pre-Columbian exploration by Phoenician explorers. And another who said they owned a portion of the True Cross.
The Internet had served to accelerate the pace of conjecture. A year ago, a group on the Net learned that a farm in Roswell, New Mexico, near where a UFO had supposedly crashed in the 1940s had been owned by a member of the Surveyor’s Society. The inference that the Society possessed hidden evidence of alien contact came immediately afterward and the furor had yet to die down.
“Even I don’t know half of it,” Bryce admitted. “Our ten-person executive council are the only people who know what’s in the secret part of our vault.”
There was a knock at the door, and the elderly steward entered holding a tray with two glasses on it. “It is noon, gentlemen. Lunch will be in thirty minutes in the dining room. May I offer you a cocktail?”
Bryce turned to Mercer. “It’s still gimlets, isn’t it?”
“Good memory.” Mercer accepted the vodka and sweetened lime juice concoction from the butler. He’d recently switched to Gray Goose, a French vodka, and noted this drink was made with his old standard, Absolut.
Bryce took a tumbler of iced Macallan Scotch. “I seem to recall a night a few years back where you and I went through quite a few of these in very short order. The only thing I remember from then is the weeklong hangover afterward.”
The air-conditioning kicked in. Mercer could feel cool air blowing from the brass grill recessed into the wall behind his back. It was as though the chill had changed the mood of the meeting. Bryce went silent for a moment, his eyes focusing on a middle distance only he could see. He almost appeared upset by something they had said or something he was about to say. Mercer braced himself.
“Our review committee,” Bryce opened, “has already approved you for membership. That was taken care of a couple of weeks ago. As I understand it, this usually takes upward of a year. However, you are a special case.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, people who are invited to join by virtue of their earlier exploits must participate in a Society-sponsored expedition before they can become members. It’s an old bylaw of the club. About three months ago we were approached by the Danish government to see if we were interested in joining an expedition being planned by a German nonprofit group called Geo-Research.”
“What’s this have to do with Denmark?”
“The expedition is going to Greenland, which is still a Danish protectorate. I don’t know if you’re aware that Denmark has recently gotten very selective about who receives permits for scientific research on the Greenland ice sheet. During a Japanese expedition last year, a mishap killed eight people and left eleven thousand gallons of spilled fuel on the ice. The bodies were recovered, but no steps were taken to clean up the diesel. Just a month later, four American mountain climbers died in a plane crash. A search-and-rescue helicopter looking for the wreck also crashed, killing three more.
“Since then the Danes are demanding better oversight of what takes place on Greenland. They’ve closed several foreign-run meteorological stations they feel are unsafe and limited climbing parties to just a small region in the south, well away from the higher mountains as a way to discourage treks. They’ve even started rattling their sabers about closing Thule Air Force Base.
“Add to this the fact that Germany and Denmark are at odds over oil-exploration rights in the North Sea and it was surprising that Geo-Research didn’t have their permits rescinded altogether. Their expedition is planned to gather global warming data and has been in the works for a year.”
“Where does the Surveyor’s Society fit in?” Mercer asked. He’d been to Greenland’s tiny neighbor, Iceland, once before, but had never visited earth’s second-largest island. He felt his interest rising.
“Back in the 1950s, there was an American base on Greenland’s eastern coast called Camp Decade. It had to do with Project Iceworm, something about determining if permanent towns could be sustained under the ice sheet. One of our board members was assigned to Camp Decade when it closed in late 1953, and he wants a team sent there to see what the place looks like today. Bob Bishop’s his name and he’s unable to make the trip himself. He’s been bound to a wheelchair for the past two years. What he’s sponsoring is a small team to reopen the facility and videotape the interior, check what kind of damage has been done to it — that sort of thing.”
“I’m not saying I’m not interested, but this Bishop is willing to pay for an entire expedition just for a tape of the base? Are you serious?”
“Money’s meaningless to most members. I told you about the
“I read about a group who recovered a P-38 Lightning from southern Greenland that had crashed during World War Two,” Mercer said. “They found the plane in near perfect condition, but it was a couple of miles from where it crashed and buried under two hundred and fifty feet of ice. Camp Decade might be in good shape, but it could be almost as deep.”
“You’d think, but it’s not. Don’t ask me to explain the phenomena — I’m no glaciologist — but the camp was anchored to a subice mountain of rock that cuts the natural flow of Greenland’s glaciers, splitting the ice around it like an island in a stream. The base is actually only about thirty feet under the surface. New snow that falls on it gets carried away by the moving ice, but the base has stayed in just about the same place. I’m familiar with the search for the ‘Lost Squadron’ that you mentioned. It was actually a whole flight of planes that went down, six P- 38s and two B-17s that hit a blizzard and were forced to land. There is a hell of a lot more snowfall where those planes went down than where our team’s heading.”
“So the catch to joining the Society is to lead your expedition?”
“Well” — Bryce drew out the word — “we already have someone to lead it: Bob Bishop’s son, Martin.” Charles waited for a reaction, but Mercer remained impassive. “This doesn’t mean to say you can’t handle it. I know you can. Even though the Danish government has pushed up our schedule, this has been in the works for a year, and Bob
“What would my job be?”
“That’s the other reason you’d be perfect for the trip. We can put you right on top of Camp Decade, but you’ll need to pinpoint the main entrance before starting your tunnel down to it. You have experience with portable subsurface radar sets as well as ice tunneling.”
“What are you planning on using to open the base?”
“Thermal chemicals that melt ice and snow. You are familiar with the technique?”
“We call them hotrocks. I can’t remember the exact chemical makeup, but yeah, I’ve worked with them before. They’re tricky as hell to use and produce a god-awful stench but they can melt about a foot an hour, depending on the diameter of the hole. Problem is, you need powerful pumps for the water runoff or the chemicals become too diluted to melt the snow.”
“Apart from you and Marty, there will be two others. One’s an old friend of Marty’s, an Army colonel with some Arctic experience and the other’s a guy I recommended. He’ll be responsible for the pumps and generators.”
There was no doubt in Mercer’s mind that he would go. Charles could have offered him the latrine digger’s job and he would have done it. Still, he was curious how this would work. “That’s an awfully small team to unbury an entire town.”
“Camp Decade is actually a large H-shaped building. Everything’s connected. All you need to do is dig your way to the main entrance and you should gain access to the whole facility.”
“Four guys alone on the ice? I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, but this sounds like an invitation to a suicide party.”
“You’re forgetting how we got invited to go in the first place. The Danes want teams working in the same area rather than spread across the ice. Geo-Research is the umbrella organization for the entire trip. We are joining up with them, plus another group doing some sort of meteorological work. Everyone in one location, which reduces the chance of accidents.”
“I get it now. We’re piggybacking onto their expedition. How many people in total?”
“About forty, I think. Since Geo-Research is bringing a full support staff for their scientists, we’ll pay them for
