“Why did he take your … things?” I’d nearly said gold, and the less I appeared to know the better.
“There was a row. Mike told him to go. But he came back when we were asleep and stole our stuff.”
“What was the row about?”
“Oh, they’d been drinking a lot, that was what caused it,” she said, vaguely. I was beginning to get curious about this row. No one wanted to talk about it; they all got evasive whenever the topic arose. She leaned towards me and lowered her voice. “Has Morgan really gone?”
“Yup. He packed his bags, said goodbye and everything.”
“Mike said there aren’t any sled tracks leading out of here.”
I poured the boiling water. “That would be because he went on foot.”
“He had a sled when he left us. Maybe he hid it somewhere and didn’t tell you.”
I didn’t want to pursue this line of conversation. “Sugar? Milk powder?”
“No thanks.”
“So how long are you staying?”
“That’s up to Mike. Now we’re here he’ll probably want to look for gold.”
“The Bank of England’s not far away. It’s got four hundred tonnes of gold.”
Serena laughed. “We’d need a nuclear bomb to get inside the vault. Anyway, Mike reckons the government took it out – to pay for the evacuation, for one thing. No, more likely he’ll go for the British Museum or Bond Street.”
Movement on the balcony caught my eye. It was Big Mac, a bull of a man with short ginger hair. His ears were lumpy and didn’t match, his neck as wide as his head above massive shoulders. He knocked on the glass, opened the door and stood there letting in a blast of cold air. He looked at me.
“The boss says, could you come round if it’s convenient. He’d like a wee word.”
“What about? We’re just having a cup of tea.”
“He didnae tell me.”
Why would Mike summon me like this? All my apprehension returned. I looked at Serena; she’d got to her feet immediately as though what Mike wanted, he got, and this request was perfectly normal. Perhaps it was. If I didn’t go he’d no doubt come round here. Anyway, I was curious to meet the rest of his entourage. I picked up my jacket and went outside with Big Mac and Serena, outwardly calm but inwardly agitated.
The wind had got up and a fine snow blew in my face as we followed the curve of the building. The six snowmobiles outside the balcony of Mike’s apartment were covered by a tarpaulin. Once inside, I didn’t take in the details of the room, just saw Mike sitting on a sofa with four men. One of them was Eddie, one looked Chinese, the other … I stared; for a moment he looked so like David with a beard; the same bright eyes, gangly build, the way he sprawled on the sofa … he must be the male nurse. At a closer look the resemblance diminished; his face was narrower and less intelligent. The fourth was Greg, looking bewildered.
“Greg … Hi.”
At a glance from Mike Serena went past us and settled behind the counter in the kitchen area out of the way. Mike got up and came towards me, beaming. “Thank you for coming round, Tori, I apologize for disturbing you. Take off your coat. Do take a seat. You know Eddie and Mac, this is BJ and Hong.”
I sat on the sofa opposite, dumping my jacket beside me, feeling as if I was about to be interviewed. Or interrogated. Mike leaned forward.
“Greg has told me he saw Morgan today.”
Damn Morgan. How could he have been so careless, letting himself be seen? I turned to Greg. “I expect that was before he left, was it, Greg, this morning?”
Greg shook his head. “No, it was about an hour ago. Near Claire and Paul’s.”
“In the distance, was it?”
“Yes. I waved at him and he waved back.”
I addressed Mike. “Greg can’t have seen Morgan an hour ago, because he left this morning. He must have seen Archie or Paul – even Charlie. We all wear quite similar jackets with the hoods up. It’s easy to get confused from a distance. I do myself.”
Greg said, “I wasn’t confused, Tori, he –”
I interrupted, fixing my eyes on Greg meaningly. “D’you remember that time you mistook me for Nina? You were absolutely certain I was her.” Greg’s forehead crinkled as he tried to recall this fictitious episode. He started to say something, then stopped. “We had the same colour parkas for a while. Not that we’re at all alike really.” He blinked. He’d grasped I was trying to get some message to him. He just had to work out what it was. “We had a good laugh about it afterwards, you remember, Greg? I think this is like that time – you just thought it was Morgan when it wasn’t.”
