Читать книгу The Ice: A gripping thriller for our times from the Bailey’s shortlisted author of The Bees - Laline Paull - Страница 10

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The calving of the Midgard glacier was a tiny stitch in a larger pattern. While the male corpse it disgorged was already in Tromsø and under autopsy, all around the Arctic Circle scientists were recording calving events of unprecedented magnitude. This apparently synchronised new behaviour of the ice was strongly active for about seventy hours in Greenland, Nunavut Arctic Canada, Alaska and Russia, before stopping as abruptly as it started.

Twenty-seven degrees south in London, the Saharan dust storm that had blown over Europe for the last three days also ceased, leaving a fine red film over the whole city and adding respiratory patients to overcrowded A&E departments and private surgeries alike. Entrepreneurial Londoners sold white paper masks by tube stations and only the reckless still went running.

Age fifty (but looking younger) and mindful of his mental state without hard exercise, Sean Cawson was one of them. Although his knees now protested and his thoughts clawed at him for the first two or three miles, afterwards he felt good, and that was rare. He left Martine sleeping, or pretending to, and slipped out of the apartment. Last night’s conversation was only on pause. He would have to deal with it before long.

He jogged past the neighbour’s door, smelling coffee and hearing their new baby crying. His daughter Rosie was almost grown up, and hated him. At the beginning, Martine had said she wasn’t interested in family life, and he’d been relieved: one conspicuous failure was enough. Now she’d changed her mind, and he felt betrayed.

He pulled the heavy black door shut and stood for a moment on the empty street while he chose his running music. It was early but muggy, the sky was grey and no birds flew. The white porch pillars of the houses were shaded with the ochre Saharan dust, which also gave an autumnal cast to the plane trees of the communal garden. As he chose a random mix and set off to the park, London looked and felt wrong.

The music matched it – harsh declamatory rap in African-inflected French that fitted the dislocated feel of the city. His feet caught the hard pounding rhythm and as he entered the park by the Kensington Palace gate he felt the spasms in his knees but ignored the pain. He was good at that. As if in reward, there ahead of him was one of his favourite sights, one of the privileges of early risers in certain parts of London: a troupe of army horses being exercised. Sometimes he’d pause to watch them cantering on the sand track that ran alongside Park Lane, a powerful river of satiny chestnut and bay muscle. The heavy rhythmic vibration of their hooves into the earth had risen through his feet into his body and connected him to some elusive feeling he could not name.

It was a crazy thought and the horses would easily outstrip him, but he wanted to run alongside them. He pushed himself harder. He could smell the fragrance of the animals as he cut across the grass, a wolf heading them off as they turned on the sand track for their canter – he would sprint and burn himself out until they left him behind—

His phone buzzed from his arm holster. There were only two people he set to bypass his Do Not Disturb – Rosie, who never called, and the other whose name now flashed on the screen, his mentor Joe Kingsmith.

‘Joe!’ he panted. ‘I’ll call you back.’ The riders were gathering up their horses, the animals were stamping, knowing what was coming.

‘Don’t, Sean, stay: it’s an emergency.’

Sean stopped short.

‘I’m here.’

‘Are you home?’

‘I’m in the park – what’s happened?’

‘Sean boy, I’d have called you at home but no one has a landline any more. I want someone there with you.’

Sean stood still. ‘Tell me.’

There was a silence, and by its quality, Sean guessed Kingsmith was airborne. He tried to slow his breathing. The kind tone frightened him.

‘Sean, I am so, so sorry. I’ve just spoken with Danny at Midgard. Tom’s body washed out of the Midgard glacier two days ago—’

‘Tom’s body?’ Sean heard the words clearly, but his mind rejected them.

‘They had the positive ID this morning. It’s definitely him. I’m so sorry, Sean. I wanted to be the one to tell you.’

The park vanished. Sean’s world contracted to Kingsmith’s voice. ‘Out of the glacier?’ He felt stupid and slow.

‘Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have told you on the phone, but how else? I don’t know that much. There was this huge calving almost in front of Midgard Lodge – that’s when his body came out. Some cruise ship was down there and saw it all. Danny got sent away by the coastguard when he went to look, they were holding it as a crime scene—’

‘A crime scene?’ Sean came back into his body. ‘There was no crime, everyone knows that!’ He was shouting but he couldn’t do anything about it.

‘Sean boy, I’m trying to tell you, will you please listen? They call it that for protocol when they want to record everything. Of course there was no crime. Now I know you haven’t been up there for a while, but Midgard is still a business and this could have a PR effect, so we need to handle it right.’

‘They’re sure it’s Tom?’

‘One hundred per cent. They had a good idea it could be and they matched DNA with a family member, apparently.’

‘No one told me. No one’s rung. They’ve known for two days?’

‘I guess you haven’t been in touch so much lately. We knew he was dead but … this is still a big shock.’

Sean walked away from the people coming towards him, out onto the great grassy plain of the park, the horses forgotten. He sank to his knees on the dry ground.

He felt the fingers in his right hand start to burn, as if they still had frostbite. He stuffed them into his left armpit and felt his chest trembling.

‘Danny should have called me.’

‘I wanted to be the one. I only know because I had to call him about something.’

‘What thing?’

‘Look: I completely get why you haven’t been up there. But you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and now isn’t the right time. I’m glad you’re interested again, but you’ve got an awesome team taking care of things so don’t even worry.’

‘I should be helping bring him back, I should be there.’

