by Jean Chapman
‘Ah!’ Now the older man took over. ‘Now you’re talking – that’s where you get a feel of the real Arctic wilderness. We should do it again!’ He looked at his partner, who shrugged and gave a pretend shiver.
‘You need the right clothing,’ she said. ‘Some youngsters were actually proposing to sleep out there.’
‘Well, they had all the right gear …’
Cannon thought he might have a look at this wilderness where you needed ‘the right gear’.
Finishing his breakfast, Cannon began to have the feeling that all the actors in this drama were assembling at this northern city to play out the final act. Bliss was most likely already here, waiting in the wings – and the rest of the cast?
He knew Liz, Cathy and Higham were sailing towards Kirkenes, but when would Toby arrive? Was the exhibition bus already here or not? Was their original plan ever going to work? Cathy was supposed to transfer to the bus and return to Bergen with her brother; he, Liz and Higham were to stay on the Nordsol and cruise back to Bergen, where they were all to meet up to fly home. Cannon felt Higham had agreed in the first place just to get out of Oslo quickly – parting with Cathy when the time came might be quite a different matter.
He had some phoning to do. He glanced out of the window at a land of snow, sea and sunshine, and saw a waiter carrying blankets and cushions to several long seats outside on a veranda overlooking the bay.
He took his mobile phone and a third cup of coffee outside, wrapped himself in blankets and could not believe how warm and invigorated he felt by the view, the air, the warmth and comfort of his seat. He was quite prepared to do a lot of phoning from here.
He called Liz first. ‘Where are you?’ he asked.
‘Me, or the ship?’ she asked.
‘Both.’
‘And where are you?’
He told her in detail.
‘That sounds OK,’ she said, then told him she was with Cathy and Higham at breakfast and the Nordsol was just leaving Haveysund. ‘I think we have several short stops during the day and night before we reach you.’
‘The police have reason to believe Bliss is already here. I’m going to contact Toby and we should both be on the quay when you dock.’ He dropped his official manner to ask, ‘Sure you’re OK?’
‘Sure …’ Her tone was not convincing. ‘Wish you were here.’
‘Love you,’ he said.
‘Love you,’ she said and her voice was less than steady.
‘See you tomorrow …’
He had just rung off when the phone bleeped the signal for an incoming text message. From Toby, it read: ‘Air crew strike – not sure when arrive. Bus also late.’
Cannon felt doubly glad for the phone and the revolver.
Later that morning Cannon joined several others from the hotel who wished to have a look around at the huskies and perhaps make up their mind about joining a wilderness safari later.
They were driven by the hotel minibus to what was the site of the Ice Hotel, which was rebuilt from ice blocks each year well before Christmas and was open for guests to stay until the following April.
Cannon was intrigued to find that the timber buildings associated with the Ice Hotel consisted of a shop and reception area, then there was a short distance to walk to the mountain of snow and ice remaining from the previous year’s tourist attraction. Beyond this were similar timber buildings which the bus driver explained were toilets, showers, rooms where special sleeping suits were kept, all associated with the Ice Hotel. There was also a restaurant, which was open and where they could eat if they wished.
Now, with the previous year’s hotel no more than a series of fantastic photographs showing ice sculptures along the ice corridors and happy smiling faces of visitors in ice-block beds cocooned in thermal sleeping bags and furs, the small party was directed to where they might see the huskies. The driver was happy to wait in the restaurant until they were all ready to go back to Kirkenes.
Free to wander, Cannon left the others as they went straight for the dogs, some already harnessed to sleighs. Cannon headed for a rise below a clump of birches and firs from which he could view the whole area in more detail.
It was clear where the sleigh rides went – the tracks going off into the distance showed as lines of deep shadow, the sun was so low in the Arctic sky. The landscape was beautiful and from just below he heard squeals of delight as the younger members of the party were introduced to the huskies and one of the dog handlers produced a husky puppy from beneath his coat.
