: ‘Oh, yes. I spoke to Mrs … er … his widow on the phone. I’m really not sure there’s much I can tell you that I haven’t told her. It was a tragedy. Fortunately,’ he paused and tapped the wooden surface of his desk, ‘it’s our first mountain death so far this winter in Teton County. But with all the skiers we get here and the hikers, let alone the snowmobilers, there will be more. We dug someone out of an avalanche only last week. It was a miracle we got to him in time.’
‘So what happened to Perumal?’
‘He was riding a snowmobile up on Twogatee Pass. There’s a whole mess of trails up there, hundreds of miles of them, but he decided to go off into the snow by himself. For a guy who’s only been out on a sled once before, that’s just plain dumb. It always makes sense to have a buddy with you. We’d had a lot of snow, the avalanche risk was extreme and he got caught in one. Or started it most likely. In ninety per cent of cases it’s the victim who starts the slide.’
‘So who raised the alarm?’
‘The snowmobile rental place. Of course, the trouble was it was dark by then. So a lot of people spent a lot of time searching the trails. It was only the following morning when we could get a chopper up that we spotted his sled. We got some rescuers up there as quick as we could, and a dog, but they couldn’t find him. We looked for four days.’
‘So he’s still under the snow somewhere?’
‘I guess so. Usually we do find the bodies, but the avalanche slid into a ravine, and the snow’s pretty deep there. Sometimes the snowmobile kind of floats on top of the slide and the body is pulled down. Our poles are about nine feet long, but the snow’s a lot deeper than that. We’ll find him in the spring. When it thaws.’
‘His wife will be relieved.’
‘Yeah. It’s always tough when we can’t find the body.’ Sergeant Twiler’s face betrayed genuine sympathy.
‘No one saw the avalanche?’
‘No. We did find a pair of snowmobilers who rode right by there that morning. But they didn’t see anything.’
‘Did they see anyone else?’
‘Matter of fact, they did. They saw a couple on a snowmobile riding off the trail about a half-mile from the avalanche site. We’ve been trying to contact them but without success.’
‘A couple? A man and a woman?’
‘That’s what it looked like. But the snowmobilers didn’t get close enough to make an ID.’
‘Do you have any doubts this was an accident?’
Twiler hesitated before answering. ‘Whenever we can’t find the body, we assign a detective to the case, just to ask questions. I took a look at this one myself. We keep it low-key: as you said, there’s a lot of distress around these situations. Of course, in this case it was harder because the victim came from overseas. But we got a call from a British police officer a couple of weeks back. You must have been talking to her?’
Calder nodded. ‘I have.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you what I told her. This looks like a classic accident. You have to treat the mountains with respect. And the snow; especially the snow. This guy had no respect. He did something very stupid and paid the price. We see it all the time.’ Twiler smiled faintly, a crinkling of the eyes rather than a movement of the lips. ‘I don’t want to sound too harsh. I feel sorry for the man. At home he was probably a sensible, cautious guy. There’s something about these mountains that makes people feel invincible.’ He sighed. ‘And we have to pick up the pieces. There are always wives, or girlfriends, or parents, or children. All we can do is educate people to be careful.’
‘So no suspicious tracks? No signs of a struggle?’
Twiler shook his head. ‘Of course, I can’t guarantee that he wasn’t murdered. Especially since we haven’t found the body. But there is no evidence that he was. And when I checked back with the police officer in London, she said she’d talked to his work place and they told her there were no problems.’
‘What about the couple on the snowmobile? You said you couldn’t contact them.’
‘This is a tourist town, people come and go all the time. They were probably back at work in LA or Chicago or wherever by the time we were looking for them.’ Twiler looked closely at Calder. ‘Do you think the victim was in some kind of trouble back in London?’
‘I think he might have been,’ said Calder. ‘Did you speak to the people he was visiting in Jackson Hole?’
‘The Teton Fund? Yes I did. They say his behaviour was natural. Nothing unusual or suspicious.’
‘He didn’t appear worried or frightened?’
