"We've got to get away," he said. "We can't stay here. We'll die."
"I know," said Molly Borden-Dorothy Adison quietly. "We'll die. It was far below zero when I went out to look for you. By now, the roof must have lowered half-way down—it's probably 200 degrees below zero out there now. But I don't mind the dying so much. It's that I've failed that hurts. Trexel got away—father is unavenged."
Ricker had forgotten about Trexel for the moment. The thought brought him to his feet and he forgot his pain. Both Trexel and Vanger must have escaped. They were up in one of the planes. They had only to melt through the ice. "Trexel got away—"
"Yes," a calm deep voice from the door. "And he will complete his purpose!"
Ricker turned slowly toward the door. He heard the woman gasp.
Trexel and Vanger stood there. They wore heavy electro-suits, heat steaming from them into the chill room. Trexel held a pistol in his right hand.
"Notice the window, telenewsman," he said.
Ricker turned to the window, saw bright daylight outside. The heat units were on again—!
"Yes," said Trexel. "The units are working. Did you think we would depend on a single source of power? It took a few moments but it was simple to switch on an auxiliary plant. And most of the men will revive, the cold struck them so quickly. Before you know it, everything will be as good as new." He smiled his fat, pasty smile. "Watch them, Vanger, while I get out of this suit."