Giordino was an old hand at reading Pitts mind. "Maybe they've found a few old Greek amphoras lying around."
"Won't hurt to ask."
Knight gave Pitt the benefit of a hard stare. "Mind what you say."
"I have our geological survey story down pat."
"And the aircraft passengers and crew?"
"They were all trapped among the wreckage and died from hypothermia brought on by exposure to the frigid water."
"I think he's ready for the big sting," said Giordino dryly. "Good,"
Knight nodded. "You've got the right idea. Just don't suggest anything they have no reason to know."
Pitt opened the cargo door and gave a casual nod. "Don't wait up. Then he stepped into the cold.
"Persistent cuss," Knight muttered. "I didn't know Pitt was interested in antiquities."
Giordino gazed through the cockpit window as Pitt set off across the fjord. Then he sighed.
"Neither did he."
The ice field was firm and flat, and Pitt made good time across the fjord. He scanned the ominous gray cloud ceiling rolling in from the northwest. The weather could change from bright sunshine to a blinding blizzard within minutes and obliterate all landmarks. He wasn't keen on wandering lost without even a compass, and he increased his pace.
A pair of white gyrfalcons soared above him. Seemingly immune to the Arctic cold, they were a select group of birds that remained in the north during the harsh winter.
Moving in a southerly direction, he crossed the shoreline and kept his bearings on the smoke that rose above the archaeologists' hut. The distant and indistinct smudge appeared as though seen through the wrong end of a telescope.
Pitt was only ten minutes away from the camp when the storm struck. One minute he could see nearly twenty kilometers, the next his visibility was cut to less than five meters.
He started jogging, desperately hoping he was traveling in something remotely resembling a straight line. The horizontally driving snow came against his left shoulder and he leaned into it slightly to compensate for his drift.
The wind increased and beat against him until he could barely stand. He shuffled blindly forward, looking down at his feet, counting his strides, his arms huddled about his head. He knew it was impossible to walk sightless without gradually wandering in a circle. He was also aware that he could walk past the archaeolgists' hut, missing it by a few meters, and stumble on until he dropped from exhaustion.
Despite the high wind-chill factor, his heavy clothing kept him reasonably warm, and he could tell by his heartbeat that he was not unduly exerting himself.
Pitt paused when he calculated that he was in the approximate vicinity of the hut. He continued walking another thirty paces before stopping again.
He turned to his right and moved over about three meters until he could still see his footprints trailing off in the blowing snow from the opposite direction. Then he walked parallel to his original path, mowing the lawn as if he was searching for an object beneath the sea. He took about sixty steps before his old footprints faded and disappeared m the snow.
He walked five lanes before he swung to his right again, repeating the pattern until he was sure he had retraced the now obliterated ce
nter line. Then he picked up the grid again on the other side. On the third lane he stumbled into a snowdrift and fell against a metal wall.
He followed it around two corners before meeting a rope that led to a door. With a great sigh of relief, Pitt pushed open the door, savoring the knowledge that his life had been in danger and he had won. He stepped inside and tensed.
This was not the living quarters, but rather a large Quonsetlike shelter covering a series of excavations in the exposed earth. The interior temperature was not much above freezing, but he was thankful to be safe from the gale-force wind.
The only light came from a Coleman lantern. At first he thought the structure was deserted, but then a head and pair of shoulders seemed to rise up from a trough in the ground. The figure was kneeling, facing away from Pitt, and seeming absorbed in carefully scraping loose gravel from a small shelf in the trough.
Pitt stepped from the shadows and looked down.
"you'ready?" he asked.
Lily spun around, more puzzled than startled. The light was in her eyes and all she could make out was a vague form.
"Ready for what?"