Cold Blood Read online

  Jules had been working on it too. ‘I could go with Will and wait at Barneo, couldn’t I?’

  It sounded good to me: one less body to think about, and Gabriel needed all the help she could give. I waved her in the direction of Synne and her card reader. ‘Let’s see if we can get another seat. Have you still got the minibus?’

  ‘I dropped it off at the rental place.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes to pay.’

  I headed for Sven, and thought about renting another van. If Stedman and I had to stay here until the weather lifted, it would be better if Jules went with the team. I could see a couple of rough nights ahead of us stuck in the back of a van with a pissed-off bear banging on the doors. I didn’t want to stay in town, and I wasn’t going to use a hotel. If they had any sense, Watch Man and crew would be checking for us – especially if they knew there were no flights out. We could stay in the airport, but it would probably be empty soon, exposing us even more, or we might get thrown out at nighttime. Stedman and I could take a van, drive to the outskirts, and have some cold nights, but it didn’t really matter. It was all about keeping out of the way until we could get a flight out of here. No one in their right mind stayed in a metal box in these conditions, and that was what I wanted everyone to keep thinking while me and Stedman wrapped up warm.

  42

  I piled into Sven’s Portakabin with his gear held out in front of me and a smile radiant enough to melt the ice cap. ‘Morning, mate.’

  He smiled right back – but his smile faded when he discovered I didn’t have the Mauser or the helmets. He checked over my shoulder, hoping to spot a Yamaha Nytro XTX liquid-fuelled triple with 1049cc four-stroke through the frosted windows.

  ‘Don’t bother. We had a drama.’ I kept it smiley as I dropped the kit on the counter, then fed him the same lie I’d fed the Owl.

  ‘At the end, they gave us a lift back in their helicopter. Otherwise we would have been fucked. We didn’t know what to do. Were there police in the town? Were they the ones who were pissed off with us? Was the snowmobile stolen? We didn’t know. We were too busy shitting ourselves. They had rifles.’

  Sven had had enough of my waffle super-bomb. ‘Please, I understand. But immediately I have to call the police here, and then there is the insurance form. And I have to take an excess from your card. There’s very much to do.’

  He seemed more pissed off about all the paperwork than he was about the losses. He started pulling out drawer after drawer beneath the counter.

  I wasn’t going to stand there signing forms in triplicate all day, and I certainly wasn’t going to be interviewed by the local police. ‘Listen, mate, how about I sort this out for you right now?’

  ‘Yes, but we have to, er …’ He pulled out a thick wad of papers and put them on the desk.

  Enough was enough. ‘Mate, I’ll pay for a brand new Yamaha right now. I’ll be happy, you’ll be happy, and your insurance company will be over the fucking moon. How much are they?’

  ‘A hundred and forty thousand kroner. The taxes …’

  ‘Mate, it’s all right. That’s about seventeen thousand US dollars. So let’s say eighteen thousand, and that’ll include the helmets, the weapon, everything. What do you say? However you play it with your insurers is up to you. I don’t want anything to do with it. I can’t hang around.’ I handed him the magic card and stood by for the call from Claudia.

  He snapped it in, not quite sure what kind of scam he was getting involved in. He dialled the number and handed me his phone.

  She asked me to tell her when I’d last used the card, and for how much. Really? I’d spoken to her about fifteen minutes ago. But rules were rules, I supposed. She told me with total indifference that the account was nearly dry, and I assured her that I was aware of that, and all was good. I just had a couple of expenses I needed to cover, which probably added up to less than the amount they spent on mineral water for their office each month. And they still had the boy’s trust fund cash in their vaults, so I wasn’t about to drive them out of business.

  Sven was all smiles again as soon as his machine started to whir and paper spilled out of its mouth. It still felt like imaginary money to me, but all those zeroes had clearly made his day. It seemed like a good moment to ask him a favour. ‘Sven, mate, can I keep the padded gear?’ I’d decided it might come in handy. Stedman and I were going to spend a couple of nights out in the cold, keeping out of sight, out of mind.