Greg’s face cleared. He’d got it. “That’s right, Tori. I thought it was Morgan at the time, but thinking back, perhaps I made a mistake and it wasn’t him at all.”
Mike considered us for a moment, nodding his head. “My feeling is you two have got friendly with Morgan over the past few days, am I right?”
I shrugged. “We haven’t known him long enough to become friends. He seems okay.”
“Nina told me how you rescued him in the snow. Saving a person’s life forms a bond between you. I can see you wouldn’t want to be disloyal. Did he say anything about me while he was here?”
“No.” I thought this the answer least likely to cause trouble. “He said very little about anything. He was asleep most of the time.”
Mike hesitated. “This is awkward. I don’t want to blacken Morgan’s character, and I can see you’ve no reason to trust me more than him. You don’t know me from Adam. If, as you say, he’s moved on, then it doesn’t matter anyway. But I feel I have to give you a warning. If by any chance he is still around, please do be careful. Don’t necessarily believe everything he tells you. Watch your back. He can be very plausible.”
“Thanks. But I doubt we’ll see him again.”
Mike stood. “I’ll let you go now. I’m glad we had this chat. Let Mac walk you home.”
I smiled. “We can walk ourselves, thanks. Come on, Greg.”
The tea had gone cold. I put water to boil to make us some more. I felt unnerved and also uncertain. Was it possible I’d got Morgan wrong and that Mike was the injured party?
“You know, I did see Morgan this morning,” Greg said. “I didn’t make a mistake. It was definitely him.”
“Yes, I know. But Morgan doesn’t want Mike to know where he is. Best not to mention him if possible.” Greg nodded. “Thanks for backing my story up, Greg.”
“Mike got quite excited when I said I’d seen Morgan,” Greg said, thoughtfully. “He really wanted you to tell him where he was.”
I remembered what Morgan had said; two men with baseball bats could walk all over us. My improvised dagger was still at my side, but it didn’t make me feel any safer.
Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian
CHAPTER 11
Serena
That night I set my alarm for 4.35. The next morning, an hour before dawn, I sloped off to the Gherkin by a roundabout route to tell Morgan about Nina’s dinner party. If Mike and his gang were at Nina’s, that would be the perfect opportunity for him to steal the spare part for the ACE. I climbed the stairs cautiously, following the tiny circle of light my torch made in the inky blackness. At the entrance to the eighth-from-snow floor I called out his name, which was just as well since he turned out to be standing round the corner with a lump of wood waiting to brain the intruder he’d heard.
He stepped into view, making me jump. His eyes shone through his hair, looking me up and down. “It’s you again. Why don’t you just bring your toothbrush and move in with me?”
“Very funny. I came for a reason.”
“Because you can’t keep away?”
I rolled my eyes and told him about the party. That done, I didn’t hang about, though he said now I’d woken him I might as well stay for a coffee. I wanted to return while it was dark and no one could see me. I got home and back into a cold bed as the sky began to lighten, and lay there sleepless, thinking. Either Mike w
as the baddie, or Morgan, and I was still unsure which was which. I was not at all convinced I should have told Morgan about the opportunity to steal from Mike, when he’d already stolen his gold and his sled. On the other hand, if he got the spare part he’d be able to repair the snowmobile and leave, rather than stay and kill Mike. Not that I could believe he actually would …
That day was our scheduled firewood day. All of us except Claire and Nina met up in the office block next to Bézier. It’s more difficult than you’d expect to find timber in a modern office, since most furniture these days is made out of veneered chipboard, MDF or ply and doesn’t burn well. There is too much glue in its composition. We’d discovered a massive conference table made from solid wood, not easy to break up but worth the effort. We attacked it with our motley collection of saws and our one axe, and by the end of the day had reduced it to five satisfyingly neat piles of fuel.
