The Red Mitten

by Stuart Montgomery

  Kari took a sip of her drink. “Thanks for meeting me so late in the evening. I realise it would have been better to talk right after the Initiative Group, but when it over-ran I had to rush off to another meeting.”

  “No worries. We had to let Geir Osmo get it all off his chest. The vandalism at his hostel really spooked him.”

  Kari put down her drink and said, “I’ll come straight to the point. I want to get maximum publicity for the sports weekend. It’s a great chance for us to raise the profile of the valley, right in the middle of the winter season. On both Saturday and Sunday I’ll be here all day and I’ll have a still camera and a video camera. And I’d like you to help me get some really good images that I can send to the local paper and also use on social media – Facebook and Pinterest. And I want to do some videos for YouTube.”

  “I’m no good with that kind of thing,” Finn said, feeling crestfallen.

  “I can do the technical work. I’ve got all the software at home. What I need you to do is make sure the activities take place in the most photogenic spots. And I’d like to get some publicity for the Helvete project at the same time, to help us with the Unesco bid. So I want to take a few of the kids along there and get some photographs of them in the canyon.”

  “All of that will be fine. I’ll give you a copy of the detailed activity programme, and I’ll highlight the things that should look particularly good on film. And I’m going to be in Helvete on Friday, with some people having a jolly with a mine exploration company. So I’ll be able to check things out then, see where the biggest icicles are, and maybe rehearse a few video sequences for you.”

  “A jolly with a mining company?”

  “Vidar Lien mentioned it at the Initiative Group meeting. I think it’s a team-building event, but with very gentle activities. All we’re doing is some snowshoeing – a short tour from Vidar’s hotel and then a walk along the canyon.”

  “That’s interesting,” she said. “If I give you some leaflets, could you hand them out to the mining people for me? Every little helps.”

  “I’ll be glad to do that,” he said. Then, knowing he was taking a risk, he added, “Do you mind if I ask for your help with something.”

  “What kind of something?”

  Finn could see that her guard had gone up, but he continued, “Can you advise me how to take my snow-mobile project forward? At the end of the day it will be the council that decides whether it goes ahead, so I imagine no one is better placed than you to give me a few tips.”

  Kari looked around in a theatrical way, as if to disguise the evasiveness that was coming in her answer. “Keep your voice down! The spirit of old Morten Espelund still walks within this building. And if he gets to know that you’re using his former ski-hotel to drum up support for snow-mobiles then you’ll be in trouble.”

  “You are wrong. Morten and I will be working together on the Helvete tour on Friday, and we’ve had a couple of meetings about it. After one meeting I told him all about the snow-mobile project and he is absolutely in favour of it.”

  “So Espelund is working for the mine company? That’s a surprise.”

  “You might be surprised by who else is working for it – on an irregular basis.”

  He waited for her to respond.

  She tilted her head and smiled. “Come on then. Out with it.”

  “Hawkeye Skaugen – if my information can be trusted.”

  Now Kari laughed. “Morten Espelund and Håkon Skaugen working for the same company? The reindeer protector and the poacher? That is just too good!”

  “Unholy alliances are one of the joys of living in a close-knit community,” Finn said, taking his turn to laugh. “I guess you’re aware that at this morning’s meeting I was sitting between Morten and his childhood sweetheart.”

  “You mean Agnes Tvete? Yes, my parents once told me about that. Young lovers, just about to be married. But then she went away, didn’t she?”

  “She did, but Morten went away first. He did his national service, fetched up with a cushy overseas posting and liked it so much he decided to stay on afterwards, in what turned out to be a very well-paid job. By the time he got back to Espedalen, with enough money to buy a hotel, Agnes had gone off to the proverbial nunnery, or in her case a mission school. Wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine for a little while. But when she got back to Norway she took a job in Oslo, and ended up staying there until she retired.”

  “Please don’t tell me that she was the reason why Morten didn’t move away after selling Vesterheim – that when Agnes moved back to Espedalen he saw the chance for them to spend their twilight years together.” She rolled her eyes. “I prefer to believe it was because he’d lost all his money and couldn’t afford to leave.”

  “He did lose all his money, most of it anyway, in the project to redevelop Vesterheim. But he wasn’t the only one. If my information is right, almost every member of the Initiative Group lost money.”

  Kari Gaustad sat back in her chair. “Well, well. I didn’t realise you were such a good source of gossip.” She lifted her glass again, this time taking a proper drink. “What other nuggets can you tell me about our colleagues in the Initiative Group?”

  Finn put a finger to his chin and adopted a thoughtful pose. “Well, of course, there’s the rumour about the pastor and his secret love-child with Lady Gaga. But personally I think it’s nothing but vile slander.”

  “You do?”

  “Lady Gaga is just not his type. And anyway, he is happily married to Kylie Minogue.”

  She laughed. “You are a very funny man.”

  And you are a very attractive woman. And not nearly as complicated as I had expected. Certainly not as complicated as I am.

  “If you’re interested in gossip, there is also the story about Geir Osmo,” he said. “About how he came to acquire the hostel in Slangenseter in the first place. But I guess you have heard all about that?”

