Beyond the Ice Limit

6

LET’S TAKE OUR drinks out on deck,” Gideon said to Alex Lispenard.

“Good idea.”

Gideon rose from the bar, trying to keep his second martini from slopping over the rim. The bar on the R/V Batavia, an alcove off the dining room, was small and spare but pleasing in a kind of nautical way. It sported a row of windows, presently looking over Great Harbor to the low-lying shores of Ram Island. After negotiating the low door, they emerged on deck. It was a faultless October evening, cool and deep, the golden light falling aslant the ship, the cries of seagulls in the distance.

Gideon took a good slug of the drink and leaned on the rail, Alex joining him. He was feeling good—very good, in fact: a total reversal from how he’d felt just two hours before. It was amazing what an excellent meal and a martini could do to one’s outlook on life.

“Think we’re going to get fed like that throughout the voyage?” Gideon asked.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been on a lot of research vessels and the food is always good. When you’re months at sea, bad food means bad morale. On a trip like this, food is the least of any expense, so you might as well stock the best. And in Vince Brancacci, we have one of the finest chefs afloat.”

“You mean that guy I saw in the white smock, with the laugh of a hyena and the build of a sumo wrestler?”

“That’s the one.”

Gideon took another slug and glanced at Alex, leaning on the rail, the breeze stirring her glossy brown hair, her upturned nose and agate eyes aimed at the blue sea horizon, her breasts just pressing into the rail.

He averted his eyes. As attractive as she was, there was no way—none—that he was going to get involved in a romance on a long voyage to the antipodes of the world.

She turned toward him. “So, what’s your history?”

“You haven’t been briefed?”

“The opposite of ‘briefed.’ Beyond asking me to familiarize you with the DSVs, Glinn was totally mysterious. I got the sense he wanted me to find everything out for myself.”

Gideon was relieved. This meant she knew nothing about his medical situation. “Where to begin? I started my professional career stealing art, then I got a job designing nuclear bombs.”

She laughed. “Naturally.”

“It’s true. I work at Los Alamos designing the high-explosive lenses used to implode the cores. I was part of the Stockpile Stewardship program, running computer simulations and tweaking those lenses to make sure the bombs would still go off after years of rotting in some nuclear vault somewhere. I’m, ah, on extended leave at present.”

“Wait…you’re not kidding?”

Gideon shook his head. His drink was disappointingly empty. He thought of going back for a third, but a little voice in his head told him that would not be a good idea.

“So you actually design nukes?”

“More or less. That’s why I’m on this voyage, in fact.”

“What do nuclear bombs have to do with this voyage?”

Gideon stared at her. She really hadn’t been briefed. He quickly backtracked. “It’s just that I’m an engineer with a knowledge of explosives—that’s all.”

“And you weren’t kidding about the art thief business, either?”

“No.”

“One question. Why?”

“I was poor, I needed money. And more important, I loved the pieces I stole, and I only stole from historical societies and museums that weren’t taking care of their collections, stuff that nobody saw anyway.”

“And I suppose that made it morally okay.”

This irritated Gideon. “No, it didn’t, and I’m not excusing myself. Just don’t expect me to grovel in guilt and self-reproach.”

A silence. He really might need that third drink now. Or maybe it was time to change the subject. “I also worked as a magician. Prestidigitator, to be precise.”

“You were a magician? So was I!”

Gideon stood up from the rail. He had heard this many times before: somebody who learned a few card tricks and then bestowed on themselves the hallowed title of magician. “So you can pull a coin from behind someone’s ear?”

Alex frowned and said nothing.

Gideon leaned back on the railing, realizing he’d offended her. “I was a professional,” he explained. “I went on stage, got paid well. I even developed some original tricks. Worked with live animals—rabbits and the like. I had a great trick with a six-foot python that would clear out half the audience.” He fiddled with his empty glass. “And I still keep my hand in—picking pockets for fun, that sort of thing. It’s like playing the violin: you have to keep practicing or your skills go to hell.”

“I see.”

“Turns out magical tricks and art thievery are, in fact, related fields.”

“I imagine they would be.”

Gideon had an idea. A really good idea. This would be amusing. He leaned toward her. “I’m going back in for another—can I bring you one?”

“Two’s my limit, but you go ahead. Bring me a glass of water, if you don’t mind.”

As he departed he brushed against her, casually, using the distracting touch to lift the wallet out of her open purse. Tucking it into his pocket with his own wallet, he went back inside and returned to the bar. “Another Hendrick’s on the rocks with a twist, and a glass of water, please.”

He watched as the bartender mixed the martini. Alex suddenly appeared next to him. “Getting a little chilly out there.” To his surprise, and more, she leaned against him. “Warm me up?”

He put his arm around her, feeling his heart accelerate. “How’s that?”

“Good. That’s fine, I’m warm now, thanks.” She shrugged off his light embrace.

Vaguely disappointed, he picked up his drink while she took her water, clumsily, spilling a little on herself.

“Drat.” She took a napkin and brushed the water off her blouse.

He sipped. “So what’s your history?”

“I grew up on the coast of Maine. My dad had an oyster farm and I helped him out. I basically grew up on the water. We grew ‘diver’ oysters, so I got my PADI open-water cert when I was ten, PADI wreck diving at fifteen, nitrox cert at sixteen, and then I got my certs in cavern, deep diver, ice diver, and the rest. I love the sea and everything under it. Majored in marine biology at USC, went on to get my PhD.”

“In what?”

“The benthic life of the Calypso Deep. That’s the deepest part of the Hellenic Trench, seventeen thousand feet.”

“Where is that, exactly?”

“The Mediterranean, west of the Peloponnesian Peninsula. I spent a lot of time on the R/V Atlantis over there, dove down on the Alvin—that was the first real DSV, actually.”

“Cruising off Greece—nice way to get a PhD.”

“I never feel more at home than when I’m on a ship.”

“Funny, because I never feel less at home. The sea makes me sick. Give me the high mountains of the West and a stream full of cutthroat trout any day.”

“You get seasick, I get altitude sickness.”

“Too bad,” said Gideon. “There goes my marriage proposal.”

The joke fell flat, and Alex sipped her water in the awkward silence that followed.

“And the magic thing? Do you still do that?” Gideon quickly asked.

She waved her hand. “I could never compete with you! It was just a little thing I did to amuse myself and my friends.”

“I’d be happy to teach you a few basics.”

She raised her eyes to him. “That would be wonderful.”

“Maybe we should go back to my quarters—if I can locate them, that is. I actually packed a few magic tricks. I’m sure with a little help you’d pick them up quickly.”

“Let’s go. I’ll show you the way to crew quarters.”

He finished his drink, pretended to slap his jeans. “Oops, forgot my wallet. Would you mind picking up the tab? I’ll get the next one.” He watched with a smile of anticipation as she delved into her purse for her wallet, knowing that she’d find it missing. To his vast surprise, she pulled it out and placed it on the bar.

“Wait…that’s your wallet?”

“Of course.” She took out a twenty and paid the tab.

Gideon reached for his pocket, and found her wallet was gone. His wallet was gone, as well.

“Oh, shit,” he said automatically, “I think I may have dropped something out on deck.” He rose from his stool and immediately fell flat on his face. Stupefied, he looked at his feet—only to find that his shoelaces had been tied together. He glanced up to see Alex laughing hilariously, holding his wallet in her hand—along with his wristwatch.

“So, Gideon,” she said between gusts of laughter. “About those basics?”