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Jane.
    Heavy
swells broke against the ice cliffs. Spume and spray.
    'Yeah,'
said Rawlins. 'Wind speed is way up. There's another storm coming. Line
squalls. One cyclone after another until spring.'
     
    'Mayday,
mayday. This is Con Amalgam refinery Kasker Rampart hailing any vessel, over.'
    Two
a.m. Jane's turn at the microphone.
    'Mayday,
mayday. This is Kasker Rampart broadcasting to the Arctic rim. Do you copy,
over?'
    Sian
unscrewed her Thermos and refilled their cups.
    'We're
alone out here,' said Sian.
    'I
don't even want to think about it.'
    The
upper deck of the rig was floodlit. A storm lashed the refinery. A blizzard
wind scoured girders and gantries. The girls watched the swarming ice particles
from the eerie silence of their Plexiglas bubble.
    Sian
put her hand to the window. A thin film of plastic separating her from the
lethal hurricane outside. She felt the warm up-draught of the heating vent
between her feet and was acutely aware of the refinery's life support systems,
the elaborate machinery keeping them alive minute by minute in this implacably
hostile environment.
    'Mayday,
mayday. This is Kasker Rampart. Can anyone hear me, over?'
    'How
long until the sun sets for good?' asked Sian.
    'Three
weeks.'
    'Jesus.'
    'Mayday,
mayday. This is Con Amalgam refinery Kasker Rampart requesting urgent
assistance, over.'
    'Thank
God, Rampart. This is research base Apex One. It's wonderful to hear your voice .'
     
    Rawlins
swept his desk clear and unrolled a map of Franz Josef Land. He pegged the map
open with a stapler, a hole-punch and a couple of mugs.
    'They
are here,' said Jane. 'Indigo Bay. Some kind of botanical research project.
Not much of a base. Two guys and a girl. A couple of tents. They ran out of
food days ago.'
    'Poor
bastards.'
    'Imagine
it. Out there in the middle of this storm. Huddled in a fucked-up Jamesway. I'm
amazed they are still alive.'
    'Indigo
Bay,' said Rawlins. 'Nearly fifty kilometres. That's a long way to hike.'
    'They've
got a rubber dinghy. No outboard. Otherwise they use skis.'
    'Then
they're truly fucked.'
    'We
have to help. We can't abandon them.'
    'I
wanted to raise a rescue ship, not bring extra mouths to feed. So yeah, I must
admit, I'm reluctant to risk men and equipment for no real benefit.'
    'That
cuts both ways. Why should anyone answer our call? Why should anyone pick us
up, help us home? We have nothing to offer. We're just a bunch more problems.'
    'If
anyone is going to fetch these guys it will be Ghost. Rajesh Ghosh. Our
resident fixer. It's down to him.'
     
    Rawlins
led Jane to the pump hall. The hall was a vast, poorly lit chamber on the
lowest level of the rig. The oil-streaked walls were ribbed with girders and
studded with pressure valves, stopcocks and instrumentation.
    'Is
this the pipe?' asked Jane, walking the circumference of a huge steel column
that disappeared into the floor. 'The main oil line?'
    'Yeah,
this is MOLL' He slapped the metal. 'It's retracted from the seabed right now,
but yeah, that's the umbilicus. When this facility is fully on-stream it can
suck nearly a million barrels a day of heavy crude out of the ground. The
entire Kasker field siphoned into these tanks. Super-grade. Liquid bullion.'
    Jane
checked her watch. 'It's three in the morning.'
    'He
doesn't keep office hours.'
    They
followed the sticky-sweet smell of cannabis to a bivouac in the corner shadows
of the pump room. A camp stove. A pile of books. A guitar.
    Ghost
lay on a bunk, eyes closed. He was Sikh. He had a turban and a heavy beard.
    Rawlins
kicked the bunk. Ghost sat up and took off his headphones. Jane caught a brief
snatch of Sisters of Mercy.
    'We
have a job for you,' said Rawlins.
     
    They
studied the map.
    'It's
too far.'
    'We
could use snowmobiles,' said Rawlins. 'We could cover a lot of ground, if the
weather breaks.'
    'Until
you reach your first crevasse and then you have to park and walk. A few weeks
ago it wouldn't have been a problem. But we're down to a couple of