Carr-Jones? Possibly, if Bibby had told him in advance what was going on. But Stahl had sworn Bibby to discretion. Calder didn’t trust Bibby an inch, but Bibby wouldn’t want to make himself any more exposed than he was already in this affair, so he would probably follow Stahl’s orders on this. And Calder was still convinced that Carr-Jones’s fear of Martel was genuine.
Then Calder knew. Nils! It had to be Nils. Which was why the story about Perumal’s e-mail to Bodinchuk hadn’t stacked up. Perumal had had no links to Bodinchuk at all, Nils had made that up as some kind of red herring. Calder moved over to a corner in the lobby, under a cradle made of buffalo hide, took out his mobile and dialled Nils’s number at Bloomfield Weiss. He noticed his phone’s battery was running low.
Matt answered.
‘Can I speak to Nils?’ Calder asked.
‘Hey, Zero. Nils hasn’t come back from lunch. And that was five hours ago,’ said Matt. ‘Do you know what the hell’s going on here? He’s been behaving very strangely, and Simon Bibby and Justin Carr-Jones are chasing each other around in some huge panic.’
‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Calder said. ‘And Matt?’
‘Yes?’
‘Keep your head down, will you?’
‘All right, boss.’
So, Nils had legged it. Slimy bastard. How had Calder ever trusted him? Calder had assumed that Nils had helped him for the sake of their old relationship. But personal loyalty meant nothing to people like Nils. Why should he help a former boss unless there was something in it for him?
Calder’s phone rang. ‘Hello?’
‘Alex, it’s Sandy. Where are you?’
‘At the Armangani Hotel.’
‘Well, you’d better come back here quickly.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Cheryl Martel. She came by a quarter of an hour ago. She’s in a hell of a state. She says –’
Just then his phone started beeping.
‘Hang on, Sandy, there’s something wrong with this damn thing.’ Calder checked his battery indicator. Out. ‘My phone’s going to cut out in a moment. I’ll be right there.’
Martel pulled up in the parking lot outside his office building and looked up towards the first-floor windows. He couldn’t face going in and just hanging around waiting for the meeting with Bloomfield Weiss at three o’clock. All those long faces from the traders, the speculation about Vikram’s death. And his own office would still be a mess from when he had trashed it earlier. He was alone now, he knew. Only he could save the Teton Fund. The people he thought he could trust, Vikram and Cheryl, had proven themselves his enemies. The staff in the office up there were there mortals, without the imagination or courage to be of any use to him.
He pulled out his mobile phone and called Bodinchuk, perhaps the one man on whom he could still rely. ‘Mykhailo, it’s Jean-Luc.’
‘Yes?’
‘I thought I ought to tell you about an idea I’ve had.’ Martel explained his threat to Stahl. ‘Can you help?’ he asked the Ukrainian when he had finished.
‘I’m sure I can, Jean-Luc. I’ll get my people in place right away.’
Martel put down his phone, gratified with Bodinchuk’s cooperative attitude. It would be no problem for a man like him to deal with one of Stahl’s grandchildren, if the situation arose, which Martel was pretty sure it wouldn’t. His threat to Stahl had been credible. Stahl would give the Teton Fund another week, and a week was all that was necessary, Martel was certain.
He glanced up at his office and turned the car around. He called his secretary to tell her he would be at home for a couple of hours.
Calder found Cheryl and Sandy in the small hotel lobby. They were sitting together on a small sofa, both hunched over. As he approached them, Cheryl looked up. Her eyes were rimmed with red.
Calder sat next to her and touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry about Vikram,’ he said.
Cheryl’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You know?’
‘Very little,’ Calder said. ‘I believe he was killed this morning.’
‘I mean you know about me and Vikram?’
‘I saw him touch you when I came for lunch at your house.’
‘Oh,’ said Cheryl. ‘We were so stupid. We should have been more careful. We were careful before. But in the last week or so we took risks. We couldn’t help it.’
‘And your husband found out?’
‘If you knew, he must have,’ Cheryl sniffed. ‘And that’s why Vikram’s dead now.’ She began to cry. Sandy put an arm around her shoulders.
