by Bryan Dunn
“I don’t know... What can you tell me?”
Harry had to make himself concentrate and not get lost in her beautiful face or shining hair. He turned toward the plane, waved his hand through the air and like a showroom salesman began his pitch. “She’ll take off and land on a postage stamp. Overbuilt. Safe. Heck, I don’t know where to start… All weather, a dream to fly – and it can even back up.”
“Back up?” Amy looked surprised. “Is that something one wants a plane to do?”
“You’d be surprised. Ever drop onto an ice flow, run out of strip, and skid to a halt ten feet in front of an icy river?”
“It’s not on my to-do list,” Amy said emphatically. “Although I’m very impressed. And what about the hyperdrive for light speed?”
Harry smiled, moved around the plane and gripped the blade of a propeller. “Two turbocharged Pratt & Whitney PTA 20s developing 578 horsepower each.”
“Stop,” Amy held up her hands. “You’re giving me goose bumps. What does a girl have to do around here to get a ride?”
Harry was caught off guard by the question, amazed she wanted to go up with him. He figured after what happened in the Frozen Coconut, he’d blown the charter.
“I’m sort of confused, Dr. Tyler. I mean, after what happened the other night – well, I thought I’d lost the charter.”
“It’s Amy,” she said warmly. “And I’m surprised you remembered.”
“Yeah… Listen, that was stupid. I never do things like that. But that little weasel – ”
“Had it coming.”
“I shouldn’t have shoved him.”
“It was an expensive push,” Amy added.
Harry nodded in agreement. They stood silently for a moment. Then he asked, “What about Lockwood, Dr. Lockwood? He still has the plane for a week – if he wants it.”
“Right now, Lockwood is probably calling the FAA to see about having your license revoked.”
“So you think I kind of made a bad first impression?”
They both laughed.
Then Amy motioned toward the plane. “Tell you what. You take me up for an introductory ride, show me your stuff – and I’ll talk to Lockwood and see what I can do about squaring things between you two.”
“Deal,” Harry said, knowing a good one when he heard it.
“Great.” Then she added, “We better get moving, captain, before you lose your license.”
* * * *
Harry leveled the Twin Otter at four thousand feet as they soared over Newfoundland’s jagged coastline.
Amy was sitting across from Harry in the number two seat. He kept stealing little glances at her – he couldn’t help it. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She could hardly sit still, trying to take it all in.
Harry banked the plane and they were now gliding over a vast, frozen valley. Up ahead, they raced toward great sheets of ice that seemed to go on forever. The plane banked again, and they were suddenly over the ocean: icebergs of all shapes and sizes and colors marched toward the Atlantic.
“It’s beautiful… incredible. I see why you love it up here,” Amy said, still looking out the window.
Harry looked over at her, thinking: the scenery’s got nothing on you, babe. “So, what’s Cryolabs’ interest in this corner of the world?”
“Antifreeze proteins,” she said, turning toward him. “Freeze-tolerant organisms. And in particular, the Arctic nematode.”
“Nematodes?” Harry said in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not kidding at all. Nematodes are like Beanie Babies to cryobiologists. See, they produce cryoproteins that prevent mechanical damage during intracellular freezing. It’s very exciting.”
“You mean like, look ma, no freezer burn?”
“Exactly,” Amy laughed.
“So there are actual animals that completely freeze, then can be thawed out and be totally fine?”
“Well… insects, microorganisms for sure – maybe some fish,” Amy answered. “That’s why we’re snooping around.”
“Fishsicles,” Harry said in an amused voice.
Amy laughed out loud. Then looked over at Harry. “Harry… is it okay if I call you Harry?” she asked, a new tone in her voice.
“Why, yes ma’am,” he said with a smile.
“Well, Harry, right off the bat I want you to know that there is absolutely nothing about you that interests me. I’m not looking to notch my bedpost with some randy bush pilot. In fact, I’m not in the least bit attracted to you.”
