Deep Ice by Karl Kofoed Page A

news?” said Grimes with a look of disgust.
    Henry giggled. “Better than a sharp stick in the eye, eh?”
    “French,” said Grimes, “what have you done to our witness?”
    “Just give the information to the general or whoever,” Sarah said firmly, closing the door in his face. She rested her back against the closed door and sighed. She could hear Grimes laughing outside in the hall.
    “If you ever stopped screwing around, Henry Scott Gibbs,” she said, “I might even like you.”
    “If we ever screw around, Sarah Jordan French, I think I might love you.”
    The words seemed to hang in the air between them. With horror Henry realized they had come from him. He put his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
    Too late. A moment later he found himself in the hall, barely able to stand.
    #
    In the mess hall, four hours later, he apologized again to Sarah for his impropriety, but she didn’t answer. And, when he asked to sit down next to her, she informed him coldly she was just about to leave. So he found himself eating pork chops and beans with the general and Grimes. About ten minutes later he watched her leave the room. He thought he saw her look back at him and smile as she passed through the door, but he wasn’t sure. He decided to let his libido cool off for a while.
    Sarah was the first woman he’d really looked at since Tess had died. Janet, back at McMurdo, had been just, well, a diversion. He knew it was foolish to try to form any attachments in circumstances such as these. His conscious mind told him to forget any feelings he might have towards Sarah, because she’d be gone as soon as her work was done. But it wasn’t his conscious mind that was pushing him at her. And not just his libido, either. Both of those he could have dealt with. This was worse. He felt like he belonged with her. Yet he knew he had to distance himself before things went too far. He told himself he had only one companion now, his dog. That was the way it had to stay.
    Shep was sitting next to him, watching every bite of food he took. Henry cut off a slice of fat from a pork chop and flipped it to the dog. It vanished with a snap of Shep’s jaws.
    Grimes laughed. “Hope that hound doesn’t decide he likes long pig.”
    “Long pig?” said Hayes. “Isn’t that what cannibals call human flesh?”
    “Yup,” said Grimes. “By the way, hero, the guy I showed you a picture of. . .?”
    “Yes?”
    “I checked,” said Grimes. “He’s a lefty, too.”
    Henry’s eyebrows raised. “Oh?” was all he said. But when he thought about it a bit, he added, “Not too many left-handed businessmen in the Mediterranean? Come on, Kai.”
    “Just sayin’,” answered Grimes, looking at the general.
    Hayes listened, his expression unchanging, but he seemed to know what Grimes was talking about.
    “Who is that guy?” asked Henry.
    “Rudolfo Suarez,” said the SEAL. “He’s a businessman with international links. Sometimes deals with arms dealers, sometimes just banks and financiers. Half the year he works out of Munich and half the year he’s in South Africa.”
    “You think he’s connected to this?” said Henry.
    “Why?”
    General Hayes put down his fork and pushed his plate away. He took out a cigar. “Kai sent those photos he got to Naval intelligence as well. It’s up to them to decide what’s going on and who’s involved. But, to judge by what scraps of information they’ve passed our way, it’s an even bet that there’s a connection between this guy and the nuke.” He nipped the end of his Cuban Especial.
    “Yeah, that’s right,” said Grimes, smiling. “They collar ’em and I kill ’em.”
    Hayes lit his cigar and blew a copious cloud of smoke, which settled around Henry.
    Henry feigned a cough. “Sheesh, General,” he complained, “those things stink! They must be good.”
    “An acquired taste, I’ll admit. My only vice. Suarez has been. . . out of touch for several months,” Hayes