Cold Flood (Kea Wright Mysteries Book 1) Page 3

  “On loan from the French,” Julie dumped the food onto the table then headed back to the jeep with Kea trailing in her wake. “He thinks he’ll get loads of publications out of it.”

  Kea let out a slow sigh, like a kettle about to boil, and counted to ten. When she opened her eyes, she spotted the tour bus in the distance, driving along the wide arc across the outwash plain. “It looks like they’re just about to turn off the main highway.” She checked her watch. “That should buy us another ten minutes or so before we have to put on the meet and greet.”

  Julie groaned. “I don’t think I’m up for being either meet-y or greet-y right now.”

  “How about I’ll handle the welcoming committee with Marcus,” Kea offered. “While you and Tony get a head start on unloading anything that needs to go in the coolers?”

  “You sure?” Julie asked. “You’re wearing your ‘I wanna thump something’ face. The one you wear when undergraduates ask to re-schedule exams.”

  Kea shook her head. “Marcus and I will be fine.”

  “If you say so.” Julie opened the rear of the jeep and started to stack boxes of cucumbers and tomatoes onto the grass. “All I know is that the temperature always seems to drop a couple of degrees when you two are together.”

  Kea grunted.

  “On the ride out this morning, Carlyle mentioned that he put you in charge. I can’t imagine that’s going over well…” Julie trailed off, obviously hoping Kea would provide more information.

  It certainly hadn’t. Kea wasn’t quite sure what her mentor had been thinking, particularly given her rocky history with Marcus. The man practically lived in the classroom, ignoring the publishing that was so crucial to a university career. When her tenure came through last year, any conversation with him became strained. Now they were both Assistant Professors, competing for a single promotion slot to Professor.

  When Kea didn’t rise to her bait, Julie pressed, “He has been doing these fieldwork teams for more than a decade. You’ve only been doing them for what, a few years?”

  Kea nodded. Indeed, she had raised this point with Carlyle this very morning. Looking back, he seemed to find the whole affair entertaining

  “His expertise lies in teaching,” Carlyle had commented. “While yours is research as well as teaching. If he wants to get promoted, he knows he needs to step up. In the meantime, you’re the most qualified ranking personnel to lead this team in my absence.”

  “I just wish you hadn’t, that’s all.” Kea had folded her arms across her chest. “It’s like poking a bear. An angry, armed, NRA dues-paying bear.”

  “It’s just two weeks,” Carlyle had reminded her.

  “Exactly,” Kea had snapped. “Why do it? It will just serve to irritate him further.”

  “It’ll be good practice.” Carlyle’s blue eyes widened slightly before adding, “for next year.”

  Kea had considered that for a long moment. “Are you saying that I’ll be a team lead next year as well?”

  “Not just one team, the project lead,” Carlyle had announced with pride. “I’m retiring from fieldwork.”

  It had taken Kea a moment to digest that.

  “I’ll still be teaching, of course,” Carlyle continued, “but no more disappearing for three months at a time in the summer, I’m afraid. My wife finally put her foot down.”

  “That’s the entire field season,” Kea gaped. “You want me to run all the teams?”

  “You’ll be fantastic,” Carlyle had reassured her, as he put on his pack. “You’re always fantastic.”

  “Of course, I’m fantastic,” Kea had replied automatically “It’s because I spend my entire time here doing research.”

  Carlyle had narrowed his eyes. “Are you implying that I don’t?”

  “I’m pointing out that you spend a great deal of time on these trips researching whiskey.” Kea corrected. “The rest of your time is spent taking care of the volunteers. Which is not why I’m here. I didn’t spend the last twelve years in school to be a babysitter.”

  “You’ll be fantastic,” Carlyle repeated blithely.

  “I wish you’d stop saying that.” Kea had sighed, contemplating the prospect of being the permanent project lead. “Honestly, I don’t know how you manage all of these trips. The money, the logistics...”

  “Remember,” Carlyle had waved her objections aside, “these volunteers have traveled from across the world to help, to see the landscape, and to learn. When things get tough, just take a deep breath.”