  “No, I haven’t. Do tell.”

  “It’s a very long story, so why don’t I get you another drink before I start?”

  Kari smiled warmly into his eyes. “Thanks. That would be kind. I don’t need to rush away.”

  Chapter 17

  When Cally felt Richard’s hand on her shoulder, waking her, she was glad to be released from a dream that had been growing more and more oppressive. She had been wandering, lost, among high snowy mountains. But at the same time she had been trapped inside a room filled with fog. Because of the fog she needed a map to find her way out of the room, but the map was too blurred to read. And the fog was choking her. And for no obvious reason there was a barking dog, trying to help her.

  She took a moment to come to. The room was almost completely dark, the only light coming from Richard’s torch, filtered between the fingers of his hand which he had cupped over the lense.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Just after three,” Richard whispered.

  “But you were going to keep watch until midnight and then Neep would be on till three.”

  “It’s okay. Old guys like me don’t need much sleep. And it’s good to let Neep recharge. But I’d like to shut my eyes for a while now. So please take over. Waken me right away if the wind dies down. Otherwise let me sleep till six.”

  He got into his sleeping bag and, as far as Cally could tell, fell instantly asleep.

  The room was dark again, and silent apart from the rhythmic breathing of the two men. The fire in the stove had died down and the reassuring hiss of burning logs was gone. Outside the storm was still blowing. Cally’s body felt warm in the sleeping bag but her head and face were cold. She snuggled deeper into the bag, then realised that, although she was stiff from lying on the floor, she could easily sleep again.

  She wriggled into a sitting position, with her back against the end of one wall. She put her hand in her trouser pocket and clasped the strip of foil that contained some of her benzos. The prospect of the druggy warm buzz was tempting but dangerous, so she
took her arms out of the sleeping bag so that that the cold might keep her awake. Then she put the pills in the top compartment of her rucksack and zipped it shut. People were relying on her.

  But it was still not right. Even in this position, propped uncomfortably in a corner, feeling the cold of the cabin’s thin wooden wall against her back, not liking the way her clothes clung tightly to her or the way the sleeping bag twisted round her legs - even with all this she could still have fallen asleep. She made an effort, got into a position where she could push herself up on to the bench. Now it was right. Now she would have to stay awake, or she would fall off the bench.

  She thought about the dead man on the other side of the wall, kept from falling by a rope round his chest. If she and Richard had been right in their deductions, his killers would also be waiting for the storm to abate.

  By five-thirty she felt too stiff to sit any longer. The wind was still blowing strongly. If anything it seemed to have worsened. Strong gusts shook the cabin, rattling the broken door. But now there were occasional spells, just for a few seconds, when it was calmer. She got up and moved across to the window and pulled back the curtains. The sky seemed a little clearer. Here and there a blink of light showed the position of a star.

  She crossed to Richard and woke him.

  They roused Neep. They ate the last of their food, then put on jackets and hats and closed up their rucksacks.

  By now the sky was a little lighter and the wind blew a little less strongly. It was time to go. They went out on to the snow and clipped into their skis. It was almost too dark for safe skiing, but more snow had fallen in the night and maybe they could rely on it to keep their speed down. There was no question of using head-torches to light their way.

  As she moved back and forward, trying to loosen her stiff muscles, Cally glanced at the other door, Hawkeye’s door. She felt relieved to see it was locked, then realised she was being stupid. It wasn’t as if the hunter would have made a bid for freedom in the night. Richard must have clipped the padlock shut. She still had the key in her pocket. She would give it to the police later.

  Before starting down the slope they made a short diversion, to a point where the map showed the ground falling away steeply. Richard said it would make a good viewpoint from which to check the route and choose the best line. He led the way, leaving deep tracks in the new snow.

  As soon as they reached the viewpoint they could see the light.

  It was a long way down the valley and it was moving. It came from a vehicle that was making its way along a minor track.

  By the time the vehicle stopped moving, Richard had his binoculars trained on it.

  “It looks too big for a car. It might be a van. I can’t make out the colour. Now there’s another light, a fainter one, maybe a torch. And two people taking something out of the back of the vehicle. I think it’s a pulk-sled.”

  He lowered the binoculars. “Neep, how are the new skis?”

  “They seem okay. The boots are a bit floppy but I can manage.”

  “Can you manage a long detour?”

  “Anything’s better than skiing down that way,” Neep said. “I can’t imagine that’s the Betterware lady, coming up with a catalogue.”

  Cally was pleased to hear he was back on form – he was going to have to be. Before Richard could ask, she said, “I’m fine, too. Let’s get out of here!”

  To nobody’s surprise, Richard took charge. “Stay in my tracks,” he said. “Neep, I’d like you to tuck in behind me. And tell me if I go too fast.” He turned to Cally. “Will you be okay at the back?”

  “Yes,” she said, aware that she had been promoted.

  They followed their tracks back to the cabin and then, without pausing, Richard led them up the valley, away from this place of safety that had now become dangerous.

