Clive Cussler - Fast Ice

Ryland had suddenly become worked up. He settled quickly. “I’m sorry to hear of her demise, but, trust me, my sister is not some pacifist environmental warrior. She’s a terrorist.”

“Was a terrorist,” Kurt said.

“Yes. Of course. Was.”

“And an unreasonable woman , by the sound of it.”

Ryland glared at Kurt before conceding the point. “She was that as well. The only thing we had in common.”

Kurt found the whole exchange curious, especially Ryland blaming his sister for her own death. “Do you have any idea what she and her friends were studying in the Antarctic?”

“What do you mean?”

“You describe them as saboteurs,” Kurt said. “So why go out on the glaciers? Not much in the way of mining or drilling for oil down there. Unless, that is, you know something I don’t.”

“I know a great many things you don’t,” Ryland insisted. “But what drove my sister to act as she did will baffle me to the end of my days.”

Kurt nodded politely and said nothing more.

Ryland sighed and looked over to the waiting glasses. “Let us drink to her,” he said. “And to your brave efforts to save her ship.”

He slid one of the glasses toward Kurt, moving it along the polished desk with care and ease. As Kurt lifted it, Ryland took the other glass in his hand. After briefly waving it under his nose to sample the aroma, he raised the glass high. “To my wayward sister. May she find peace wherever the afterlife takes her.”

Kurt raised his glass respectfully, then took a sip of the cognac. The hint of nutmeg and dried apricots came through. Ryland had chosen an excellent bottle. As he savored the taste, he glanced at the clock behind Ryland. To his surprise, only seven minutes had passed. The unreasonable man had reached for the glasses three minutes early.

19

While Kurt shared a drink with Ryland, Joe and Leandra watched the foreign guests whom they’d spotted.

“The ‘internationals’ are doing their best to remain wallflowers,” Joe noted.

“Which in a strange way makes them stick out,” Leandra said. “Considering how far they’ve traveled to be here, they haven’t done any mixing or mingling. Not exactly social butterflies.”

“More like birds of a feather,” Joe said. “They haven’t moved from that spot or spoken with anyone but each other all night. I noticed the Russian guy keeps checking his watch. They’re clearly waiting on someone. And not all that patiently.”

“My money is on that someone being held up, entertaining your partner,” Leandra added. “They’ve been in there awhile. What do you suppose they’re talking about?”

“Knowing Kurt, something boring and humdrum. Run-of-the-mill small talk is his specialty. Trust me. You wouldn’t want to spend your free time with him. You’d be bored to tears.”

Leandra smiled. “Whereas you’re charming and interesting, I assume.”

Joe raised his glass. “So glad you noticed.”

Despite the banter, they kept their eyes on Ryland’s international visitors. Novikov checked his watch for the third time, venting his frustration to the others. In response, Liang, the Chinese shipping magnate, turned to one of his assistants and whispered a few words.

The man left, returning shortly with a member of Ryland’s staff. The woman spoke with each of them, trying to reassure them. Having done that, she relayed a message via her radio.

A response must have come quickly. The radio went back into the woman’s jacket pocket and she turned and led the group from the middle level down the stairs and toward the veranda that lay beyond the wall of glass.

“The birds of a feather are flocking together,” Leandra noted. “Should we follow?”

Joe glanced down the hall. Kurt was nowhere to be seen, but he could take care of himself. Joe offered his arm. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Leandra looped her arm through his and they took the stairs to the ground floor. The international group continued toward the glass wall and then through a doorway and out into the garden.

“Let’s follow them,” Joe said. “But without it looking like we’re following them.”

“Those are not very precise instructions,” Leandra said.

“Just keep it loose,” Joe said. “Improvise as the moment strikes you.”

With Leandra no less foggy on what to do, the two of them walked out into the garden, moving along a pebble path. They kept the international group in sight, even as they passed shoulder-high rosebushes and a fountain with an elephant sculpture in the middle spraying water from its trunk.

“They’re clearly not out here to admire the scenery,” Leandra noted.

“They’re heading for that building,” he said, nodding toward a maintenance shed with walls of corrugated metal and several garage-style doors. Bales of hay sat out front, feed for the animals. Oil drums stood stacked nearby, two of them with hand pumps attached. An old pickup truck was parked behind the hay.

“Must be the motor pool,” Joe said. “Which means our guests are about to go for a ride.”

The international group followed Ryland’s assistant to a door cut into the side of the building. The Russian entered first, followed by his security team and then Liang’s small group.

“Let’s go,” Joe said.

They took the same path around the fountain, arriving at the door and pausing. Joe put his hand to the knob and turned it slowly. It opened without resistance.

Joe looked inside. He saw no one in the immediate vicinity, just equipment, tractors and supplies.

“Hey,” a voice called out from behind them. “What are you doing here?”

Joe turned to see one of Ryland’s men. An earpiece with a coil cord looping to a radio on his belt suggested he was part of the security team.

“Sorry,” Joe said. “We were—”

“Just looking for some privacy,” Leandra said, batting her eyes at the man while curling up to Joe.

“In the work shed?”

He wasn’t buying it. His left hand went to the radio while his right slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Have you ever heard of ‘a roll in the hay’?” Leandra asked.

The man hesitated. Joe considered rushing him, but officially they were still guests. He doubted they were about to get shot. Most likely they’d be ordered back into the main building or, at worst, they’d get kicked out of the party. That made a fight seem unnecessary. A second man coming up behind the security guard suggested it was a losing proposition anyhow.

“Base, this is two-eight,” the man said into the radio. “We have a problem out by the work shed. Two of the guests have—”

Before the man could finish his sentence, the figure approaching him from behind reached out and pulled the cord from the radio.

The guard turned in surprise. “What the—”

He didn’t finish that sentence either. A punch to the gut followed, doubling him over. A right cross finished him off in record time.

Joe raced forward and helped subdue the man. “About time you showed up,” he said, recognizing Kurt. “Where have you been?”

“Sharing a drink with Ryland,” Kurt said. “Interesting guy. I was coming to tell you all about it when I saw you guys following some of the guests out the door. And then I saw that guy following you. So, I followed him.”

“A whole lot of following going on,” Joe said, pulling off the guard’s tie and using it to bind his hands. As Joe did that, Kurt found a cloth nearby, creating a makeshift gag so the man wouldn’t be able to shout for help when he woke up.

As Kurt and Joe finished securing the security guard, Leandra found a place to hide him, opening the door of the old truck. “Put him in here. We can cover him with this blanket.”