Whiteout!

Начало книги

It was cold, but at Thule they know how to handle cold, as they also know how to put the fear of God into newcomers. When the doors of the Galaxy freighter opened and the Arctic wind drove out in seconds the accumulated warmth of hours, they allowed that extra minute or so of delay before I could leave the plane. My teeth were already giving one or two preliminary and percussive chatters by the time I'd reached the foot of the aircraft stair, descending into a whipping crosswind that flicked ice particles stingingly against my face. By the stark airfield lights bulldozers were scraping at the runway. At the foot of the stair, a sergeant stood with his back to the wind. His green parka hood was up, with the fur rim drawn tight so that he looked at me through an aperture no more than four inches wide.

'Mr Bowes, sir?'

'Yes.' I was facing him and one opens one's mouth to speak. I closed it quickly as the wind picked at a tooth filling.

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