“Yes. We eat in town tonight.” Signe seemed to think my surprised, dismayed expression was hilarious. “And you two have nice, quiet dinner. You ruined all of Mads’ delicious menu plans too.”
Well, that was hardly fair. It wasn’t my fault if he’d had to make some last-minute changes.
“I only got his invitation an hour ago. And he didn’t know if I’d be able to accept it either.” Maybe I should just bail, but that would be rather rude at this stage, wouldn’t it?
“So? If you say no, he cook for us.” Gioia was looking at me like I was crazy. “No waste. Now, he cook for us tomorrow instead. You should try his meat. It’s the best.”
I choked back a nervous laugh. I knew she’d been referring to his cooking skills, but it was still funny.
“Gioia! Shame on you! Nobody’s going to bully my guest into trying anything he doesn’t want to.” Mads, looking down at us, seemed to be having a little trouble keeping a straight face himself. He must have come out when he heard our voices. “Please, do come on up, Mr Keane.” The students were already walking off in a cheerful little group, so I went up the little gangway and joined him on the stern deck. “Don’t pay any attention to their awful, nonsensical English. Please, do come on in.”
There were some promising smells coming from the galley area at the far end of the main deck salon. After taking my jacket from me and hanging it in a handy little cloakroom, Mads gestured for me to head over to the breakfast bar, and I settled onto a high backed stool while he walked around to the business side of it.
“I know I said cocktails and dinner, but the cocktails are optional. What may I offer you to drink?”
“What are you having?” He lifted an open bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and filled two flutes before handing me one. I raised it. “Skål.”
“Skål.” Our glasses rang together lightly, and he sipped appreciatively before putting his aside and picking up his chopping knife again. The bubbly was rather nice when I tasted it. I examined the little dishes of dips and things he’d placed on the bar for me and picked up an olive to nibble at.
“I must admit, I was a bit surprised to receive your invitation, Herre Nielsen,” I told him, watching his knifework. That, at least, was of a professional standard. “I thought I’d made my position quite clear concerning your generous job offer.” He paused to give me a reproving look.
“Mads, please. I hope we need not be formal. Your given name is Shay, yes?” Right, he’d seen the hotel register. I nodded. “I do not know why you would be surprised. People travel thousands of miles to see breathtaking natural wonders all the time. Inviting one to come and dine, to admire in comfort, is far less arduous, I think.”
I grinned, amused. That was pretty smooth.
“Would you mind?” he asked, gesturing at my glasses. “I would very much like to see those extraordinary eyes again.” He may as well have been asking to see an original painting that I’d stashed away in a private collection.
Well, why not? I placed them on the bar top and pushed my fringe back. He took his time examining me.
“Yes, truly remarkable!” he concluded, satisfied and tipped his chopped onion and tomatoes into the already half full salad bowl. His performance was very impressive, but he wasn’t quite as good at controlling his expressions as he thought he was. “Does anyone else in your family share that amazing colouration?”
“My mother and grandmother both did.”
“Ah, my condolences on your losses. You are a vegetarian, not a vegan, yes? Cheese is acceptable to you?”
“Cheese is fine.”
“Excellent!” He seasoned, dressed and tossed the salad and moved over to the grill where the delicious aroma was coming from. “Another minute for the starters. Please, Shay, make yourself comfortable at the dining table.”
I finished off my champagne and popped another olive into my mouth before crossing over to the table. Mads had set just two places, one at the head of the table and the other just to its right, which I settled into. I poured myself a tumbler of chilled water from the decanter, noting the two bottles of a rather pricey Cabernet Sauvignon breathing open on the table.
Mads didn’t keep me waiting long. He soon came over and slid a warmed china plate in front of me before putting his own down and seating himself. The aroma wafting up at me was making me salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs hearing the dinner bell ringing. Mads poured us a glass of wine each and threw me an anticipatory smile.
“Bon appétit,” he encouraged and picked up his own outermost knife and fork encouragingly.
