“I’m taking a day off from the skiing. And I’d like you to do some research for me. I need some specialist information about a couple of players in the AIM market”
“I don’t like the sound of this, Neep. I can see my morning vanishing.”
“I want to know the names of the directors of two companies that recently took out short positions on an AIM-listed corporation called Lamechson Plc.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t understand short-selling? Betting that the price of a stock will go down, not up.”
“Neep, stop pissing about. I know what short-selling is. But your voice is so slurred that I can hardly make out what you’re saying. And I don’t understand why you are asking for the information. It could take me hours to get an answer for you. It’s not exactly public-domain stuff.”
Neep hesitated, not sure how much to divulge. “Matt, I need your help. Something bad is happening out here - something really bad - and I’m caught up in it. I suspect that it has to do with Lamechson.”
“What kind of company is Lamechson?”
“Mining exploration. It looks to me like some people are betting that its share price is going to fall heavily. I think they have taken significant short positions. And I think that they are now – today -going to do something nasty to make sure the share price falls. But I also suspect they are betting that it will fall only briefly, before recovering again.”
“So they have taken long positions as well as short ones?”
“Yes, I think so. I think they have been buying up the stock gradually, to build their long positions. But then today, when the price hits rock-bottom, they will buy a lot more to close out their short positions. Then they’ll wait a few days for the price to recover and sell all their shares at a nice profit.”
“That’s neat. They make money when the share price goes down, and then make more money when it goes back up. Kind of risky though, isn’t it?”
“They are the kind of investors who manage risk aggressively, sometimes by killing people.”
There was a pause before Matt said, “Give me the names and I’ll get right on to it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. And Neep, this will mean that we’ll owe some people in the City some very big favours. Are you sure it’s worth it?
“I’m absolutely certain.”
Neep looked at his screen and read out the names of the two companies that he had found on the official register of short positions. Then he said, “And the person I’m especially interested in is Mr Ash Kumar.”
“Okay. I’m on it.”
“Hold on. There’s something else. A development company used to run the hotel that we’ve been staying in. The hotel is called Vesterheim Mountain Hotel. I don’t know the name of the development company, but it went bankrupt a few years ago. I want you to find out who its directors were – and if there were any other backers. In particular I’d like to know if Ash Kumar was involved.”
After ending the call Neep picked up the large envelope that Elin had left behind. He spoke aloud. “If I am not mistaken, Ash Kumar, you are an extraordinarily devious man.”
Chapter 42
Sitting in his car by the side of the Vinstra road, a kilometre north of Vesterheim Mountain Hotel, the big Norwegian was feeling sore from his injuries. Worse than that, he was feeling stupid.
Yesterday, twice in the one day, he had been beaten up - and by a civilian each time. Okay, the first opponent, the one he had killed, had almost certainly had some combat training. But the second one, according to the boss, was a woman. A woman, for Christ’s sake. She had taken him so much by surprise that he hadn’t seen her at all.
So after today, after this job was finished and he was out of the country, he would need to take stock. Make a decision about the future. Either step back and let other people do the hands-on stuff, or get into serious training.
But that was a matter for the future. Today he would just have to ignore the pain, cope with the dizziness, and get on with the job.
Anyway, today there should be no surprises – not if the boss did her lookout job properly. Surely she could manage that without letting things get personal? He had discovered too late that it had all been personal for her from the start, some damn vengeance mission she was on to punish the residents of this valley for condemning her to a life of hardship in Africa.
He confirmed that his knife and his rifle – his backup precautions – were in order. Then he checked his watch. His main precaution should be deploying very soon.
Chapter 43
By the time Cally caught up with Elin Olsen after a chase through the hospital car park, the Norwegian woman was in her vehicle and the motor was running.
Cally opened the passenger door and got in. “Elin, please come back into the building. It will take you two hours to drive to the hotel. I really don’t know if what Neep says is right. But if it is, by the time you get there it will be all over.”
“I don’t intend to drive. Ash’s helicopter is at the edge of town. I can fly to Vesterheim in twenty minutes. Now, please get out of the car.”
Cally didn’t move.
Elin waited, as if giving Cally one last chance, then slammed the car into gear. “I don’t have time to argue with you. When we get to the heliport I’ll give you the keys and you can drive my car back to the hospital.”
If I had a driving licence I’d be happy to try that, Cally thought, but kept quiet.
Elin turned left out of the car park and drove much too fast down a residential road. Cally had fleeting glimpses of wooden houses painted yellow and red, of a little park where children slid down slopes on plastic toboggans, of a big church near a junction where Elin slewed the car to the right.
Then the road was wider and Cally felt able to risk a few words.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry if what I said back there hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”
Elin went through a red light without making the slightest effort to slow down.
Cally fastened her seat belt. The doctor’s bottle was still in her hand. She opened it and swallowed two of the small pills, struggling to get them down without a drink.
