"Ch-choose?"
"Rolf, you're frightening him," Miranda attempted, but found her words ignored.
"Choose," Rolf repeated. "Friend or foe, young Darryl Walters?"
Darryl sat up straighter in his chair and held Rolf's gaze. "Friend. Unless—"
"You place conditions on your friendship?" Rolf growled, but so low that no one else could have heard unless they were as near to him as Miranda. "Go on, boy. Tell me of your conditions."
"Unless… you hurt Ms. O'Shea. If you do, then I'll—"
"You will what?" Rolf glared at Darryl, but the slightly built young man glared right back, though his knees were knocking together.
"Rolf, that's enough," Miranda nearly shouted.
"I'll make sure you pay, that's what. And I don't care who or what you are," Darryl whispered. "She's been through enough."
Rolf's expression eased. He nodded his approval. "On that, at least, we agree." He cupped the back of Darryl's head with one large hand for a moment. "I am proud to call such a valiant one friend," he said quietly.
Darryl sighed his relief and tucked the inhaler into his pocket. He continued staring in awe at Rolf, though. "Are you, really—"
"He is, Darryl," Miranda managed to interject. "But you can't say a word to anyone. Promise me. I'll do my best to explain it all later."
Darryl swallowed hard and nodded. "Did your father know—"
Rolf held up a hand and Darryl fell silent. Then Miranda heard the others trotting back up the basement stairs.
"So the only things missing are the body and the sword?" Lieutenant Hanlon paced the living room, a notepad in hand. His forensics team were combing the basement for evidence, while he did his best to make sense of the situation. A large car of white with flashing lights atop it and a piercing cry had carried the wounded man away only moments ago.
When Rolf had searched, in case the swine still lingered here, he'd discovered that Miranda's home had been truly ransacked. Every drawer had been opened and emptied, along with every cupboard and closet. Beds had been stripped, the cushions removed from every seat, the furniture overturned.
"And every file we had on the find," Miranda reminded Hanlon.
"Which is my point exactly," Jeff Morsi snapped. When all heads turned in his direction, he pointed at Miranda. "You all heard her say she'd keep this find to herself if she could. Looks like that's just what she's trying to do."
Rolf rose slowly, his gaze pinning Morsi to the spot. Miranda must be on the verge of insanity with all of this. She did not need this man's insults to push her still farther.
Travis was quick to grip Rolf's shoulder. Before he could pull away and lift Morsi by his throat, Miranda leapt to her own defense, surprising Rolf yet again.
"You're a fool, Jeff! The find would be ruined in a matter of hours outside that climate-controlled room and you know it."
"Suppose you have another lab somewhere, one we know nothing about?"
"And what did I use to pay for it? My incredible looks?"
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on anyone in the room, not even on Rolf. Yet he could not, for the life of him, understand it.
Jeff Morsi sneered. "Right, I forgot. You couldn't buy a ticket to Tuckahoe with the entire package, could you?"
Rolf's fist moved so rapidly no one saw it coming, until Morsi was flat on his back with blood spurting from his nose. Lieutenant Hanlon, Fletcher Travis and Darryl all gripped different parts of his body, but he gently extricated himself. Miranda stood motionless, staring wide-eyed at him. "I will not strike him again," he said to reassure them. In truth, he thought he just might.
"Obviously we're all tense here." Erwin Saunders helped Morsi to his feet, and handed him a white linen handkerchief. "I'm sure Jeff is sorry for that remark, and that Rolf is sorry for striking him. Correct?"
Morsi eyed Rolf warily. "Sure. I'm sorry, okay?"
"I am not. And do you insult the lady again you will know the full extent of my wrath, Morsi."
"I imagine Cryo-Life would have the kind of facilities to maintain a find like this one, wouldn't it, Mr. Morsi?"
Morsi, pressing the hankie to his nose where it rapidly became soaked with crimson, glared at the lieutenant. "Is that an accusation?" He spoke like an old woman with a congested nose.
"I'd need a motive, and not being a scientist, I can't think why a company trying to develop suspended animation for sale would want to steal a nine-hundred-year-old body. Maybe somebody else here can, though."
