Sandrine sends him a sharp look, but the others just laugh.
‘“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become one”,’ says Arne. ‘Nietzsche, wasn’t it?’
Sonya nods. ‘“And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.” That’s the rest of the quote.’
No one laughs at that. A silence descends, and it’s obvious why. Everyone is picturing Jean-Luc, their missing colleague, out there in a frozen abyss of his own.
Caro is the first to speak. ‘I need to tell you all something.’
Eleven heads swivel in her direction. I glance at Sandrine, who stares at me blankly for a second or two. Of course, we both know what’s coming.
Caro’s face flushes pink, and I watch her working up the courage to say the words out loud. Before she can speak, Alice leans over and squeezes her shoulder. ‘I know,’ she says quietly.
‘You do?’ Caro’s eyes widen.
‘You’re pregnant.’
Sandrine frowns at Alice. ‘How did you know?’
‘I’ve been there.’ Alice shrugs. ‘I recognise the signs.’
‘You’re pregnant?’ Drew stares at Caro, aghast. ‘What? When the hell were you going to tell—?’
‘She just did,’ Arne cuts in.
‘It will be fine,’ says Sandrine firmly. ‘Kate and I are handling the situation.’
‘When are you due?’ Sonya asks, her forehead furrowed with concern.
‘Not for ages,’ Caro says evasively, shooting a quick glance at me. ‘I’ll be long gone, don’t worry.’
I glance around at the others. Most are obviously struggling to absorb this news. Only Arne seems to be taking it in his stride.
Did he already know? I wonder. Perhaps Caro is the real reason he split with his girlfriend.
The possibility makes my stomach tighten, and I push the thought away. It’s none of my business, I remind myself; my job is simply to keep Caro and her baby safe and healthy.
Drew gets up and helps himself to another beer, then clears his throat. ‘Well, here’s to his or her good health.’ He raises his bottle in a toast to Caro. ‘I think you’ll make a wonderful mother.’
With a murmur, everyone follows suit, and Caro smiles nervously in return. But it’s obvious the news has killed the evening dead. Hardly surprising, I guess, given the circumstances.
‘Thanks, guys,’ Caro clambers to her feet. ‘I should get some rest, but thank you for not freaking out.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ I say my own goodnights, then follow Caro to her cabin.
‘Well done,’ I say, as she pauses by her door. ‘That can’t have been easy.’
She shrugs, then lifts her eyes to my face, her expression searching. ‘Kate, is this really going to be all right? With the baby, I mean.’
‘Of course.’ I give her a hug, pushing down my own misgivings. ‘You’ll be fine, I promise. Now go to bed and get some sleep.’
20
22 June
A noise. Loud and close.
I listen in the twilight of my night light, still half asleep, unsure what it was.
‘Kate!’ calls an urgent voice, followed by another sharp rap on my door. ‘Wake up!’
I glance at the time: 6.02 a.m. What the hell’s going on?
‘One moment.’ I get up and pull on my dressing gown, open the door to Arne, dressed in full outdoor gear, his red down jacket and trousers. Even more incongruous is the look on his face – ashen, stunned.
‘What’s the matter?’ A spike of anxiety focuses my attention. Is there a fire? Has someone been hurt? Oh shit … Caro. Has something happened to her and the baby?
‘You need to get dressed,’ Arne sidesteps my question. ‘Quickly.’
I don’t move. ‘Why?’ I insist. ‘Tell me!’
Arne leans his forehead against the door jamb in a gesture of pure desperation. ‘There’s a body outside on the ice.’ His voice is stiff and flat, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s saying. ‘Near the tower.’
‘A body?’ I stare at him, trying to process his words. ‘What do you mean … who …?’
But the instant I ask, I know the answer. And that I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.
‘It’s Alex,’ Arne confirms. He looks away, blinking, taking a deep breath.
‘Oh God.’ I stumble backwards into my room, half-winded with shock. ‘Are you sure he’s dead?’
‘We think so.’
I grab my jeans from the back of the chair and put them on under my dressing gown. ‘Who found him?’
