"Then it must have been the tide, the current, the Holy Virgin-God knows I prayed enough! I don't know! All I know is that when I finally get back to camp, someone pushes a machine gun in my face and accuses me of murdering my friends." Awkwardly Kropodkin twisted in the bunk, looking to Trowbridge once again. "Damn it to hell, Professor! You know me! I have taken classes with you. You were on my selection committee. Are you a party to this insanity as well?"
"I..." Trowbridge stammered for an instant; then his sleep-puffy features tightened in resolve. He could not have been so totally wrong. "No, I am not! Ms. Russell! I must protest. This man has obviously undergone a serious ordeal! Could you at least put off this inquisition until after he's had a chance to rest and have a hot meal?"
Randi's eyes still didn't shift from Kropodkin, and her slight smile held the chill of the polar katabatics. "That's an excellent idea, Doctor. He should have something to eat."
Standing, she removed a paratrooper's knife from the slit pocket of her ski pants and thumbed the button that snapped out the hook-shaped shroud cutter. "Turn him loose, Doctor." She set the open knife in the center of the table. "He can fix himself a meal."
Trowbridge picked up the knife. "I'll do it for him," he said, self-righteousness trembling in his voice.
"I said he fixes his own meal, Doctor!" Randi snapped, catching up the MP-5. "Just cut off the cuffs and don't block my line of fire. Then go to your bunk, put on your pants, and stay out of the way."
Wordlessly, but red-faced with anger, Trowbridge cut the disposacuffs from Kropodkin's wrists. Keeping the student covered, Randi reclaimed her knife and pulled her chair to the farthest corner of the bunk room. With her back to the wall, she settled down once more, the stock of the MP-5 tucked under her arm, and the barrel leveled.
"Okay, Mr. Kropodkin, you can stand up and fix yourself something to eat now. But don't get funny. It would be a very bad idea."
The room went quiet beyond the wind moan and the clatter of pans and cutlery. Kropodkin heated a can of stew and a kettle of water on the bunkhouse's primus cooker. Occasionally he cast his eyes in Randi's direction, but every time he found the barrel of the submachine gun tracking him as if guided by radar fire control. Something hovered in the air of the room...expectancy, but her glittering jet eyes were totally unreadable and unrevealing.
"May I pick up a knife to cut myself a slice of bread?" he asked with biting politeness.
"If you make a move I don't like, you'll find out about it."
In the far corner of the bunkroom Trowbridge finished dressing, regaining his pomposity along with his trousers. "I think, Ms. Russell, that it is time for us to clarify a few things..."
"And I think, Doctor, that you had better shut up."
The academic's voice started to lift. "I am not accustomed to being spoken to in this manner!"
"You'll get used to it."
Trowbridge had no choice but to subside.
Kropodkin set his dishes on the mess table and wolfed into his tea, stew, and bread, eating rapidly and glancing between Trowbridge and the woman silently covering him.
Randi let him get half the meal down before she spoke. "Okay, let's get this finished. Your name is Stefan Kropodkin, you are a Slovakian citizen of Yugoslav descent, and you're attending McGill University on a scholarship and student visa."
"The doctor must have told you that," Kropodkin said around a mouthful of bread and margarine.
"He did. He also said you were a top-flight student and a very capable individual. That's how you got the posting to this expedition." Randi leaned forward in her chair. "Now, let's get on to what you say. You say you were on a science party with two other members of your expedition, the doctors Gupta and Hasegawa, when suddenly the two of them disappeared. You came back here and reported their disappearance. Then you went out on the search party with Dr. Creston and Ian Rutherford. You went out onto the pack ice while searching; then Creston and Rutherford vanished as well. You were trapped on the ice by an opening water lead. You just happened to be the man with the shotgun, and you just happened to fire two shots from it.