  He took a line that climbed gently and he moved at a slow and steady pace, not varying it even when Cally and Neep occasionally bunched too close, as if it was his way of saying, The pace isn’t going to change, so just relax and get into a rhythm. Control your breathing and don’t let the fear tire you.

  After maybe half an hour they came to a fork in the valley, and Cally expected Richard to stop and check the map. But without hesitating he chose the right-hand option and continued forward, letting his pace slow a little as the ground now steepened. Occasionally he glanced back, but he kept moving in a confident way, as if he knew exactly where he was. After another half-hour there was another fork in the valley and once again he didn’t hesitate, but this time went to the left, even though this seemed to be taking them up to the higher mountains.

  And then Cally realised, Richard did know exactly where he was. And knew exactly where he was going.

  Last night she had wondered why he was spending so much time poring over the map, when their route down to main road was so obvious. Now she knew he had been preparing for this, planning an escape route to use if the first option went wrong.

  They certainly needed an escape route now. Cally could imagine the scene that would play out when the skier with the pulk-sled got to the cabin and saw the broken door and the fresh ski tracks leading up the valley. Possibly he would wonder whether the body had been discovered. It was still behind a locked door, after all. But then he would see the bags of logs Richard had brought in from the other part of the cabin. And then he would open the other door, and see an unfamiliar pair of broken skis and a dead man with no boots.

  But then it occurred to Cally that this scenario depended on the skier being able to unlock the padlock. And the key was in her pocket. So unless he was carrying a spare key, he would be stumped.

  There was something immensely cheering about that. It showed, yet again, that these guys make mistakes. They had killed Hawkeye without planning to do so. They did it in a place where it was difficult to dispose of the body. And then - maybe - they locked the body in one part of a cabin and left the only key in a drawer in another part.

  She hoped they would continue to get things wrong.

  By the time they reached the top of the small valley it was fully light – a grey light that struggled through a sky still heavy with low clouds. Before them was an expanse of rolling terrain, featureless apart from occasional craggy outcrops, but they could see that there were steeper and higher mountains ahead, their summits alternately looming out of the cloud and vanishing into it.

  Richard kept them going for another ten minutes before stopping. He pointed to a low knoll a short distance away, off to their left. Below it the ground fell steeply.

  He said, “From there I should be able to see back down to the cabin. Take a break while I’m away.”

  Cally and Neep watched him ski quickly to the foot of the knoll and then unclip from his skis and walk to the top - or almost to the top. For the very last section he dropped to the snow and crawled.

  Cally waited till Neep’s breathing slowed before speaking. “How’s your knee?”

  “It’s okay, thanks.”

  She knew he was lying. His stride had been uneven since they left the cabin, and it had grown worse as the ground steepened. Even if she hadn’t been watching him, she would have known something was wrong from the lop-sided way he had been planting his poles - one side close to his skis and the other about a foot away from them. She could see the pattern all the way down the track they had made.

  “Visible from space”, Neep said.

  “Sorry?”

  “I’m thinking the same as you. Our track is really obvious.”

  Cally tried to ignore that. She said, “Where’s the first aid kit?”

  He seemed not to hear her. He was looking very tired - already. She tried again. “The first aid kit - is it in the top section of your rucksack or a side pocket?”

  “In the top, I think. It’s in a blue bag.”

  She unfastened his rucksack, found the bag and fished out the ibuprofen. The sight of the small box reminded her of the benzos in her own rucksack. She should have time to take
one before Richard came back. She got out Neep’s thermos and shook it. It still felt about half-full; he must have put it in his bag last night and then forgotten about it. She poured some saft into the cup and held it out. “Drink this. And take a couple of pain killers for that knee.”

  He said, “Really, I’m fine.”

  “You’ve been hurting since we started from the cabin. I’m not stupid.”

  He reached out his hand and let her put two pills in it. He managed a fragile sort of smile. “Being chased over the mountains is good for you, Cally. I’ve never seen you so bossy.”

  “Maybe you’ve never seen me at all,” she said. “Anyway, somebody’s got to be bossy with you, and right now I’m the only candidate.” She handed him a tissue. “And this is for your snottery nose.”

  She felt like someone fussing over an elderly relative, knowing they wouldn’t be around for ever.

  “Cally, I’m sorry for getting you into this situation,” Neep said. “If I had been fitter we would have made it to the DNT place last night and none of this would be happening. I’m supposed to be looking after you, not the other way round.” He sounded close to tears.

  “And I’m going to make you suffer for it when we get back to Aberdeen. Your name’s going to be mud in the ski club.”

  He swallowed the painkillers and handed her the cup. He had left her some saft.

  Cally was opening her rucksack when she saw that Richard was on his way back. He was skiing hard. She closed her rucksack then quickly packed away Neep’s thermos. Before reaching them Richard shouted, “We need to go! There’s a skier coming up in our tracks. He has just started from the cabin. He left the pulk there and now he’s moving fast.”

  Cally said, “But if he’s on his own, can’t we wait and fight? It would be three against one.”

  “He’s carrying a rifle. We need to go! If we can get up to the higher ground we’ll lose him in the cloud.”

  Richard set off, and now took a steeper line over the rolling terrain, heading into the deteriorating visibility.