  Sven didn’t seem to have a problem with that. He was still too busy admiring the merchant’s copy of our transaction. And, anyway, what the fuck did he care? I’d paid for them a hundred times over.

  I did my best to cram them into my day sack as I walked past the row of snowmobiles where our Yamaha wasn’t parked. But there was too much duvet. It reminded me of a badly packed Boy Scout’s rucksack. A kettle and a tin mug hanging off the back, and I would have looked the part.

  43

  It was impossible to miss Rio and Gabriel at their high table, beers in hand, as I passed the massive picture windows of the terminal building. They lifted their glasses as I got nearer. Clearly everyone had got their tickets.

  I waved and headed towards the entrance and that blast of hot air I was about to receive. There were two people ahead of me who, I assumed, were doing exactly the same thing. Then they stopped and half turned, their faces visible under their heavy parkas. It took only a split second to read their minds. I might have thought I was going to enter the terminal, but Ponytail and Half Bear had other plans.

  I spun on my heel.

  There was no way I was going to let them reach the team. They had tickets and they had a way out.

  I broke into a run. I sprinted across the icy road, away from the terminal, trying hard not to fall. I headed towards the low, steel, industrial-type building that housed the municipal snow ploughs, and ran along the side of it, looking for the next turn so I could get out of their line of sight.

  Those two weren’t going to be as fast as me. They were carrying some lard. But losing them wasn’t the plan. If they lost me they might go back to the terminal, and everything would go to rat-shit.

  The end of the building was maybe ten metres away. My boots crunched into the thick virgin snow, leaving sign that even a blind man could follow. Exactly what I wanted.

  I turned the corner, getting out of their sight. It opened up into a parking area with heavy trucks, some with trailers, all coated with snow.

  I wove my way between the vehicles, out of their sight, but they’d be able to follow the track. I was starting to sweat under my own padding but, thank fuck, I didn’t have Sven’s gear on as well. The ice-cold air burned my throat as I gulped oxygen, eyes scanning for somewhere to stand and fight – and, hopefully, something to fight with.

  I moved between two large trucks. Either they hadn’t been used for a long time or there’d been a big dump of snow. The snow was getting deep and it was starting to slow me down.

  Hanging off the sides of the flatbed to my right were the buckle ends of the thick white ratchet straps that were used to keep freight on the flatbeds from moving. I dropped to my knees and unhooked a strap from under the flatbed. There was a metre-length of nylon webbing with a D hook on one end and a lump of dull, pitted stainless-steel ratchet on the other. Wrapping the webbing round my glove so the ratchet was secured above the web of my hand, I moved back towards the front of the truck, retracing my tracks. I waited, facing away from the end of the truck so my condensation wouldn’t be blowing into their line of sight.

  My ears strained to hear the crunch of snow and the heavy breathing getting closer. I sucked in oxygen and readied myself.

  I could hear the breathing; I could hear the crunching.

  As soon as it got to the end, I turned and slammed the ratchet down into the face of whoever it was. He dropped and I waited for the next one. He didn’t appear.

  I checked round the corner, to see Half Bear on the ground. I needed to
stop him getting up. One punch from him and I wouldn’t get up again.

  As I moved back to him, I heard the crunch of snow behind me, then laboured breathing. I turned to see Ponytail coming at me fast. They’d split up. He slammed into me, taking me down into the snow next to Half Bear, who was now recovering. My day sack dug into the snow like an anchor, making it hard to move.

  I tried to bring the ratchet up onto the side of Ponytail’s hooded head.

  It just hit his shoulder as he came down at me, with no result at all. I kicked and bucked. I tried to bite his face as he got on top of me, but that soon stopped as he brought his heavy head down hard onto the top of mine. My brain went white and pain screamed deep into my head. My nose filled with snot and my eyes streamed as they tried to protect themselves from whatever was coming next.

  I was losing it. I was losing control. I fought the pain, knowing that if I succumbed, they wouldn’t give me time to recover. Ever.

  I was trying to move my body, as if that would keep me awake and alive. The whiteout in my head turned to starbursts in front of my eyes. My brain tried to work out what the fuck was going on.