‘I came to you when I heard,’ Cheryl went on. ‘I wasn’t sure what to say to the police. I knew you’d been asking questions about Jean-Luc, and I guess I trusted you. Your taste in pottery, perhaps.’ She smiled nervously.
‘I’m glad you did,’ Calder said. ‘What happened to Vikram?’
‘There was a fire at his house this morning,’ Sandy said. ‘The police are refusing to rule out arson.’
‘I bet they are. The Sheriff’s Office know what your husband has been up to, Cheryl. Or some of it – at least, what I’ve been able to tell them.’
Cheryl sniffed. ‘Vikram told me himself what he knew. Just a couple of days ago.’
‘What did he say?’
Cheryl told Calder and Sandy all that Vikram had told her. All about the IGLOO notes and Perumal and Jennifer Tan and Mykhailo Bodinchuk. Cheryl said that she was sure that Martel had tried to kill Calder the week before on the mountain. And now, of course, she was sure he had killed Vikram, or at least ordered his killing.
‘We talked about it on Friday. Vikram said he was going to go to the authorities with all this. And he would have done, too. I promised him I would stay with him no matter what. But now…’ The tears came again. ‘My husband’s a monster. I can’t believe I touched him, let alone married him.’ She shuddered.
‘It’s all over for him now,’ Sandy said. ‘There’s going to be a big meeting this afternoon. The Teton Fund is bust and there’s a plane load of lawyers, accountants and policemen descending on Jackson Hole as we speak.’
‘Good,’ said Cheryl.
Calder sighed. ‘It might not be quite that simple, Sandy.’
‘What?’
Calder told both the women about Martel’s threats to Stahl, and Stahl’s inclination to do what Martel asked.
‘He’s totally right,’ said Cheryl. ‘If I were this man Stahl, I’d be careful.’
‘Yes, but we can’t let Martel get away with it,’ said Sandy. ‘Not now.’
Calder leaned back in his chair. ‘My hope was to use Perumal to surprise Martel this afternoon. But he’ll be ready for it now. He’ll probably have his own lawyer at the meeting.’
‘What about Cheryl?’ said Sandy. ‘What she knows is more damning. And if anyone is going to rattle him, it will be her.’
‘That’s true,’ said Calder. ‘But the key thing at this stage is to remove the threat to Stahl. Only Martel can do that, and there’s no way he’ll admit he threatened anybody when he’s surrounded by lawyers and cops.’
‘We could go and see him now,’ said Sandy. ‘With Cheryl.’
‘We could,’ said Calder. The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. ‘We could. Would you do that, Cheryl?’
‘I’d be glad to.’
‘All right,’ said Calder. ‘Wait here. I need to fetch something from my room.’ He still had Pohek’s gun stashed away. He wasn’t going anywhere near Martel unarmed.
38
Having drawn a blank at the Teton Fund’s offices, they found Martel in the great room of his ranch, sitting motionless, staring out of the window at the snow.
‘Is that you, mon ange?’ he said.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Cheryl. ‘I’ve brought some people with me.’
Martel turned. His face, usually so full of expression, was taut and pale.
‘Hello again,’ Calder said.
Martel turned away, back towards the mountain, the bi
ggest mountain, out there somewhere behind the snow. He was sitting very still; it seemed as if the energy which usually animated him had drained away, or frozen in his bloodstream.
‘Vikram’s dead,’ Cheryl said.
‘I know,’ said Martel. ‘And I’m sorry. I know you liked him.’ His voice was low and flat.
‘You had him killed.’ Cheryl’s tone was icy, but controlled.
‘I heard it was a fire. Difficult for the fire trucks to get through the snow in time, I guess. Especially up that hill he lived on.’
‘The Teton Fund’s finished,’ Calder said.
‘We’ll see,’ said Martel.
‘You need to find nearly four hundred million dollars.’
‘I said, we’ll see. We’ll discuss it at the meeting with Bloomfield Weiss at three o’clock. Oh, but of course, you probably won’t be around then, will you, Alex?’ Martel turned to Calder and allowed himself a small smile.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘You know,’ said Martel. And Calder did. Martel was clearly convinced that someone was going to kill him soon. Soon, as in the next couple of hours.
‘I know about your conversation with Sidney Stahl,’ said Calder.