  “That’s it?” Her nostrils had flared in frustration. “That’s your advice? Breathe?”

  “Breathe.” Carlyle had contemplated his walking stick for a moment, a ridiculous collapsible thing with a brass puffin fitted onto the handle. He had placed it carefully down on the table before heading out to the jeep. He had paused before adding, “Well, that and try to bring them back alive.”

  Back in the present, Kea shook away that ominous memory, and firmly repeated to Julie, “Marcus and I will be fine. Now, what was the name of the other company that sent volunteers?” she asked, trying to navigate the conversation to safer ground. “T3? What does it stand for again, TeleTech or something?”

  “It’s your friend’s company,” Julie admonished, referring to Bruce, Kea’s old classmate, who was a team lead on T3’s software development team. She paused and dug into the pocket of her grimy jeans, pulling out a crumpled copy of the itinerary. “If you can’t remember, why should I?”

  Kea grimaced. She had last seen Bruce back in high school, only coordinating the logistics for this trip via email. She couldn’t remember the name of his wife, let alone his company. It had been a godsend funding-wise, although she had been surprised that he had reached out to her so unexpectedly.

  Julie scanned the page. “Looks like your friend’s company is called Thaumaturgical Telecommunication Technologies.”

  “That’s a mouthful.” Kea attempted to repeat the name but failed. “What does it mean?”

  Julie shook her head. “Doesn’t say. Only their slogan: ‘We make miracles happen.'”

  “Well,” Kea muttered, “a few of miracles would make a nice change of pace… Right, if you grab Tony and finish unloading the trailer, I’ll head over and play hostess. And Julie…”

  “Don’t worry,” Julie tapped a jar of chocolate hazelnut spread, “I’ll stash your precious cargo in the toolbox. Your addiction is safe with me.” She winked before heading back to the storage area.

  Kea stopped by her own tent long enough to drop off her wallet and pick up her clipboard. She pulled on her dark green long-sleeve t-shirt with ‘Eco-Observers’ emblazoned across the front in friendly white letters. Trotting behind the main tent, she grabbed a battered cardboard ‘Welcome Team!’ sign, and then walked across the grassy campground filled with sealed tents and empty lawn chairs. Most of the campers were out hiking for the day, although a few odd stragglers hauled laundry bags back and forth to the main building.

  As she weaved through the tents, she saw the tour bus arrive at the visitor center, along with some cars that pulled in behind it. She was close enough by now to see the first passengers step off the bus. A large man with black framed glasses and a head as bald as a turnip spotted her and started waving.

  Bruce.

  She was struck by how old he looked before it occurred to her that he might be thinking exactly the same thing about her. High school seemed so far away. Although she could tell from his frame and body language that it was Bruce, his loss of hair and substantial weight gain made him seem like a cheap stunt double. Hopefully, despite her similar mileage, she didn’t appear as worn.

  Then again, Kea reflected, time has been no good friend of mine. She gave Bruce a hearty wave and picked up her pace. Just then, a woman’s scream redirected her attention to the rear of the bus.

  Cursing under her breath, she changed direction to intercept the yelling. She waded into the crowd of volunteers clustered around the luggage compartment at the rea
r of the bus and forced a smile.

  Chapter 2

  “Careful! That’s a six-hundred-dollar espresso machine!” The indignant voice belonged to a woman with a fantastic explosion of quivering black curls that burst out of the top of a pristine yellow jacket. She clutched desperately at a massive orange suitcase that lay half-open on the sidewalk. Marcus held the other handle, watching helplessly as its contents tumbled around in the breeze. The woman lunged into the pile of clothes and junk food and emerged triumphantly hugging the expensive coffee maker.

  “Hello,” Kea ventured as Marcus fumbled with the cookies and bags of potato chips that tumbled out of the suitcase. She knelt carefully so as not to crush any of the cupcakes and helped stuff everything back into the suitcase. “I’m Dr. Kea Wright.”

  “Bonnie.” Bangles clattered on the woman’s wrist as she shook Kea’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve nearly got it sorted out.”