Cannon wondered if Bliss intended to stay up here, out of the town, out of sight, and wait for his opportunity to finally finish his vendetta against Higham? Was this the place where the drama must end? The police alerted, following to this northern extremity, closing in? Cannon shivered as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. Where could Bliss go from here?
Chapter 26
The first call to Cannon’s room came before his early alarm call. It was Forstmann.
Without preamble the Kripos man said, ‘A section of the ice blocks on the site of the Ice Hotel have been made into a kind of rough igloo. Bliss apparently spent last night there. He left some of Midvinter’s gear: a sleeping bag and a camping stove. But we’ve not found the man – so far,’ Forstmann added, his voice steely, going quickly on: ‘I’ve spoken to your partner, Liz Makepeace, and told her that we want the party to behave perfectly normally. I believe the daughter wishes to go to see the huskies near that site. We want her to do that—’
‘Wait a minute,’ Cannon interrupted, ‘you’re saying you want to use the daughter …’
‘And her father, who your partner assures us will insist on going with his daughter.’
‘As bait,’ Cannon put in. ‘Using live bait is always risky, too risky in my opinion.’
‘No, not in this trap, I assure you,’ Forstmann said. ‘Your people will be perfectly safe.’
It was almost the same words used to Cannon when Liz had been part of an undercover operation with the Met that had nearly cost her life. ‘Perfectly safe … complete cover.’
‘This man is clever, devious, has more than likely got a gun, plans every move,’ Cannon re-emphasized.
‘So do we,’ Forstmann said, going on, ‘What we need you to do is meet the Nordsol as arranged with the brother, and both go aboard – that’s been arranged …’
‘Toby Higham?’ Cannon queried.
‘He’s landing as we speak,’ Forstmann said, ‘and will be on the quayside waiting for you. Captain Anders has been informed. OK?’
It was not so much a question as an end to the conversation.
Cannon breakfasted almost alone in the dining room, plagued by the last words he had heard Bliss say: ‘Perhaps Liz next then – and then, oh! then Mr Higham.’
Over my dead body, he thought, sobered then by the realization that had it not been for Midvinter it might well have been just that.
He checked out of the hotel and walked to the docks in time to see the Nordsol approaching her berth. With an arrival time of nine and departure three and a half hours later, there were no new boarding passengers around as yet, but the dock was ready for this regular arrival: warehouses’ doors were open and the ubiquitous forklift trucks were trundling busily around, like ants foraging among and rearranging piles of goods.
Cannon kept a lookout for Forstmann, Toby, or anyone who looked as if they might be loitering. He waited opposite the area where the Nordsol was now looming over its allocated bay. Water boiled as the gap lessened between ship and shore, though it finally came to a stop, and the engines were cut off, without so much as a bump on the fenders. The mooring ropes were being hauled into place as he heard someone call his name.
Toby Higham came from one of the terminal offices. He looked tired, drained and as if he had slept in the same clothes for days. He had certainly not shaved for quite a time and looked rough, older – and even more like his father.
‘What happened?’ Cannon asked as they g
ripped hands.
‘Every kind of delay,’ Toby said, shaking his head. ‘If it wasn’t for Olav Forstmann’s help I wouldn’t be here now. I could do with a shower and change of clothes.’
‘You can come to our cabin when we get aboard, I’d be glad of a chance to talk to you without the family around,’ Cannon said as the ship’s crew began the procedure of putting its passenger gangway in place. He looked up and could see Liz standing at the rail.
As they walked aboard, Toby said, ‘Olav has put it to my father that there is a real chance to catch Bliss and to finish the whole cat-and-mouse affair once for all.’ He paused. ‘And to my surprise he says he’s agreed to …’
‘Play bait,’ Cannon supplied. ‘Forstmann told me.’
‘Yes.’ Toby stopped walking and shook his head. ‘I think my dad has just reached the end of his tether. He feels his nerve will completely desert him if he doesn’t do this now. He just wants to be free of “this long, long curse”, and Olav has convinced him that this is a chance not to be missed and he’s so keen for it to be all over and done with before he joins up with Mother again at Bergen.’ He began walking again. ‘I think we have to go along with it.’