Harry turned and gave her a direct look. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and call me Mr. McNills.”
“I want you to hit on me.”
“What?” Harry gave her an astonished look as his jaw fell open.
“Oh, God, this isn’t coming out right. Wait.” A little desperation entered her voice. “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve got a problem and I need your help.”
Harry studied her face, thinking: and people wonder why men and women have trouble communicating.
“Yeah… Well, may I call you Amy? Well, Amy, you really know how to suck up to a guy.”
“I’m sorry… it’s my boss, Lockwood,” she said apologetically. “Incredible biologist. Lousy boundaries. The man’s all libido. He’s got wandering hands and isn’t used to taking no for an answer.”
“You want that I should break his legs?” Harry said in a mock wise guy voice.
“No!” Amy laughed.
“Listen, why don’t you just confront the creep?” Harry suggested. “Tell him to knock it off. And if he doesn’t, well, he’s a fat target for a sexual harassment suit.” Then added, “You could clean him out.”
“I can’t. Not yet. I need Cryolabs to finish my work. After this trip, if things go as planned, I’ll leave Cryolabs and start my own company.” Amy continued, her voice filling with excitement, “I’m on the brink of developing something that will allow tissues to be frozen indefinitely and suffer no deterioration. It’s something that could have unlimited applications. The venture capital is already in place.”
“Hmm… I get it. It’s sort of a rope-a-dope thing. You suffer along until you have what you need, then leave Lockwood and Cryolabs cold.”
“I guess you could characterize it like that,” Amy said, not letting any defensiveness creep into her voice.
“And, until then, you just smile and take it and do nothing?”
“Well, I don’t plan on doing nothing…” an impish smile flashed across her face. “Listen, Harry, I want you to pretend you’re interested in me – romantically.”
Her comment hung there.
A long silent beat. “And I’ll respond in kind,” she added.
Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what she was saying. “Respond in kind?” he said incredulously.
“You know, act interested.”
Harry laughed. “I see, so I’ll be right up there with the nematodes.”
“Oh, I don’t know why we can’t rank you right up there with a super-cooled fishsicle.” Amy said playfully.
Harry shook his head. The whole thing was totally bizarre. But then he thought: what the hell – he needed the business – and he just might end up having a little fun. Besides, it wasn’t going to be difficult to work up romantic feelings for Dr. Amy Tyler.
Not at all.
“It’s not going to work,” Harry said skeptically. “The guy’s obviously a real hound. I know the type.”
“Well, it can’t hurt. And it’s just for a week.”
“Will I be moving into your hotel room to complete the ruse, Dr. Tyler?” Harry said playfully.
“No, Mr. McNills, you will not,” Amy countered with a smile. “I expect a long and very romantic courtship.”
“And very unconsummated, I assume,” Harry said.
“Very!” she responded emphatically.
“Of course,” he scoffed. “What else?”
Harry banked the plane, giving Amy a
good view of an iceberg-littered stretch of ocean. Up ahead on the horizon a dark storm loomed into view.
“That’s a nasty-looking front pushing toward us,” Harry said, applying a little more throttle. “Time to think about heading home.”
Amy was so busy concentrating on the ocean below that she didn’t seem to hear him. “Wow! Look at all those icebergs,” she said, excitement ringing in her voice. “Incredible!”
“Something to see, isn’t it,” Harry said, leveling the plane. “Iceberg Alley. The Labrador Current stacks them up, then pushes them towards the warmer waters of the Atlantic – the big ones can travel hundreds of miles right into the shipping lanes.”
“The Titanic,” Amy said.
“Bingo,” Harry nodded.
“And the Ice Machine,” Amy added quietly.
“The Ice Machine, too,” Harry said solemnly.
Silence, no one spoke. Both of them content to let the thrum of the engines take up the slack.
Then Amy was suddenly pointing excitedly out her window. “Harry, look! Look at that one. It’s huge!”
