Then she went over and plunked down next to Rawlins, the magazine writer, who was sitting with his back against a wall, writing in a notebook. He had bunched a plastic tarp together and was using it to insulate his posterior from contact with the wet floor. She snuggled close for warmth, saying, “Pardon me for being forward, but I'm freezing.”

Rawlins blinked in surprise, set the notebook aside and then gallantly wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“You were pretty hot a minute ago,” he said.

“Sorry for losing my temper in front of everyone,” she murmured.

“I don't blame you, but try to look on the bright side. At least we've got lights.”

The floodwaters must have missed the wires that ran along the top of the tunnel to the power plant. Although the lights had flickered a few times, the power was still on. The wet and weary survivors were crowded into the stretch of tunnel that ran between the ice cave and the stairs.

Despite his optimistic observation, Rawlins knew they were short on time. He and the others were finding it more difficult to breathe. He attempted to divert his thoughts.

“What was that scientific discovery you were talking about?” he asked Skye.

A dreamy look came into her eyes. "I found an ancient tomb under the waters of the lake. I think it may have had something to do with

the Amber Route, which means that trade contacts between Europe and the Mediterranean countries go further back than anyone has ever imagined. To Minoan or Mycenaean times maybe.“ Rawlins groaned. ”Are you all right?" Skye said.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Oh hell, no, I'm not. The only reason I'm here was to do a story on the subglacial observatory. Then they found the body in the ice, which would have been a major exclusive. Then a thug posing as a reporter pistol-whips your pal Renaud and floods the tunnel. Wow! My stuff would have been picked up all over the world. I would have been the next Jon Krakauer. Publishers would be pounding on my door with book deals. Now, you tell me about the Minoan angle.”

“I don't know that it's Minoan,” Skye said, trying to ease his distress. “I could be wrong.”

He shook his head sadly.

The TV reporter, who had been listening to the conversation, said, “Don't blame you for feeling bad, but put yourself in my place. I've got video of the body and the French guy getting smacked with the gun.”

The other reporter tapped his tape recorder. “Yeah, and I got the voices all on tape.”

Rawlins stared at the fire hose snaking past their feet. “I wonder if we could use a water jet to melt a tunnel through the glacier.”

Thurston was sitting next to Rawlins. He chuckled and said, “I've already done some calculations in my head. It will take us about three months if we work steadily.”

“Do we get time off for Sundays and holidays?” Rawlins asked.