around the hut to a small snow-covered shed that protected the project's

two snowmobiles. He kicked away the ice that had formed around the

bottom of the door and pulled it open. Inside, a small oil heater

struggled with all the efficiency of a candle inside a freezer to keep

the interior air twenty degrees above the temperature outside. He tried

the starter buttons, but the batteries were badly drained after months

of hard use, and both engines balked at turning over. Cursing in vapored

breaths, he removed his heavy gloves with his teeth and began yanking on

the manual pull ropes. The engine on the first snowmobile caught on the

fifth attempt, but the second played stubborn. Finally, after -two

pulls (Gronquist counted them), the engine obstinately coughed to life.

He hitched the tongue of a large sled to the rear catch on the

snowmobile whose engine had had extra time to warm up. He finished none

too soon, as his fingers were beginning to Turn numb.

The others had already stacked the supplies and equipment outside the

entryway to the hut when he rode up. Except for Gronquist, they were

all bundled up in down-filled jumpsuits. The sled was loaded to the top

of its sideboards in less than two minutes. Graham passed everyone a

heavy-duty flashlight, and they were ready to set off.

"If they crashed through the ice," shouted Hoskins above the wind, "we

might as well forget it."

"He's right," Graham shouted back. "They'd be dead from hypothemiia by

now."

Lily's eyes turned hard behind her ski mask. "Pessimism never saved

anybody. I suggest you big jocks get a move on."

Gronquist grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the snowmobile.

"Do what the lady says, boys. There're people dying out there."

He swung a leg over the seat in front of Lily and cracked the throttle

as Hoskins and Graham raced for the idling snowmobile in the shed. The

engine's exhaust purred and the rear tread gripped the snow. He cut a

sharp U-Turn and took off toward the shore, the sled bouncing along

behind.

They swept over the uneven ice-covered stones of the beach onto the

frozen fjord. It was dangerous going. The beam from the single light

mounted in front of the handgrips wavered over the ice pack in a crazy

jumble of white flashes against black shadows, making it nearly

impossible for Gronquist to see any pressure ridges until they were

plowing up and over them like a lifeguard boat through heavy surf. And

no amount of driving skill could prevent the heavily laden sled from

veenng and seesawing in their wake.

Lily clasped her hands around Gronquist's great stomach in a death grip,

her eyes closed, head buried against his shoulder. She yelled for him to

slow down, but he ignored her. She turned and spied the bobbing light

of the other snowmobile rapidly closing on their tail.

Without the drag of the sled, the overtaking vehicle, with Hoskins