‘That conversation was confidential. I will respect that confidentiality, as, I am sure, will Mr Stahl.’
‘We’ve found Perumal,’ Calder said. ‘He told us about the way you persuaded him to fake the revaluations of the IGLOO and JUSTICE deals. And about the e-mail you sent to him reminding him of how you had Jennifer Tan killed.’
‘Me? I only met Perumal once. And that was only briefly during the week he died. Vikram dealt with him. You should ask him all about that. Ah, but of course! You cannot do that now.’
‘Did you know Vikram and I were lovers?’ Cheryl interrupted.
‘I thought you were fond of him,’ Martel muttered, his face impassive.
‘But we didn’t just make love. We talked. About you. About the Teton Fund. About Perumal and Jennifer Tan and Mykhailo Bodinchuk. We talked about securities fraud and murder and conspiracy to murder. And then he died, in a fire that the police find highly suspicious.’
‘Cheryl, I don’t care what wild stories Vikram made up to entertain you. But this afternoon the Teton Fund will survive. And then I will hire the best lawyers in the land to defend me. I have a lot of money. I think I can safely trust your wonderful American justice system to protect people with a lot of money.’
‘Lawyers won’t protect you from me, Jean-Luc,’ Cheryl said, her voice building. ‘You killed the man I loved. And you killed other people as well – you’ve even threatened to kill little children. I won’t forget that. I’ll never forget that. I will come after you from now until the day I die. I’ll have my own lawyers. I’ll have the police. And I’ll fight dirty, believe me, I’ll fight dirty.’
‘You’ll get over it in a few months,’ said Martel.
‘I will not!’ Cheryl screamed, her face, usually so sweet and innocent, now red and contorted. You still don’t understand, do you? You think you’ve just done a bad trade that will come right like all the others have. But you’ve crossed a line. You’re not just a criminal, you’re a murderer. Either they’ll put you in the chair or you’ll spend your life in jail. And after that? You’re a good Catholic, Jean-Luc, you know about hell.’
Martel looked at his wife, the first traces of doubt creeping into his expression.
‘It’s over,’ said Calder. ‘Call Stahl. Call Bodinchuk. Give up before anyone else gets killed.’
Martel turned back to the window.
Cheryl fought for some self-control. Her voice became lower, laden with cunning and malice. ‘I said Vikram and I were lovers. We saw each other many times. We fooled around a lot. At his house. And here, on that rug by your feet.’
Despite himself, Martel glanced down at the Indian carpet in front of the fire. ‘Sometimes we made love three or four times in one night. Can you even imagine that, Jean-Luc? It was wonderful.’
Martel’s shoulders tightened.
‘It’s pathetic being married to you. You act like you’re this great trader, this six-foot-seven superman, when all the time you’re like a timid little boy, scared of his own shadow. You remember that first time when we made love? When you lit all those candles and played all that music and huffed and puffed and grunted and jiggled up and down? Well, I had a much better time on my high-school prom night.’
Martel turned on Cheryl, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes. ‘But I remember how you felt. It was magnificent.’
‘I was faking it, Jean-Luc! Just like every girl you ever slept with was faking it. Believe me, if you’re a girl and you find yourself in bed with an old guy who has problems getting it up, that’s what you do. It’s the kindest thing.’
The spark ignited an explosion. Martel sprang to his feet. Before Calder could stop him, he was pointing a revolver at his wife, his hand shaking. ‘Tais-toi!’ he cried. ‘No more!’
‘Go on, press the trigger!’ shouted Cheryl. ‘Let’s see if you can kill someone yourself instead of getting some Russki heavy to do it for you. I don’t care. I’d rather be with Vikram than with you, wherever he is.’
‘Cheryl, stop! I said stop!’
‘Well, I won’t! I’ll never stop. I’ll always be here, always accusing you!’ Cheryl’s face was filled with hatred and loathing and anger.
Martel raised the gun and held it with both hands. He tensed.
‘Jean-Luc?’ said a gentle, calm voice. It was Sandy, who was sitting on the edge of an armchair to Martel’s left.
‘Be quiet!’
‘Jean-Luc?’
‘Be quiet, or I’ll blow your head off too.’