‘Not according to the man I spoke to. Vikram Rana. Another Indian guy. About the only one in Jackson. Why all these questions? Have you got something I should know about? Until we find the body, this is still an active case.’
‘I saw Perumal just before he came out here,’ Calder said. ‘He looked nervous. Frightened. But he wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Then when I heard he’d had an accident, I was suspicious. That’s why I talked to the police in London, and why I’m here.’
‘And you have no idea why he was frightened?’
Twiler’s interest was genuine, a diligent policeman doing his job. But trying to explain the machinations of Martel, Carr-Jones and Perumal to this man seemed a waste of time, especially since Calder had no firm evidence. ‘I’m working on it,’ he said.
‘Well, let me know if you turn up anything,’ said Twiler. ‘And when we do recover the body, I’ll make sure the coroner takes a close look for you. But that probably won’t be for a couple of months yet, maybe longer.’
‘Thanks. Oh, can you give me the address of the place Perumal rented the snowmobile from?’
‘Sure. The Double D Ranch. Up by Twogatee Pass. It’s about forty miles north of here.’
Calder smiled. ‘Thanks again for your time. Perumal’s widow wanted me to ask you to do all you can to recover the body as soon as possible.’
‘You tell her we’ll be sure to keep her informed.’
‘I suppose you saw Perumal’s sister last week?’
Twiler frowned. ‘No. Matter of fact no one has come here from the family. It’s kind of strange. I guess it’s a long way from London.’
‘Mrs Thiagajaran was waiting until you recovered the body. But she did mention that his sister would be here.’
‘Well, if she was, I sure haven’t seen her. You take care, now.’
The Double D Ranch was about a mile off the main road heading east over Twogatee Pass. It overlooked a half-frozen river that wound through a valley of snow and willow bushes flaming crimson and gold. The ranch had the traditional gate, buck-rail fencing and log buildings, but there the similarity to the Ponderosa ended. There were snowmobiles everywhere, bright purple and green, revving up, filling up with fuel, shuttling from spot to spot. The noise shattered the peace of the valley, and petrol fumes stained the cold air.
Outside a hut labelled ‘Rentals’, a man was working on one of the machines, nodding to some rhythm in his head.
‘Hi,’ said Calder, aiming for the informal.
The man stopped what he was doing and stood up, arching his back as he did so. He slowly turned. ‘Howdy,’ he said.
He was tall and skinny, with long lank fair hair receding off a high dome of a forehead. There was a tuft of hair on his chin that looked more like an oversight with the razor than an actual beard. His face was lined and weather-beaten, making his age hard to determine. He could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty.
‘Can I hire a snowmobile?’ Calder asked.
‘Ever done it before?’ the man asked.
‘No,’ Calder said.
‘Well, I’m sorry. If you’re a beginner, you need a guide, and the tours for the day already left,’ the man said, nodding towards the group of snowmobiles which were now roaring off along a trail up towards the Pass.
‘Oh,’ Calder said, looking disappointed. Then he smiled. ‘Perhaps you can take me?’
The man looked at the injured machine at hi
s feet and smiled, showing two lines of America’s finest dentistry, looking pristine against the brown wrinkles of his face. ‘Sure. It’s a great day for it.’ He held out his hand. ‘Name’s Nate.’
‘Alex.’ Nate’s handshake was firm.
‘Anyplace in particular you wanna go?’
‘Yes, there is, actually. I’m a friend of Perumal Thiagajaran’s. The Indian guy who got caught in an avalanche a few weeks ago?’
The smile disappeared.
‘Anything wrong?’
‘We shouldn’t of let him go out like that alone. I’d taken him out the day before and he was just a beginner. Truth is, he didn’t even really take to it. Then the next day he managed to persuade one of the other guys that I said he was OK to rent a machine. He told them he was hookin’ up with some guys from one of the other outfits. They let him do it. And then the crazy sonofabitch goes off-trail by himself.’
‘Do you know where he went?’
