The Ice Limit

— struck and killed by lightning? It seemed like something out of a bad novel. And yet in hindsight, it made sense. The fulgurites he'd seen at the site were a tip-off. On top of everything else, the meteorite was a gigantic lightning rod.

'Your evidence?' Glinn asked.

'The bones were burned in a pattern that suggested lightning — a massive charge of electricity passing through the body. I've seen it before. And only an electrical blast on the order of lightning could cause the kind of scaling and shattering those bones evidenced. Lightning, you see, not only burns bones and instantly boils the blood, causing an explosive release of steam, but it also triggers sudden muscle contractions that shatter bones. In some cases, it strikes the body with such force that it mimics, say, being hit by a truck. Dr. Masangkay's body virtually exploded.'

The doctor dawdled over the word 'exploded,' lingering on each syllable with a loving drawl. McFarlane shuddered.

'Thank you, Doctor,' said Glinn dryly. 'I will also be eager to hear your analysis of the biota found in the eighty bags of sample earth we removed from the vicinity of the meteorite. I'll have them sent down to the medical lab right away.'

Glinn opened his folder. 'If the meteorite attracts lightning, that's yet another reason to keep it covered. Let's move on. A moment ago, I said we could proceed on schedule. There will, however, have to be some adjustments. For example, the weight of the meteorite is so great that we are now forced to take the absolute shortest path from the impact site to the ship. That means bringing the meteorite through the snowfield, rather than around it. The meteorite can only be moved in a straight line, along a slope of constant descent. It won't be easy, and it will mean a lot of cutting and filling, but it can be done. Also, Captain Britton has advised me that a winter storm is moving in our direction. If it stays on course, we will have to factor it into our plans. To a certain extent, the cover will be welcome.' He stood up. 'I'll be preparing letters for the family of Gene Rochefort and for the widow of Frank Evans. If any of you would like to include a personal note, please get it to me before we dock in New York. And now, one final thing.'

He glanced at McFarlane. 'You told me that the coesite and impactite around the meteorite was formed thirty-two million years ago.'

'Yes,' said McFarlane.

'I want you to collect samples of the basalt flows and volcanic plug beyond the camp and date them as well. We clearly need to know more about the geology of this island. Did your second series of tests bring about any fresh conclusions?'

'Only fresh puzzles.'

'In that case, island geology will be your next project.' He looked around. 'Anything else before we get back to work?'

'Yes, guv,' came the reedy voice from the corner of the library. It was Puppup, forgotten by all. He was sitting in a straight-backed chair, hair disheveled, raising his hand and waving it like a schoolboy.

'Yes?' Glinn asked.

'You said that two people died.'

Glinn did not answer. McFarlane, watching, noticed that Glinn did not meet Puppup's eyes in the way he met everyone else's.

'You said that maybe some more people are going to die.'

'I said nothing of the sort,' said Glinn crisply. 'Now, if we're finished here —'

'What happens if everybody dies?' Puppup asked, his voice suddenly loud.

There was an awkward moment.

'Damn lunatic,' Garza muttered under his breath.

Puppup merely pointed out the grimy window. All eyes turned.

Just beyond the rocky outline of Isla Deceit, dark against the failing sky, the gaunt prow of a destroyer was easing into view, its guns trained on the tanker.

Rolvaag,

12:25 P.M.

GLINN SLIPPED a hand into his pocket, withdrew a pair of miniature binoculars, and examined the ship. He had expected Vallenar to make another move; and this, apparently, was it.

Britton leapt out of her seat and strode to the window. 'He looks like he's about to blow us out of the water,' she said.

Glinn first examined the masts, and then the four-inch guns. He lowered the binoculars. 'It's a bluff.'

'How do you know that?'

'Check your Slick 32.'

Britton turned to Howell.

'Slick shows no fire-control radar active along that line of bearing.'

Britton glanced back at Glinn with a curious expression in her face.

Glinn handed her the binoculars. 'He's pointing the guns at us, but he has no intention of firing them. You'll notice the fire-control radars aren't rotating.'

'So I see.' Britton returned the binoculars. 'Stations fore and aft, Mr. Howell.'

'Mr. Garza, will you make sure our reception room is ready, just in case?' Glinn pocketed the binoculars and glanced at Puppup. The mestizo had slumped back in his chair and was stroking his long, drooping mustaches. 'Mr. Puppup, I would like to take a turn with you on deck, if you please.'

Puppup's expression did not change. He stood and followed Glinn out of the library and down the wide corridor. Outside, a bitter wind blew across the bay, raising dancing whitecaps. Pieces of ice skittered across the deck. Glinn walked ahead, the little old man at his heels, until they reached the great rise of the bow. Here, Glinn stopped and leaned against an anchor windlass, gazing out at the distant destroyer. Now that Vallenar had made his move, the problem would be to anticipate his future actions. Glinn glanced covertly at Puppup. The only person on board who could shed light on Vallenar was the one he understood least. He had found himself unable to predict or control Puppup's actions. And the man dogged him like a shadow. It had proved surprisingly unsettling.

'Got a cigarette?' Puppup asked.

Glinn slid a new pack out of his pocket — Marlboros, worth their weight in gold — and handed it to Puppup. The man tore it open and tapped out a cigarette. 'Match?'

Glinn lit his cigarette with a lighter.

'Thanks, guv.' Puppup took a deep drag on the cigarette. 'Bit parky out today, eh?'

'Yes it is.' There was a pause. 'Where did you learn your English, Mr. Puppup?'

'From the missionaries, didn't I? The only bit of schooling I had was from them.'

'Did one of them come from London, by chance?'

'Both of them as did, sir.'

Glinn waited a moment while Puppup smoked. Even considering the cultural differences, the man was remarkably difficult to read. In fact, Glinn had never met such an opaque individual.

He began slowly. 'That's a nice ring,' he said, pointing offhandedly at a little gold ring on the mestizo's pinkie.

Puppup held it up with a grin. 'That it is. Pure gold, a pearl, two rubies, and all.'

'A gift from Queen Adelaide, I presume?'

Puppup started, the cigarette jiggling in his mouth. But he recovered quickly. 'Right you are.'

'And what happened to the queen's bonnet?'

Puppup looked at him curiously. 'Buried with the missus. Looked a fair old treat in it, too.'

'Was Fuegia Basket your great-great-great-grandmother, then?'

'In a manner of speaking.' Puppup's eyes remained veiled.

'You come from a distinguished family.' As Glinn spoke, he looked very closely at Puppup's eyes. When they flicked away, he knew the comment had had its intended effect. Still, it was essential that this be handled with the greatest finesse. He would have only one chance to unlock John Puppup.

'Your wife must have died a long time ago.'

Puppup still didn't answer.