Elin said, “You told the truth. I’m an overweight, ageing woman who owns a failing business and I stupidly fell in love with an attractive young man.”
Cally knew it was the kind of statement that didn’t need a response. But she was aware that Elin’s tone had changed. The woman was no longer just feeling sorry for herself, but seemed to be trying to derive an angry energy from her situation.
They were now skirting the town centre, moving along a wide road through a commercial district. Soon they went into a tunnel, where the tyre noise came back at them, amplified by the concrete walls. There was a double yellow line in the middle of the road, presumably to prevent overtaking, but Elin paid no attention to it.
Cally could feel her feet pushing imaginary brake pedals against the floor. “And what do you think you’ll be able to achieve?” she asked. “One woman against two men, who are almost certainly carrying guns.”
“I’ll do whatever I can. And it’s not just the hotel or my hurt pride. If what you have been saying is true, then Ash is responsible for the murder of innocent people, including your friend Richard Slater. I don’t want him to get away with that.”
“Then phone the police and let them deal with it.”
“The police! Do you mean the same police who have a key to Ash’s house, and who chased me around Lillehammer just an hour ago? The same police that don’t believe anything you have told them, and who have been holding you almost in captivity, with the nurses and doctors acting like prison guards? Do you think if I went to the police station now they would say, Thank you for telling us this incredible story, we’ll send our best officers right away?”
They came out of the tunnel and merged on to a major road. It took them through a
n industrial area where there was less traffic. When they passed a sign saying the limit was 40kph, Cally glanced across at the speedometer. They were doing twice that speed.
Elin continued, “What you say is probably right. I probably am pregnant. It would explain why I’ve been feeling run down for weeks - why I’ve been so pathetically moody and helpless. And if I am pregnant then I want to be able to look my child in the eye when it is older and say, I did the right thing.”
She looked across to Cally. “I’m sure your own mother would have wanted to do the same for you, make you feel proud of her?”
Cally remained silent. She did not have a short response to that question. And the long one would have taken for ever.
And anyway there was no point in arguing. Elin’s world had been turned upside down and all she was left with was this one chance to do something that made a difference.
She seemed so alone. No longer a posh and bossy hotel owner; just an ordinary decent woman betrayed by the man she had thought was in love with her, but who was feeding her drugs in order to use her, to make money from her. Cally recognised herself in the woman. This is how she had been, panicky and lost, when she learned that Alec Filshie had betrayed her, when he tricked her into the transit van in Aberdeen. The parallel was staring her in the face. Except that it wasn’t quite a parallel - for Elin was determined to tackle her problem head-on, while Cally had always chosen to run away from hers.
At a roundabout Elin turned on to a smaller road that took them into the countryside. The few remaining industrial units soon gave way to fields and farmhouses. She then turned on to an even narrower road and drove until she reached the heliport. She got out of the car, took a big ring of keys from her shoulder bag and opened the padlock on the high metal gate.
Cally sat for a moment and then got out of the car.
Elin said, “Please don’t try to stop me.”
“I won’t. I’m coming with you. You can’t do this on your own.”
Elin looked at her in surprise. “And what about the two men with the guns? Why risk yourself for my sake?”
Cally looked at the ground, focussing on nothing in particular. “It won’t be just for your sake.”
She looked up, met Elin’s gaze. “And the men might not be all that scary. If they are who I think they are, one of them was badly beaten up yesterday, twice. And I think the other one - your boyfriend - has been shot in the leg.”
“And it was you that shot him?”
“Yes.”
“In that case you can come.”
Chapter 44
When Neep heard footsteps in the hospital corridor he thought it wise to switch off his phone and hide it under his pillow, just in case the police had issued an edict prohibiting all communication with the outside world.
The doctor came in. “I have had to notify the hospital managers about your friend’s decision to leave the building,” he said, a little wearily. “How they deal with that is a matter for them.” He allowed himself a smile. “Given the extent of your own injuries, can I assume that you won’t run off before we can offer any further treatment?”
Neep wasn’t looking for trouble. “I’m sorry about my friend. She was only trying to help the other woman. And yes, of course, I’d like you to keep treating me.”
“Thank you.” The doctor checked the chart at the foot of Neep’s bed. He said. “Later today we’ll do some more tests. But before that I think we should give some attention to your digestive system. I see from the chart that you have not requested any toileting since last night. Is there a problem?”
“I’m a bit squeamish about using bedpans.”
“The nurses are quite accustomed to bedpans.”
“Yes, I expect they are. But I’m not.”
“Okay. Do you think you can manage to walk along the corridor to the toilet?”
“I’d like to try.”
“Then swing your legs out of bed and let’s see if you can stand up. Take it slowly.”
Neep did as he was asked and then stood still while the man shone a torch in his eyes and his ears, and then took a look in his mouth. Apparently satisfied, the medic helped Neep into a pair of flimsy disposable slippers that were in the bedside locker, and said, “Now let me see you walk over to the door.”