  There were shouts above me. I thought I could recognize them but I didn’t really care. My head wouldn’t let me. And then there were more shouts, bodies above me.

  Ponytail thudded into the snow next to me. I didn’t know what was happening but I knew I had to get away. I started to crawl but I couldn’t get far. I was too fucked. I turned back and saw Rio. He was punching with his one fist, and kicking into Ponytail’s head. Anywhere he could get it in. At least, I thought it was him. I could see a dark face.

  I knew the other voice. Gabriel looked over, sitting astride Half Bear, piling in with his fists to his head, into his face, ramming and ramming, making sure those gloves did the worst business they could.

  I thought I shouted to Rio, ‘Here – take, take!’ as I tried to throw the buckle to him.

  He saw it anyway. He grabbed the webbing and rained the ratchet down onto Ponytail’s hood.

  I forced myself to recover. Grabbing a handful of snow, I rubbed it over my face.

  Gabriel had done what he needed to do. He sat astride Half Bear, fighting for breath, his fists resting on a chest that wasn’t moving at all.

  I sat up as Rio stopped hitting Ponytail. His head was battered.

  Gabriel pulled off his glove with his teeth and checked Half Bear’s carotid on his neck. ‘You OK, Nick?’

  ‘Yeah, give me a minute.’

  Gabriel put his glove back on. ‘This fucker’s clock has stopped.’

  Rio did the same with Ponytail. ‘He’s still breathing.’

  Gabriel found it difficult to get back onto his one leg but finally managed it. ‘Not for long.’ He shuffled the two or so metres to Rio and picked up the webbing strap. He looked over at me. ‘Nick, pull this fucker’s head up.’

  It was a two-man job to lift the drug dealer’s head and clear the parka away to expose his neck and face. There wasn’t too much blood flowing: the ratchet had been going onto the beanie and the hood. Most of his ponytail had been burned away. The dressings on his burns had come away with the beating and me pulling off the hood and the beanie. The side of his face looked like he’d just had a chemical peel.

  Gabriel threw the webbing around his neck and got his real foot against the back of Ponytail’s neck, and pulled so hard he fell back onto his arse, but he kept his leg straight to maintain the tug-of-war against the neck.

  Rio grabbed what was left of Ponytail’s hair to pull his head and neck the opposite way. There was no kicking, no fighting from Ponytail. Within two minutes he was gone.

  Gabriel let go of the strap and fell back into the snow. He muttered, between deep breaths, ‘Bunch of cunts.’

  Rio fell to his knees. He gathered up Ponytail’s beanie and some of the bloodstained snow and shoved it into his hood.

  I struggled out of my day sack straps as my head started to get back to where it should have been. ‘Thanks. How the fuck did you know?’

  Gabriel lay flat on his back, staring at the sky. ‘Rio went to get a beer in for you – thanks for the tickets and all that. Then I saw these two ne’er-do-wells.’

  Rio finished scooping up the bloodied snow and pulled Ponytail’s hood back over him. He did it up with the snow inside.

  Gabriel started to get himself upright. ‘I recognized that fucker. And then you saw them and did a runner.’

  Rio came over to Gabriel and held out his hand to help him up. ‘We know why you did that, Nick. It’s us thanking you.’

  I pushed myself up on my feet and brushed off as much snow as I could before it started to make its way inside my jacket and melt. I would have a headache and a bit of a bump, but that would be covered up by my beanie.

  ‘Lads, we’ve got to dump these two – just long enough for us to get the fuck out of here, at least.’

  Gabriel giggled at Rio. ‘Let’s get on with it then – and get the fuck out, eh?’

  The truck I’d got the strap from was closest and the wind had formed a berm of snow from the ground up onto the side of the cab, then up and over the side of the flatbed. Underneath was effectively a snow-cave. I pointed. ‘Let’s get them under there, cover them up, and hope the storm covers our tracks when it arrives.’

  I got my day sack on and grabbed Half Bear’s wrists, ready to pull. ‘I’ll get them under there, you two cover them up – otherwise we’re going to be here all fucking day. In this line of work, you need two arms and two legs on one body.’