Bloody hell! His stuffed mushrooms were outstandingly good! The accompanying, decorative salad was dressed to perfection too. Eschewing the wine, for now, I sipped at my water instead, not wishing to confound the flavours. I wasn’t a big fan of overly fruity wines.
“Let me guess,” I said, when I’d finally and thoroughly cleared my plate. “You’re secretly a Michelin star chef?” He’d been beaming with pleasure as he watched me eat, but now he actually laughed.
“Hardly. But I have taken a few lessons from some of them. I’m so pleased you liked it. What is it the English like to say, ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,’ yes?”
“That’s so anatomically inaccurate. You want to get the knife up under the ribs, just about here, and apply a hell of a lot of pressure.” That just made him laugh again as he got up to whisk our plates away. “Can I help with anything?” I asked, twisting around.
“No, certainly not. You just stay where you are and let me be a good host.”
Well, if he insisted. I sipped my wine and found it was much fruitier than I preferred, lots of berry flavours in there. No, I wouldn’t be able to taste the food properly if I drank that. I set it aside and rinsed my mouth out with water. Mads noticed, of course, as he came back bearing another salad bowl and a mixed bread basket.
“It just won’t do, will it? I was afraid it might not. Never mind, I have a nice, neutral Pinot Noir that will accompany the main course very nicely indeed. The others can polish these bottles off. They have no palate at all, the heathens.” He removed our glasses and the offending bottles, and I heard the satisfying sound of a couple of corks being pulled before he came back with their replacements.
“At least it’s already room temperature,” he apologised as he poured for us both.
Our main course was a superb vegetable lasagne and the second salad went with it perfectly. Lots of crunchy kale and chopped chilli peppers with some surprising bites of avocado in the mix. There was a separate dish of baby beets too. Mads had got it right with the Pinot Noir. He was pouring us a second glass each before we were half done.
“It is so nice to feed someone who truly appreciates good food for a change,” Mads told me. He’d been very good, glancing over at me quite regularly but not staring or making me feel at all uncomfortable. It was like he was admiring an engaging piece of art rather than ogling. I didn’t mind that. “Although I doubt you will ever fill out that lovely shirt, no matter how much I can encourage you to eat. Do you always wear clothes that are a size too big for you?”
“Nearly always, yes. Loose things are far more comfortable.” He let it go at that, sipping reflectively at his wine.
“You mentioned in your note that you were interested in having a look around Kværnen. In fact, I am guessing that that is the reason you decided to accept my invitation. Was there anything, in particular, you were interested in seeing?”
“Actually, yes, there is. I was hoping Mr Daniels or Mr Verity might let me take a peep at all their high-tech gadgets. I assume your father is using her as a research vessel, not just a pleasure boat. I mean, he wouldn’t need round-the-clock technicians otherwise.”
His eyes widened a little at that. My answer had surprised him. What had he thought I’d want to see? More stupidly expensive furniture and fittings?
“And what do you expect to find?”
“Some pretty cool equipment, hopefully. A
knockout computer system, for starters, with integrated data logging and a top of the line satellite upload link. And I’d like to see what her echo sounders and seismic setups are like and find out what kind of AUVs she carries.” Surely they’d have a couple of autonomous underwater vehicles to send out. “Then there’s surface water and meteorological monitoring, wave radar, oh and an acoustic doppler current profiler. I wonder how many transducer heads she has in her hull…” I trailed off uncertainly. I didn’t like the intensity with which he was staring at me now. “Sorry, that probably sounded really nosy and geeky. I get a bit carried away sometimes.”
“Not at all. I was merely surprised to discover that you were such a knowledgeable enthusiast. And you have no idea what you look like when you become so animated. It is quite a devastating effect.” He just couldn’t help it, I decided, calmly ignoring the comment. The man would flirt with anything he took a fancy to but in a very non-threatening and rather charming way. “Where did you learn about all those things?” He deliberately returned his attention to his plate.