Pleasantly tired, I traipsed home with my share and heated some food. I’d eaten supper, spent a couple of hours curled on the sofa with a book, and was beginning to think of bed when a bang on the window startled me. I went over and drew the curtain. Serena stood outside, holding a bottle of Moët & Chandon. I let her in. She looked different from the day before, less composed and sleek. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, her face flushed and she held on to the edge of the door as she stepped over the threshold. Serena was drunk.
She smiled a brilliant smile. “Hi, just thought I’d drop in for a chat. Is that okay?”
“Sure. Make yourself at home. Would you like a coffee?
“No, I’m hitting the champers.” She plonked herself on the sofa with her champagne and wrestled with the wire fastening, swearing.
“Shall I do that?”
I took the bottle, fetched glasses and eased out the cork. Foam spurted into the flutes and I filled them with champagne.
“Cheers.” Serena knocked hers back in one go and reached out to pour another. “Mmm, lovely, that’s better. D’you ever just feel like getting ratted? I hope you don’t mind me coming round here like this. I couldn’t stand that flat one minute longer. Mike’s playing poker with the boys, they’ll go on till the small hours.”
“Don’t you play?”
“Me? Good Lord no, I might lose.”
“What are they playing for? It can’t be money.”
“Forfeits. You wait, any minute now there’ll be someone running round the building just wearing his boots. That’s why I won’t play any more. It’s all right for Mike, he never loses.” She looked towards the window then around the room. “Don’t you get fed up stuck here, nothing ever happening?”
“It’s not so bad – could be a lot worse. Of course if I got the chance to go south I would.”
“That’s what I thought when Mike offered me one of his sleds.” She nodded. “Anything to get out. All this fucking snow! I’m so sick of it. And I thought he was quite sweet. But I wish we were going straight there. It could be months till he thinks he’s got enough gold, longer if he doesn’t get back what Morgan took. And I know he’ll dump me if he meets someone prettier.” She stared into my eyes. “I can tell you this, Tori, because you’re my friend and I know even though you want to go south, you wouldn’t go after Mike –”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“– and anyway, you’re not his type, you’re too scruffy, he likes women who bother with their appearance, not like you, anyone can see you don’t give a damn.”
“Thank you.”
“Nothing personal, but s’true, isn’t it?” She was having to take care not to slur her words.
“Yup. I don’t give a damn.”
“S’not easy, keep looking like this with no hot water or hairdressers or manicurists, you know. If I let myself go even a tiny bit, don’t do my hair or makeup, have an extra glass of wine, whatever, this kind of shadow comes over his face and he gets all cool … Mike doesn’t drink, that’s ‘cause he wants to stay in control. He won’t let me smoke, even outside. I say, d’you mind if I do? I’m gasping for one.”
“Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” She got out a squashed packet of Benson & Hedges, lit a cigarette and inhaled. “He doesn’t like it if I swear, either. He’s allowed to but not me. And I’m in trouble if I even glance at another man, and he checks out every girl he meets, I see him do it. D’you know, sometimes I get so sick of him I could scream.” She gulped more champagne. “He’s obsessive about having everything just so, he’s neurotic about germs, always sniffing at food in case it’s gone off. So irritating. Plus he’s a total hypochondriac, every single day he finds some new imaginary symptom for BJ to check out. He can be really horrible, too. I liked Morgan better. I was hoping he might take over from Mike, and everything would be much nicer. But then there was that row and he left.”
“You never said what the row was about,” I said, hopeful she’d tell me now she was on transmit not receive.
“Him and Red fell out … I fancy Morgan, don’t you?”
“No.” I was firm about this. Firmer than I felt. “Not my type. Who’s Red?”
I didn’t get an answer. She was dreamily focused on Morgan. “He’s got lovely eyes, just like aquamarines, have you noticed? Sort of cold but warm … and that way he kind of broods … fabulous body, too, and he can beat up any of the others if he wants. Listen, I’ll tell you something I haven’t told anyone else. When we get to the sunshine, I’m not staying with Mike. He can’t make me. Soon as we get there, that’s me done, I’m off. I just need to get there first, and he’s the only way I can, that’s the only reason I’m staying with him. Don’t tell anyone. Specially not him. You know what?” She leaned closer. “He frightens me.”