He leaned over, looked past Amy and saw what she was pointing at. “That’s a big boy,” he said. “A million tons of ice. See how it’s shaped, how it rises to a spire in the middle?” Amy nodded. “They’re called pinnacle icebergs.”
“I can’t believe the size of it,” Amy said, her voice filled with awe.
“I’d guess it to be about ten stories tall and four or five Manhattan city blocks wide,” Harry said, settling back into his seat. “Ten thousand years ago it was just a glimmer in some glacier’s eye.”
“And the color…” Amy said. “Amazing. Cobalt Blue.”
“Blue means the ice is incredibly dense,” Harry explained. “And we’re only looking at about twenty-five percent of it.”
The Twin Otter suddenly hit some turbulence and began to bounce around.
“We’re getting a little chop from that front. Time to beat feet.”
“Harry, wait!” Amy yelled. “What’s that?’
Harry banked the plane, trying to get a view. “What?”
“There,” she said pointing, “right in the middle.”
As the plane circled past, Amy spun in her seat trying to keep her eyes on what she’d seen.
“I can’t see it anymore,” she said urgently. “We’ve got to go back around.”
Harry stepped on the rudder pedal, sending the plane arcing into a hard turn. Below, clouds began stacking up around the top of the iceberg.
As they completed their turn, Amy strained forward, trying to get a clear view.
“Clouds are covering it,” Amy said, turning in her seat, looking for a break. “We’ve got to go lower.”
The weather was rapidly deteriorating. The plane began to jump and bang around, causing Harry to snug up his harness and tighten his grip on the controls.
“We’re already at four hundred feet… I’ve got to climb out of this dirty air.”
“We’ve got to mark it somehow,” she said urgently. “I saw something. I know I did.”
“I’ve got a GPS fix on it. We are history.”
Harry slammed the throttles forward, the powerful engines clawed into the air, and he pulled the nose into a climb. They continued gaining altitude, then banked away from the approaching front and headed for St. John’s.
Amy sat silently staring out the window, deep in thought. Harry chopped the throttles as they reached cruising speed, then looked over and stared at Amy.
“So, what was it? What did you see?”
Amy turned, glancing at Harry, then let her eyes slip back to the window. A long silent beat as she tried to gather her thoughts, to explain. “I’m not really sure.”
“Okay… well, what did it look like?”
She turned, giving Harry a direct look. “It looked like an ancient skin boat – a kayak. And maybe there was a spear or harpoon, too. It’s just a guess. I didn’t have enough time to see. I’m just not sure.”
“A harpoon?” Harry said with raised eyebrows.
“It’s just a guess,” she repeated. “Is it even possible – could something like that end up on an iceberg?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said, thinking. “But why not – it could’ve been trapped inside that ice for thousands of years.” He looked over, their eyes met. “Was it just sitting right on top of the ice?
“No. More like sticking out of it. Like it had been exposed as the ice melted.”
There was a sudden updraft. The plane shot straight up a hundred feet. Amy screamed. Harry jumped on the controls.
“Snug up your harness.”
Amy didn’t have to be told twice, and quickly made sure her seatbelt was tight. “Are we okay?” she asked, a little warble in her voice.
“Yeah, sure. No problem,” Harry smiled reassuringly. He inched the throttles forward, putting the plane into a slow climb. “I’m going to climb above it… Be clear sailing right into St. John’s.”
Chapter 8
The inside of Hanger One at St. John’s Airport was transformed into a field lab.
Desks were moved in. Halogen lights strung. Computers and all manner of scientific equipment installed. Work benches lining two walls contained a small freezer, autoclave, microscopes, a centrifuge, and a stunning array of glassware: bottles, graduated beakers, test tubes, and Petri dishes. The place would have warmed the heart of a mad scientist.
Amy and Lockwood moved around, straightening gear and testing equipment. Lockwood finished calibrating a microscope, leaned back and watched Amy inventorying supplies on a small shelf. An uncomfortable silence had surrounded them all morning.
