The Ice Limit

thick, scruffy black hair, the sarcastic grin, the eyes dancing with humor, vivacity, and intelligence. He remembered that last day outside the New York Museum — bright sunlight gilding everything to a painful brilliance — where Masangkay had come rushing down the steps, glasses askew, shouting, 'Sam! They've given us the green light! We're on our way to Greenland!' And — more painfully — he remembered that night after they actually found the Tornarssuk meteorite, Masangkay tilting the precious bottle of whiskey up, the firelight flickering in its amber depths as he took a long drink, his back against the dark metal. God, the hangover the next day... But they had found it — sitting right there, as if someone had carefully placed it on the gravel for all to see. Over the years, they had found many meteorites together, but nothing like this. It had come in at an acute angle and had actually bounced off the ice sheet, tumbling for miles. It was a beautiful siderite, shaped like a sea horse ...

And now it sat in some Tokyo businessman's backyard garden. It had cost him his relationship with Masangkay. And his reputation.

He stared out the window, returning to the present. Above the leafy maples and white oaks a structure was rising, incomprehensibly out of place in the upper Hudson Valley: an ancient, sun-weathered Egyptian pyramid. As he watched, a crane swung another block of limestone above the treetops and began lowering it gently onto the half-built structure. A finger of sand trailed off the block and feathered away into the wind. In the clearing at the base of the pyramid he could see Lloyd himself, oversized safari hat dappled by the leafy shade. The man had a weakness for melodramatic headgear.

There was a knock on the door and Glinn entered, a folder beneath one arm. He glided his way among the boxes to McFarlane's side and gazed at the scene below.

'Did Lloyd acquire a mummy to accessorize it?' he asked.

McFarlane grunted a laugh. 'As a matter of fact, he did. Not the original — that was looted long ago — but another one. Some poor soul who had no idea he'd be spending eternity in the Hudson River Valley. Lloyd is having some of King Tut's golden treasures replicated for the burial chamber. Couldn't buy the originals, apparently.'

'Even thirty billion has its limits,' said Glinn. He nodded out the window. 'Shall we?'

They left the building, descending a graveled path into the woods. Cicadas droned in the canopy over their heads. They soon struck the sandy clearing. Here the pyramid rose directly above them, stark yellow against the cerulean sky. The half-built structure gave off a smell of ancient dust and limitless desert wastes.

Lloyd caught sight of them and came forward immediately, both hands extended. 'Eli!' he boomed good- naturedly. 'You're late. One would think you were planning to move Mount Everest instead of a lump of iron.' He took Glinn's elbow and steered him toward a set of stone benches on the far side of the pyramid.

McFarlane settled on a bench opposite Lloyd and Glinn. Here, in the shadow of the pyramid, it was cool.

Lloyd pointed at the slim folder under Glinn's arm. 'Is that all my million dollars bought me?'

Glinn did not reply directly; he was gazing at the pyramid. 'How high will it be when completed?' he asked. 'Seventy-seven feet,' Lloyd replied proudly. 'It's the tomb of an Old Kingdom pharaoh, Khefret II. A minor ruler in every way — poor kid died at thirteen. I wanted a bigger one, of course. But it is the only pyramid outside of the Nile Valley.'

'And the base, what does it measure?'

'One hundred and forty feet on a side.'

Glinn was silent for a moment, his eyes veiled. 'Interesting coincidence,' he said.

'Coincidence?'

Glinn's eyes slid back to Lloyd. 'We reanalyzed the data on your meteorite. We think it weighs closer to ten thousand tons. Same as your pyramid over there. Using standard nickel-iron meteorites as a basis, that would make your rock about forty feet in diameter.'

'That's wonderful! The bigger the better.'

'Moving the meteorite will be like moving this pyramid of yours. Not block by block, but all together.'

'So?'

'Take the Eiffel Tower, for instance,' Glinn said.

'I wouldn't want to. Ugly as hell.'

'The Eiffel Tower weighs about five thousand tons.'

Lloyd looked at him.

'The Saturn V rocket — the heaviest land-based object ever moved by human beings — weighs three thousand tons. Moving your meteorite, Mr. Lloyd, will be like moving two Eiffel towers. Or three Saturn V rockets.'

'What's the point?' Lloyd asked.

'The point is that ten thousand tons, when you actually consider it, is a staggering weight. Twenty million pounds. And we're talking about lugging it halfway around the world.'

Lloyd grinned. 'The heaviest object ever moved by mankind — I like that. You couldn't ask for a better publicity hook. But I don't see the problem. Once it's on board the ship, you can bring it right up the Hudson practically to our doorstep.'

'Getting it on board the ship is the problem — especially those last fifty feet from shore into the hold. The biggest crane in the world picks up less than a thousand tons.'

'So build a pier and slide it out to the boat.'

'Off the coast of Isla Desolacion, the depth drops to two hundred feet a mere twenty feet from shore. So you can't build a fixed pier. And the meteorite would sink an ordinary floating pier.'

'Find a shallower place.'

'We've checked. There is no other place. In fact, the only possible loading point is on the eastern coast of the island. A snowfield lies between that point and the meteorite. The snow is two hundred feet deep in the center. Which means we have to move your rock around the snowfield to get it to the ship.'

Lloyd grunted. 'I'm beginning to see the problem. Why don't we just bring a big ship in there, back it up to shore, and roll the damn thing into the hold? The biggest supertankers hold half a million tons of crude. That's more than enough to spare.'

'If you roll this meteorite into the hold of a ship, it would simply drop right through the bottom. This is not crude oil, which conveniently displaces its weight as it fills a hold.'

'What's all this dancing around, then?' Lloyd asked sharply. 'Is this leading up to a refusal?'

Glinn shook his head. 'On the contrary. We're willing to take on the job.'

Lloyd beamed. 'That's terrific! Why all the gloomy talk?'

'I simply wanted to prepare you for the enormity of the task you want to accomplish. And for the commensurate enormity of our bill.'

Lloyd's broad features narrowed. 'And that is... ?'

'One hundred and fifty million dollars. Including chartering the transport vessel. FOB the Lloyd Museum.'

Lloyd's face went pale. 'My God. One hundred and fifty million...' His chin sank onto his hands. 'For a ten- thousand-ton rock. That's...'

'Seven dollars and fifty cents a pound,' said Glinn.

'Not bad,' McFarlane said, 'when you consider that the going rate for a decent meteorite is about a hundred bucks a pound.'

Lloyd looked at him. 'Is that so?'

McFarlane nodded.

'In any case,' Glinn continued, 'because of the unusual nature of the job, our acceptance comes with two conditions.'

'Yes?'

'The first condition is double overage. As you'll see in the report, our cost estimates haven't been especially conservative. But we feel that, to be absolutely safe, twice that amount must be budgeted for.'

'Meaning it's really going to cost three hundred million dollars.'

'No. We believe it's going to cost one hundred and fifty, or we wouldn't have presented you with that figure.