Darryl cleared his throat. "The body was perfectly preserved. If even one viable cell were found, it would be a boon to Cryo-Life. They'd want to take the body apart bit by bit to find what had allowed life to remain…" His voice trailed off. He glanced at Rolf and swallowed.
"Which is precisely why my father and I have opposed allowing anyone from Cryo-Life to take part in any stage of this project, and why we adamantly insisted they should not be permitted to touch the Ice Man, even before we discovered him. It is also why I said what I said at the hospital. I'd sooner let you cut me up than him." As Miranda spoke those defiant words, she slipped her hand into Rolf's and her fingers closed around it. He was so shocked he nearly gasped aloud, but managed to contain himself and simply stare at her in wonder.
"Is that why you hid it, Miranda? To keep me from cutting it up?" Jeff removed the hankie, glanced at it and pressed it back to his nose. "Would you rather see it ruined than benefiting human beings the world over?"
"Human beings the world over would benefit from the proper study of the man, how he lived and what he did. They won't benefit from some witch doctor like you taking the life savings of cancer patients in exchange for dropping their bodies in dry ice when they die."
"Is that a confession?"
"You know damn well it was no confession. It was a simple statement and it was the simple truth. You people at C.L. aren't scientists, you're con artists!" Rolf's free hand came down on her shoulder, gently, but firmly enough to remind her of his presence. It seemed to have a calming effect. She drew a breath, stiffened her spine. "You're welcome to search the house, Lieutenant. My office at the university, too, if you want."
"Searching the house will be necessary, I'm afraid," he explained. "But not because we suspect you of anything, Miss O'Shea. Just to try to ascertain how the specimen was taken out of here and when and by whom."
"You don't even suspect she might have done this?" Morsi all but shouted, earning him Rolf's most speaking glare.
"Why should he suspect her?" Fletcher Travis asked. "Russell and Miranda O'Shea have been members of this community and tenured university professors for a combined three decades. It isn't as if they would sell to the highest bidder and skip the country. Besides, I know the passion and the years they've given to this project. Neither of them would risk it just from pure selfishness. They knew years ago they'd be compelled to share the specimen, if they ever discovered it."
"Yes, that's true, but not with me," Morsi countered.
"And I still didn't know I'd have to share it with you, Jeff. Not until you so tactfully broke the news in the intensive care waiting room."
"It makes little sense to me to believe Miranda would wreak such havoc with her own house," Rolf began, his voice level and firm. "It would seem to me the dog was looking for more than just the… the speciman."
Professor Saunders paced the room, nodding. "He's right. Anyone who knew about the specimen would have known where to find it, without trashing the house this way, and they certainly didn't expect to find it under cushions or inside drawers. They took all the files on the find. I would assume that's what they were searching for."
"Were the files hidden, Miranda?" Fletcher Travis touched her arm as he asked the question, concern for her etched on his face.
"They were in the file cabinet. Whoever did all this was looking for something else."
Lt. Hanlon nodded. "My thoughts exactly. Now we know Miss O'Shea wasn't responsible. Witnesses place her at the hospital at the sam
e time Officer Flanders got that bogus message saying there was an emergency at his home. The rest of you, I'm sorry to say, don't have such solid alibis."
"I told you, I was alone at home up until I left to meet Travis," Saunders stated.
"And Travis was eating alone at a crowded diner," Hanlon reminded them. "And Morsi was stuck in traffic, and Darryl was sitting by the lake, studying. Any one of you could have clubbed Morgan over the head, forced the door and dragged him inside before trashing the house. Any one of you could have taken the body, but I don't seriously suspect you did. Until I know more, I'd like you all to keep quiet about this. The fewer people who know about it the better, from my standpoint."
"I suppose it's lucky we haven't yet announced the find to the press," Saunders observed.
"You got that right." Almost offhandedly Hanlon added, "An unidentified body turns up, most likely someone's going to call it in. If they think it might be a nine-hundred-year-old body, the citizens will be cutting it up for souvenirs." He nodded when several disbelieving pairs of eyes turned his way in shock. "Oh, yeah. Wouldn't be the first time. People are sick." He cleared his throat. "Professor Saunders, you can go on home if you want. I'll keep you informed. Mr. Morsi, you can leave, too, but I'll be wanting to talk with you later, and maybe take a tour of Cryo-Life, if you can arrange that. Mr. Travis, you won't be leaving town in the near future, will you?"
