‘Did you bring the letter?’
Matthew shook his head.
Briggs kept trying to make eye contact with Matthew. ‘What did his letter say?’
‘Not a lot…Just that he wanted to tell me about some tupilak.’
‘A tupilak?’ Briggs frowned, closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled heavily through his nose. Then he looked up again. ‘Is that all you’ve heard from him for twenty-four years?’
‘Yes.’ Matthew was starting to sweat. He slipped his fingers into his back pocket and pulled out the two photographs of Tom and Arnaq. ‘That’s my father and my sister.’
Briggs reached out and took the pictures. He looked at them and his upper body slumped a little. ‘Okay,’ he then said, and got up. He was just under a head taller than Matthew and looked like a man who spent a lot of time working out. He stepped around Matthew and closed the door to the corridor. ‘In my world, Tom died in 1990.’ He shook his head. ‘But you’re his son, I can tell from your eye, and there’s no doubt that it’s him in these pictures.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘Now you suddenly know him?’
Briggs heaved a sigh. ‘Why don’t you take a seat?’
‘Did you know my father or didn’t you?’
Briggs nodded wearily and pointed to the chair. ‘Sit down.’
Matthew sat down on the chair opposite the desk.
‘I didn’t know that Tom also had a daughter,’ Briggs went on. ‘But I remember very clearly the day he died…or rather, the day I thought he died.’
‘I don’t understand?’ Matthew said. ‘Why would he be dead? When?’
‘March 1990.’
‘But why would you think he had died then?’
Briggs slumped even more in his chair. ‘I knew him quite well, your father. Before things went wrong. He could be a bit crazy, but he was otherwise an okay guy. We grew up together in Portland, Oregon.’ He stuck out his left arm and pushed up his sleeve. ‘I got this scar when Tom and I decided to become blood brothers. Make it a deep cut, he said. Crazy bastard. It cost me four stitches and a thrashing at home for trying to kill myself.’
‘So now you suddenly grew up together?’
‘There’s nothing suddenly about it,’ Briggs said. ‘I just had to process some information. But, yes, we lived two streets away from each other and we stayed friends all the way to college, then we went our separate ways for a few years. When Tom told me one day that he was going to join the Marines, I thought why not. I hadn’t made a lot of myself back then, while Tom had spent four years studying biochemistry at the University of Oregon.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I can tell you a lot about Tom, but I’m guessing it ought to be out of the office, don’t you think?’
‘Yes.’ Matthew cleared his throat and exhaled hard between his lips. ‘But why do you think he’s dead?’
Briggs looked up. ‘I saw his coffin…I saw all three coffins when they were flown home to the US.’
Matthew looked out of the window. Across the road to the rusty brown TelePost building. ‘There were other fatalities?’
‘Put your mobile on my desk so that I can see the screen,’ Briggs said. ‘It’s nothing personal, but you said you’re a reporter, and this is purely private, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Matthew took out his mobile and placed it on the desk between them. Screen facing upwards.
A moment of silence followed.
‘We were taking part in an experiment,’ Briggs then said. ‘A medical experiment. We were testing a new drug. There was me, Tom and three others. The aim of the drug was to increase our ability to withstand very low temperatures. It worked, and your father was pretty excited about it all. He would sit there, week in week out, in minus ten to minus twelve degrees Celsius, practically naked. It was crazy. And as the experiment progressed, we could feel the cold less and less.’ He paused. ‘Except other things happened…Things we couldn’t control.’
‘You’re saying the others froze to death?’
‘No, they didn’t. The ultimate aim was to program the human body not to die of hypothermia. No, it was our minds that couldn’t handle it. We lost our self-control.’ He took a deep breath. Ran his hand through his short hair. ‘I quit, but the others carried on. It was insane. And I told Tom, but he refused to stop. He was obsessed with the progress we were making.’
‘And then something went wrong?’
‘Yes…’ Briggs hesitated. ‘The side effects were severe, and the scientists kept forcing us to increase our doses.’