‘Alice.’ Arne averts his gaze as I pull on the rest of my clothes. ‘She couldn’t sleep so decided to go out and release the weather balloon, give Sonya a lie-in. She spotted him on the snow by the tower, and couldn’t rouse him.’
I gape at Arne, still struggling to take this in.
‘They’re carrying him in right now,’ he adds. ‘You should be ready.’
I nod, following him up the corridor. ‘Bring him into the surgery.’
Maybe it isn’t too late, I tell myself, as I unlock the clinic door. If he hasn’t been out there long, it’s possible Alex might still be alive. Seconds later Luuk and Drew loom into view, each holding the end of a stretcher, Sandrine trailing behind. There’s an awkward moment as they try to manoeuvre the stretcher through the clinic doorway – no easy feat given the narrow corridor.
No doubt in my mind now. I can tell immediately by his open eyes and the blue tone of his skin that Alex is very, very much dead.
‘Put him in the surgery.’
Sandrine waits by my side as they shift his body from the stretcher to the exam bed. In the doorway stands Alice, her arm around a hysterical Caro.
‘Let me see him!’ she wails between sobs.
‘No,’ I insist, a little too sharply. ‘Caro, you have to let me do what I can.’ I turn to Alice. ‘Take her into the canteen and make her a cup of tea.’
Alice nods, steering her away by the shoulders. I take a deep breath, then enter the surgery. I gaze at Alex’s body, mind numb with horror and grief and regret. My eyes flick to the medicine cabinet, wondering if I could invent some excuse for a minute alone.
‘Aren’t you going to do anything?’ Sandrine snaps, clearly wondering why I’m wasting precious time.
But it’s way too late for resuscitation. The angles of the limbs indicate Alex has been dead for a while – rigor mortis, coupled with sub-zero temperatures, has set them rigid.
His face is frozen in an expression of … I struggle to name it. Bewilderment. His lips are curled back in a grimace, and his eyes stare straight ahead, as if fixated on some object just out of reach. His hair stands right up from his head, compounding the sense of astonishment.
But that’s not the worst of it. There’s something even more strange and terrible about the body in front of me. Alex is dressed in nothing more than the thin Hawaiian shirt and shorts he was wearing last night, his feet covered in just a thin pair of socks, almost obscured by compacted snow. I wince at the thought of treading on that remorseless ice with so little protection – the pain must have been excruciating.
Definitely no need to hurry now.
I turn to Drew and Arne, hovering behind us. ‘Thanks. I’ll handle it from here.’ As they file out of the clinic, Arne gives my shoulder a brief squeeze in a gesture of solidarity. Just before they close the door, I catch sight of Tom in the corridor, his expression pitched between fear and confusion.
I turn to Sandrine. ‘Do you want to stay and help?’
The station leader nods, lips pursed, her face pale and shocked, and I wonder if she’s on the verge of fainting. She wouldn’t be the first to be overwhelmed by the sight of a dead body – I’ve witnessed it plenty of times in med school and in hospital.
‘You okay?’ I ask, but Sandrine ignores my question.
‘Is there anything you can do?’ she says, her voice quiet.
I go through the motio
ns of checking for signs of life, feeling for a pulse, shining a light in both eyes to see if his pupils react. Then shake my head.
‘He’s gone.’
Sandrine sinks onto a chair. Her ice queen façade has vanished. Underneath is a small, frightened woman who is clearly out of her depth. ‘How long, do you think?’
‘Well, that’s something we need to determine.’ I examine the rest of Alex’s body. His skin has a ghastly white-blue pallor, with clear signs of frostbite on his hands, nose, and toes. ‘I’d say only a few hours.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Sandrine whispers. ‘He had no reason to go outside during the night.’
I quash the urge to state the obvious – even if Alex had a good reason to leave the base, his lack of clothing tells a different story.
‘The cause of death is almost certainly exposure,’ I conclude, hiding my own grief and panic behind a well-honed professional demeanour. ‘Though I haven’t the skills or resources for a full autopsy. But I have to undress him. Can you give me a hand?’
