His first thought — that someone from Geo-Research had rifled his room — dissolved as soon as it came to him. The undeniable fact was that Anika Klein was the only person who’d shown any interest in the bundle of papers. She was also the only one, other than him, to know about the scrap of paper, even if she hadn’t yet learned it was a map.
“Ira?” Mercer shouted down the hall.
“Yeah.”
“Can you come over here?”
“What’s up? Did the vodka fairy visit and leave you a present?”
“Just pop over and bring Erwin.”
“Coming, dear.” Ira appeared at Mercer’s side and peered into the ruin that was his room. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Wish I could say I did it myself, but this was someone else’s decorating job.” Mercer turned to Puhl. “How are you doing, Erwin?”
“Oh, ah, fine,” Puhl mumbled. He looked terrible. What little hair he had was awry, and his glasses hadn’t been cleaned in a while. His breath reeked of stale alcohol. “What happened here?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Mercer said gently, recognizing how fragile the meteorologist appeared. His grief over Igor Bulgarin’s death had deepened. “You’ve been here for most the night. Did you hear or see anyone enter my room?”
Looking like he was about to lie, Puhl thought better of it. “I’ve been in the bathroom for a while,” he admitted. “I got drunk a while ago and wanted to sober up. I think I used everyone’s hot-water ration.”
“That’s fine,” Mercer soothed. “You didn’t hear anyone over the sound of the shower?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember. I fell asleep for a while.” Erwin looked down miserably, ashamed. “Actually, I passed out.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Mercer smiled, touching the scientist on the arm. “Why don’t you go pack for tomorrow? I’ll give you a hand in a minute.”
“Poor guy is reeling,” Ira said after Erwin returned to his room. “When I went in to tell him we’re being booted he just sat there staring at his Bible. I never saw him and Igor as being that close.”
“There’s no proper way to mourn,” Mercer stated.
“I get the impression you’ve been there a few times yourself.”
“Yeah.”
A silence hung for a second.
“Since it wasn’t the vodka fairy making a delivery, any other suspects?”
Mercer gave a quick laugh, thankful that Ira had broken the black mood coming over him. “My list includes our arsonist/murderer but I’m betting on the lovely, though enigmatic, Dr. Klein.”
“What about the stowaway from her chopper?”
“I don’t believe there was a stowaway after all.”
“So who left those footprints at the crash site?”
“I think Anika did when she went to bury something out there. I’m guessing some mail that was actually addressed to me.” Mercer held up the envelope that Harry had sent with the joke name on it. “She missed this one because I’ve got a friend who fancies himself a comedian.”
Ira was quiet as he absorbed this. “If you’re right, what does that mean about the rest of her actions here? I mean, if she steals your mail and ransacks your room, lying about Igor being murdered would be a much gentler crime.”
Mercer looked down the hall to make sure Erwin was still out of earshot. The last thing he needed in his brittle state was to learn the truth about Bulgarin. “I don’t know. Should be an interesting conversation on the plane back to Iceland though.”
Ira chuckled. “If you think you can talk on a DC-3 it’s obvious you’ve never been on one. Those things are louder than hell, and that’s before you get airborne.”
Mercer turned serious. “I want to thank you for backing me in the mess hall and for everything else you’ve done so far. You’ve had no reason to trust me and yet you have.”
Lasko looked abashed. “Don’t sweat it. Twenty years in the Navy trained me to follow an officer’s orders.”
“But I’ve never been an officer,” Mercer pointed out.
“Which means,” Ira said, “you actually know what you’re talking about.”
“Thanks.” Mercer guessed that receiving a compliment from Ira Lasko had the same odds as winning a lottery. “What about you? What was your rank when you got out?”
“Nothing but a lowly chief,” the submariner dismissed. “Clean up your room. I’ll give Erwin a hand pulling himself back together and find the two other guys from his team who’re getting the heave-ho.” Ira turned to go, then paused at the door. “Mercer?”
“Yeah?”
“You have any idea what’s going on here? Honestly?”
Mercer didn’t need to think about his answer. “No clue.”
Roaring in from the east, the antique DC-3 Dakota shattered the peace of the morning. The weather had cleared for the first time in days. The sky was nearly cloudless and the wind was a negligible caress. According to the experts, the calm wouldn’t last for more than an hour or so.
It was barely eight, which meant the pilot must have left Iceland before dawn to reach the base so early. Those leaving for Reykjavik were assembled in the mess hall and had a view of the makeshift landing strip. Werner had had a crew out at first light to plow aside the drifts of snow that had accumulated overnight. No one from Geo-Research was waiting with the evacuees. It was as if they had already left.
“Our chariot awaits,” Ira said, trying to make light of the situation, but the attempt fell flat.
“I hate leaving so much gear behind,” Marty complained for the tenth time.
Werner had spoken with him that morning about the need to load the plane quickly and assured him that once they had a proper weather window the plane would return all Surveyor’s Society equipment to Iceland. Koenig had said the delay wouldn’t be more than a day or two and Geo-Research would pay any additional fees incurred by the arrangement.
“We’ll be back by noon tomorrow,” Mercer said.
“If we’re not,” Anika Klein chimed in, “I’m suing Geo-Research for my money.”
“We all are,” Marty agreed. His father’s investment was twenty times hers.
Ingrid approached the crowded table, not sure how to greet Marty outside her bedroom.
“Morning,” Marty boomed, adding a significant look. “You all packed up and ready to go?”
“
“Welcome to the club. We were just deciding the lawsuits.”
“But it is Danes who said we have to leave, not Geo-Research. Hilda heard radio earlier this morning when Greta Schmidt spoke with office in Reykjavik.”
“You heard them?” Mercer asked, leaning forward intently. He directed his gaze at Hilda Brandt, whom he saw standing a little behind the younger, slimmer cook. She blushed.
“
Mercer’s immediate reaction was to think the conversation had been faked. Greta could have easily been speaking to one of her own people pretending to be a Danish diplomat, staging the conversation so Hilda would overhear. It would help convince the Society’s team that she was innocent of ordering their removal from Greenland. And then he thought he was being paranoid.
“Even if the evac order is legit,” he said at last, “I’m still going to fight it when we get to Iceland.”
Anika was at the window for a better look at the landing. “The plane’s down and I can see Werner motioning to us.”
“Then I guess this is it.” Mercer got to his feet and everyone followed.
Their luggage had already been ferried to the landing strip, so they trooped out like a defeated army, trudging
