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seaplane tender that will take us to Antarctica. Your experience in polar flying should prove invaluable. Let me introduce our political liaison, Jürgen Drexler"—the handsome blond gave a nod— "our chief geographer, Alfred Feder"—here the shorter man bobbed his head a bit shyly— "ship's doctor Maximilian Schmidt"—the smoker smiled remotely behind a cloud of exhaled smoke— "and Greta Heinz, our polar biologist." The woman smiled and looked at Hart with interest, keeping one hand on the stem of her wineglass and the other at her wrist, as if the goblet needed special support. She glanced quickly at Leni and then away, shy of the movie star's polish, and seemed to avoid even incidental eye contact with Kohl. Almost imperceptibly Drexler sidled an inch closer, as if to suggest a relationship. She gave no sign she noticed. She was attractive, Hart decided: not so much glamorous as interesting.
    "Glad to meet you," Hart said. "It should be an intriguing adventure."
    "Captain Heiden has had experience in the Arctic but this will be Germany's first great thrust toward the South Pole," Göring said. "We've had explorers there before— Erich von Drygalski even rose in a balloon just after the turn of the century, becoming the first Antarctic aeronaut— but the effort wasn't sustained. This time we're being systematic about it: we're staking our claim and planning to do Antarctic research. The expedition will have geopolitical implications as well." Göring turned toward the others. "And Mr. Hart has been assuring me about the beauty of the place. How I wish I could accompany you, to escape the cares of my office!"
    "But Hermann, Germany would miss you so much!" Leni exclaimed, as if she thought Göring was really going to slip away to sea. She leaned toward him and grasped his arm.
    "And I would miss Germany!" the Reich Minister said, beaming. The others smiled at this banter.
    "So, Hart, I assume you didn't fly in the war," Drexler said, clearly sizing him up. The German was slim, athletic, and even in repose seemed to have the grace of a cat.
    "I don't look that old, I hope," Hart replied.
    "Ah!" Göring cried. "The unintended insults of arrogant youth." The group laughed.
    "I did some flying on the barnstormer circuit," Hart said, "then flew in competition and in the Rockies, learning cold weather skills. Hired on with Elliott Farnsworth. And was fired when I wouldn't fly him into bad weather."
    "Sometimes heroism must be put in abeyance," Drexler observed.
    Unsure of what to make of that remark, the pilot turned to the geographer. "Alfred, do you know exactly where on the continent we're going?"
    "I do," the man said with a certain self-satisfaction. "And the rest of you shall know when we get there."
    There was an awkward pause and then Göring laughed explosively, drawing the others in. "Ha!" he crowed. "The white part, Hart! You're going to the cold part!" He laughed some more, patting Feder on the back. "I do like a man who can keep a secret."
    Hart smiled, mystified by any secrecy.
    Schmidt spoke up. "The truth is, Owen, like all explorers we don't know exactly where we're going. We've selected an area of interest with an eye to competing national claims and are looking for a possible permanent site for research, but this is of course an investigation of a new world." He took a puff. "You and your fellow pilots will be our eyes, from the air."
    Hart nodded. "Well, I've got good eyesight, Dr.... Schmidt," he remembered. "You've been to sea before?"
    "No, I've volunteered for this opportunity because it will allow me to explore my medical interest: the body in environmental extremes."
    "You mean cold?"
    "Cold and simplicity. No group of people has ever really inhabited Antarctica, and few plants and animals exist there. What remains, I hope, is medical truth shorn of the complexities and prejudices of our warmer world. To understand polar perils is to take a step toward conquering them, yes?"
    "Or avoiding them,