Outside the windows a big yellow truck drove past, its bed laden with newly hewn blocks of granite the size of a man.
‘Two of the others, Bradley and Reese, were found dead in Tom’s quarters,’ Briggs said. ‘Shot through the head with Tom’s pistol. And Tom had shot himself.’
Matthew could feel the blood throb in his temples. ‘But he went on to live in Nuuk?’
‘What I was told back then,’ Briggs said, ‘was that your father killed two of my friends before turning his gun on himself.’
‘Did you see them? Their bodies?’
‘I saw the coffins being sent home and there was a ceremony at the base. At the time no one…no one at all could understand why Tom would do a thing like that, but the whole incident was suppressed and put down to a case of deep depression. It’s dark twenty-four seven up there in the winter.’
‘And then my father turned up here in Nuuk.’
‘I haven’t seen him since shortly before the murders.’ Briggs looked at Matthew across the computer screen. ‘If you hear anything else from him, I would like to know.’
Matthew pressed his eyes shut and tried to process the news. ‘If my father had been a killer, I would have heard about it.’
‘There’s a lot about Thule that people don’t know,’ Briggs said. ‘Matthew, if the two of us happen to meet again and there are others present, then I’ll deny everything I’ve just told you. This was a one off, a personal favour. I owe it to your father, despite what happened. After all, I remember you when you were a little boy. At the base. I also remember your mother.’
Briggs pushed his chair back and got up.
‘So what do I do now?’ Matthew wondered out loud.
‘Nothing,’ was all Briggs said. ‘Or do what your father couldn’t do—leave this place.’
‘No,’ Matthew said, and hesitated for a moment. ‘Why did you lie about not knowing my father? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth from the start?’
‘Fair point…But let me remind you that Tom is a killer. I’m sorry, but there’s no easy way to say it. It’s not a story I’m desperate to share with anyone else, especially not his son, but now you know and…’ He heaved another sigh. ‘Matthew, your father’s a murderer. Whichever way we look it…I’m so very sorry. He was my friend once. If it’s really true that he isn’t dead and he turns up again, then contact me immediately, okay? This isn’t something you should tackle on your own.’
8
NUUK, WEST GREENLAND, 18 OCTOBER 2014
The red Dash-8 roared across the low buildings that sat on the mountain plateau between the Nuuk neighbourhoods of Nuussuaq and Qinngorput. Matthew watched the aircraft as its wheels bumped down on the short landing strip and it braked with a sound as if the plane’s propellers had suddenly feathered.
The sky was a clear and frosty blue. Behind the fjord, which reached around the headland that carried Nuuk on its back, he could see the ridge and sharp peak of Mount Sermitsiaq.
He dropped his cigarette into a metal bucket and entered the small arrivals hall in Nuuk Airport. The doors were battered and the tiles on the floor well worn. He positioned himself near a table by a kiosk and looked across to the aircraft, which had moved away from the runway and was now slowly taxiing to its disembarkation point.
Another Dash-8 was parked there, as was a Bell Huey helicopter. Otherwise there were no other aircraft about.
The pilot turned off the engines
and the noise of the propellers faded away. The door at the front of the red steel body opened and the passengers began to disembark. The last person to leave was Tupaarnaq.
Matthew placed his hand on his chest and breathed deeply and slowly a couple of times. It was more than a month since he had last seen her, but she looked exactly like the first time they had met. The same shaved head, dressed entirely in black. Her expression was as grim as always. He was convinced that she loathed flying simply because it forced her into close proximity with other human beings in a confined space.
She disappeared out of Matthew’s field of vision, only to reappear in front of him. Her black combat trousers hugged her legs tightly and ended in a pair of scuffed army boots. She wore a dark hoodie and had a black coat draped over one arm.
‘You still smell of smoke,’ she said, giving him a quick hug.
‘Yes…I’m…Hi.’
‘That’s why you’re so skinny and pale…Hi. I thought you decided to quit smoking?’
‘Well, I…’ Matthew hesitated. ‘You disappeared.’
She nodded. ‘I went hunting.’
‘For all that time?’
