He thought, Oh, God … Then forced the smile back, and nodded. ‘With what sounds like Prohibition in force, I’m lucky to be on it, too. But call me Ollie, would you?’
‘Ollie. Great. I’m Carl — OK? And this guy here is my side-kick Gus Stenberg.’
He’d visualised the ball-player as beefy, back—slapping, crewcut, soap-opera profile. But Stenberg had a narrow face, thin-bridged nose, deepset eyes with a lot of intelligence behind them. Thick, dark hair — no kind of crewcut — and he was tall and wide-shouldered, a skier’s build for sure. His handshake was firm, but unlike Sutherland he didn’t try to impress with it. Ollie recalled that Jarvis had given this one’s age as twenty-seven; he’d have guessed at five years more.
Sutherland was holding up a jug with some kind of mixture and ice in it. ‘Vodka martini suit you, Ollie? Happens to be what we have in this pitcher. Alternatively there’s Scotch whisky, but only tap-water to put in it — if you wanted anything in it. Unless we could screw some more ice out of these good people. Gus, you’re the guy with all the charm, maybe you could—’
‘Scotch and tap-water’d be fine. Even if you had ice I wouldn’t want it.’
‘Because there’s plenty out where we’re headed, right?’
Sutherland was at the washbasin, getting water. Ollie glanced at Stenberg. ‘When do we start?’ But Sutherland answered, turning with the glass in his hand: ‘Actually, I’ve started. Right here in Alta. Now — there you go …’ Passing him the tumbler; then reaching for his own glass again. ‘To a great trip.’ They drank to it, and Stenberg told Ollie quietly, ‘Day after tomorrow, we expect to start south, to Kautokeino. We’ve rented a VW minibus and they’re checking it over, fitting new snowtyres and so on.’
‘Glad I haven’t delayed you, then.’
‘No way.’ Sutherland said, ‘Our Norwegian colleague has yet to show up, for one thing. Flying in tonight, supposed to land here 2140 — right, Gus?’ Stenberg nodded almost imperceptibly: he was watching the professor in a detached sort of way. Critical way, maybe. Or as if he thought he was putting on some kind of act. Sutherland added, ‘We did think of waiting supper, but she may have eaten on the airplane.’
‘No bombs on this flight, let’s hope.’ Ollie did a double-take, then. ‘Did you say “she”?’
‘—like to get our ideas straight on this, now.’ Sutherland scowling, talking fast: ‘Let’s forget the bomb thing — OK? Because none of that stuff fits with what we’re doing or hoping to do. My opinion, it’s a load of eyewash anyway. As I just said, I’ve made a start here, and nothing I’ve heard yet suggests these rumours are anything but rumours. Can we agree on this, Ollie?’
‘Rumours about Lapp unrest, you mean.‘
‘Certainly that’s what I mean!’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Jarvis had been right about this one, anyway … He added, ‘Someone was saying last night that there are no security precautions at all at the Alta airport.’
‘Told you nothing but the truth.’ Stenberg stirred, from his observer‘s position on the sidelines. ‘I was down there today, saw it for myself. Incredible. You walk in, there’s an overhead sign says “Baggage Check-in”, and a rack with boxes of labels for all the destinations. So if you’re travelling to — well, Oslo, say, you pull out as many Oslo labels as you have pieces of luggage, write the flight number on them and tie them on, then you haul your stuff through an archway and load it into an open-top truck marked “Oslo”. In point of fact the flight that bomb was on—’
‘If it was a bomb.’ Sutherland shook his head. ‘As far as I’ve heard that hasn’t been positively established, has it?’
‘OK. Let’s call it the flight that exploded in mid-air.’ Stenberg had a slightly crooked smile. His sweater was Norwegian, mostly red and white with a frieze of antlered reindeer in the pattern. ‘Flight SK 375, takes off daily at 1540. Two baggage trucks provided, one Oslo and one Tromsø — where the flight touches down on its way south. The bomb went off —’ he glanced at Sutherland, ‘or as I should say, the explosion occurred — a few minutes before the scheduled Tromsø landing, so the bag that might have had a bomb in it could’ve been left in either of the trucks. They bring a tractor and tow ’em out on the apron for loading, and passengers only show their tickets as they go out to board. So, once that stuff’s labelled and in the truck, the guy who brought it could just go home. Or he could sit around, eat a sandwich and drink a beer — make like he’s waiting for his flight and then slip away nearer takeoff when there’s a crowd to confuse any surveillance. Not that I believe there is any. My guess is he’d have dumped it and walked right out.’