Nothing much happened the next day. The weather was bright and sunny, leading me to fantasize about the snow melting and life returning to normal after a few weeks of flood, which would be all right as my flat was high up and I had lots of provisions and making a raft would be fun …
Mike’s people were in evidence around the place, moving stuff in bulk from the shops (did Nina know?) and roaring about on their sleds. I wondered if Mike had been cool towards Serena when she’d finally tottered home the night before, worse for drink, hanging on to my arm. I hadn’t gone in with her. I hadn’t been much help, but then she’d only really wanted someone to rant to. I don’t think Greg told anyone about Mike’s disquieting quizzing of us, and I didn’t tell anyone about Serena’s visit. There were no further sightings of Morgan.
Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian
CHAPTER 12
Rat to dinner
Wednesday was the day of the dinner party. While getting ready, I felt curiosity to meet Mike and his group again and see how the evening went; we’d be an ill-assorted crowd and I couldn’t imagine how we’d all get on. I washed my hair and did my eye makeup with care. I put on a Vivienne Westwood top, boned plum velvet with a zip down the middle, and Dolce & Gabbana skinny jeans. I checked myself in the mirror from all angles, added a leather cuff and diamond earstuds and smiled smugly at my reflection. I’ll admit that what Serena had said about my appearance stung a little.
When I arrived a bit early, it was clear Nina had gone the whole hog, and possibly Mrs Hog and the baby hoglets too. The room was warm and smelled of lilies from scented candles. A third sofa had been brought in to accommodate the extra guests, and Nina, in a long raspberry dress with silver jewellery, was busy arranging dozens of silver and red scatter cushions. A pair of eight-branched silver candelabra decorated the table (it was longer than usual – she must have added another, the join concealed below the white damask table cloth) which was laid with enough cutlery and glassware for a banquet. There were napkins folded on the side plates, names on flowered cards by each place, and in the centre a convincing arrangement of silk flowers complete with acrylic dew drops. Archie, unlike himself in a dark suit and clearly under orders, stood by the sideboard. On it were arranged a silver bowl containing water tinted red with floating candles and more faux roses, bottle
s of expensive wine and a tray of canapés.
“This all looks very nice,” I said.
“So do you, Tori. Champagne?” Archie fiddled with the wire on a bottle of Cristal.
Nina looked up from her cushions. “No she doesn’t, not in that stained old ski suit she goes foraging in every day. Tori, do take it off before anyone gets here and sees you.”
I peeled off my scarf, jacket and trousers and changed my shoes. Nina whisked my outer garments out of sight, holding them well away from her. Archie poured me a glass of champagne and I helped myself to a canapé. Belatedly I said through a mouthful of caviar, “Is there anything I can do?”
“I think everything’s under control. Nina’s been working hard for days.”
I bet Archie’s been doing most of it, under direction. “Well, it’s certainly paid off. The last dinner I went to this grand was when my godfather took me to the Savoy to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.”
I told Archie about it. I’d ordered roast quail because I’d never had it before. To my surprise, it turned out to be as round as a canon ball and slippery. When I tried to cut it up, the darned thing shot off my plate on to the carpet. I was mortified, but my godfather thought it hilarious, and the waiter fetched me another one in the most charming manner, and told me deadpan not to worry, he’d got several more lined up in case they were needed. I’ve wanted to go back to the Savoy ever since. Too late now.
Paul, Claire, Gemma and little Toby, asleep in his cot, arrived. Gemma was wearing her dressing-up Renaissance Queen outfit; red with gold lacing and handkerchief sleeves, plus matching crown. It was getting a little short for her, as it dated from before the snow. She started at once to turn a chair into a throne using the silver cushions. Nina had set up a screen for Toby’s carrycot so she could pretend he wasn’t there, with a seat so Claire could feed him discreetly without being seen. I think ideally she’d have liked to tidy Gemma away behind it too for the evening. She eyed the disarranged cushions.
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