must be frozen stiff."

"A minor discomfort is a small price for freezing.I held the

Secretary-General of the U.N. in my arms."

Amazing, truly amazing, thought Pitt.  This has to be a redbanner day.

Dating the only three women, and attractive ones at that, within two

thousand miles of frigid desolation inside of minutes had to be some

sort of record.  The feat meant more to him than discovering the Russian

submarine.

Fifteen minutes later, after Hala, Rubin and the flight attendant were

comfortably settled inside the helicopter, Pitt stood in front of the

cockpit and waved to Giordino, who acknowledged with a thumbs up sign.

The rotors were engaged and the craft rose in the air above a swirling

cloud of snow, swung around a hundred and eighty degrees and headed for

the Polar Explorer.  Only when it was safely airborne and on its way did

Pitt hobble over to the auxiliary heating unit.

He pulled off his waterlogged boots and soggy socks and dangled his feet

over the exhaust, soaking up the heat and gratefully accepting the

stabbing pain of recirculation.  He became vaguely aware of Simon's

approach.

Simon stopped and stood, gazing at the wrinkled sides of the aircraft.

It did not look forlorn any more.  To him, the knowledge of the dead

inside gave it a camel house appearance.

"United Nations delegates," Simon said distantly, "is that who they

were?"

"Several were members of the General Assembly," answered Pitt.  "The

. lized agencies.

According to Kamil, most of them were returning from a tour of their

Field Service organizations."

"Who'd gain by murdering them?"

Pitt wrung out his socks and laid them over the heater tube. "I have no

idea."

"Middle East terrorists?" Simon persisted.

"News to me they've taken up murder by poison."

"How're your feet?"

"In a state of gradual thaw.  How about yours?"

"The Navy issues foul-weather boots.  Mine are dry and warm as toast."

"Hooray for  considerate  admirals,"  Pitt  muttered  sardonically.

"I'd say one of the three survivors did the dirty work."

Pitt shook his head.  "If in fact it proves to be poison, it probably

was introduced into the meal at the food services kitchen before it was

loaded on board the aircraft."

"The chief steward or a flight attendant could  have  done  it in the

galley."

"Too difficult to poison over fifty meals one at a time without being

detected."

"What about the drinks?" Simon tested again.

"You're a persistent bastard."

"Might as well speculate until we're relieved?"

Pitt checked his socks.  They were still damp.  "Okay, drinks are a

possibility, especially coffee and tea."

Simon seemed pleased that one of his theories had been accepted.  "Okay,

smartass, of the three survivors who's your candidate for most duly

suspect?"

"None of the above."

"You saying the culprit knowingly took the poison and committed

suicide."

"No, I'm saying it was the fourth survivor."

"I only counted three."

"After the plane crashed.  Before that there were four,"