Sutherland said, ‘You didn’t tell me you were down at the flyplass.’
‘Well, I had the time to spare, since you didn’t want any recording done, and I was curious … I mean, Christ’s sake, this day and age, the age of terrorism, who’d believe it?’
‘And even since the bomb they haven’t changed it, eh?’
‘Norwegians are very trusting.’ Stenberg shrugged. ‘Seem to imagine everyone else is honest like they are. There’s also the theory that lightning never hits twice in one place. Nonsense, of course …’
‘Ollie, I’d really like you to understand me on this issue.’ Sutherland’s tone was earnest. ‘I’ll accept it, there most likely was a bomb. But there’s no valid reason to link it with these rumours of trouble—making by Sami dissidents. If indeed any such thing is happening. I flatter myself I understand these people rather better than most of us do, Ollie.’
He was going to have to get along with this guy. Even if it killed him. Stenberg was OK, anyway. He nodded: ‘Your book was the definitive statement, I was told.’
‘Precisely why I need to revise it now, adjust to the changes and the extent to which environmental changes have affected them … You didn’t read it?’
‘No. I looked for a copy, but they said they’d have to order it, and there wasn’t time.’
‘I have one I could lend you. Put you on the wavelength?’
‘Well, thanks.’ As it happened, he was genuinely interested, aware of knowing nothing about Lapps. ‘Are there many here in Alta?’
‘It’s a Lapp town. Well, it was. And sure, lots of them. It’s also a fascinating place in terms of Sami origins. Would you believe it, they’ve dug out fossilised Lapp skis that’ve been carbon-dated as three thousand years old? And just along the road here you can see rock paintings six thousand years old!’
‘Well …’
‘But Ollie,’ Stenberg put in, ‘you asked are there many Samis here, and while the answer is, sure, there are, the fact is a lot of them wouldn’t want to have you know them as such. OK, you get a lot who’re proud of their origins, who wear the traditional costume on Sundays and special occasions, have real pride in their ancestry. But plenty more who’d sooner forget it. Basically, because they expect to be looked down on. Like in the States a guy with Indian blood won’t be quick to announce it, not if he’s in the mainstream, competing?’
‘And who’s responsible for that, one might ask.’ Sutherland reached over. ‘Let me fill that glass, Ollie. We’re a couple ahead of you.’
‘Right …’
At least he wasn’t mean with his Scotch. He poured a good tot, too.
‘Social and political attitudes aren’t clearly separable, of course. Chickens and eggs — right? But that scenario is illustrative of the majority population’s attitude to the Samis, the way it forces on them this kind of — well, you could call it class-consciousness.’ He handed Ollie the refilled glass. ‘Too brown?’
‘Exactly the right shade.’
‘Then, the majority population choose to imagine that resentments that they themselves have created by their attitudes are signals of revolt. That’s the majority’s guilt-complex showing through, right? But it’s taking it too damn far when some lunatic puts a bomb on an airplane and just because it happens in Lappland they all take it as read a Sami did it.’ He spread his hands. ‘O
K, maybe it was a Sami. So what? In most barrels you’ll find a rotten apple, or two or three. But there’s no upheaval, they aren’t all nuts or something, just sensitive, a lot of well—founded grievances on certain issues that are important to them. It‘s all in my book, you’ll find. But for a correct perspective the first thing to grab hold of is the fact these people’s ancestors lived here literally thousands of years before anyone even knew what a Norwegian, Swede or Finn was. OK?’
Stenberg said, ‘The local cops did have some Samis in for questioning. They obviously think that’s where the bad apples are.’
‘They thought … Gus, they let ’em all go, right?’
‘Sure.’ Stenberg held the professor’s glare calmly. ‘Sure they did, Carl. All I’m saying—’
‘Look.’ Sutherland turned to Ollie. ‘I apologise. You just got here, and I start right in lecturing.’ He looked down at the amber glow in Ollie’s glass. ‘If you’d drink up now, we might see what there is to eat. Before they shut the fucking dining-room too?’
