“Oh, sure. Only one airship had that name-the one that was lost on the secret polar expedition of 1935.”

“You know it, then?” He nodded. “There were rumors that the Germans had sent an airship to the North Pole on a secret mission. If it had succeeded, it was meant to cow the Allies and tout the glories of German Kultur in the propaganda war. The Germans denied it, but they couldn't ex- plain the disappearance of two of their greatest airship pioneers, Heinrich Braun and Herman Lutz. The war came along, and the sto- ries faded.”

“So that was it?” “Oh no. After the war, papers were discovered that suggested strongly that the flight had indeed taken place, with an airship sim- ilar to the Graf Zeppelin. The airship supposedly sent a radio message as it neared the pole. They had discovered something of interest on the ice.”

“They didn't say what?” “No. And some people believe it was a fabrication, anyhow. Maybe something Josef Goebbels made up.”

“Butyo believe the accounts.” “It's entirely possible. Certainly the technology was there.”

“What could have happened to the airship?” “There are all sorts of possibilities. Engine failure. Sudden storm. Ice. Human error. The Graf Zeppelin was a highly successful aircraft, but we're talking about operating in extreme conditions. Other air- ships have come to similar fates. It could have crashed into the pack ice, been carried hundreds of miles away and gone into the sea when the ice melted.” His face lit up. “Don't tell me! You've found traces of it at the bottom of the sea?”

“Unfortunately, no. Someone mentioned it to me... and, well, my scientific curiosity got the better of me.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He stopped in front of a door. “Here's my meeting. Come by again and we'll talk some more.” “I will. Thanks for your help.”

Austin was glad that Mac wasn't pressing him further. He didn't like being evasive with old friends.

MacDougal paused with his hand on the doorknob. "The fact that we're talking about the Arctic is a funny coincidence. There's a big reception tonight to open a new exhibition on Eskimo culture and art.

'People of the Frozen North,' or something like that. Dogsled races, the whole thing."

“Dogsled races in Washington?”

“I said the same thing, but apparently it's so. Why don't you come by and see for yourself? ”

“I may just do that.”

As he was leaving the museum, Austin stopped at the information booth and picked up a brochure for the exhibition, which was in fact called Denizens of the Frozen North. The opening night reception was by invitation only. He ran his eye down the brochure and stopped at the name of the sponsor: Oceanus.