  Gabriel was already gathering up the snow that Half Bear had leaked into and let out a laugh. Rio joined in as they headed towards the truck.

  44

  We tramped back towards the terminal, cleaning ourselves up as far as we could. Gabriel’s stump was hurting again. He took a blister pack of codeine out of his pocket.

  ‘Mate, I could do with a couple of those.’

  He popped two and passed me the rest of the twelve. ‘Don’t take them all at once.’

  Rio slapped him on the back as he dry-swallowed and he had a brief choking fit.

  ‘You bastard!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t kill you. It’s your round.’

  Rio pushed at Gabriel with his arm, as if to clear him out of the way so he could talk to me. ‘That fucker’s so tight – if you shoved a lump of coal up his arse, you’d have a diamond in no time.’ He switched from giggles to serious. I hadn’t seen him do that yet. ‘Is there anything we need to know?’

  ‘No. It’s all good. All sorted.’

  And it was. Except that although we’d done enough to prevent Ponytail and Half Bear from being found until we were well away from there, Watch Man wouldn’t meet the news of their sudden disappearance by assuming the lads had suddenly decided to nip off for a few days on a Caribbean beach without telling anyone. And, besides, he hadn’t struck me as the forgiving kind.

  At the very least, the team coming back might be a problem, but they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. What mattered now was now. I gave it to them straight. ‘Lads, you need to keep this from everyone else, OK? No one needs to know.’

  They both looked at me as if I were mad.

  ‘I know, but it just needs to be said. You definitely saw no one else with them?’

  ‘No one.’ Gabriel played insulted. ‘We might be short of a few other things, but we’ve still got our eyes and our brain cells.’

  We got the welcome blast of hot air as we went through the automatic glass doors. Rio and Gabriel peeled off to the bar. I went in search of the rest of the team, making sure my beanie covered the lump on my head. I found them with coffee and buns, scrunched around a table that was far too small for them and their gear, right under an arrivals and departures board that told anyone who could be bothered to look that there were no arrivals or departures.

  Jack jumped to his feet. ‘Nick, Jules has a ticket and we want to say thank you so much for—’

  ‘Mate, sa
ve it …’ I picked up a half-eaten ham and cheese roll from under their pile of used paper plates ‘… for when we’re all at Barneo.’ The smile was pretty much glued to my face. Maybe I’d find a way of making it more than skin-deep somewhere along the line. ‘There’s a change of plan. Me and Stedman are coming too. There are still no flights and it’s too dangerous here for us two.’

  Jules unhooked herself from Will and got to her feet, like she was going to make a speech.

  I raised a hand. ‘It’s no drama. He’s going to stay with you and me at the ice camp, Jules, while this lot go and play Captain Scott.’

  Jack laughed, but it wasn’t full voltage.

  Jules was in there first. ‘Captain Scott? Maybe Adam can follow the example of Captain Oates.’

  This time no one laughed. Which I reckon suited Jules just fine. I didn’t think she’d meant it as a joke.

  I grabbed Stedman’s attention and pointed at the Barneo desk. ‘We’d better go and check.’

  Jack didn’t move a muscle as Stedman stood. Then he offered him his hand. They shook as I shoved what was left of the roll down my neck. Bygones weren’t yet bygones, but loyalty was clearly top of his list of priorities rather than blind stupidity. I hoped he was right.

  ‘Nice.’ He couldn’t hold back his joy at the latest reunion, unlike Jules. But fuck it: Stedman was staying with us, so we could control him.

  Jack turned towards the bar. ‘I’ll go and tell Rio and Gabriel.’

  ‘OK. All meet back here.’ I moved away with Stedman, knowing that wasn’t going to happen. The other two would stay at the bar and buy another drink to celebrate whatever they could think of.

  Stedman checked his mobile again as we fought our way across the concourse.

  We stepped over a couple of groups who were sitting on the floor, leaning against their trolleys and bags, getting into sandwiches and cans of Coke.

  Stedman kept scanning the crowd.

  ‘Mate, you’ve got to stop.’