipping situation. He's got to hold it tight. Better get back there, Mr Bowes. I'll get things moving here.'

  'One more thing. How's Major Smales?'

  'He'll pull through.'

  'Where is he?'

  'Hut fourteen. Right where he collapsed. Why?'

  'I wondered.'

  'Give you some advice, Mr Bowes. Stay away. You aren't too popular, right?'

  I nodded wearily. As I left he was picking up the telephone.

  Moving into Main Street, I thought about Barney Smales and hut fourteen. 'He'll pull through,' Vernon had said. But meanwhile he'd delegated his command to Coveney, and done it voluntarily, which must mean that Barney was not only feeling foul, but expecting to feel foul for quite a while. On the other hand, since it had been Barney's decision, he must have been conscious to make it. I could imagine that Allen's thoughts would have run along the same lines; that Allen, having first got the keys, had then decided to approach Barney himself. He'd been fairly sure, earlier, that Barney would listen to him. A small hope now flickered in my mind. If Allen had gone to see Barney, it explained why I hadn't met him, and why he hadn't returned to the medical block.

  Hut fourteen wasn't difficult to find, since there were notices at the entrance to each trench. But having found it, I hesitated. It hadn't needed Vernon's warning to tell me what Barney thought of me. If Barney was conscious and I went into the hut, he'd simply order me back to the medical block. How, then, could I discover whether Allen was in there? The huts had no windows and their wooden walls were so well insulated as to make them pretty well soundproof. I was contemplating the doubtful possibility of opening the door and simply calling Allen's name in a phoney American accent, when I was saved both the trouble and the likely humiliation. The door opened and a soldier came out.

  I said, 'Is Master Sergeant Allen in there?'

  'No, sir.'

  'Thanks. I thought he'd be with Major Smales.'

  'No, sir. Lieutenant Coveney's the only one with the major, sir.'

  'He's there now?'

  'Yes, sir.' The soldier's face was red and resentful, I noticed. Coveney must have been exercising his charm.

  'Well, thanks anyway.' I left the soldier to his misery and set off for the reactor trench and Kelleher. As I passed the entrance to the trench housing the diesels, two soldiers were coming out.

  One said sharply, 'Hey, you.'

  I stopped and turned.

  'You seen Captain Carson?'

  'No,' I said, 'I haven't.'

  'Beg pardon, sir. I didn't recognize you.'

  'You're still searching?'

  He shrugged. 'Captain Carson, he's gone. Whole camp's been searched twice. He just ain't here.'

  I said, 'What's the theory?'

  He shrugged again. 'Who knows? He's gone topside, something like that. No place down here we haven't looked. It's kinda spooky, you know, sir. Guy just vanishes.'

  Since they'd been searching the camp, I asked 'Have you seen Master Sergeant Allen?'

  'He disappeared too, sir?' It was a weary joke.

  I dodged the question. 'Just looking for him.'

  'No, sir. Haven't seen him.'

  As I walked away, a thought struck me, and then another, and I didn't like either. The first was that only I knew Allen was missing. Kelleher was concerned, but didn't know as I now knew. And I was doing exactly what I'd done about Carson: failing to report the fact. No, not quite true; Vernon knew too and Vernon had promised a search. Damn it, I couldn't even think straight! I tried harder with the other idea that had stamped into my head and was more deeply worrying. I thought about it until I was sure my mental processes hadn't got this one scrambled, too. The fact was that everybody who'd had anything to do with the medical records was now gone or out of action. Doc Kirton was dead; the orderly was severely disabled by food poisoning, and Allen, who'd gone to get the keys, had vanished! Quick conclusion: there was something important in those damned records. But it was quicker and more facile than I liked. The medical orderly had been caught in the wide swathe of mass food poisoning; Allen wasn't known, except by Kelleher and by me, to be remotely interested in the medical files. Unless . . , unless somebody had seen him collecting the keys in the command hut!

  But it was getting me nowhere; it was all maybes and possibilities, all ifs and buts
and nothing hard anywhere - nothing to point to a man or a group of men ; nothing to indicate purpose. The truth was that somebody, somewhere, had a motive. Whoever he was was sociopathic, too: a man able to appear normal while carrying on a mad murderous campaign against the whole installation and everybody in it.

  The door to the reactor complex was locked. I hesitated, then banged on it, and after a moment a key turned and the door swung open and one of the engineer sergeants looked out at me enquiringly.

  'Mr Kelleher here?'

  'Nope. He's in the hospital, sir.' The sergeant held a hefty stick.

  I pointed to it. 'What's that for?'

  He gave a tight smile. 'From here on in, we repel all boarders.'

  I thanked him and turned away, sick now with concern, not to mention a growing fear for the safety of my own hide. Now Kelleher was missing! Well, this time I was going to do the right thing, immediately and without debate. The first job was to report it. With two men disappearing inside an hour, and three in a day, the sheer weight of statistics must now overwhelm both Smales's belief in runs of simple bad luck and Coveney's obsession with military order. I'd march down to the command hut, see Vernon and get the place turned upside down. I also thought mirthlessly that Coveney's hunt for Kelleher wouldn't lack determination.

  Approaching the entrance to the medical block trench, though, I hesitated. It was just possible Kelleher was still there; that his 'little ole trick' had taken longer than he expected. Better check.

  Turning into the tunnel, I felt suddenly colder, and halted. Cold air blew through Camp Hundred the whole time, but here the current was stronger, prickling icily at the hair in my nostrils. I stepped to the wall and looked along the trench, past the sides of the huts, then moved forward again. There was nothing to be seen. The snow walls and the arched roof looked as they always looked: the packed snow was greyish in the dim light that came in from Main Street. But as I moved forward, still close to the ice wall, I knew I wasn't mistaken. There was a sharp current of icy air blowing along the trench. I came level with the first hut and entered the narrow passage between the hut's side and the trench wall, and the air current strengthened, flowing round me like very cold river water. I broke into a clumsy run, felt my boots skidding on the crystalline ice and stumbled towards the far end of the trench, already knowing what I'd find.