As they reached the top of the gangway, Liz came forward to greet them. ‘Good to see you both,’ she said but the tears blurring her eyes were for Cannon. She frowned them away, adding sternly, ‘You’re limping.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said as Captain Anders and his older second officer joined them.
The captain nodded to Cannon. ‘Please to see you safely back,’ he said, then looking at Toby added, ‘And this will be …’
‘Mr Toby Higham,’ Cannon said.
‘Welcome aboard, Mr Higham,’ Anders said. ‘I understand your stay is only while we are in port.’
Toby nodded. ‘That’s correct. I leave Kirkenes by bus tomorrow.’
‘And I am taking Toby to our cabin so he can get cleaned up,’ Cannon added.
‘Please keep me informed of your movements until you leave my ship, and there will always be an officer at hand,’ Anders said, turning to nod to the serious older officer who he obviously completely relied on. The officer inclined his head to them, did not speak, but dutifully followed them to station himself at the end of the corridor leading to their cabin.
‘The captain runs a tight ship,’ Cannon commented as they let themselves in.
‘Tea, coffee, or something stronger?’ Liz asked.
‘Tea would be good,’ Toby said, then glanced at the shower. ‘But first I’d …’
‘Help yourself,’ Liz told him.
‘If you need anything, sing out,’ Cannon added.
In a very short time they heard the water begin to run. He turned quickly and pulled Liz into his arms. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for long enough.’ Then he added, his voice falling even lower, ‘Been moments when I thought I never would again.’
‘John?’ she questioned, but he shook his head.
‘Not now,’ he whispered. ‘Just let me hold you. In fact,’ he added, ‘I think you’d better marry me.’
She was perfectly still in his arms, and for long seconds the only noise was the sound of the water running and Toby moving about under it.
‘I mean it,’ he said.
‘You’ve been through quite a trauma,’ she said, ‘but when we get home and it’s still what you want … OK.’
He lifted her bodily from the ground, looked up at her and said, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.’
She looked at him with mischief in her eyes, lifted her hands to the clip that held her hair back and shook her head so the long blonde hair fell forward, then she lowered her head so it fell over his face.
‘My grandmother would have called you a brazen hussy,’ he whispered as the water in the shower ceased.
‘You’ll just have to make me into what your granny would have called an honest women then,’ she said, kissing him on the nose.
‘I can’t wait,’ he answered huskily.
By the time Toby emerged they were both busy making tea and Cannon was pouring Toby something a little stronger to go with it.
Cannon was to learn that Liz too knew of Forstmann’s plans, and also felt there was a good chance of catching Bliss. And they should take it. ‘Forstmann and his men know exactly what they are doing,’ she said. ‘However well Bliss knows the area, the police have local men who know it better.’
‘We’ve been here before,’ Cannon said, staring meaningfully at her. There was a pause when she seemed to stare into space, then he saw her relive the moments when she had been hit across the jaw with an uppercut that would have floored a heavyweight boxer, then been thrown into the path of a speeding 4x4 in a sordid multi-storey metropolitan car park.
‘This I think is different,’ she said, but her voice shook and she turned away to the window.
‘There is no need for you two to be involved if you do not wish to be,’ Toby said gently. ‘You have, after all, done so much already. If it wasn’t for you this chance would not have arisen. I understand far more than I did since I saw Bliss’s father, real name Norman Nigel Evan. I realize how I made the situation worse, blethering on about my father and his devotion to my sister. In fact, probably caused the whole situation—’
‘No,’ Liz interrupted, ‘no, no! You told us that after the disabled brother’s funeral, his father told him never to bother to come back again. He drove away from that funeral with those words ringing in his ears.’
‘No wonder he crashed,’ Cannon said.
‘And no one went near him all the months it took him to recover,’ Toby said.
‘He never has recovered, has he?’ Liz said quietly. ‘His brain, part of his brain, was mortally hurt, wounded, his thinking twisted.’