  As the woman chatted away, Kea noticed that her lips were perfectly glossed and her hazel eyes were nestled inside deft strokes of cerulean eyeliner. Kea remembered wearing make-up herself once when she was a teenager. Before geology entered her life. Now she wore dust, dirt, and sunburn as a badge of honor.

  Marcus frowned at the motley array of gadgets and foodstuffs as Bonnie packed them back into the case. “You did read the welcome guide, didn’t you?” he asked, referring to the materials that were shipped to all volunteers. The documents stipulated the appropriate gear and provisions for fieldwork in a sub-Arctic environment. “You are aware that this is a camping expedition?”

  “Of course,” Bonnie replied as if addressing a toddler. “I just like to be comfortable. Plus...” She shoved a DVD player into a cushion of rumpled silk lingerie. “I have three seasons of zombies to catch up on.”

  Kea eyed Bonnie’s haul. In Iceland, where a large bag of chips could cost up to twelve dollars, this woman would be very popular. Add the DVD player to the equation and Bonnie would be a superstar if they got rained in for days at a time. She just hoped that somewhere in all that mess the woman had packed some actual field gear.

  Kea pulled the roster out of the volunteer folder and scanned for the woman’s name. “Bonnie... Bonnie Clark?”

  “The one and only,” Bonnie answered cheerfully.

  Kea ticked the box next to her name, hoping that Bonnie hadn’t heard Marcus mutter, ‘We can only hope,’ under his breath.

  Ignoring him, Kea examined the rest of the arrivals. While some were still watching Bonnie re-pack, others gaped in wonder at the world around them. They all wore the standard green Eco-Observers T-shirt, but that was where any similarity ended. Composed of men and women of many races, the group was clothed in a hodgepodge of jeans and cargo shorts, fanny packs, sun hats, and jackets. Most had already abandoned their gear on the sidewalk, a growing heap of sleeping bags, tents, and rucksacks, in order to take photographs of the scenery.

  “Can everyone please check in with me?” Kea raised her clipboard in the air to get their attention. The next few minutes were a blur as she put a checkmark next to fifteen names. It happened so quickly, she had barely registered their faces.

  Bruce patiently waited his turn in line, before enfolding her in a huge hug. She let out an ‘oomph’ as he squeezed her tight, forcing the air out of her lungs. Patting him gently on the back, she pried herself free.

  “Long time.” Bruce stood back and considered her, a gentle smile on his face.

  She grinned back. He looked exhausted. His complexion was pallid, and deep circles wallowed beneath his eyes. Dusty silver scruff peppered his chin in odd patches as if he had tried to shave while drunk. His belt was on its last notch as it half-heartedly struggled to contain his paunch. His appearance was in stark contrast to his pictures on social media pages she’d seen, although in her experience, those were notoriously misleading anyway. She forced her smile a bit wider and said, “You look great!”

  “And you’re still too kind by half,” Bruce laughed. “You look fantastic. How long have you been out here?”

  “Three months or so.” She rubbed her neck, trying to remember the last time she had slept in a real bed. “We spent most of June in our tents though - it rained for six weeks solid.”

  “I hope we have better luck than that,” Bruce said. “Sounds miserable.”

  Kea shrugged. “On the plus side, this far north of the equator, we get about twenty-two hours of daylight. When we get a good weather day, we can cram in twice the work. Anyway, let me get everyone settled. We can catch up over a drink later.”

  “Best news I’ve heard in weeks,” Bruce smiled. “It’s a date.”

  Kea ticked off the last of the names before joining Marcus who addressed the group. “Welcome to Skaftafell! I’m Dr. Kea Wright and this is Dr. Marcus Posner.”

  A gust of wind fluttered the brim of Marcus’ absurd fishing hat, its long flat tail making it appear as if he was sporting a green mullet. While he insisted that the hat kept the rain off his face and the sun off his neck, the wide brim made his gnomish body appear even shorter. It didn’t help that he had a habit of wearing green waterproof trousers. The ensemble made him look like a leprechaun.

  Kea wondered, as she had so many times, whether he intentionally appeared ridiculous to catch people off-guard.