I don’t really need her assistance, but I know from experience that staying busy will help her cope with the shock. Together we ease off Alex’s clothes. There’s a rip in the side of the shirt, I notice, as if the fabric caught on something sharp.
Was it there yesterday night, at the dinner? I don’t think so.
I glance at his wrist and realise what’s missing – his activity band. He must have taken it off before he left the station.
Nothing significant about that, I guess. I’m constantly reminding people to put theirs back on, after removing it for recharging.
‘This is clearly an act of suicide,’ Sandrine says, in the tone of someone who’s come to a conclusion. Her expression has resumed that blank firmness she adopts whenever she has to deal with anything unpleasant but necessary.
Suicide? Is she right?
Did Alex, who, let’s face it, was depressed or unstable – arguably both – decide to take his own life?
I try to imagine the desperation that would drive you to open the outer door, then force yourself to walk into that lethal cold dressed for a warm summer day in Honolulu. How far would you get before the freezing temperatures incapacitated you? The tower is half a kilometre away from Alpha – I’m surprised he made it all that way.
Focus, Kate. Stick to what you know.
I’m about to remove Alex’s ice-encrusted socks when there’s a knock on the door. Drew’s face appears a second later.
‘Could you check in on Caro, Kate? She’s back in her cabin, but still very upset – they can’t calm her down.’
I glance at Sandrine. ‘Can you give me ten minutes?’
The station leader nods again. ‘I have to contact UNA anyway. You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.’
I find Caro wedged on her bed between Alice and Sonya, who cradle her as she sobs. Both women look up with relief as I walk in.
‘How is she?’ I mouth to Sonya, who simply lifts her eyebrows in response.
Not good then.
I consider what to do. Ideally I’d like to see Caro in my clinic, but that isn’t possible with Alex’s body in there.
‘Do you mind if I talk to her alone?’ I say to the two women, who nod and rise to their feet. Sonya takes off the beautiful knitted shawl she’s wearing and drapes it around Caro’s shoulders, then places a motherly hand on mine as she leaves. I must look pretty shaken myself.
I sit opposite Caro. Tears are still streaking down her cheeks. I tear off a few sheets from the roll of toilet paper someone brought into the cabin and hand them to her.
Caro dabs her eyes. I wait for her to calm down enough to speak.
‘What happened to him?’ she stammers, finally raising her gaze to mine.
I consider how to respond. ‘We’re not exactly sure. It seems likely that he … decided to take his own life.’
Her reaction is so sudden and fierce it makes me start with surprise.
‘No!’ She jumps to her feet, her expression morphing instantly from grief to rage. ‘He would never do that. Never!’ She towers over me, looking furious.
‘Caro!’ I stand to face her. ‘Calm down. Let’s sit and talk this through, okay?’
She hovers, then reluctantly sinks back onto the bed.
‘Why do you say that?’ I ask gently, as she fights to steady her breathing. I’m beginning to worry for the baby.
Caro exhales. Her voice, when she speaks, is more measured, but equally insistent. ‘Alex would never kill himself.’
I pause. ‘How can you be certain? Seems to me he’s been pretty depressed.’
She fixes her eyes on mine. ‘I just know, okay?’ A determined jut of her chin. We remain silent for a minute or two before she speaks again.
‘Kate. Please tell me … how long …?’ She stops, swallows. ‘How long would it have taken?’
How long would it have taken for Alex to die? I reach for her hand and hold it in mine. ‘Not long. Minutes. If that.’
She gazes up at me. ‘You sure?’
‘I promise. He’d have slipped into a coma very quickly.’
More silence as she takes this in, and I force myself to wonder how quickly, exactly. Five minutes? Ten? Longer?
Caro clears her throat and her next words emerge as a whisper. ‘He’s the father, Kate.’
I gaze at her. ‘Are you certain?’ I remember that moment of hesitation when I asked her last week, when she first told me she was pregnant.
She nods.
