“I understand.” Megan thought a second. “How do you feel about informing MacTown of our status?”

Nimec adjusted a velcro strap at the collar of his parka, then got his gloves and outer gauntlets out of a pocket.

“I can’t see how they can help us right now,” he said. “And I’m not sure I like involving outsiders until we have a better idea what our status is.”

Megan sighed. “I don’t know. We can’t stand around doping this out. But there’s an argument for contacting them. In case anything happens to us—”

“Do either of you want my take?”

This was from Ron Waylon, who had stepped up behind Nimec, his balaclava pulled over his head, the hood of his coat already raised.

Nimec glanced over his shoulder.

“Let’s hear it,” he said.

“There’s no 911 help in Antarctica,” Waylon said. “If we can’t stand on our own, then by the time somebody responds, it’ll be to bury us. Seems to me there’s nothing wrong with holding off unless things start to look bad. No matter what, we’ll have our chances to reevaluate.”

They looked at him. Looked at each other. Both were nodding.

“Issue decided,” Nimec said. His eyes steadied on Megan’s. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” she said. And suddenly grasped his wrist. “Try not to let anyone get hurt.”

He squeezed the back of her hand, pulled up his hood.

“That’s the plan,” he said.

Burkhart halted in the snow as he led his team toward their snowmobiles.

“Wait,” he ordered, using his headset to communicate with them. Even raised to a shout, his unaided voice would have been overpowered by the wind. Yet he thought he’d heard a sound beneath its leviathan roar.

He wiped his goggles, peering back in the direction from which they had trod.

Someone other than Burkhart might have barely discerned the inverted bowl of the dome through blowing sheaves of whiteness. His keen eyes noticed a vague scintillation behind the dome . . . a paper-thin skim of light that seemed to be sliding toward him along the ground like a wide, flattened wavelet over the surf.

He thought briefly of the woman scientist.

There had been more backbone in her than he’d suspected.

He turned to his men.

“They know we’re here,” he said.

FIFTEEN - ASOTNA, SWITZERLAND MARCH 12, 2002

FIFTEEN

ASOTNA, SWITZERLAND MARCH 12, 2002