Iceberg

There was no doubt, Pitt reflected. Cashman certainly displayed the image of a man who knew how to handle a plane, especially this one.

With two-thirds of the meadow gone, Cashman eased the control column forward and lifted the tail wheel and then pulled back, floating the plane a few feet above the turf. Then to Pitts horror, Cashman suddenly dropped the trimotor back hard on the ground no more than fifty feet in front of the fence. Pitts horror turned to amazement as Cashman jerked the controls back against his chest and literally bounced the old Tin Goose over the fence and threw it into the air.

"Where in hell did you learn that little trick?" Pitt said, exhaling a great sigh of relief. It was then he recognized the tune Cashman was whistling as the theme from the old movie, "Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines."

"Used to be a crop duster in Oklahoma," Cashman replied.

"How did you wind up as a mechanic in the Air Force?"

"One day the junker ah was flyin' developed a nasty cough. Plowed up a farmer's pasture and butchered his champion beef sire years before its time. Everybody in the county was out to sue me. Ah was flat broke so ah split the scene and enlisted."

Pitt couldn't help smiling as he peered through the windshield at the river two hundred feet below. From that height he could easily spot the sloping ridge where Andursson had found him. He saw something now he didn't expect to find. Almost imperceptibly, he became aware of a long even line against the landscape that trailed off toward the south. He pushed open the little side window and looked again. It was there all right: the dark shade of green against the lighter tinted tundra.

His footprints, where they had sunk into the soft vegetation, had left a path that was easy to follow as the white line down the center of a highway.

Pitt caught Cashman's eye and motioned earthward. "To the south. Follow that dark trail to the south."

Cashman banked the plane and stared for a moment out the side window. Then he cocked his head in acknowledgment and turned the nose of the trimotor southward. Fifteen minutes later he could only wonder at the unerring trail Pitt had made during his trek to the river. Except for a few occasional deviations around rough or uneven ground, the man-made mark on the earth was almost as straight as a plumb line. Fifteen minutes, that was all the old antique needed to cover the same distance that had taken Pitt several hours.

"I have it now," Pit shouted. "There, that cracklike depression where my path ends."

"Where do you want me to set her down, Major?"

"Parallel to the ran of the ravine. There's a flat area ru

The sky was darkening by the moment-darkening with the mist of falling snow. Even as Cashman made his landing approach, the first flakes began dotting the windshield, streaking to the edges of the glass before being blown into the sky by the airstream.

Pitts race had been won, but only by the barest of margines.

Cashman made a safe landing, a smooth landing considering the rugged terrain and the difficult wind conditions. He timed his run so that the cabin door of the trimotor ended up within ten yards of the steep drop-off.

The wheels had hardly rolled to a halt when Pitt leaped from the plane and was stumbling, sliding to the bottom of the ravine. Behind him, Hull's men began methodically unloading supplies and arranging them on the dampening ground. Two of the paramedics uncoiled ropes and threw them down the slopes in preparation of bringing up the survivors.

Pitt ignored all this. He had one driving desire: to be the first into that chilling pit of hell.

He came upon Lillie still stretched out on his back with Tidi huddled over him, his head cradled in her arms. She was talking to Lillie, saying words Pitt couldn't understand, her voice no more than a weak, hoarse whisper; she seemed to be trying her best to smile, but her lips barely curved in a pitiful grimace and there was little pleasantry in either the voice or the eyes. Pitt walked up behind her and gently touched her wetstreaked hair.

"It seems you two have become rather close friends."

Tidi twisted around and stared dazedly at the figure standing over her. "Good Lord, you've come back."

She reached out and touched his hand. "I thought I heard an airplane. Oh, God, this is wonderful, you've come back."

"Yes," Pitt smiled faintly, then nodded at Lillie.

"How is he?"

"I don't know," she said wearily. "I just don't know. He slipped into unconsciousness about half an hour ago."

Pitt knelt down and listened to Lillie's breathing. it was slow and steady. "He'll make it. This guy has guts ten miles long. The big question is whether he'll ever walk again."

Tidi pressed her face against Pitts hand and began to sob, her breath coming in convulsive shudders, the shock, the pain, and the relief washing over her in rolling waves. He held her tightly saying nothing. He was still holding her shivering body and stroking her hair as the would a little girl when Captain HUH approached.

"Take the girl first," pitt said. "Her ankles are broken."

"My men have set up an aid tent above the slopes.

There's a stove warming in it now. She'll be comfortable there until the Icelandic Search and Rescue Team can transport her to Reykjavik." Hull wiped his eyes tiredly.

"Their cross-country vehicles are homing in on our radio signals now."

"Can't you airlift her out?"

Hull shook his head. "Sorry, Major. That old trimotor can only carry eight stretcher cases on one trip.

I'm afraid the first load will have to be the most critically injured. This is one occasion where the ladies will have to go last." He nodded down at Lillie. "How bad is this one?"

"Fractured shoulders and pelvis."

Two of Hull's men appeared carrying an aluminum basket stretcher. "Take the man first," he ordered.

"And see that you handle him gently. This one is a back injury."

The paramedics carefully eased Lillie's inert form into the stretcher and attached the ropes for the ascent to the treacherous ravine. Pitt couldn't help but be impressed and thankful for the efficiency and smoothness of the lifting lines. Just three minutes later Hull had returned for Tidi.

"Okay, Major. I'll take the little lady."

"Handle her with care, Captain. She happens to be Admiral Sandecker's private secretary."

Apparently nothing startled Hull for long. The surprise only flickered in his eyes for an instant. "Well, well," he boomed. "In that case, I'll escort the lady myself."

Hull tenderly picked Tidi up in his massive arms and carried her to a waiting basket. Then true to his word, he climbed along beside her all the way to the top of the slope and saw her comfortably bedded down inside the warm tent before he returned to direct the rescue operation.

Pitt pulled the package from under his arm and moved slowly across the broken bottom of the ravine until he stood over the Russian diplomat. "Mr. Tamareztov, how are you getting along?"

"A Russian relishes the cold, Major Pitt." He cupped a small handful of snow that had fallen across his chest. "Moscow would not be Moscow without a season of snow. To me it is the same as desert sand to an Arab a curse that is part of one's very existence."

"Are you in pain?"

"An old Bolshevik never admits to pain."

"A pity," Pitt said.

"A pity?" Tainareztov repeated. He looked at Pitt suspiciously.