“I understand that, Madame Director. We’re not sure how—”
“You were sloppy. That’s how. Inexcusable.”
Clive tightened his lips. A hot flush spread up his neck and face as he fought the urge to hang up on her. There was no point reminding her that he hadn’t been present at Burke-Ruhe. His job had been to oversee the Harper Facility, ensuring that everything was in place for the trials. And it had been perfect. He’d taken her millions and turned what was once a poor excuse for a research station into a state-of-the-art vaccine research facility. That, of course, wasn’t something she’d remark upon.
And it didn’t matter anyway, because he couldn’t run trials on a vaccine if he didn’t have the damned virus.
The director sniffed and he waited, needing this to work—the virus, the vaccine, the bonus.
He wiped a hand down his face and forced a tight, bitter smile.
Whatever happened, he’d continue to do as he was told. Though he hated to admit it, his career would have been long over if Katherine Harper hadn’t allowed him to keep this position. The money certainly sweetened things. It would be a hell of a lot sweeter if those damned mercenaries hadn’t ruined everything.
Tenny hated the feeling of owing this woman something when, really, she was the one who owed him! He’d been the one to identify the virus from Cortez’s email, hadn’t he? He’d followed the trail to Antarctica.
Without him, her mission was dead in the water. Unlike her famous father, she was just a suit after all.
So he’d do what he always did—dig his nails into his hand and wait for the next wave of insults to wash over him.
What came instead chilled him to the core.
“All right then.” He heard a creaking that he could have sworn was the sound of her spine straightening. “Since you’re in charge down there, and you’ve got the most to gain”—Lose! he wanted to say. I’ve got the most to lose, you selfish bitch!—“I want you to go with your security specialist colleagues. To Burke-Ruhe. Get the virus. And the missing scientist, while you’re at it.”
“Director, that is simply impossible. We are on the brink of austral winter. Imprisoned by the ice and the weather until the first fli—”
She must have shifted, bringing the phone closer to her mouth, because when she spoke, her voice cut straight through his—low and quiet but also perfectly clear, as crisp and sour as a New England apple. “You will outfit yourselves. I believe the Facility has every cold-weather supply known to man, and I intend for you to use them. You will take the team, you will find those samples and that troublesome scientist, and you will return to the Harper Research Facility, where you will run your trials as planned. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Director.” He’d made the mistake of calling her Katherine once. That wasn’t something he’d do again.
“Now, with a missing summer crew member, you’ve left me with a lot of smoothing over to do.” As if he was somehow responsible for this clusterfuck! No, this whole insane venture was her brainchild. He was just the poor schmuck freezing his nuts off on the ground. For nine fucking months of austral winter. “An expedition gone wrong, I suppose. I’ll have to get the story out.” She shifted on the other end. “See that their bodies are collected.”
“Yes” was all he could manage through too-tight lips.
She let out a long, annoyed exhale. “You of all people understand how important it is that the virus not be lost. This entire project—Chronos Corporation’s entire mission, our future—necessitates that it be in your possession.” She paused. “Quickly.”
“I understand, Director. Of course I underst—”
“And, Clive.” He’d never invited her to use his first name, but she’d been doing it for years. Man, did it piss him off. “You will stay on that continent—you and your colleagues—until the virus has been retrieved, the vaccine tested, and the proper results obtained.”
She hung up, leaving him with the phone in his hand and one smug special-forces-type operative—or whatever the hell people like Sampson were called—sitting on Clive’s desk, watching his every move.
“Boss lady’s not happy, huh?”
“No.” Clive rolled his eyes up to glare at Sampson’s wide, movie-star grin. “But I’m not the one who fucked up.”
“You sure about that, Clive?” Sampson chomped on his mint and jumped off the desk. “When do we suit up?”
Clive almost spat out the last of his coffee, “How’d you—”
“Come on, Clive, buddy.” Sampson patted his shoulder, then tightened his hold for a second too long. “What do you say we go get ourselves a virus?”
Chapter 14
Burke-Ruhe Research Station, South Pole
Coop eyed the sleds, which were loaded up with everything they’d need for twenty-one days on the ice. Beside them sat the five metal canisters containing the ice core samples.
They’d have a better chance at survival if they left those behind. Not only would their load be lighter, but Sampson would have no reason to pursue them.
If only he knew what those assholes wanted the virus for.
Did it matter?
Absolutely. But their immediate survival mattered more.
Which made it a no-brainer. Hard to stomach, but a no-brainer.
Decision made, he stomped inside.
“You ski?” Coop asked as he pushed open the ancillary door for what might be the last time.
Without looking up from stuffing baggies with coconut oil and chocolate and trail mix, Angel shook her head. “Downhill. Once, in New Hampshire. Must’ve been about eight years old and the slope was like one hundred feet long.”
So that was a no.
“Practice.”
She gave him a strange look. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“No.” He forced the word through tight lips, annoyed and…embarrassed? Was that what this was?
She put down the twenty-pound bag of granola and stood. “I’ll get ready.”
He blinked in surprise. No argument. Huh.
Twenty minutes later, exhausted and cold, they returned to the ancillary building to eat a quick meal before leaving.
She set to preparing it in silence while he hung their outerwear up to dry by the heater. Once they’d settled onto the only two chairs in the place, with the table between them, Coop took a scalding bite of couscous. The taste—spicy and fragrant—shocked him into speech. “’S good.”