There was a hunched, hooded figure in the entrance alcove—a single human shape. Pellets of rock-hard ice peppered the figure like a hail of white ball bearings. Each one of them, Donnelley knew, was sharp enough to cut, traveling fast enough to leave a bruise.
“Son of a bitch,” he said. “He’s not even in a suit.”
“Then he’s a dead man,” Brad said.
“Well at least he can die inside.” He shifted to the left, put his eye to the retinal scanner, and thumbed the broad latch-panel.
Parkinson jumped up. “Wait a minute, Donnelley! We don’t even know who he is!”
The panel beeped just as it was supposed to. “Who cares?” he said over his shoulder. He put his hands on the huge, old-fashioned wheel and spun it, cursing the design. Damn engineers, he thought as he dragged at it. “There aren’t two hundred people left on the whole damn continent, Brad. It’s not exactly a home invasion robbery!”
It took all the strength he had to pull the door open six inches. The man outside pushed as well, using his shoulder with tremendous strength. A moment later, the opening was just wide enough to let the visitor spill in and tumble to the floor. Donnelley reversed his effort and struggled to get the hatch shut and locked. He barely managed.
After the latch chunked home and the panel gave its happy beep, he leaned against the cold door to recover his strength. “Son of a bitch,” he said again, panting from the exertion. “What the hell were you—”
Something jerked at the collar of his suit, right at the nape of his neck, and pulled him back hard. A fist slammed into his face as he fell, hitting him just below his nose and driving him even more painfully to the ground. An instant later, the man who had knocked on the door was on top of him, knee on his chest, holding him down.
His attacker’s entire head was covered in a twisted mass of silver, heat-insulating Mylar, duct tape showing at odd corners and sealing a pair of goggles over his eyes. There was a tiny slit where his mouth should have been. His hands—the ones pinning Donnelley’s arms to the floor—were covered in two pairs of gloves, one inside the other.
“Shut up,” the man said. His voice was rough with cold and desperation.
He freed one hand long enough to reach inside the massive black peacoat he was wearing. Donnelley barely had time to think, that shouldn’t have worked; he shouldn’t have gotten ten feet in that get-up, before the glove came out again, holding a huge, slab-sided Glock 17 hand gun.
He pointed the pistol at Robert Donnelley and shot him in the forehead—one 9-millimeter bullet, dead center. After a long moment, a bubble of blood welled up in the hole and dribbled thickly down one temple.
The taped head came up and pointed its black lens at Brad Parkinson. The gun came up with it and pointed steadily at a single, small spot on the researcher’s chest. “You don’t have to die,” the visitor grated, his voice muffled by the wrapping. “Listen carefully.”
Parkinson stared at him. He could barely comprehend what had just happened.
“I’ll take this man’s suit and ID. You will stand in the corner and watch me. When the chopper gets here, we will fly out together. If you tell them I am not who they think I am, I will kill everyone.”
“You’ll just kill yourself if you do. We’ll all die.”
The man didn’t answer. He just stared at him. After a long moment, Brad nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
He backed into a corner and stretched his hands high over his head. Then he watched in mute horror as the man stripped his friend’s body, peeled off his own makeshift thermal suit, and switched clothes. The corpse of Robert Donnelley fit into one of the empty storage containers—one of the many that were going to be left behind.
Brad didn’t see the man’s face. It didn’t matter. He was too much in a state of disarray to even care.
When the man was fully clothed and Donnelley’s body was safely hidden away, he said, “You can put your hands down.” Parkinson lowered them with a silent sigh of relief and sat on a data cube, as far from the other man as he could. They did not speak again until the chopper arrived.
After carefully scanning the small outpost, the man quickly recognized what he had come for and