Free Valhalla by Robert J. Mrazek Page B

way.
    Although it was past seven in the morning, there was no hint of daylight on the surface. Since her descent, the wind had died to a low moan, but it was still snowing.
    She heard a dog barking in the distance as she made her way to the operations tent. The cries were deep and cadenced, and repeated every few seconds. It had to be Hancock’s Alsatian.
    Inside the tent, Sir Dorian was slumped next to the bank of space heaters, almost hidden under a mound of thermal blankets. His eyes were dull and unfocused. Jensen was helping him swallow some pills with a mug of water. Macaulay and Hancock were standing at the communications array, sipping coffee.
    â€œHap found something a little while ago,” said Hancock. “You may be able to help us identify it.”
    He started to lead her out of the tent, when Hjalmar Jensen and Doc Callaghan stepped into his path. Jensen had an anxious look on his face.
    â€œSir Dorian has had some kind of heart attack or stroke. I believe he needs to be hospitalized as soon as possible.”
    â€œI agree,” said Doc Callaghan. “His symptoms are consistent with an ischemic stroke in which an artery to the brain is blocked. With a blocked artery, the neurons can’t make enough energy. At some point, the brain will stop working.”
    â€œWe’ll fly him out on the Bell transport as soon as we get back,” said Hancock.
    Outside the tent, he climbed onto a snowmobile and motioned for Lexy to join him. Macaulay followed on a separate machine as they crossed the compound and traveled out onto the dark ice field. Lexy noticed they were following the path of the heavy-duty fire hose that was used to pump meltwater out of the shafts.
    Reaching the ice crevasse where the hose terminated, Hancock stopped his machine and got off. Someone hadmounted a battery-powered floodlight on a steel tripod that faced down into it. A member of the expedition team was standing at the edge, holding the excited Alsatian at the end of a leash.
    â€œHap smelled it and came out here to investigate,” said Hancock.
    Stepping forward, Lexy looked over the edge of the crevasse. The body of a man was lying facedown about halfway down the slope. He had been stripped naked and his body had a bluish tint from the subzero cold. His head was frozen into the surface of the ice. She couldn’t recognize it through the milky glaze.
    â€œIn another hour, the corpse would have been covered by snow and ice melt,” said Hancock.
    â€œWe think the hose pump was still running when they got him out here,” said Macaulay. “It froze around his head after they were finished.”
    â€œThere is only one identifiable mark on his body,” said Hancock. “It’s a tattoo.”
    Lexy stepped closer to the body. The torso looked like a male manikin in a department store window. There was a tattoo on the right cheek of the man’s buttocks.
    â€œIt’s Rob Falconer,” she said.
    â€œHow do you know for sure?” asked Macaulay.
    â€œThe tattoo . . . is in Sanskrit.”
    â€œWhat does it mean?”
    â€œIt’s not important,” she said, her teeth beginning to chatter.
    â€œLet me be the judge of that,” said Hancock.
    She hesitated a few moments before glancing up at Macaulay.
    â€œIt’s Sanskrit for the name Alexandra.”

FIFTEEN
    22 November
Base Hancock One
Greenland Ice Cap
    The lights in the operations tent suddenly came on, and Lexy heard a ragged cheer from the men at the other end of the compound. A few minutes later, George Cabot came in to report that they had patched enough power together from the two smaller generators to operate the space heaters.
    â€œIt was meant to look like an accident, but someone purposely turned the big Kohler generator into junk,” he said. “Pretty ingenious, actually. He used the oil-overflow valve to empty a gallon of engine oil out of the machine into a plastic container