Ice Station Read Online Free PDF Page B

walk in—and I know of the
     fourth one, Jacques Latissier.”
    After Montana had led Hensleigh into the dining room a few minutes
     earlier, it hadn't taken long for Schofield to figure out that she
     was the person to speak to about the previous week's events at
     Wilkes Ice Station.
    While all the others looked either dejected or tired, Sarah had
     appeared collected and in control. Indeed, Montana and Hollywood had
     said that they'd found her while she had been showing one of the
     French scientists the core-drilling room down on E-deck. His name had
     been Jacques Latissier—a tall man with a thick black
     beard—and he was also on Schofield's mental list.
    Sarah Hensleigh stared out over the central shaft of the station, deep
     in thought. Schofield looked at her. She was an attractive woman,
     about thirty-five, with dark brown eyes, black shoulder-length hair,
     and high arching cheekbones. Schofield noticed that around her neck
     she wore a glistening silver locket on a chain.
    At that moment, the little girl came out onto the catwalk. Schofield
     guessed that she must have been about ten. She had short blond hair, a
     small button nose, and she wore thick glasses that hung down awkwardly
     over her cheeks. She looked almost comical in the bulky pink parka
     that she wore—it had a terribly oversize wool-lined hood that
     flopped down over her face.
    And behind the little girl, loping out onto the metal catwalk, came
     the seal.
    “And who is this?” Schofield asked.
    “This is my daughter, Kirsty,” Sarah said, putting her hand
     on the little girl's shoulder. “Kirsty, this is Lieutenant
     Schofield.”
    “Hi there,” Schofield said.
    Kirsty Hensleigh just stood there for a moment and stared up at
     Schofield, taking in his armor, his helmet, and his weapons.
    “Cool glasses,” she said at last.
    “Huh? Oh, yeah,” Schofield said, touching his silver
     anti-flash glasses. Combined with his snow fatigues and his white-gray
     body armor, he knew the reflective single-lens glasses made him look
     particularly icy. A kid would like that. Schofield didn't
     take the glasses off.
    “Yeah, I guess they are pretty cool,” he said. “How old
     are you?”
    “Twelve, almost thirteen.”
    “Yeah?”
    “I'm kind of short for my age,” Kirsty added
     matter-of-factly.
    “Me, too,” Schofield said, nodding.
    He looked down as the seal flopped forward and started sniffing at his
     knee. “And your friend here. What's his name?”
    “She's a girl, and her name is Wendy.”
    Schofield reached down and let the seal sniff his hand. She wasn't
     very big, about the size of a medium-sized dog, and she happily wore a
     cute red collar.
    “Wendy. What kind of seal is she?” Schofield asked as he
     began to pat Wendy on the head.
    “Arctocephalus gazella,” Kirsty said.
     “Antarctic fur seal.”
    Wendy started winding her head around in Schofield's hand, forcing
     him to pat her behind her earflap. He did, and then suddenly Wendy
     dropped to the ground and rolled over onto her back.
    “She wants you to rub her tummy,” Kirsty said, smiling.
     “She likes that.”
    Wendy lay on the catwalk, on her back, her flippers held out wide,
     waiting to be patted. Schofield bent down and gave her a quick rub on
     the stomach.
    “You just won yourself a friend for life,” Sarah Hensleigh
     said, watching Schofield closely.
    “Great,” Schofield said, rising.
    “I didn't know Marines could be so friendly,” Sarah said
     suddenly, taking Schofield slightly off guard.
    “We're not all heartless.”
    “Not when there's something here that you want.”
    The comment made Schofield stop and look at Sarah for a long second.
     Clearly, she was no fool.
    Schofield nodded slowly, accepting the criticism. “Ma'am, if
     you don't mind, if we could just get back to what we were
     discussing before, you know two of them, and you know of one
     of them, right?”
    “That's right.”
    “What about the fourth one,