‘Jean-Luc. Who do you love most in the world?’
There was dead silence in the room. The shake in Martel’s arm seemed to spread to his whole body. Then he pulled the gun away from Cheryl. For a moment it looked as if he was going to point it at himself, before he swung round to Sandy.
‘Stand up!’ he shouted, aiming the weapon at her.
‘Me?’ Sandy said, her eyes wide.
‘Yes, you. Stand up! We’re going.’
‘Where are we going?’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out some car keys. He tossed them to Sandy. ‘Outside. The rest of you stay here!’ he growled.
Sandy threw a worried glance at Calder and then slowly walked towards the hallway, Martel’s pistol inches from her head. Cheryl and Calder stayed motionless in the great room, watching them.
*
Uncle Yuri was lurking in a bush in the Martels’ neighbour’s yard, his rifle resting against one of its branches. The snow was falling steadily and visibility was poor. But he did see a woman leave the ranch closely followed by Martel, pointing a gun at the small of her back. They climbed into Martel’s Range Rover and sped off away from the house back towards the main road to Jackson. A moment later Calder sprinted out of the house, leapt into his own car and followed them.
Uncle Yuri picked up the Winchester. He’d been unable to get a clear shot, but this didn’t disturb him too much. A getaway would have been difficult from this spot anyway, with only one road out, and he had an idea of where he might be able to get a better shot later on. He crept out of the cover of his bush, unnoticed in the snow, found his own truck and drove off to make a reconnaissance of the new position. He smiled. More time meant more preparation, which meant greater certainty. He should be on his way home by nightfall.
Calder was finding the driving difficult. It was snowing hard now and the Range Rover was really moving. Presumably it was Sandy at the wheel with Martel’s gun pointed at her temple. Calder had never driven a four-wheel drive hard before, and the slight knocking in the engine of the Bronco that had first appeared after he rammed Pohek was getting worse. But he hurtled along the road from the valley, past the airport and towards the main road to Jackson. He could just make out the blur of the Range Rover in front as it came to the junction w
ith the highway. To Calder’s surprise it didn’t turn left or right, but shot across the highway at full speed on to a small road that led God knew where.
Calder worked to free his phone from his trouser pocket, which he found tricky since he really needed both hands to drive at the speed he was going. He glanced quickly at the device. Dead. The battery was gone.
He considered turning back to get help from the police but rejected the idea. He could not lose the Range Rover. He cursed himself for getting Sandy into this mess. He had to get her out of it. He hoped that Cheryl would have the good sense to call the Sheriff’s Office herself, although the police would be unlikely to look for them up this road. Which was presumably why Martel had taken it.
They were hurtling across a plain, past cattle, horses and even a herd of bison. The snow was still falling hard, but Calder was slowly making ground on the Range Rover. They passed a small community of log huts and mobile homes before the plain abruptly ended and they entered some foothills. Here there were sharp, unexpected bends, one of which Calder took too fast, his tyres momentarily losing grip on the snow-covered road surface. But with the exception of that instance the tyres and the four-wheel drive kept the Bronco on the road.
They drove on, the snow becoming deeper with every mile. Whoever was doing the driving was pretty good. They passed a couple of ranch gates, but no other sign of habitation. They drove along the edge of a canyon, higher into the mountains, the snow thickening all the time and slowing their progress. Finally, Calder rounded a bend to see Martel’s vehicle stopped in front of him, its nose shunting forward into a pile of snow, back wheels spinning. There was no way forward, even for the powerful Range Rover. The snow was piled at least four feet high.
Calder swerved the Bronco so that it blocked the way back down the road. Above was a steep slope, below the canyon. He pulled out Pohek’s revolver and slipped out of his vehicle, taking cover behind it.
The Range Rover was now trying to reverse out of the drift, its wheels spinning the other way. Calder could see that Sandy was indeed at the wheel, with Martel’s gun at her head. Martel’s mouth was working, he was shouting at her, although Calder could not hear the words above the whine of the Range Rover’s engine. Calder assumed Martel would have to abandon the car and fight his way through the snow on foot, dragging Sandy along as a hostage. If that happened, Calder decided to shadow them until the weather cleared and he could hope for help to arrive.
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