35 below zero

Thirty-five below. Damn. Thirty-bloody-five below.
Mac hadn't considered any of this when Mr. Sykes gazed at him with his lifeless, sleazy grin from behind the desk back at the offices of Research On Soul Evolution that sunny morning in June last year.
"We'll have to take into ACCOUNT that you didn't exactly RUSH into action with any specTACULAR enthusiasm LAST time we offered you a position, on a quite SIMILAR maneuver, Mr. Howard."
"I didn't have the same personal motivation for rushing into the previous operation, Sir. And my personal life in general has proved a lot more livable these days."
He tried to camouflage his dislike for the rubber-skinned, suit-clad personnel executive in front of him.
Getting disliked seemed to be Sykes’ one and only spare-time occupation. He seemed to be totally aware of, and even quite proud of his unsympathetic features; but, if flattered, he could appear almost human. Especially if the flatterer had an ICP-degree and a couple of trips to a C-Zone on his ass. And - most importantly to Sykes, his CV.
"Well, we DO tell our customers that the operative personnel we CAREfully pick are one-hundred-perCENT qualified, and not least DEDicated, Mr. Howard. And by TELLING our customers this, we ATTACH ourselves to a COMMITment of substantial diMENSIONS. All according to company diRECTIVES and reGARD for our COMPETITIVEness in the constantly narrowing MARket. I DO hope you underSTAND this, Mr. Howard. Or Mac, if I may?"
There was a short pause at this surprisingly friendly first-name-approach from the soulless man. The room was boiling hot, but strangely enought Mac didn’t sweat at all. Maybe it was due to the cold atmosphere that followed Mr. Sykes wherever he went, like the ghost of a dead pet.
He caught the invisible vacuum-ball that was hanging in the air of the conversation between them, leant forward, and put on his I assure you facial expression, for maximum schmooze-effect.
"I asSURE you, Sir. I'm with you all the way on this one, the times change, and people change with them." He almost burst into laughter, surprised by his own selection of such a sad, old cliché, but quickly suppressed the potential outburst with a "And Mac will do, thank you."

And much like the times and people, most things actually do change a lot from the world of ideas to stern reality, he thought, as he now fought the howling wind.
He forced an extra push at his left soft ski. It slowly slid forward.
Weird situation, this. He was a simple, working man, at least in his own eyes. But now he once again found himself caught up in something that became far more complicated the further into the mission he got.
He swiftly checked his WristSat for the tracking coordinates of the House entourage.
Right. I'm closing in.
Enter: feeling of supremacy!