The Winter Over(58)

“Tests,” Cass corrected, trying to get comfortable and not really succeeding. It was a challenge to talk on a radio on one’s side while simultaneously hovering over the hatch to watch for eavesdroppers, all in subzero temperatures and wearing the equivalent of a spacesuit. Comfort wasn’t really in the cards. “Yesterday, the furnaces for the station shut down, so we lost heat for almost an hour. Just as people calmed down, the electricity went out.”

“Both were restored?” Vox asked.

“Yes, but not before there was a panic. Some people were hurt.”

“You have no backup systems? Redundant generators and so on?”

“Hanratty claims the backup was down as well. But just before the crew became hysterical, both were magically restored. Everyone started to relax and we all went back to our routines.” Cass shuddered. “Then, this morning, all communications went offline. Everything. Shortwave, satcom, you name it. Complete radio silence.”

“How is the crew taking it?”

“They’re on the verge of a collective nervous breakdown. Hanratty called for an all-hands meeting later today to explain what’s going on.”

“This is, how do you say, bullshit.”

“Yes,” Cass said as she rolled onto her belly and peered down the hatch. Nothing. Just the dim, white slice of ground below. “It’s all just the latest in one of Hanratty’s idiotic tests.”

“No one is questioning your manager about this?”

“They think he’s incompetent, not manipulative. I’ve privately asked a few people if they think he’s been doing these things to us intentionally, but no one wants to hear it.”

“It is more comforting to think your superior is stupid than evil,” Vox said. “It is a popular Russian attitude.”

“It scares me, though. If no one is willing to see what’s in front of their faces, then he can get away with anything he wants. It won’t be long before people disappearing is considered normal.”

“It seems so.” He paused. “If something bad should . . . happen to you, do you want me to reach out to your colleagues at McMurdo?”

Cass considered. She knew it was a risky proposition, and she was touched he’d offered. Although he could probably make contact anonymously, of a sort—McMurdo would know it was someone from Orlova who had reached out—he couldn’t be sure of the reception he’d get. He would, after all, be attempting to convince an American authority that one of its base administrators was insane and guilty of running mind-control experiments on his own crew, with no other proof than the word of a Shackleton mechanic with a spotty emotional and psychological history.

And that was just on the American side. If word eventually got back to his superiors that he’d been maintaining clandestine radio contact with an American crew member and had radioed the main American base, he’d probably be reprimanded, at best. The Cold War was long over, but the relations between America and Russia weren’t exactly chummy. Vox might be punished for just trying to help.

And what if she was simply, catastrophically, wrong? Maybe everything she’d surmised and assumed had a more reasonable explanation. Talk about proof. Where was hers that Hanratty and his cronies had cut the communications on purpose? You’ve had a history with making assumptions before. Or had you forgotten? The thought was bitter.

“No. Thanks, Sasha,” she said reluctantly. “I’m going to give Hanratty enough rope to hang himself on this. And, who knows, maybe this time it really is an accident. We’d both be risking too much to be wrong.”

“Please, call me Vox,” he said. “You are afraid of being mistaken. Why?”

“Vox, I . . .” she began and choked. How do I explain? “I’ve been wrong, very wrong, about some things in my past. Important things.”

“Who hasn’t?” he said lightly.

“It’s not something I’m willing to take a chance on.”

“Tell me. I will listen to you.”

She was quiet a long, long time. Memories rose to the surface of her mind and she groaned out loud. I don’t want to remember .

The voice from the tunnel came back into her head. Face it. Remember .

“Cass.” Across the airwaves, the sound of his voice was metallic and toneless, but the concern it carried was unmistakable. “What happened?”

“I was part of an inspection team in . . . no, I won’t tell you where. I don’t want you to look it up. We were contracted to do inspections of a subway tunnel renovation. Mundane, boring, everyday stuff.” Starting was easier than she thought it would be, which wasn’t the same thing as easy. With each word, a band around her chest tightened until she felt she couldn’t breathe. “But we were brought in with only weeks left on the project, not nearly enough time to do the job right. We should’ve rejected the work, but the department was proud of our track record of saying yes and making good on that promise, so we took it.”

She was quiet for a moment. They’d known they were being rushed, that they had almost no margin for error. But that’s how good they were. How good they thought they were. How good she thought she was.

“I won’t bore you with the details. The outcome was clear enough. We cut corners and raced through checklists. One of the structures failed while in use. People died. Others were injured. I watched it on the news, knowing the entire time why it had happened. And who was responsible.”