“Suggestions well taken,” the captain replied with a smile. “Don't worry about it. I don't have a clue what to do next. The ship and crew are at your command.”

Captain Fortier picked up the mike and began to speak French.

Austin stared at the glacier through the pilothouse window. He was as still as a bronze statue, but his calmness was deceiving. His nimble mind was racing ahead, exploring strategies. But he knew it was all mental smoke and mirrors for now because he couldn't come up with a plan until he knew exactly what he had to deal with.

He thought of the beguiling expression on Skye's face as she left the ship. He knew the odds were against it, but he vowed to see that enchanting smile again.

A TRUCK AWAITED AUSTIN on the beach. The driver tore up the hill to the plant at breakneck speed. As the truck approached the block-shaped gray concrete structure, which was built into the base of a steep mountain wall, Austin could see someone pacing back and forth in front of the entrance. The truck skidded to a stop and the man rushed over, opened the door for Austin and extended his hand in greeting.

“Parlez-vous Frangais, Monsieur Austin?”

“Iparle a little,” Austin replied as he got out of the truck.

“D'accord. Okay,” the man said with an indulgent smile. “I speak enough English. My name is Guy Lessard. I am the plant supervisor. This is a terrible business.”

“Then you must know that time is of the essence,” Austin said.

Lessard was a short wiry man with a precisely trimmed mustache adorning his thin face. He had an air of nervous energy, as if he had tapped into one of the power lines that streamed from the plant on high metal towers.

“Yes, I understand. Come. I'll explain the situation.” Walking briskly, he led the way through the door.

Austin glanced around at the small plain lobby. “Somehow I expected a larger facility.”

“Don't be deceived,” Lessard replied. “This is a portal building. It's used mostly as office space and living quarters. The plant itself extends deep into the mountain. Come.”

They passed through another door on the far side of the lobby and stepped into a large, brightly lit cavern.

“We took advantage of the natural rock formations to give us a start on the drilling,” Lessard said, his voice bouncing off the walls and ceiling. “There are some fifty kilometers of tunnels running under the mountain and beneath the glacier.”

Austin let out a low whistle. “There are highways in the States that aren't that long,” Austin said.

“It was a formidable achievement. The engineers used a tunnel-boring machine with a diameter of nearly thirty feet. It was a simple matter to drill the research tunnel.”

He led the way across the cavern to a tunnel entrance. Austin's ears picked up a low hum, like the sound of a hundred beehives.

“That noise must be your generator,” he said.