Free The Ice King (A Witch Ways Whisper) by Helen Slavin Page B

Hardy had the toolbox contents strewn about along with a scale model of the satellite dish.
    “Obviously it won’t be as small as this…” Dr Hardy said.
    “I understand that.” Vanessa was studying the fittings and connections and wondering what might fit into which and have to be attached to where.
    “The clip will have bust. It’s done it before.” Dr Finbar Hardy assured her, “All you have to do is swap it out for this one and make sure the connection is secured. It’s this black jackplug point here…” he indicated on a diagram from a maintenance manual. “You have to just slide out this connector and release this clip…” the movements he made were like a magic trick. “While you’re up there you could swap out the other two, saves you having to do it all another day when the others pop.” he folded the manual shut and offered it to her. Dr Byrne looked disapproving.
    “This is not her job Hardy.” Dr Byrne glared at him but Dr Hardy was immune to her stares now.
    “No but it has to be done.”
    “This falls into Craig’s remit.” Dr Byrne persisted “Craig should be the one repairing it. He is, after all, the engineer around here.”
    Vanessa waited, caught between the two of them. Hardy slapped the manual against her chest and gave her a meaning look.
    “The faster you get up there, Way, the faster this job is done.”
    “That is not my point.” Dr Byrne’s hand reached to stop the manual flapping once again at Vanessa’s chest. Her fingers crumpled it slightly until Dr Hardy withdrew it. “My point is that Dr Bale is the engineer. Hm? Does he have a pizza he must urgently finish? Or possibly a critical Wordsearch he must complete? What is Dr Bale doing that is so vitally important?”
    Dr Hardy gave a deep and weary sigh.
    “Sleeping it off.”
    Dr Byrne looked at him.
    “I thought he drank all the beer days ago.”
    Dr Hardy was shaking his head even before she was two words into the sentence.
    “He’s got a still going. Been boiling up bloody pine needles or bark or something to make vodka. Last night he nearly poisoned himself. He’s in no state to do anything.”
    Dr Byrne seethed in silence and, for once in his academic life, Dr Hardy let it go.
    Half an hour saw Vanessa kitted out in her Arctic gear and trekking the short distance to the comms mast. It was a tall structure that reminded Vanessa of the skeleton of a lighthouse. It was, in a way she could not have explained, aesthetically pleasing even though she now had the task of climbing up the service ladder with a toolbox to try and fix the satellite dish.
    The wind was slicing across the lake in blades of cold, Vanessa pushing her body into the strength of it. It was only a few hundred yards to the comms tower and yet it took her almost another half an hour, the wind hampering her every step. It did occur to her that it was not best practice to try and climb the tower in the prevailing gusts, but there was nothing else to be done. The only way to repair it was to climb up to the dish.
    As it turned out, it was not the clip that was bust. As the wind howled around her and the frost crept across her goggles, Vanessa worked her way through the manual to try and discover the fault. All the connections seemed sound. She took it step by step clicking and switching and disconnecting and reconnecting until she had reached the end of the troubleshooting part of the manual. There seemed no other option but to climb back down and return indoors to see if anything she had done had solved the issues.
    As she began her descent she turned to look towards the frozen lake. The wind had been picking up considerably and already she could see where a black line of storm clouds were rising from the horizon.
    The comms were still out. Hardy, unable to find out the fault, dragged Dr Bale from his quarters and, wrapped in a duvet and looking very sorry for himself, Dr Bale attempted to interpret the new error codes now printing onto the