She crossed toward him, stepping around the piles of sample bottles and boxes. At least someone had sanded the floor and strewn a few rubber mats over some of the busier work areas. Dr. Willig knelt on one of these mats, staring down into the ice.
He glanced to her as she walked up. “Amanda.” He grinned and sat back on his heels. “Come to see the mascot of the station, have you?”
She returned his smile. “I caught the creature feature last night.”
He climbed to his feet with an ease that belied his age. He was a wiry, fit seventy-year-old. “It’s a tremendous discovery.”
“The legendary Grendel itself.”
“Ambulocetus natans,” Dr. Willig corrected. “Or if you are to believe our notable colleague from Harvard, Ambulocetus natans arctos.”
She shook her head. Arctic subspecies…it seemed Dr. Ogden was not wasting time staking his claim. “So what do you think about his assertions?”
“Intriguing theory. Polar adaptation of the prehistoric species. But Henry has a long way to go between theory and proof.”
She nodded. “Well, he has enough specimens to work with.”
“Yes, indeed. He should be able to thaw—” Dr. Willig started and peered over a shoulder.
Amanda followed his gaze. He had heard something. It didn’t take long to spot the commotion that drew his attention and interrupted their conversation.
Henry Ogden and Connor MacFerran were nose to nose. The brawny Scottish geologist loomed over the shorter biologist. But Henry was not about to give ground. He stood with his hands on his hips, leaning forward, an angry Chihuahua before a pitbull.
Dr. Willig turned back to her so she could read his lips. “Here we go again. This is the third head butting since I came down here an hour ago.”
“I’d better see what’s going on,” Amanda decided reluctantly.
“Always the diplomat.”
“No, always the baby-sitter.” She left Dr. Willig and crossed to the warring researchers. They barely noted her arrival, continuing their argument.
“…not until all the specimens are collected. We’ve not even begun the photographs.” Henry had his face almost pressed against the geologist’s.
“You can’t hog all the friggin’ research time down here. That cliff is volcanic basalt with pure carboniferous intrusions. All I need to do is core a few samples.”
“How few?”
“No more than twenty.”
The biologist’s face darkened. “Are you mad? You’ll tear the whole thing down. Ruin who knows how much sensitive data.”
Amanda barely followed their discourse, missing much as she read their lips, but she gained as much information from the gestures and body postures. A fistfight was about to break out. She could smell the territorial bloom of testosterone.
“Boys,” she said calmly.
They glanced to her, to her crossed arms, to her stern expression. Each took a step back.
“What’s this all about?” she asked slowly.
Connor MacFerran answered first. His lips were harder to read because of his thick black beard. “We’ve been patient with the biology team. But we have just as much right to sample this discovery. An inclusion of this magnitude”—he waved to the cliff face—“is not the sole ownership of Dr. Ogden.”
Henry stated his case. “We’ve only had the one night to prep the site. Our collection is more delicate than the bulldozing techniques of the geologists. It’s a simple case of priority. My sampling won’t harm his specimens, but his sampling could irreparably damage mine.”
“That’s not true!” Though Amanda could not hear Connor’s voice rise, she caught it from the color of his cheeks and the way his chest puffed. “A couple cores in areas free of your damn molds and lichens won’t harm anything.”
“The dust…the noise…it could ruin everything.” Henry turned his full attention to Amanda. “I thought we had decided all this last night.”
She finally nodded. “Connor, Henry’s right. This cliff face has been here for fifty thousand years. I think it could last another couple of days for the biology team to collect their samples.”
“I need at least ten days,” Henry cut in.
“You have three.” She faced the broad-shouldered Scotsman, who wore a sloppy grin of satisfaction. “Then you can start collecting cores—but only where Henry says you can.”
The large man’s grin faded. “But—”
She turned away. It was the easiest way to cut someone off when you were deaf. You simply stopped looking at them. She faced Henry now. “And you, Henry…I suggest you concentrate on clearing out a section of cliff face within three days. Because I will authorize drilling in here by that time.”
“But—”
She turned her back on both of them and saw Dr. Willig grinning broadly at her. MacFerran stalked off in one direction, heading toward the tunnel exit. Henry marched off in the other, ready to harangue his underlings. That bit of détente should buy her at least twenty-four hours of strained peace between the biologists and geologists.
Dr. Willig crossed to her. “For a moment, I thought you were going to spank them.”
“They’d have enjoyed it too much.”
“Come.” The elderly Swede motioned. “You should see what Dr. Ogden is really protecting.”
He took her hand, like a father might a daughter. He led her toward a familiar cleft in the volcanic rock face. Her feet began to drag. “I’ve been in there already.”
“Yes, but have you seen what our argumentative scientist is doing?”
Curiosity kept her feet moving. The pair reached the opening in the cliff. This morning, Amanda had changed out of her thermal sailing suit and simply wore jeans, boots, wool sweater, and a borrowed Gore-Tex parka for her journey into the icy Crawl Space. As they reached the tunnel entrance, she finally noted how warm it was. A steady flow of humid air rolled from the mouth of the cleft.
Dr. Willig led the way, still holding her hand. “It is really quite amazing.”
“What is?” The warmth distracted her…as did the slightly rank odor carried on the damp flow of air. Water sluiced in small trickles over the rock under her boots. It dripped from the ceiling, too.
Within six steps, they reached the cave beyond the cleft. Like the greater cavern outside, this space had been invaded by modern technology. A second generator vibrated in a corner. Space heaters lined both walls, facing inward. Two light poles blazed in the center, illuminating the space in too great detail.