Fletcher Travis shook his head.
Professor Saunders prepared to leave. "Darryl?"
"I'd like to stay, Professor Saunders. I can walk back to campus later."
Saunders nodded and left, Jeff Morsi stalking out the door close behind him. Hanlon turned to Miranda. "We'll be doing a thorough check outside first, Miss O'Shea. See if there's any evidence of a body being dragged. I doubt they carried it. According to these notes the stiff was as big as—" he glanced around the room "—as Magnusson, here." Darryl choked loudly and spun around until his back was toward Hanlon. Hanlon looked curiously at the young man, then shrugged and stepped outside.
Fletcher peered thoughtfully at Darryl, then shot a speculative gaze at Rolf. His brows crinkled deeply, and he shook his head from side to side as if dismissing some errant notion. He came forward and offered Rolf his hand. "If you hadn't decked Morsi, I would have. He had it coming." He glanced at Miranda. "I'm glad you're here for her, Rolf." Rolf shook Travis's hand, wishing he didn't instinctively like the man. Travis hugged Miranda once more. "If you need anything—"
"I know," she said softly. "Thanks, Fletch."
The moment the door closed, Darryl looked at Rolf and grinned a bit uneasily, still staring at Rolf in awe. "It's true, isn't it. It is you."
Rolf nodded. "Do not forget the men downstairs and those just outside," he said gently. "Miranda asked me to keep this secret, and because I owe her my life, I agreed. Only now do I begin to see that she was right to do so."
"Damn straight. Morsi and his bunch would do just what she said they would—cut you to ribbons." Rolf saw now, that in age, Darryl was man grown, but in size and in mannerisms, he still seemed little more than a boy. Darryl pushed his glasses up on his nose. "See, usually when a body undergoes extended periods of conglaciation, there's crystallization damage to the cell walls. Despite the gelidity and the vacuity that preserved you, you must have been exposed to some chemical compound—theoretically a naturally occurring one—that kept your cell walls intact, unaltered. Might've been ingested, or maybe the contact was topical. Either way, they'd kill to know what it was."
"Darryl, easy. Rolf is just learning English. He's not ready for Anatomy 101." Despite the softness of her tone, Rolf thought her voice sounded lifeless.
"You would do well to rest in your bed, Miranda."
"I have too much to do. Arrangements to make, and—" She pressed a palm to her forehead and closed her eyes tiredly. "If I keep busy, I won't have time to think, you know what I mean?"
Rolf did. "I know," he said.
"I have some calls to make. I'll use the phone in the study."
Chapter 9
"She puzzles me."
Darryl replaced the receiver, apparently realizing that his detailed explanation of its use was being largely ignored. Rolf had watched Miranda leave the room and his gaze still lingered on the doorway to the study.
"Dr. O'Shea?"
Rolf drew his gaze back to the youth and nodded. "She has no man. This is common among your women?"
Darryl shook his head. "She's unique. Her father was always telling her so. I heard him say once that a husband would only hold her back."
"Hold her back?"
"In her career," Darryl explained. "Her work, you know?"
"And does Miranda believe this is true?"
Darryl tilted his head to one side, looking doubtful. "I don't know. If she does, she didn't always. She and Jeff Morsi… Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this."
Rolf's spine stiffened. He felt a tremor of anger rumble deep inside him, but he knew not why. "I have eyes, Darryl. I can see there is something between them."
Darryl chewed his lower lip and nodded. "Yeah, pure hate."
"Why?" Rolf leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting upon his knees. His gaze scanned the young man's face. He did not understand his need to know all about Miranda. No, no more than he understood the feelings she stirred within him. He wished with everything in him to take away her pain. Why?
Darryl squirmed in his seat. "They were engaged once. Planning to get married," he hurriedly clarified when Rolf only frowned. "It was two years ago, when I was just a freshman."
"She intended to wed that worm?" Rolf stood without meaning to. He shook his head in disbelief, not merely at the information, but at the rage he felt in reaction to it. "Why did she not?"