‘Sure. I’d taken him there the day before. He said then he wanted to go just with me, not on a tour. It’s more expensive, but hell, if the customer’s payin’, who am I to argue? He said he wanted to go someplace isolated. A lot of people want that, you know? Come out here lookin’ for isolation in the mountains and find themselves surrounded by a hundred thousand tourists when they arrive.’ A note of anger crept into Nate’s voice as he said this. ‘So I took him out to Gough’s Creek. It’s real quiet there, and it’s not on any tour route.’
And that’s where he returned the next day?’
‘That’s right. I guess he liked it.’
‘Can we go there now?’
Nate frowned, and then shrugged. ‘I guess so. Let me get you kitted out.’
Nate got Calder a helmet, gloves, a suit and, of course, a snowmobile. Nate put on his own helmet, a shiny high-tech piece of equipment which came to a point across his chin and made him look like an extra in a Star Wars movie. Calder had never ridden a snowmobile, but it didn’t take Nate long to explain how. It was like a simplified motorbike on caterpillar tracks and skis. Within a few minutes Nate and Calder were on their way.
They followed a trail for about ten miles through meadows and trees, with the mountains surrounding Twogatee Pass looming above them. For once, the Tetons were out of view. The scenery was breathtaking, but the noise of the snowmobiles, something between a whine and a howl, shattered the peace of the place, removing any sense of isolation. The trail was obviously heavily used, and twice they passed groups of snowmobilers playing in the snow, sweeping up and down slopes, leaping over bumps, or just powering over pristine meadows.
Nate turned off on to one of these, and Calder followed. They were now off the trail, although there were tracks where other snowmobiles had passed that way. After a mile or so they entered some trees, twisted down a hill and found themselves in a small secluded valley. They continued for about a quarter of a mile, the ground rising, as the streambed at the bottom of the valley became a kind of ravine. Eventually, Nate stopped.
It was a relief to turn off the engines and listen to the silence. Or almost silence. The wind whispered in the trees, a bird chattered a few yards away, and somewhere down below a stream trickled on its thousand-mile journey to the sea.
Nate took off his alien-warrior helmet and pointed down towards the ravine. ‘This is the place.’
A clearly defined line ran along the ridge close to where they were standing. Beneath it the surface of the slope was disturbed, throwing up what looked like giant snowballs. Down at the bottom of the ravine the snow was piled high.
A beautiful place. A lonely place. But the wrong place to die.
Calder walked towards the edge, gingerly. ‘Was he riding down there?’ he asked, trying to work out how Perumal could have manoeuvred his snowmobile down into the ravine. It looked possible, but difficult for a beginner.
‘No, he was up here, right where we’re standin’. Most slides are a result of the weight the victim puts on the snow himself, not on snow fallin’ down on top of him from above. This here is prime slidin’ area. ’Bout a forty-five degree angle, little less maybe. And look at the snow.’ He led Calder a few yards back down the valley, where they could see the fault line close up. ‘See, the snow’s in layers. That there is sugar snow.’ He showed Calder a layer of fine smooth crystals. ‘Above that is harder crust. And then, after a snowfall, you can get a foot or so of powder. Now, you drive a snowmobile on there and the weight creates a fault line. This crust gets detached and just slides off the sugar snow. Slides real fast. These granules act kinda like tiny ball-bearings. You don’t got much time to get off of that.’
Calder looked down to the snow in the ravine. ‘So he’s under there somewhere?’
‘Yup. They found the snowmobile but no sign of the body. The snow there’s pretty deep. Twenty feet, maybe. Poles only go down nine feet or so. I came up here to help them look the second day. Didn’t find nothin’. They gave up after the fourth day.’
‘When will this thaw?’
‘Could be quite a while,’ Nate said. He looked up at the sky and then at the ravine, which was in shadow. ‘Don’t get much sun down here. June, maybe.’
Calder winced. ‘So you were part of the rescue party?’
‘Not right away. I’d bin over to Utah, seein’ some friends. When I came back there was all kinds of trouble. We really shouldn’t of let him out by hisself.’
Calder surveyed the scene and then climbed down the slope. Snow had fallen since the avalanche and it was difficult to see more than the general shape of what had happened. With so many people combing the area for days, Calder knew it was highly unlikely he would find anything. He did see some animal tracks along the bottom. ‘What are those?’
