The Pole of Inaccessibility

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The Pole of Inaccessibility Page 57

by Alan Bronston


  ***

  “I knew it,” the Captain said, looking over the manifest. He had been called as soon as the distress call was made and as a matter of course examined the paper that listed the souls on board, flight plan, and cargo.

  For an instant he found himself nurturing a suspicion, but it just as quickly dissipated when he considered the Chileans. He figured that someone asked them to give Sokolov a lift and that they thought nothing of it, as long as the proper protocol was maintained. Besides, he wasn’t that impressed with the Chileans, they seemed more like scavenger hunters than true scientists. Maybe someone had paid them off.

  Regardless of why they did it, it played into his hand admirably, and he did not waste time taking advantage.

  “Should we launch a SAR?” the watch officer asked him. A SAR is a search-and-rescue operation.

  “A SAR?” the Captain asked back. “What for?”

  “The ‘ship-in-distress’ message we just received?” the officer replied, looking at the Captain confusedly. “The aircraft that was going down?”

  “Ah, don’t worry about that,” the Captain said, shocking the officer further. “Let the Chileans deal with them. They’re the ones who inflicted them on us in the first place. See if you can message them and tell them they need to come look for their guys.”

  When the appalled officer just stared at the Captain with eyes wide, he clapped her on the shoulder and said, “Just do what I tell you, Okay? Good girl.”

  From the Operations Center the Captain went back to the Chalet, his green parka swinging open despite the wind of the growing storm. He walked briskly, looking forward to the next task at hand. He decided that this was actually kind of fun. He entered into the hall where Connie and Walt sat looking dejected and contrite.

  “Alright you two,” he said without preamble. “Tell me again where your boss has gone?”

  Walt looked at the ground and Connie sniffed as if she were fighting back tears.

  “Terra Nova,” she said, wiping her sleeve noisily across her nose.

  “And why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said pathetically.

  “Don’t give me that,” the Captain said; his demeanor stern. “Besides, I already know. She has the Russian, doesn’t she?”

  Connie hesitated, but then nodded her head in the affirmative, the sight of which made Walt turn his back to her, kicking the leg of a chair as he did so.

  “Okay, fair enough. As far as I’m concerned you kids didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t blame you for trying to protect your boss. I’d do the same thing. For now, just get yourselves berthed and lay low till we figure out what to do with you. Now get going.”

  The two of them avoided each other’s eyes uncomfortably while they shuffled out of the Chalet until the door was closed behind them. Then Walt gave her an enthusiastic high-five.

  “Nice job!” he said to her.

  She threw her arms around his neck, jumping off the ground, thrilled to have done something more than just tag along for the ride.

  The Captain pondered the information the two grad students had offered him while settling into a chair. It was pretty smart of Susan Engen to set up her own students to confirm the diversion she was making. But she didn’t know that he already knew that the Russian was already bound for Chile. What she couldn’t know was that he didn’t care. Now that she was creating the illusion that Sokolov was en route to Terra Nova, he had an even better excuse for pursuing him in the wrong direction. Very good. He walked across the hall to where the Russians were waiting.

  “It’s confirmed, Terra Nova,” he said.

  The Russians looked at each other, their expressions not revealing their thoughts, but their eyes betraying that whatever thoughts there were between them, they each understood the other perfectly. Gregore nodded subtly to the translator.

  “Excellent. If we depart now, will we arrive before them?”

  “If we depart now,” the Captain said, “we won’t be arriving anywhere, except into the side of a mountain. We’ll have to wait out the weather.”

  “And yet, it would appear as if the weather did not delay those whom we wish to pursue, yes?”

  The Captain thought quickly, but gave no indication that he was playing at subterfuge.

  “If my first thought was correct, they would have arrived there too long ago for us to be able to catch up to them at all. However, what the captive terrorist told us is proving to be only partially true. The Greens that you saw attacking the field camp, and spiriting off your guy, didn’t take him with them. They left him here, not sure why. Dr. Engen, of whom I spoke to you, has taken him herself.”

  “Susan Engen? Taking Sokolov to Terra Nova? Have you gone mad?” Dr. Atkinson said in complete consternation to the Captain, who immediately regretted saying anything in front of the scientists.

  “I’m afraid so, Doctor,” he said, appreciating his own acting skills. “You know how she is about causes. I guess it’s the stray puppy syndrome. She’s adopted herself a Russian.”

  “So they journey by land?” the Russian translator persisted in asking, looking anxiously for clarity on the subject.

  “If you want to call it that. But yes, by snowmobile. And no, I do not want to follow them on a miserable overland trip. I’m going to wait out the weather, then fly there.”

  The Captain watched the Russians as they discussed his proposal, and listened to the scientists voicing their disbelief, but he waited for the tone of acceptance of the facts that was the same in all languages. When he heard that he told all to get settled into lodgings and await further notice.

 

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