The Ice Limit
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child
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The largest known meteorite has been discovered, entombed in the earth for millions of years on a frigid, desolate island off the southern tip of Chile. At four thousand tons, this treasure seems impossible to move. New York billionaire Palmer Lloyd is determined to have this incredible find for his new museum. Stocking a cargo ship with the finest scientists and engineers, he builds a flawless expedition. But from the first approach to the meteorite, people begin to die. A frightening truth is about to unfold: The men and women of the Rolvaag are not taking this ancient, enigmatic object anywhere. It is taking them.
“Running away without a proper plan is a guaranteed way to fail. And Vallenar won’t let us leave until Timmer is returned.” “All I can say is that I’d rather try running now than with a bellyful of meteorite slowing us down.” Glinn continued to regard her with a mild, almost sad expression. A technician cleared his throat. “I’ve got an inbound air contact bearing zero zero nine at thirty-five miles.” “Track it and get me a call sign,” Britton said, without shifting position or dropping her
“Visibility four thousand yards. Lightning at two miles.” McFarlane became aware of Rachel, gripping his elbow hard. “Jesus, that’s too close,” she murmured. And there it was: the destroyer off to the right, a dim cluster of lights, flickering through the storm. As McFarlane stared, the fog peeled away from the destroyer. It was stationary, lights ablaze, as if flaunting its presence. There was another explosion, another shudder. “She’s in,” came Garza’s voice. “Close the mechanical doors,”
some unspoken signal, they had assembled to witness something momentous. Lloyd straightened up, a small gesture meant to attract attention. He waited until all eyes were on him, then turned to Glinn. “Mr. Glinn, may I offer you my heartfelt congratulations,” he said. Glinn bowed slightly. Smiles and glances went around the bridge. At that moment the bridge door opened and a steward came in, wheeling a stainless-steel cart. The neck of a champagne bottle peeked out from an urn of crushed ice.
Falkland Islands. [Washington Post - page A15, World News, single-column boxed story, below the fold] Underwater Volcano Suspected in Series of Earthquakes Unusual Readings in Antarctic Sea By EMILY GUEST Washington Post Foreign Service SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND, August 2—Geologists at the British Scientific Station here have reported that an undersea volcano is suspected to be the cause of a series of mysterious temblors in the South Atlantic, off the coast of Antarctica. The small earthquakes,
He turned to them. “You’ve got forty minutes until the tunnel is complete and the meteorite is moved again. Make good use of it.” “We intend to,” said Amira. He watched her pulling gear out of the duffel and setting up instruments, while McFarlane silently took pictures of the rock with a digital camera. She was capable. McFarlane had learned about her reports, as he had expected. This had had the desired effect: it put McFarlane on notice that his behavior was being scrutinized. It also gave