"I don't know. Half the campus had theories, but no one really knew. It was… like things changed overnight. Dr. O'Shea avoided Jeff like the plague, and he acted like he couldn't stand the sight of her." Darryl lowered his voice. "A friend of mine said that Jeff told him she was frigid. Can you believe he'd say something like that about her?" He looked up at Rolf. "I'm glad you hit him."
Rolf made a mental note to look up the word "frigid" when he had a moment later on. Right now he had to concentrate on keeping up with the conversation, and on keeping his anger in check. Why should he wish to feel the tip of Hefnd sink deeply into Morsi's throat?
Darryl coughed a little. "A lot of people believe she is. She gets jumpy if a man even looks at her, and as far as anyone knows, she hasn't had a date since she broke it off with Jeff."
"Date? What is this?"
"You know, when a woman goes somewhere with a man. Like out to eat, or to a movie or dancing or something." Rolf shook his head, still not quite clear on the date thing. Darryl sighed. "Well, it's like… In your time, when you met a girl you liked, really liked, what did you do?"
"You mean a woman I wanted?" Darryl's face colored slightly, but he nodded. Rolf gave his answer some thought. "I assume you refer to a woman of some virtue, rather than a wanton. In that case, a man would first seek the permission of her faŏir. He then could visit her on occasion. Perhaps bring some golden bauble to her on returning from i víking. He might coax her into going walking, or perhaps take her for a short ride on one of the small ships one day."
"That would be a date," Darryl said, snapping his fingers.
"If that is so," Rolf replied, "it is difficult to believe the story you tell about Miranda. Adrianna was never without a half-dozen men groveling at her feet."
"Adrianna? Was she—"
"A woman I once knew. The most sought-after woman in all of Norge, some said. Her beauty could blind a man to all of her faults. She used men, tricked them to suit her purposes and then sent them on their way. She was an artist at… I believe the word is… flirting. She dressed and acted and even spoke in ways designed to entice men, to make them crave that which they could not possess."
"We have a few like that," Darryl acknowledged. "Although I'
ve always figured you couldn't hate them for it. If men are stupid enough to fall for it, then who's really to blame?"
Rolf scowled suddenly. That had to be the oddest point of view he'd ever heard, and yet in a way it made sense. He had believed himself a fool to allow Adrianna to use him, had he not? "So Miranda does not use her beauty in such a way?"
"Use her…" Darryl fixed Rolf with a look that made him feel he'd missed something important. "In case you haven't noticed it yet, she doesn't seem to know she has any. I bet it would never occur to her to use her looks to get ahead. She probably believes she is completely unattractive. The way she dresses and keeps her hair all bundled up, she's managed to convince a lot of other people of it, too."
Rolf thought for a moment. "Yet she walks proudly, with confidence."
"I figure that's because she's good at what she does and she knows it. That's what people see when they meet her. A plain, but keenly intelligent scientist. You don't notice her looks until you get to know her better." Darryl shot a wary glance toward the study, then looked back at Rolf again. "You want to know something else? I think she likes it that way. Those rumors about her being an ice queen. Well, she hasn't said or done a thing to stop them."
"I see." Rolf studied the young man, weighing his words. "I think you, too, have this keen intelligence. You see much."
"I minor in psychology." He shrugged as if that explained everything.
Hours passed. Hours in which the police finished their work and left, and in which Darryl finally ran out of questions for Rolf and went his way, as well. During all that time Miranda had emerged just once. She'd come from the study only to pass through the living room and go up the stairs. Rolf had approved, thinking she'd decided to get some rest. But as he'd patiently told tales of long ago to Darryl, Rolf had begun to feel uneasy.
When he finally was alone, he mounted the stairs and strode purposefully to Miranda's room, only to find her bed empty and undisturbed. He needed only to follow the nearly inaudible sounds of movement to find her.
He pushed open a door and stepped into her father's bedroom. Miranda stood before the bed. Suits of clothes lay spread before her. Jackets, ties for the neck, crisp white shirts, knife-creased leggings. She moved slowly, her head tilting first one way, then another, as she moved a striped tie from a blue jacket to a gray one. She nodded decisively and picked up the gray jacket.
Miranda's Viking Page 11