Cannon recalled what Midvinter had asked him to remember – that Michael Evan had been a good man. In his mind he saw white-clad sharp-shooters ready to take the professor out at the first opportunity. Perhaps they might at least save his life by being there, and shouldn’t an academic, a professor, find some outlet for his thoughts and ideas, even in protective custody for the rest of his life?
‘John?’ Liz prompted, as Toby waited for a decision. Cannon searched her face. She did not let him down, gave a tiny but positive nod.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘so many innocent lives have been lost already. We have to help, of course.’
Chapter 27
The mere scattering of people Cannon had seen on his first visit to the site of the Ice Hotel was not repeated on this second visit.
This time when their party arrived there was a group of skiers, come to take advantage of the early good snow conditions. Cannon was sceptical about the truth of that and about the party of dog lovers they joined in the restaurant who were all going on sleigh rides. He and Liz exchanged knowing glances. While the quilted clothing might have hidden any underarm or waist gun-holsters, they were both pretty sure they were there.
Before setting off it had been decided that Cannon should be free to either join the party going on the ride, or not. He felt Forstmann was not sorry to have a free agent who could observe outside the box of the official operation – but knew enough to keep out of the way.
Liz would at all times stay with Cathy, and Higham would be shadowed by Toby and a friend – Forstmann. Then, if all went well, Higham, Liz and Cannon would return to the Nordsol, Cathy and Toby would board the museum bus to travel south, and Bliss – well, Bliss, Cannon hoped, would be in custody in preference to lying in a pool of blood-soaked snow, but one or the other.
There was not a lot of time for dallying, with the Nordsol’s sailing time now less than two hours away. Cannon, seeing no one in the least resembling Bliss at the base, opted to go with the sleighs, choosing the one Cathy and Liz were in, which would travel behind the one carrying Higham with Toby and Forstmann. They were also accompanied by the skiers at a respectful distance, but Cannon was sure they were shadowing the party.
The dogs we
re eager, barking, wanting to run, impatient when the sleighs stopped to let the fittest visitors take turns in charge of the sleighs, gripping the handles and standing on the runners when on the flat or downhill, but running up the hills to help the dogs.
After about half an hour they were all brought to a halt to allow everyone to get out of the sleighs and take in the scenery and the peace, the false sense of peace. It would, Cannon thought, be easy to forget that anything out of the ordinary was looming.
The skiers were now nowhere in sight. He supposed they were circling the bigger clumps of firs that spaced the snowy slopes. Even behind the shelter of these firs Cannon felt anyone not in a white suit would soon be seen. Any movement in the still landscape would stand out a mile – and then he saw that minimal movement.
No more than a small brown smudge, but that blur had come from behind a tree and gone back again, and though it was difficult to judge distance as snowy slope succeeded snowy slope and the trees varied in height, it could have been a man, certainly in a white suit, but with the upper half of his face showing, probably with snow goggles over his eyes. Cannon glanced at Forstmann, who appeared to have seen nothing – or of course it could be one of his own men. Cannon walked to the policeman’s side and explained what he had seen.
‘No,’ Forstmann said at once, ‘no one beyond the line of trees that lie immediately to our left. You’re sure?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Cannon said briefly, ‘I’ll move casually out that way. I know this man. I should be able to tell before I get close, and I’m prepared.’
Forstmann acknowledged his possession of the gun with a nod.
‘If I raise my right arm high in the air as if I’m greeting the man, you’ll know it’s Bliss. OK?’ He took a little satisfaction in being the one who this time cut short any other ideas Forstmann might have as he moved quickly away.
Within the first few strides Cannon had transferred the gifted revolver from his waistband to inside his mitten. Behind he could hear Forstmann talking on his radio in low monotones.
Cannon kept his eyes on the small coppice of firs which grew on the brow of the hill, alert for another movement. He remembered the gun-sticks and practice shot at Christofferson Huset and slipped a finger nearer the trigger.