The dining-room was on the far side of reception. Sutherland told Ollie as they walked through, ‘Whatever you want, any place we’re staying at, it goes on the one check and I pay. OK?’
‘Excellent arrangement. Thanks.’
‘And on that subject, Ollie, you’ll get your fee in the form of a bank draft payable in London when we’re through. If in the meantime you want a float, for incidental expenses—’
‘I brought some krone with me. Thanks all the same.’
‘Right.’ Sutherland led them to a table beside a window. ‘May as well keep the same table we’ve been at this far. The set menu’s the best value. And since wine is a crazy price in this country I’d suggest we stick to beer. All right?’
‘Fine.’ Ollie nodded. ‘But this might be a good moment for me to ask a few questions. Some things I’m not clear on. D’you mind?’
‘Before I start the next lecture.’ He grinned as he sat down. ‘OK, Ollie, shoot.’
‘The first is a very basic and broad question. What d’you want me to do on this trip, to earn my fee? Another is where are we going when we push off from here — and when … Oh, and when you mentioned the Norwegian who’s coming, I think you said “she”. Or did I hear wrongly?’
‘You heard right. Is that the full list now?’
‘Just to kick off with … But listen — sorry, but I’ve remembered something more urgent — not a question, something I have to tell you, news I got last night when I landed. Rather far from pleasant, I’m afraid.’
Sutherland was facing Ollie at the window end of the table; the tightening of his expression showed that he was not a man to welcome bad news. Over the professor’s left shoulder Ollie could see out through the glass doors to the foyer, to where the blonde girl receptionist was booking in some new arrivals. Skis amongst that luggage … Sutherland said with an effort, ‘OK, we better hear this.’
‘I suppose they didn’t telephone you about it from Oslo or somewhere — report about the killings in Finland?’
Sutherland’s pale eyes widened slightly. He shook his head. Stenberg muttered, ‘Here we go …’
‘A security patrol, undercover unit, three men led by a half-Lapp lieutenant. All three experienced and armed, supposed to be investigating the rumours you’ve been talking about — the Finnish end of them, presumably. Two weeks ago they vanished, failed to report in to their base. No one knew whereabouts they’d been operating. But yesterday — could’ve been the day before — they were found dead. I can’t say precisely where, but well down in the middle of Finland and in the wilderness, miles from anywhere. My informant made the point that it was a long way south from where he thought you’d be working.’
‘How had they been killed?’
‘Hang on a minute.’ The waitress was coming with their beers. He asked Sutherland, ‘Did the Sami people at some time in their history have places where they made human sacrifices?’
Stenberg groaned: ‘Oh, Jesus.’
The waitress was putting down glasses and uncapping bottles; Sutherland told her they’d pour it for themselves, and she went away. He confirmed, ‘There is some evidence of it. Far more animal sacrifice than human, but — yeah, it did occur. The sacrificial sites were called seide or saivo. Saivo in fact referred to the Sami version of Paradise or ‘happy hunting ground’. Very close to the Red Indian tradition, you see. Some of the sites were more or less public, others were kept secret; usually there’d be some outstanding natural feature like a peculiarly shaped rock, or an ancient tree stump.’ He took a breath. ‘Go on, then.’
‘They’d been stabbed. Stripped naked and stabbed into their hearts, then set up in some ritual arrangement on this sacrificial place. The bodies were frozen solid, of course. No possessions or clothes anywhere around.’ He added, low voiced because there were other diners not so far away, ‘Some special significance about stabbing in the heart, I was told?’
‘Sure, it’s the traditional way of slaughtering reindeer.’ Stenberg got in ahead of his professor. ‘It’s how they used to do it, actually. Now it’s controlled — I mean slaughtering is controlled, has to be done the regular way in abattoirs. But that’s the seasonal slaughtering, mind you, for the mass market, which they do in the Fall. When they’re only killing an animal for their own consumption I guess they’d use the old method.’
Ollie nodded. ‘The lieutenant had also been either shot or speared, in the neck, and they think he might have been dead before he was stabbed.’
‘Well.’ Stenberg looked at the professor. ‘Point to you, Carl. Stabbing might have been just for show? To make it look a Sami killing?’