She shrugged. ‘There was nothing to shoot.’
Matthew looked towards the door to the luggage hall.
‘Did you bring a suitcase?’
‘No. Just my rifle.’ She turned and went to the counter where oversize luggage was checked in and collected.
His eyes followed her back. She had rarely left his thoughts. Her many tattoos, the leaves covering every inch of her body except her head, hands and feet. The leaves weren’t delicate or pretty, but rather lush and concealing. There was no other design except in the soft crooks of her elbows where a sharp set of teeth grew from the darkness of the foliage. Bared teeth the size of fingers. A frozen glimpse of snarling skulls. He had seen her arms and shoulders many times, her whole body only twice. The first time when she was taking a shower—she had spotted him and stormed out in anger. The second time was when Ulrik had tried to kill her. The expression in the insane police officer’s eyes that day had burned itself deep into Matthew’s memories. Ulrik hadn’t cared that Tupaarnaq was his sister; in his madness all he could see was the woman who had destroyed his family, although the truth was that their own father had killed their mother and two younger sisters. The only person Tupaarnaq had killed was their father, but his murder had been so brutal that she had ended up being blamed for all four deaths.
‘There was no need for you to come out here,’ Tupaarnaq said, turning to Matthew again. She carried her rifle in a long bag, which she swung over her shoulder.
‘I borrowed Malik’s car,’ Matthew said, shaking his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts. ‘I thought it would be a good idea.’
She nodded. ‘Why has your sister gone to Færingehavn?’
‘She decided to go camping for the weekend with some friends from her old school in Denmark.’
‘Good…Let’s go see them and you can tell me all about your father on the way.’
‘Now? Someone visits them every day, a guy called Lars, so Else tells me.’
‘Yes, yes, I’m sure they’re fine, but I’d like to have a look for myself, okay?’
‘Sure…We’ve got a boat at work now, which we can use, so we don’t have to steal boats anymore.’
‘Cool, what kind is it?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter as long as it’s seaworthy.’
‘It’s a great boat, but…’
Tupaarnaq pushed open the door and left the airport building. ‘But what?’
‘Paneeraq is throwing a kaffemik party for Jakob today. It’s his eighty-third birthday.’
‘So you want to go there first?’
‘Yes, I was hoping to.’ Matthew looked down. He wanted to stare at her all the time, but he also knew that it quickly got too much for both of them. ‘Malik will be there too,’ he added. ‘So I can return the car to him at the same time.’
‘Fine. I’m coming with you.’
‘The others keep asking about you, but I didn’t know what to say.’
‘No.’
Matthew looked at her across the roof of the car. ‘Are you really okay about going to Jakob’s old house again?’
She threw the case with her rifle onto the back seat. ‘How do you feel about it?’
‘I’ve been there a few times since they moved back a month ago. But I haven’t been upstairs.’
‘It’s just a place like any other,’ she said.
‘I guess so.’ Matthew looked back at the airport as Tupaarnaq got into the car and slammed the door shut. Jakob’s house was where Ulrik had tried to rape and murder Tupaarnaq. Abelsen had taken over Jakob’s old house as everyone had believed that Jakob and his stepdaughter, Paneeraq, had died back in 1973. Years later they had returned to Nuuk. No one had any idea of Jakob’s true identity until the old man had revealed himself to Matthew. He had fled Nuuk in the winter of 1973 in order to protect Paneeraq, who had been eleven years old at the time, along with Lisbeth, the woman he loved. He was a police officer; Lisbeth was a murderer. Paneeraq and Jakob hadn’t emerged from their hiding place until Lisbeth had died of old age.
9
Matthew sat down at a dining table laden with many different types of cakes. He was very close to the window, squashed against a dark red velvet curtain with broad lilac stripes.
Paneeraq had pulled Tupaarnaq aside the moment they arrived. Matthew knew that Paneeraq and Jakob had been worried when Tupaarnaq had disappeared shortly after Ulrik’s attempt to kill her. Matthew glanced cautiously up at the wall above the rosewood sideboard where the old wooden harpoon with which he had killed Ulrik had previously been displayed.