‘Were you and Alex in a relationship?’ I recall the many times I’ve seen them together. Not simply friends after all.
She nods again. ‘Since the end of the summer.’
‘And does … did he know about the baby?’
‘I told him about a week ago, after the test. But I think he might have guessed anyway.’
‘And how did he react?’
Caro looks up at me, her swollen eyes fierce. ‘He was pleased, and relieved when I told him he was the father. He was really happy about it, but he was worried too – about me, how everyone else would react. He didn’t want anybody to know, just wanted the two of us to get the hell off this station as soon as we could.’
She drops her head into her hands and emits a long, low wail. ‘He asked me to marry him, Kate. A couple of days ago.’
I sit there, stunned at what I’m hearing.
‘And you said yes?’
Caro nods, more tears rolling down her cheeks. When she speaks again her words echo my own thoughts: ‘Does that sound like someone who’s suicidal to you?’
I can’t think what to say. I try to work it through logically. Alex had everything, it seems, to live for. And yet … perhaps the stress of knowing he was going to be a father, the worry about his girlfriend being pregnant and perhaps giving birth so far from proper care, might that have exacerbated his mental state? Tipped him over some kind of edge?
‘Do you really believe he killed himself?’ Caro stares at me, daring me to affirm it.
I hesitate, then decide to change tack. ‘Did you see him after he left during the film?’ I ask instead.
Caro shakes her head. ‘I assumed he’d gone to bed. We always sleep separately,’ she adds. ‘There’s not enough room on these beds for two of us … well, three.’ She gives a rueful smile, then her chin wobbles and she starts crying again. ‘I should have looked in on him, Kate, but I didn’t want to wake him up. He was hardly sleeping as it was. Always on the internet, checking stuff.’
‘What stuff?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me. He just said it was to do with Jean-Luc. He …’ She pauses. ‘He was convinced his death wasn’t an accident – that’s all he’d say.’
‘Can you remember anything else about last night? Or his behaviour in the last few days?’ I feel a lurch of guilt. I should have pushed harder to talk to him, to get to the bottom of what was so troubling him.
Caro mulls it over. ‘He said … it was a few days ago, when I was urging hi
m to get more sleep, or at least go to you for some sleeping pills … he said he was getting closer. I asked him, getting closer to what? Alex promised he’d tell me when he had any evidence that he could take to Sandrine and demand she do something. Until then he said it was better – safer – for me if I didn’t know.’
‘Safer? Was that the word he actually used?’
‘Yes. I asked him what he meant, said he was scaring me, but he refused to say more. He told me his main priority was to deal with it, then get me off the base to have our baby.’
I chew my lip, thinking. We’re interrupted by a loud rap on the door. Sandrine pokes her head around, looks at Caro, who refuses to meet her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ the station leader asks her briskly. Evidently fully recovered from her shock in my surgery.
Caro makes a visible effort to pull herself together. Sandrine examines her tear-stained face, then turns to me. ‘UNA wants to have a word with you, to go over things. My office in five?’
‘Okay.’ Behind my temples I sense the start of another headache. Along with a bone-numbing tiredness that feels like being crushed under some heavy load.
One thing is clear: this is going to be a very long day.
21
22 June
I’m on a call to UNA for over an hour, giving a preliminary report. It’s obvious Sandrine has already filed it as a suicide; after all, no one strips off like that and sets off across the ice by accident.
By the time I return to my clinic, I’ve developed a thumping headache and a serious craving. I lock the door behind me and help myself to a hefty cocktail of medication from the supplies cupboard, then sit at my desk, feeling shaky, hyper-aware of Alex lying in the adjacent room. I need to write up a full report for UNA, but that means examining him more closely, and right now I can’t face it. Though I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies in my career, the fact that it’s someone I have spent so many months with is deeply unnerving.
As a chemical calmness slowly envelops me, I grab my notebook, turn on the camera on my phone, then get to work. I examine the body from head to foot, taking pictures and making notes of anything unusual. I’ve witnessed several post-mortems in medical school, but never performed one myself.
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