‘In contemporary contexts there is no such thing as a ritual Sami killing, damn it.’ Sutherland shook his head angrily. ‘The records indicating human sacrifice as having occurred in isolated instances are two hundred years old — when the whole damn world was cock-eyed anyway.’ He followed Ollie’s glance, saw the waitress approaching with prawn cocktails. ‘But this is a hell of a thing to believe, Ollie …’
‘These prawns were most likely swimming around in the sea not long ago. We’re in prawn country, right?’ Stenberg thanked the waitress, a brief exchange in Norwegian, which seemed to please her. He asked Ollie, ‘D’you speak the language?’
‘Wish I did.’
‘Well, no sweat. We both do. And my mentor here, being the kind of genius he is, can also get along in Lappish.’
‘Very difficult to learn, I’m told.’
‘Difficult?’ A shake of the head. ‘It’s impossible.’ The waitress had gone now. ‘Where did this information come from, Ollie?’
‘A contact at NATO headquarters near Bodø. I had a message to call him when I arrived yesterday, and that’s what he wanted to tell me. Asked me to pass it on to you, Carl. The report came from Helsinki via Oslo.’
‘And those Finns—’ Sutherland began to eat ‘—would have been looking into the same kind of research area that I’ll be in.’
‘Which was why you had to hear about it, I suppose.‘
‘Well, Jesus—’
‘Wait a minute.’ Stenberg pointed at him with his spoon. ‘It’s not the same at all, if you just think about it. For one thing, we won’t be in Finland. Also, you’re an extremely well-known authority on Samiland and the Samis — not some Finn spook nosing around where they didn’t want him. Also highly relevant is that you’re well established in the Sami consciousness as a friend and ally, you might say as a champion of their cause.‘ He shook his head. ‘Nobody’s going to stick a knife in you, Carl — the Norwegian government might feel inclined to, but—’
‘I assure you, my government would not dream of such a thing!’
Female voice, close by. They all looked up, and the blonde from reception was saying in English, ‘This is Professor Sutherland, Miss Eriksen. And Mr Stenberg and Mr Lyle.’
‘I think Captain Lyle.’
She was quite tall, dark-haired, and every man in the room was loo
king at her. About twenty-seven, twenty-eight, Ollie guessed. Not conventionally beautiful, but — striking … She was about level, eye-to-eye with him: the three of them were on their feet and she was telling Sutherland in Norwegian-accented English, ‘I am Sophie Eriksen, you are kindly allowing me to join you on your tour? I just flew up from Oslo. I am most happy to meet you, professor — of course I read your book when it was first published …’
Stenberg was eyeing her wolfishly, Sutherland turning pink as he pulled out the fourth chair for her. ‘You’ll join us, I hope? Haven’t dined yet?’ Ollie heard him mutter to the receptionist, ‘Have someone bring us a wine list, would you?’ Economy was going out of the window, it seemed. Sophie Eriksen folded her slim body into the chair; she was wearing expensive-looking soft leather trousers and a loose green alpaca sweater that wasn’t quite loose enough to hide her shape. Ollie deciding that she was, in fact, terrific … But what a crew to be taking into the wilderness. Stenberg would be OK, he thought. Sutherland — well, time and proximity would tell. And now this exciting-looking girl: who surely wouldn’t make the trip any less interesting …
‘So, Captain Lyle—’
‘No, I’m not a Marine any more. Name’s Ollie.’
‘Ollie.’ A nod … ‘I was going to say I did not know you had arrived yet.’
‘I wasn’t far ahead of you. Just this evening, by road.’
‘I was told that you had a bad accident. Parachuting? But you’re all right now, obviously …’ Then he’d lost her to Sutherland: the waitress had brought a wine list and Sophie had turned to advise him that he might do best to go for the house wines — there, Husets Rodvin, if he wanted a red one … ‘I hope you don’t mind that I suggest this — the prices are so crazy, as you can see.’ Sutherland nodding like a metronome: ‘Right, right …’ It was some Norwegian blend that she was recommending. Ollie, only half-hearing this discussion, thought back to the murdered Finns. It was the presence of this extremely attractive girl that had switched his thoughts to that atrocity: because she’d be with them and Sutherland would be nosing into this Lapp business, and despite Gus Stenberg’s recent blather — in which there was an obvious flaw anyway — there couldn’t be much doubt that there were elements around who were hostile to any displays of curiosity.
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