Ottesen took a seat next to Matthew. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair and grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the cakes. ‘I think I’d better add thirty minutes to my run tonight.’ His eyes lit up. ‘How about you, Matt? Isn’t it time you came running with me? The air will do you good.’
‘I never go running,’ Matthew said. ‘I don’t even own a pair of running shoes.’
‘We have those and suitable clothing down at the police station,’ Ottesen continued with a grin so broad it made the skin on his face even more lined. ‘We’re fit to fight, let me tell you.’
‘I think I’d better stick to writing,’ Matthew said. ‘There’s a lot going on right now.’
Jakob and two young police officers were sitting opposite them, while Malik was at the end of the table with a woman Matthew didn’t know. Of everyone here he knew Malik the best; Malik was a photographer at Sermitsiaq and the two of them had quickly hit it off.
‘Did you manage to finish your story?’ Ottesen said.
‘The one about the dead men from Ittoqqortoormiit?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve written about the survivor and his bizarre claims of a demon being outside the window and the pills…I’ve yet to make head or tail of the rest of it.’
‘Less talking, more eating,’ Jakob interrupted them. His blue eyes sparkled in his wrinkled face.
Matthew nodded and reached for a plate. ‘There’s no way we can ever eat all these cakes.’
‘Exactly,’ said the young officer who was sitting next to Jakob. ‘That’s the whole point.’
‘What is?’ Matthew looked at her. He recognised her; she had been on guard outside Block 17 two months ago, when they had found Lyberth murdered in Tupaarnaq’s flat.
‘Rakel is right,’ said Paneeraq as she passed a jug of red cordial across the table. ‘Not running out of cakes is the sign of a good kaffemik party. And pay no attention to Jakob, he always complains whenever there are more than three people in his house.’
‘All right, all right,’ Jakob said, looking at Ottesen. ‘Any news about Kjeld Abelsen?’
Ottesen brushed a few crumbs off his trousers. ‘No…He’s still at large, I’m afraid.’
Rakel look
ed at Matthew, who quickly looked down at his plate.
‘We’ve looked everywhere.’ Ottesen picked at his upper lip. ‘I wonder if he managed to leave Greenland after all.’
‘What about the people who helped him escape?’ Matthew wanted to know.
‘We couldn’t prove anything,’ Rakel said.
‘That man belongs in prison,’ Jakob declared, reaching for a buttered roll.
‘We’ll get him eventually,’ Ottesen said. ‘He’s bound to turn up some day.’
‘He’s a master of spin and opportunism,’ Jakob said, munching his roll. ‘The only way you’ll get him is if he makes a mistake…’
‘Everyone makes mistakes,’ Rakel said, turning her plate.
Matthew looked down again, putting his cake fork down quietly. His temples had started to throb. ‘Does anyone here know anything about two murders and a suicide at the Thule base in 1990?’
‘Have you sniffed out another cold case?’ Ottesen said.
‘Possibly…I’m not sure. There were three soldiers, I believe. One of them is thought to have killed the other two before taking his own life.’
‘Nineteen ninety,’ Jakob said. ‘At that time I was living in Qeqertarsuatsiaat, but someone came—’
Tupaarnaq placed her hand on Matthew’s shoulder. ‘So how about that boat?’ she said.
‘Ah, yes.’
‘I’ve just been talking to Else in the kitchen and I’ve promised her that we’ll sail to Færingehavn to check up on your sister and her friends.’
‘Now?’
‘Is that a problem?’
Matthew looked across to Jakob and Rakel. ‘No, not at all. I just wanted to—’
‘Come on, then.’
As he put on his jacket in the hall, Matthew watched Else and Tupaarnaq. Else had convinced Tupaarnaq to take some cake to Færingehavn and Paneeraq had immediately started filling Tupperware containers.
‘Where are you off to, Matt?’
Matthew looked at Malik, who had appeared in the doorway to the living room. ‘The marina behind the tunnel.’
Cold Fear Page 4