“I read a lot of scientific articles. And, given the current, deplorable state of things, oceanographic research is one of the subjects I like to keep an eye on.” I cut myself another bite of lasagne and added some salad to the fork. “Denmark’s renewable energy ambitions are very exciting. I wish a lot more countries were that progressive.”
“You have some surprisingly eclectic interests, considering your chosen profession,” Mads told me after a thoughtful little silence. “But I would be happy to take you down there once we have finished this course, if you like? Dessert can wait until later, if that is agreeable to you?”
“Definitely.” Our portions had been sensibly sized, but my stomach wouldn’t welcome any further additions for a while yet after we’d polished this serving off.
Mads led me down the generous curving staircase to the lower deck. His stateroom took up the forward section, and the students shared the two guest cabins aft of it. Even Liam wouldn’t need to duck his head anywhere on this boat, and as I’d expected, the entire interior seemed to be fitted out better than most luxury hotels.
“All the cabins have their own bathrooms and showers.” He opened the stateroom to show me; it was very roomy. The bed alone was enormous, and the shower in the bathroom looked like it had been designed with multiple users in mind. The glass-walled cubicle was a good six feet wide. He realised I wasn’t particularly interested in looking at any of that pretty quickly. Still, at least all the woodwork I’d seen so far had been very nicely finished.
“Of course, father sacrificed any extra guest cabins to kit out his little nerve centre, as you already surmised.” There was a steel door that looked like it belonged on a lift at the end of the accessible passageway. It slid open almost silently when he pressed a button on a panel on the wall.
Daniels looked around, surprised, as we walked in. He was sitting at a wide, curving control console against the portside bulkhead with an array of flat-screen monitors ranged around and above it. I could see another door ahead of us. That probably led to the crew quarters and on to the engine room.
“Herre Nielsen! Good evening, Sir. May I help you with something?”
“You remember Mr Keane, Mr Daniels?” Mads asked.
“Of course. It’s nice to see you again, Mr Keane. Is there something else the inspector needs from us?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Mads waved away that concern with a languid gesture. “My dinner guest simply wished to see what you and Mr Verity did down here, that’s all. He’s a very curious man.”
I don’t think Daniels picked up on the way he’d meant that. As far as Mads was concerned, I was the object of curiosity. Daniels looked at me a little blankly, and I didn’t blame him. What would someone like me know about any of this? I didn’t mind. I’d already moved to where I could see all his display screens properly. Oh yes, they had everything I’d expected them to have, alright. This boat had a lot of state-of-the-art oceanographic research equipment fitted.
“What’s wrong with your Seapath?” I asked him, frowning at one of the screens. “I thought those things were supposed to be accurate to one-hundredth of a degree. That roll and pitch reading doesn’t look right at all.”
Mads moved nearer to check it for himself, and Daniels cast me a startled look.
“It isn’t. There’s a bug in the integrated computer system. I did send you a memo about it, Herre Nielsen. It’s been like that since that update we’re beta testing came in earlier.”
“Yes, I saw it, thank you. It didn’t seem like anything that required urgent attention. May I?” Daniels got up, and Mads slid into his chair, logged into his own user profile, and opened up the Syslog. He pulled up the update patch and set himself an overwrite option. I watched, silently, as he ran various automated checks on it.
“Scroll up a bit. There.” I leant on the chair back and pointed out the problem cluster. “It’s not a runtime error, it’s just sloppy editing. Whoever wrote this accidentally doubled that string.” The knock-on exponential effect from that was what was causing the problem.
“So they did.” He erased the unwanted duplicate.
“How is it now?”
“It looks good,” Daniels told him, and I turned my attention to all the other screens.
Herre Nielsen Senior was definitely expanding into the offshore wind farm business, I decided. They had a super accurate wind speed and direction sensing system. He’d probably done some pretty heavy investing in that sector already. He’d have been crazy not to, the way things were going. It was a shame we weren’t out on the water so I could see everything in action properly, but it didn’t matter. I’d already noted a way I could sneak in and snoop around remotely if I wanted to. This wasn’t a dumb, waste of space boat after all, although they could have put all of this stuff on something much less flashy if they’d wanted to.