He sat there studying the curves of her body, fantasizing about making love to her. They’d gotten off to a bad start. He’d pushed it too fast – kidding her with the “room” comment – that had been stupid. But they still had five days together. Five days to get close, for an attraction to form. Five days to make their time together, memorable.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re ignoring me, Amy?” Lockwood asked, his eyes still tracing her every movement.
Amy stopped what she was doing and faced Lockwood. “I don’t know. I’m not.”
“You haven’t said two words all morning. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong, Dr. Lockwood – ”
“Oh please, it’s Hayden…” he said, rising to his feet.
“Nothing’s wrong, really,” Amy insisted. “I’ve just been running trying to get the lab set up.”
“Yes, and you’re doing an admirable job.” He leveled his eyes at her. And then his tone changed – a hard edge inching into his voice. “I wasn’t at all pleased about you going off on your own yesterday and up with that pilot.”
“Harry McNills knows his stuff,” she said firmly. “There’s nothing wrong with him.”
“You mean, besides the fact that he’s a raging alcoholic?” Lockwood said contemptuously.
“That’s not fair. He was just blowing off some steam.”
“Hmm… Yes, it’s good to have a release.” He said it in a creepy, insinuating tone that made Amy uncomfortable.
Ignoring him, she stepped over to a cage, leaned forward, and examined some mice that were huddled in a corner. “Well, I think it would be our loss if we didn’t follow through with our plans to use his plane,” she said, without looking at Lockwood.
“Do you,” Lockwood said tersely. Then added, “That must’ve been some airplane ride. I can see he made quite an impression on you.”
Not rising to the bait, she kept her eyes on the mice and changed the subject. “They must know they’re not in Kansas anymore. They’re all smashed together like a little snowball.”
Lockwood stepped up to Amy, approaching with catlike stealth, and he was suddenly lost in her shining hair. It was all he could do not to reach out and take her in his arms.
“Amy, I don’t think you’ll be surprised if I tell you I find you incredibly attractive, alluring…”
And just as he reached out to touch her, Amy slipped sideways, moving out of reach.
Her mind was racing. What the hell was she going to do, to say…?
“Dr. Lockwood, I’m here as a professional, doing a job. You’re my boss. Your comment just now was completely inappropriate. Ours is a working relationship. Solely a working relationship. That’s all I’m interested in.”
The whole building seemed to be holding its breath as she walked over to her desk, her footsteps echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room.
She suddenly stopped and looked directly at him. “If you can’t respect that, then I think I should leave.”
Upbraided, Lockwood stared back at her. His face: a stone mask… and then he smiled, but it seemed forced and artificial. There was no warmth behind it. It gave her the creeps. He turned toward the cage, staring at the huddled mice.
“Well, I do apologize,” he said dryly, without a trace of remorse. “I just can’t help myself. Really, it’s just biology, Amy. A simple biological attraction.” He poked an index finger at the mice. “Look at those two… It’s no more complicated than that. Are we really all that different?”
Amy couldn’t believe this crap.
“You’re kidding, right?” she said with complete disbelief in her voice.
Lockwood turned, facing her. He had a strange look on his face. He seemed to be almost undressing her with his eyes. “You need to lighten up, Amy. Relax. Have a little fun.”
Lockwood walked past her, almost brushing her shoulder. Just before he left, he turned and flashed another creepy smile. “I think I’ll go have a talk with Mr. McNills… if he’s sober, that is.”
Amy didn’t say anything. She was just glad he was leaving.
Chapter 9
The Twin Otter was sitting at the base of a vast ice flow, its bold, black-and- yellow paint job making it stand out like a fly on a wedding cake. A small day camp had been erected next to the plane. Boots was busy arranging chairs around a table with an umbrella.
They had lifted off from St. John’s airport at dawn. Harry had flown his passengers, Amy and Lockwood, a hundred miles north to a secret place that tourists never visited – a giant ice cave that led right into the heart of a receding glacier.