The Syncode

Chapter 14: An Enigma Part II and A Little Romance

As of this writing, the plan is to fly out after the 15th to PL where it should hopefully take no more than four  to five months before finishing it.  

Regards, 

ET

"They ended up at the Penguin Post Office?!" she exclaimed. "No way!"

"Sorry?" Mycroft looked at her quizzically, having not yet studied  current history of Port Lockroy. He noted how her eyes turned a deep blue when discussing a subject she was keen on. 

"It's a tourist attraction at what was the old British station there. I think  it's known as 'the most southerly operational post office in the world'. Big colony of Gentoo's there, too." She laughed. "From what I've read about it, the place consists of the post office and a museum. I'd go for the penguins, though! Always wanted to squeeze one..."

Sherlock smirked. "I'm sure they would love that."

"Well the people that run it wouldn't. The public aren't allowed to get more than 15 feet or so. I get yelled at for feeding my birds at the park. They would go nuts if anyone went even half an inch over the required limit with the penguins."

Mycroft was already bringing up everything in the archives regarding the station. Only one piece of information jumped out at him. It was an old newspaper clip from the nearby Falkland Islands, The FI Monthly Review. It was dated September, 1960. His eyes widened as he read the document. "Well, that explains where the scientists disappeared to. They never left."

"What?" Both Sherlock and Joanne came around behind him to read it. 

Port Lockroy

A mysterious incident occurred last month on August 26, when the ocean research vessel RRS William Scoresby went down near Sinker Rock off the north coast of Goudier Island. She carried on her the four remaining scientists of a supposedly secret inter-governmental  project from Port Lockroy. One of them, a US scientist, had met his demise earlier in a plane crash on the way there two months earlier, who was accompanied by an unknown US government official. The plane was chartered from Majuro to Ushuaia in Argentina, where he was to board a steamer to P. Lockroy. It is too early to say whether the latter four's deaths are related, though it does seem entirely too coincidental!

Joanne looked down at Mycroft. "How could a little newspaper outfit in the Falklands know about them if the project was top secret?" 

"It was a small community then, and still is. The Falklands were the last stop to and from the Antarctic continent. People talked, and news traveled fast, though I am quite sure no one outside of the project would have been informed of what they were working on." He tapped the screen. "This article was redacted from the journal soon after. Only this copy remains in the MI5 archives," he stated importantly before beginning a new search for the RRS Scoresby's passenger list.

Joanne moved to pick up a sheaf of papers to Mycroft's left. She could smell the rich red and blue of his cologne and spicy aftershave, which had  green and brown tints and high yellow notes. It was beautiful, as was the man wearing it. I could stand next to him all day, she mused.

"You could simply ask me to hand them to you," Mycroft quipped even as he unconscientiously moved closer in toward her in his chair. His hand closed over hers as she reached for the documents.

"What do you say?" he asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow. At the moment he couldn't care less about manners, wanting only to keep her near for as long as possible. A quick glance across the table at Sherlock revealed that he knew exactly what his brother was doing.