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“No insult intended, man,” Eric said.
“Stew’s good,” one of the crewmen said.
“Bread’s in the oven,” Eric added. “Nate made it. With everything going on today, he left it to rise in the fridge and forgot to get it out in time. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”
When he went silent, Gunn felt as though he ought to continue the conversation. Odd, really, since he wasn’t one for small talk. “Ms. Russo was telling me about some of the things you all study out here.”
Eric nodded. “Maddie…” he said, “everyone calls her Maddie. None of us stands on ceremony here. There’d be too many ‘doctors’ to keep track of. As to what I work on… Mostly, I take temperature readings of the ocean at different depths. Doesn’t sound so interesting, but it’s critical to understanding what’s happening with global warming.”
Nate shuffled from the stove, sighed, and sat beside Eric. “Fuck it,” he said under his breath as he placed his bowl on the table. “It’s just a table.”
Eric cleared his throat. “I was just telling him what my focus is on—workwise.”
Nate’s gloomy expression brightened. “I study plankton—phytoplankton and zooplankton. You know, the foundation of life in the ocean, forests under the sea…”
When Gunn raised his eyebrows, he continued. “Phytoplankton are single-celled organisms, algae really, that produce most of the oxygen in our atmosphere. Zooplankton are larger and feed on phytoplankton. Then zooplankton, in turn, are consumed by other ocean dwellers, from very small fish to whales. Phytoplankton, the tiny plankton, are found in sea and freshwater, but here in the Arctic, there’s been a huge increase in the plankton population due to the loss of ice—more sunlight getting through and all.”
“More oxygen and food for the fish is good, right?” Gunn said, doing his best to follow the long-winded explanation.
Nate shrugged. “Depending on who you’re talking to—and where. You have to weigh that benefit against the overall rise in ocean temperature. Did you know the Gulf of Mexico was so hot fish were starved for oxygen and washed up on shore by the thousands?”
“Stop with the geek talk,” Eric said, then turned back to Gunn. “Nate’s just happy he has someone new to wax on about his plankton. We’ve all heard it before.”
Nate shook his head. “You’re just jealous because plankton is sexier than ocean temperatures.”
Eric chuckled, then glanced across at Gunn, who was still frowning, thinking about asphyxiated fish.
“Sorry about that,” Eric said. “We don’t get out much.”
That comment had Gunn grinning. He turned his attention to the stew that wasn’t half bad and certainly filling.
At last, Ms. Russo, Clive, the RCMP officer, and the commander trailed into the kitchen.
“As soon as we’re done eating, we have to take off,” the commander said. “It’s nearly dusk.”
The pilot stood. “I’m done. I’ll go ahead and do my pre-flight checks.” He lifted his chin to his crew, and they stood and headed to the sink with their empty bowls.
Everyone else sat at the table with fresh bowls of savory stew. Ms. Russo stared at the table for a long moment but then sat, her face tightening before she lifted it and gave Gunn a small smile.
She was seated at Nate’s side, across the table diagonally from Gunn. “I think a tour of the outer buildings and the platforms will have to wait until tomorrow. Night falls quickly here.”
“I took a tour through this building. There aren’t locks on the windows and most of the doors.”
She grimaced. “Never needed them before.”
The RCMP officer glanced up but didn’t have to say anything. They all knew the killer might be sitting right in the room.
After the helicopter left,the atmosphere inside the facility lightened. The seven current residents split into two groups. Three played poker for toothpicks at the kitchen table. The other four occupied the common area.
Em and Eric were watching a movie, some sci-fi flick with seven-legged aliens who squirted ink like octopuses to communicate during their first contact with humans.
Maddie sat on a sofa, pretending to read a book she’d brought with her, a romance of all things, while she pretended not to watch their newest resident as he cleaned a handgun at one of the working tables on the far side of the room.
Gunnar Neilson wasn’t anything like the keen-witted, clever spy in her book. Not that he didn’t seem intelligent, but he wasn’t one to use dialogue to disarm. When Gunn spoke, the words mattered. She rather liked that, but it was frustrating trying to figure out what she could talk to him about. And she wanted to get to know him because who knew how long he’d be here, protecting them.
Again, she thought about the hero in her book, comparing him to Gunn. Gunn wasn’t built lean, so he’d look ridiculous in a frock coat. No, Gunn looked good as he was dressed now, in sweatpants and a T-shirt that hugged his chest and arms. Every movement produced a ripple across his muscles. It was utterly fascinating to watch.
His head rose, and he speared her with a glance. “Does this bother you?” he asked, raising the barrel of his disassembled weapon.