Nate glanced at them. ‘Coyote.’
Calder shivered. But if the rescuers’ sniffer dogs had been unable to find Perumal, it was unlikely a coyote would.
He looked back up to the ridge. ‘This may sound an odd question,’ he said, ‘but is there any way that this avalanche could have been started on purpose? By someone else. While Perumal was travelling below the ridge.’
Nate looked at Calder doubtfully. ‘It is possible to start an avalanche with a snowmobile if you know what you’re doin’. You kinda kick the sled over on to one ski, and that acts like a knife. It cuts into the snow, creates a fault line, and if the conditions is right, you can get a slide. But the other guy would have to be ridin’ above the victim. And your friend was ridin’ by hisself.’
‘We don’t know that for sure.’
Nate shrugged. ‘There was only one set of sled marks. If there was two of ’em and one above the other, then you’d see two sets of tracks goin’ into the avalanche.’
‘Perhaps Perumal was murdered and then thrown into the avalanche afterwards,’ Calder said.
Nate shook his head. ‘Doesn’t look like that to me. Looks like he went too close to the edge, started a slide, and went with it. Simple as that.’
‘But isn’t it odd that he was out here anyway?’
‘I guess he must have liked his trip with me and wanted to come by again.’
‘Did he seem that enthusiastic?’
‘Not really. He wasn’t what you’d call a natural. He could barely handle the snowmobile. He did say he liked the scenery, but they all say that.’
‘Was he tense?’
‘Yeah. Kinda.’
‘And you came past here the day before?’
‘Yeah,’ Nate said. ‘We came through here. Like I said, he wanted to go someplace quiet.’
Calder shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Does it?’
Nate held Calder’s gaze. ‘You know,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinkin’ about that myself. What if he did this on purpose?’
‘You mean killed himself?’
‘It’s possible. He was askin’ ’bout avalanches and I told him the kind of places to stay clear of. There had been a big snow the day before we went out, and the avalanche risk was extreme. May
be he went out lookin’ for trouble and found it.’
‘Maybe he did.’ Calder looked at Nate admiringly. He might talk real slow, but he wasn’t dumb. That was the only explanation he had heard so far that made any kind of sense.
Jen and Perumal. Two suicides?
Too convenient.
‘You know what you are, Vikram? An asshole. A one hundred per cent dumbfuck. Did you know that?’
Vikram didn’t respond. His face was stony and his lips tight.
‘What kind of stupid deal is it that we end up having to find eight hundred million bucks just because the market’s gone down a little?’
The truth was, the Japanese stock market had gone down a lot. It had crashed through the seven thousand knock-in barrier on the JUSTICE notes and was now trading at six thousand five hundred. At that level it would be impossible to hide the fact that the JUSTICE notes were underwater at the next revaluation, now only a week away. Vikram had just pointed this out to Martel, whose response was to pulverize the messenger.
‘If you want to make money on the upside, you’ve got to accept losing money on the downside,’ Vikram replied calmly. ‘You know that, Jean-Luc. If the market goes above ten thousand, we make out big time. Now, you can’t get that kind of return profile without accepting the risk that you might lose if you’re wrong. That would be a free lunch, and we all know those don’t exist.’
‘That’s why I employ you. You’re supposed to come up with profiles where we make money, not lose it. You never told me we could be in this kind of situation.’
‘We discussed exactly this,’ Vikram replied, his voice icy. ‘I pointed out we’d be in trouble if the Nikkei ever got down below seven thousand. You said it wasn’t going to happen, so it wasn’t worth wasting time thinking about. Well, it’s happened.’
‘So, you’re blaming me now, are you?’ Martel’s eyes were bulging. ‘I want you to get on a plane to London today and sort this out with Bloomfield Weiss.’
‘And how am I to do that exactly? Don’t forget Perumal is no longer there. And even if he were, it would be impossible for him to fake a reval with the market so low.’
‘Then do some more. Double up. Roll it over. Come on, use your ingenuity. If you offer these guys a big enough fee, they’ll do anything.’
On the Edge Page 25