I straightened up. “Well, thank you for letting me see everything, Mr Daniels. I hope it wasn’t too much of an intrusion.”
“What, Shay, no questions?” Mads twisted round, eyebrows arched comically. “I thought you wanted to see all the cool toys.” He had a few more skills up his own sleeve than I’d expected. He certainly hadn’t had any trouble finding his way around the system.
“They’re all on display right here, as you know perfectly well,” I snorted. Who did he think he was fooling? “I know most of them aren’t doing anything right now, but it’s an awesome setup. She might not be anything like a Royal Research Ship, but for a privately owned boat of this size, it’s very impressive. I mean, look at that.” I pointed at a screen currently showing a 3D map of the surrounding seafloor. “That’s a top-of-the-line Kongsberg multibeam echo sounder, and that screen’s where any activity for your little ecoSUBs would show up, if they were deployed. And that lovely little extension there is a sub-bottom profiler. I know a couple of archaeologists who’d love to play with a system like this in the Aegean for a few months.” You could find submerged ancient buildings and shipwrecks with that profiler. Liam and Marie would be thrilled at a chance of a month or two with this setup. Mads just shook his head at my weird enthusiasm and got up again.
“Well, my thanks to you also, Mr Daniels. It was kind of you to indulge us.”
“Not at all, Sir. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”
With that, I followed Mads back out into the corridor.
“So you’re a programmer as well, Shay? I’m beginning to wonder if I should simply ask what you can’t do instead of what you can. It might save some time.”
“You seemed to know what you were doing in there yourself, and quite competently too.” Mads dismissed that with another of his signature hand waves.
“Just enough basic knowledge to run all my sister Elise’s little checks for her. She’s the computer geek in the family. I bet she’d just love to pick your brain, among other things. She certainly wouldn’t let you get away with breathing down her neck like that without do
ing something about it.” Oh. I hadn’t done that on purpose. He turned on the stairs to look down at me with an amused little smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”
Well, that was alright then. We collected our abandoned wine glasses and took our refills over to the couches where we could sit comfortably.
“How is your case progressing?” he asked. I think Mads had forgotten all about that until Daniels referred to it.
“Oh, we’ve already accomplished all we can here. Our suspects seem to have slipped away, for now, so we’re heading back to Inverness tomorrow. Conall can wrap everything up neatly when they’re found.”
He didn’t probe for details.
“You two work quickly! I got the impression, last night, that he’s more like a brother to you than a cousin. He certainly seemed to be giving off the same, protective vibe my siblings used to have around me.”
“I suppose he does. We pretty much grew up together.” It was odd, thinking of Mads as the baby of his family, but I could see why his brother and sisters would have wanted to look out for him. He must have attracted a lot of dubious attention himself, especially when he was younger. He nodded, pleased to have his conclusions about us confirmed.
“We’re heading up to Tórshavn in the morning ourselves. Have you ever visited the Faroe Islands?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m afraid they’re not even on my list of places I’d still like to see. I tend to head for a warmer climate, whenever I can take a holiday, except for the odd, winter sports break.”
“Yes, you do look like a sun lover. That cream colour sets off your skin tone beautifully, by the way.” He edged a little closer so he could finger my sleeve experimentally. “You must tell me where you got that shirt. I’d love to order a few myself.”
I tensed slightly, and he desisted immediately. I was feeling a little rattled, to be honest. My car usually behaved much better than this, but for some reason, it seemed to have taken a bit of a shine to him, and I was pretty sure I’d have known by then if Mads had slipped anything into the food or drink. I’d been careless enough about my wine consumption all by myself. In fact, I’d just nearly emptied my glass again. I hadn’t meant to do that either.
Blood in the Water: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller Page 19