Despairingly, I considered the idea of snatching at the rifle still strapped to Jackstraw’s back, but dismissed it even with the thought. It would take me seconds to get it off. There was only one thing for it, and it wasn’t going to do me any good at all. With a jump I could be half-way up the rope in a second, the increased weight would make the battens difficult to kick over, and while Corazzini was either pushing these or pumping bullets into me as I swarmed up the rope, somebody – Zagero, say, could get him from the rear. That way there might, at least, be a faint chance for Jackstraw. I swung my arms behind me, bent my knees then remained frozen in that ridiculous position as a rope came uncoiling down from above and struck me across the shoulder. I glanced up and saw Corazzini smiling down at me.
“You two characters fixin’ on stayin’ down there all day? Come on up.”
It would be useless to try to describe the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions that whirled through my mind in the ninety seconds that elapsed before Jackstraw and I stood once more in incredulous safety on the trail above. They ranged from hope to bafflement to wild relief to the conviction that Corazzini was playing a cat-and-mouse game with us, and no one thought was in my mind for more than seconds at a time. Even when I was safe, I still didn’t know what to think, the overwhelming relief and gladness and reaction blotted out everything. I was trembling violently, and although Corazzini must have noticed it he affected not to. He stepped forward and handed me the Beretta, butt first.
“You’re a mite careless about where you stow your armoury, Doc. I’ve known for a long time where you kept this. But I guess it may have been fairly useful these last few minutes.”
“But – but why-?”
“Because I’ve got a damned good job and a chair behind a vice-president’s desk waiting for me in Glasgow,” he snapped. “I’d appreciate the chance to sit in that chair some day.” Without another word, he turned away.
I knew what he meant, all right. I knew we owed him our lives. Corazzini was as convinced as I that someone had engineered the whole thing. It didn’t require any thought at all to guess who that someone was.
My first thought was for Jackstraw. Jackstraw with a broken arm was going to make things very difficult for me: it might well make things quite impossible. But when I’d worked his parka off it required only one glance at the unnatural twist of the left arm to see that though Jackstraw had had every excuse for thinking his arm gone, it was, in fact, an elbow dislocation. He made no murmur and his face remained quite expressionless as I manipulated the bone back into the socket, but the wide white grin that cracked his face immediately afterwards was proof enough of his feelings.
I walked over to where Helene Fleming sat on the sledge, still shaking from the shock, Mrs Dansby-Gregg and Margaret Ross doing their best to soothe her. The uncharitable thought struck me that it was probably the first time that Mrs Dansby-Gregg had ever tried to soothe anyone, but I was almost ashamed of the thought as soon as it had occurred to me.
“That was a close call, young lady,” I said to Helene. “But all’s well.. . . Any more bones broken, eh?” I tried to speak jocularly, but it didn’t sound very convincing.
“No, Dr Mason.” She gave a long shuddering sigh. “I don’t know how to thank you and Mr Nielsen-”
“Don’t try,” I advised. “Who pushed you?”
“What?” She stared at me.
“You heard, Helene. Who did it?”
“Yes, I -1 was pushed,” she murmured reluctantly. “But it was an accident, I know it was.”
“Who?” I persisted.
“It was me,” Solly Levin put in. He was twisting his hands nervously. “Like the lady said, Doc, it was an accident. I guess I kinda stumbled. Someone tapped my heels and-”
“Who tapped your heels?”
“For cryin’ out loud!” I’d made no attempt to hide the cold disbelief in my voice. “What would I want to do a thing like that for?”
“Suppose you tell me,” I said, and turned away, leaving him to stare after me. Zagero stepped in my way, but I brushed roughly past him and went up towards the tractor. On the sled behind I saw the Rev. Smallwood sitting nursing a bleeding mouth. Corazzini was apologising to him.
“I’m sorry, Reverend, I’m really and truly sorry. I didn’t for a moment think you were one of them, but I couldn’t afford to take any chances back there. I hope you understand, Mr Smallwood.”
Mr Smallwood did, and was suitably Christian and forgiving. But I didn’t wait to hear the end of it. I wanted to get through the Vindeby Nunataks, and get through with as little loss of time as possible, preferably before it became dark. There was something that I knew now that I had to do, and as soon as possible: but I didn’t want to do it while we were all teetering on the edge of that damned crevasse.
We were through without further incident and at the head of that long almost imperceptible slope that fell away for thousands of feet towards the ice-bare rocks of the Greenland coast, before the last of the noon twilight had faded from the sky. I halted the tractor, spoke briefly to Jackstraw, told Margaret Ross to start thawing out some corned beef for our belated mid-day meal, and had just seen Mahler, now semi-conscious, and Marie LeGarde once again safely ensconced in the tractor cabin when Margaret Ross came up to me, her brown eyes troubled.
“The tins, Dr Mason – the corned beef. I can’t find them.”
“What’s that? The bully? They can’t be far away, Margaret.” It was the first time I’d called her that, but my thoughts had been fixed exclusively on something else, and it wasn’t until I saw the slight smile touching her lips – if she was displeased she was hiding it quite well – that I realised what I had said. I didn’t care, it was worth it, it was the first time I had ever seen her smile, and it transformed her rather plain face – but I told my heart that there was a time and a place for somersaults, and this wasn’t it. “Come on, let’s have a look.”
We looked, and we found nothing. The tins were gone all right. This was the excuse, the opportunity I had been waiting for. Jackstraw was by my side, looking at me quizzically as we bent over the sled, and I nodded. “Behind him,” I murmured.
I moved back to where the others were grouped round the rear of the tractor cabin and took up a position where I could watch them all – but especially Zagero and Levin.
“Well,” I said, “you heard. Our last tins of beef have gone. They didn’t just vanish. Somebody stole them. That somebody had better tell me, for I’m going to find out anyway.”
There was an utter silence that was broken only occasionally by the stirring of the dogs on the tethering cable. No one said anything, no one as much as looked at his neighbour. The silence stretched on and on, then, as one man, they all swung round startled at the heavy metallic click from behind them. Jackstraw had just cocked the bolt of his rifle, and I could see the slow stiffening of Zagero’s back and arms as he realised that the barrel was lined up on his own head.
“It’s no coincidence, Zagero,” I said grimly. I had my own automatic in my hand by the time he turned round. “That rifle’s pointed just where it’s meant to. Bring your bag here.”
He stared at me, then called me an unprintable name.
“Bring it here,” I repeated. I pointed the Beretta at his head. “Believe me, Zagero, I’d as soon kill you as let you live.”
He believed me. He brought the bag, flung it at my feet.
“Open it,” I said curtly.
“It’s locked.”
“Unlock it.”
He looked at me without expression, then searched through his pockets. At last he stopped and said, “I can’t find the keys.”
“I’d expected nothing else. Jackstraw-” I changed my mind, one gun was not enough to cover a killer like Zagero. I glanced round the company, made my choice. “Mr Small wood, perhaps you-”
“No, thank you,” Mr Smallwood said hastily. He was still holding a handkerchief to his puffed mouth. He smiled wryly. “I’ve never realised so clearly before now how essentially a man of peace I am, Dr Mason. Perhaps Mr Corazzini-”
I glanced at Corazzini, and he shrugged indifferently. I understood his lack of eagerness. He must have known that I’d had him high up among my list of suspects until very recently indeed and a certain delicacy of sentiment might well prevent him from being too forthcoming too soon. But this was no time for delicacy. I nodded, and he made for Zagero.