Mase_9780553807288_4p_all_r1.qxp
11/11/08
12:12 PM
Page 153
BLOOD AND ICE
153
“Why don’t we just settle this the easiest way possible?” Michael said. “Let me go back to the scene of the crime.” “It’s not that easy.” “Why not?” Michael asked, as Darryl chimed in with, “I’ll go, too.” Murphy looked from one of them to the other. “You may think that we’re off in the middle of nowhere, with nobody looking over our shoulders, but you’re wrong. Every single thing we do here, I have to write up and report to the NSF, or the U.S. Navy, or the Coast Guard, or, believe it or not, NASA. See that?” he said, pointing to an unwieldy tower of papers and forms stacked in wire bins on his desk. “That’s just one week’s worth of crap I’ve got to fill out and file. And every dollar of what we do has to be accounted for. You know what it cost to send that auger out onto the ice, and prep the dive hut, and prime all the gear?” “I’m sure it’s plenty,” Michael said, “but that’s why we need to do this quickly. Everything’s still in place. I can go down tomorrow—and with a little help from Calloway, and the right equipment, we can even get the body out of the glacier somehow. Jesus,” Michael said in exasperation, “this could be a monumental find.” “Don’t you mean a monumental story for your magazine?” Murphy retorted. There was nothing more to say for the moment. Murphy chewed on his antacid, and Michael and Darryl exchanged a long frustrated look. Murphy blew out a weary breath. “Where’s Calloway?” “I saw him in the rec hall,” Darryl said. “Tell him to get over here,” Murphy said, busying himself with some papers on the desk blotter. “Now.” Michael knew enough not to say another word. And so did Darryl.
The wine bottle rested in a small tank of tepid seawater, on the counter in Darryl’s marine lab. With its icy coating gone, the label was revealed, but the ink had been so smudged that it was nothing but a blur. Darryl peered into the tank, as if watching a live specimen that might surprise him at any moment, and Michael paced up