  “If you’ll follow us, we’ll take you to your new home for the next ten days.” Marcus led the team through the visitor parking lot and out onto the main campground.

  Kea brought up the rear, making sure no one was left behind, although she lost sight of Bruce in the process.

  “Excuse me!” called a breathless voice.

  Kea turned to see a middle-aged woman jogging around the bus. She had a world-weary, been-there-done-that air of confidence about her. Judging by the look of her new boots and outer gear, she wasn’t strapped for cash either.

  “Dr. Wright?” The woman extended a hand. “Lexie. Lexie Girard.”

  “Great to finally meet you. We’ve never had a reporter on our trips before.” Kea had exchanged a flurry of emails with Lexie over the last few weeks. “We’re very happy that you could join us.”

  “Not all, I’m thrilled to be here,” Lexie gushed.

  “If you need anything, just let us know. We practically live in that thing,” Kea nodded to the main tent. She noticed the large camera bag under the reporter’s arm. “We’ve also got a generator in a spare trailer by the jeeps.”

  “Thanks! That’ll help.” Lexie hefted the straps on her shoulders. “I’ll be shooting and recording as much as I can for the piece. Let me know if I’m ever in the way or if there’s anything that’s a must-see.”

  “Sounds fantastic.” Kea was genuinely grateful. The advertising could mean they wouldn’t be so desperate for volunteers next year. “When will the article get published?”

  “EO usually updates its website every couple of weeks,” Lexie explained, “but this piece will probably be in the annual mailer in the fall. With any luck, expect to see a spike in volunteers signing up for next year after it goes out. Um…” She looked over Kea’s shoulder. “I think you’re being hailed.”

  Kea turned to see Julie waving to her from the entrance of the main tent. She said a quick goodbye to Lexie and jogged ahead to join the graduate students handing out laminated maps to the volunteers.

  Tony had changed into a loose linen shirt and baggy cargo pants as if he was ready to head out to the clubs. He’d obviously spent time primping for the arrival of the new volunteers and seemed to be scanning the new female volunteers with a player’s eyes.

  The new arrivals were disheveled, their hair tossed and askew, their clothes crumpled, eyes still heavy with sleep. She felt a rush of sympathy for them. Most had arrived on the 6 a.m. flight into the airport located at the westernmost end of the island. After picking up their luggage and stumbling into the morning light, they were whisked away by bus across the black alien wasteland of the steaming volcanic plains before arriving in the capital, Reykjavík. It woul
d have then taken them another six hours by bus to reach Skaftafell. Since some volunteers had traveled from as far away as New Zealand, they may have spent anywhere from twelve to thirty-six hours just to get there, not to mention the jet lag.

  Watching them shift and mutter, Kea was finally able to place what was bothering her. Normally, volunteers wound up chatting and mixing with the others during the long drive and numerous stops, from the city. Looking at this group, however, she noticed that they were split into two distinct factions. It wasn’t too surprising, considering they were from two different companies, she thought, but the glares the teams exchanged set off her Spidey senses.

  “Okay, everyone!” Marcus released a trio of enthusiastic claps to get their attention. “At UC San Diego Burlingame, we’ve been working with Eco-Observers to run this research expedition for several years now. Indeed, some of us have been coming to Iceland for more than a decade, others a fair bit less.” He let his gaze linger on Kea.

  Kea had never seen him so happy, so confident. He was positively beaming. Given the demotion Carlyle had handed out this morning, this wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Either Marcus was putting on a brave face, or he was up to something. Or both. She matched his hyper-focused gaze, but the anger she saw smoldering in his eyes made her realize that she was sailing into uncharted waters.

  Here be dragons.

  “Now,” Marcus turned his attention back to the volunteers, “we’re going to do quick introductions, then we’ll help you set up your tents.”

  This was the part that always went too fast for Kea, although she did her best to keep up. At the university, on the first day of classes, she normally had digital photographs to help her put faces to names of the new students. In the field, all they had was a list of names. She had studied the medical forms last night, but nothing really stood out, although she was constantly amazed at how many people were allergic to dairy. The most dangerous condition listed for this season was one woman who had asthma. She made a mental note to look up who that was later.