Neep shuffled stiffly across the room with the doctor following close behind him, pushing the wheeled drip-stand. When they reached the door the doctor said, “Right. I’m happy with the way you are moving. I’ll take you along to the toilet now, and I’ll get a nurse to wait outside in case you need help. When you’re done she’ll take you to the ward for some breakfast.”
Neep was dismayed by the thought that his phone was under his pillow, now well out of reach. There was no way he could go back to get it without the medic seeing him do it - which might just provoke another call to the hospital managers.
The doctor said, “Are you still okay with this? You look a little unwell.”
“It’s alright. I’m fine,” Neep replied. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he really did need to go to the toilet. And that he was very hungry.
If Matt tried to call, he would just have to wait.
* * *
When Martha Skaugen got back to her brother’s house, the pastor, Frederik Voldbakken, was already there, sitting in his car. She led him quickly inside and saw his surprise when she climbed on to the dining chair, opened the elk head and brought out the envelopes. She took a key from one of them and said, “Come out to the garage - I think I know what this key is for.”
Out they went and squeezed between the clutter, making their way to the wardrobe. The pastor recoiled when Martha opened its door. “Don’t worry. It won’t bite you,” she said, then crouched down and removed the collar from the stuffed dog. As she had anticipated, there was a keyhole in the animal’s neck. The key fitted, and turned easily. The dog’s head tilted forward to reveal another hidden compartment.
There were more envelopes. One contained money. One was a light-weight airmail envelope with a foreign stamp. Martha took out the letter it contained and shone the torch on it. It was headed October 1972, Kampala, Uganda. She read it aloud.
Dear Håkon,
I am disappointed that you have not felt able to write to me again since your first letter. Maybe one day I will be able to forgive you.
I feel I should let you know that everything is changing here. President Amin is expelling all the Asians from the country. Mr and Mrs Kumar who have looked after us quite well, considering everything, will go to England to start a new life there. Unfortunately there will be no room for your son Olav and me. And unfortunately my father does not want us to return to Norway. So it has been decided that I am to marry Mr Kumar’s nephew, a businessman who lives in the country now called Zaïre, which is just across the border. I have not met him yet but Mr Kumar says he is very nice. I hope that is true, for I have no alternative.
I am trying not to hate you.
Goodbye.
Agnes
* * *
In the cabin of the helicopter, Cally sat with her fists clenched and her knees pressed tightly together, hoping that she would soon get used to the sensation of speed. The rate at which the aircraft had soared away from the heliport, in a stomach-churning climb, had shocked her. And now she was acutely aware that they were travelling much faster than the traffic on the main road below them. It seemed a long way below them.
In spite of the headphones, it was noisy in the cabin. And there was a strong smell of fuel, but it was as if the fuel had something else mixed in with it, something like a kitchen bin that badly needed emptying. Before they took off, Cally had seen Elin push open a window, but had decided not to ask her about it - or to ask her about anything at all. Elin looked as if she was having to concentrate very hard.
Cally wondered how much flying the woman had actually done.
Soon they came over a little town and Elin swung the aircraft to the left, away from the road and over a
range of empty hills. Her voice crackled in Cally’s headphones. “There should be a map-case in a pouch beside the back seat. Could you get it, please?”
Cally reluctantly unclipped from her harness and twisted round. The map-case was there, but when she reached for it she saw there was something on the floor, a small plastic object that she recognised immediately. She bent to pick it up and then turned round in her seat.
“What is that?” Elin asked, glancing across.
“It’s Richard’s thermometer. He used to hang it from his rucksack when he was skiing.” Cally held it up. “The clip is broken.”
“So Richard’s rucksack has been carried in this helicopter?”
“Yes. And I think his body was carried in it, too.”
There was a pause before Elin asked, “And that’s what has caused the smell?”
“No. I know that smell. It’s from Hawkeye.”
* * *
Gunnar Hoveng was standing at a corner of Tronablikk hotel’s sun-terrace. The teach-in had reached its first break – scheduled early in the proceedings to give the analysts an opportunity to call their investment companies and their Press contacts, and deliver some positive feedback in time to make the evening papers.
Morten Espelund appeared. “It is common knowledge,” he said, launching right in, “that Hawkeye Skaugen is suspected of stealing data from Norexploration.”
Gunnar was immediately on the back foot. “I didn’t think you knew that he worked for them.”
“Give me credit. Did you think you could keep that a secret, in a gossipy place like Espedalen?”
Trying to recover some control, Gunnar said, “I can’t comment on your suspicions about Hawkeye.”
“You don’t need to comment. The police had their Missing Person posters up within days of him going AWOL. They wouldn’t have done that unless something had happened. And police officers have been seen up at his house several times in the last week.”
“Seen by whom?”
“By neighbours - who then spread the news. Anyway, even though you can’t comment, let’s just pretend that Hawkeye has been stealing information recently, and that he has been selling it.”
The Red Mitten Page 25