‘You can’t do anything: it’s all in progress. You weren’t next of kin, but I guess they’ll be in touch with you, they’ll be able to have a funeral at last. And an inquest, but that’s separate.’

‘An inquest?’ The word was so ugly. ‘But we know what happened, I’ve said it all, we’ve been through it.’

‘I know, but it’s what happens when someone’s brought home. Same in the States as in the UK – just a formality. I’ll be there to support you, I promise … Sean, can you hear me?’

‘Yes.’ The grey sky pulsed above him.

‘You get yourself home, get back to Martine. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, she’ll know what to do. Sean, say something.’

‘What were you talking to Danny about?’

He heard Kingsmith’s bark of a laugh.

‘Boy, are you persistent! But I’ve always liked that. OK, mea culpa, I put in a retreat, very small and last minute, a favour for a pal. I saw a void in the schedule and he’s paying top dollar. But this is hardly the time—’

‘I’m still the CEO. Everything goes through me.’

‘And if you are thinking like that at a time like this, you are the right man for the job. Point taken. Sean? You’re breaking up but I hope you can still hear me: you need to speak to your friend in Oslo, about keeping traffic away from Midgard – it’s important—’

The phone connection dropped out – Kingsmith’s signature goodbye. Sean stood alone on the dusty red plain of Hyde Park, barely able to breathe.

He started to run.

Martine was in the wet-room shower when he came in, sweat-soaked like it was raining. Still in his clothes, he walked into the torrent and held her. She smiled, her eyes closed – and then she looked and saw his stricken face.

‘Oh my god, what’s happened?’

Sean hit his forehead against the streaming wall. ‘They’ve found Tom.’

‘Stop! Come here.’ She held him to her, keeping them under the streaming hot water, undressing him until he was naked. She kicked the clothes away from the drain and held him until he stopped shaking, then she turned off the water and helped him out and into a robe. As she put on her own, he went into the kitchen. She followed, watching while he took a bottle of vodka from the freezer and poured a big slug into a tumbler.

‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘Handle it without that. You don’t need it.’

He knocked it back. Then he told her, in the barest detail, about Kingsmith’s call, and the facts he knew, including the fact of the inquest. Martine nodded slowly.

‘I’m so sorry, my darling. But Joe’s absolutely right: this is closure at last, and if there’s an inquest we’ll get through it. I need to plan how we handle it. First thing is I’ll work on a statement on your behalf, and then we’ve got a bit of time.’

Sean listened to her as she walked around their dressing room preparing for work, thinking aloud. Joe was right, she had a good head on her well-set shoulders, working out which journalists could be trusted, how she would cancel certain invitations so they were not seen out enjoying themselves for a while …

He wished she had burst into tears. He wished she cared more about Tom, and less about damage control. Her voice went on as he stared at the rails of his clothes. Abruptly she was beside him.

‘I’m staying with you.’

‘No,’ he said, getting up. ‘Go to work. I’ll be OK.’ He pulled open a deep drawer and took out his Arctic travelling clothes, alien with lack of use. ‘I’m going to Midgard.’

Martine held his arm. ‘That’s crazy. You’re in shock. Look at yourself.’

He did. The mirror showed him a beautiful young woman standing there half-dressed, her dark hair wet, beside an older man who stared back at him, eyes haunted and dangerous. Sean turned away.

‘Joe put in a retreat. Without telling me.’

Martine frowned. ‘Really? He shouldn’t do that.’

‘It’s because I haven’t been there. I’ve dumped everything on the team.’

‘No. You’ve delegated. You can’t personally run every single one of your clubs, you pick right then you trust people.’

Sean threw some clothes into the bag and zipped it. ‘I’m letting everyone down.’

Martine tried again, embracing him and pressing herself into him from behind.

‘You’re not! Forget about last night, forget all that. Just come back to bed and let me look after you.’ She ran her hand down his chest and closed it over him. ‘Be sad in my arms. I won’t go in today.’

‘No, go. I’ll be OK.’ He kissed her, to deflect the rejection. She stared at him in the mirror as he went out into the bedroom and found his car key. She followed.

‘You can’t drive, you’ve just had a huge vodka. And if you’re on the afternoon flight you’ve got plenty of time – where are you going?’

Sean looked out into the square garden.

‘It’s bad to hear it on the phone.’

‘Oh.’ She moved away. ‘I see.’

‘Martine, please, you know how fragile she is.’

‘Actually no, I don’t think she is, not at all.’

‘She loved Tom as well.’

‘Fine. But I think she was prepared to pull any stunt to try to stop you leaving. I think she’s manipulative and angry and she’s turned your own daughter against you, and me, and it’s totally a mistake to keep being sentimental about a marriage that was over long before I came along.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry. That sounded harsh. I just want to protect you from more pain at a time like this. You shouldn’t go.’

‘You’re right.’

‘Yes, I am. But if you don’t want me to stay with you today, or to come with you to Midgard, if you want to just be alone with the bad feelings—’

‘Yes! I’m a fucking mess, I told you I was a bad deal—’

‘I never make bad deals.’ Martine pulled back and looked in his eyes. ‘But if you want healthy boundaries you’ll have them, and if you want to put yourself through the wringer, you’ll do that too.’ She kissed him on the lips. ‘So I really care that you’re so sad, but as you won’t let me help you, I am going to work. Let me know when you’re back. I’ll be here.’

He listened to her light step down the outer hall, then the click of the front door. He went back to the freezer, but stopped. Martine was right, of course. He was in no condition to drive.