Beneath the Ice (4 page)

‘You know, I was always jealous of the way you climbed. I never said anything at the time, of course, but I just couldn’t understand how you always made it look so easy. You could find handholds in a pane of bloody glass.’

Luca nodded at the compliment, but didn’t like the sudden change of tack.

‘But I was always there to belay you,’ Bates continued. ‘I was the one you trusted to secure your rope.’

‘What’s your point, Norm?’

‘You needed me then, and now I need you. And I’d have thought you were the kind of guy I could depend on.’

‘I don’t owe you shit. And stop talking about our childhood as if it were a couple of days ago. What is it with you, Norm? You turn up out of nowhere and then suddenly expect me to up sticks and pack off to Antarctica. Things are different now. I have a life.’

‘You’ve spent the last six weeks on this rig, even opting
not
to go back to the mainland on leave for the last two rotations. What is it, Luca? Can’t get enough of the fried food?’ Bates moved closer, his voice suddenly taking on an edge that Luca hadn’t heard in years. ‘If you stopped fucking moping around for one minute, you might realise that I’m offering you a proper job. And one that pays damn well.’

Bates exhaled, already regretting showing his annoyance. He knew that it was pointless to lock horns with Luca like this. The very attributes that had made him one of the finest climbers on the planet, also meant he was one of the most stubborn bastards Bates had ever known. He knew he had to come at it from an oblique angle, and he knew that there were still two things about Luca that might tilt the field in his favour.

Earlier he had seen a request from Luca for a transfer to another oil rig, citing ‘personal concerns’ as the reason for the move. It had been filed three weeks ago, and was a direct result of Luca clashing with the rig’s foreman on just about every aspect of his job. Bates knew that Luca was treading water here, desperate for the paperwork to clear so that he could move on.

The second consideration was money. Over the last couple of years it was clear that Luca had amassed a nasty amount of debt. Now he was trying to save every penny, but it was barely enough for him to make headway on the repayments. Bates knew that the money he was offering would be enough to wipe the slate clean. It was a lump sum that Luca couldn’t afford to ignore.

‘Think about it, Luca. Fifty grand. That kind of money can change things around.’

His friend gave a humourless smile. ‘Guess you know all about that, don’t you? Been sniffing through my rubbish?’

‘Yeah, a little. That’s one of the things about my line of work. Got to get your hands dirty once in a while.’

‘That sounds about right.’

Bates paused, in anticipation of playing his ace.

‘Even if you discount what I’d be paying, you and I both know the real reason why you’re here and it ain’t for the climbing. I mean, it’s not exactly a dream come true, is it – shinning up metal ladders in the freezing rain?’

‘I like it,’ Luca retorted. ‘It’s steady.’

‘Bollocks. You hate it and you know it. You’re here because you’re doing the same thing you always do – hiding.’

Luca didn’t respond, knowing full well that it was true. His frown deepened as he contemplated his own life for the first time in months. He had spent so long escaping from it all that Bates’ questions made him feel completely disorientated.

‘Just leave me the hell alone,’ he whispered, but Bates only inched closer.

‘You can’t keep doing this,’ he said. ‘Sometime or other, you’re going to have to face up to the fact that Beatrice has gone.’

Luca’s eyes darkened at the mere mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name, but he remained silent, sagging back into the broken armchair.

‘She’s a beautiful woman and you must miss her like hell,’ Bates continued, sensing Luca’s vulnerability. He had met Beatrice Makuru, or Bear as everyone called her, a few years ago on a stopover in Paris. He remembered the occasion well, as he had taken to her almost immediately. It was extremely rare for Bates to react to anyone in such a way and he had felt a burning envy for what Luca had had back then. They had been one of those perfect couples; good-looking, adventurous, and, more than anything else, genuinely in love. Now that it was all over, it wasn’t hard to imagine the pain Luca was going through.

‘It’ll hurt for a while,’ Bates heard himself saying, an image of Bear still in his mind, ‘but it will get better, I promise.’

‘Just get out,’ Luca replied, but his thoughts had already locked on the one person he had travelled such vast distances to forget – Beatrice.

‘All I’m saying is, why not do something positive while you ride it out, rather than festering in this shithole? You’ll be doing good, making money, and at the very least, a job in Antarctica will be the mother of all distractions.’

As Luca looked up, Bates could see his resolve finally start to waver. He watched as Luca blinked several times, slowly coming to the realisation that what Bates was offering was a chance to begin again. It was a new start – a way of finally dispelling the past.

‘OK,’ Luca said, nodding slowly as if to convince himself. ‘I’ll go. But when do I need to leave here? I’ve got a few things that I need to take care of.’

‘Antarctica is shutting down in just over a week. This is it, Luca. The helicopter’s here to take us both back.’

‘You’re serious? You want me to leave now?’

Bates went to respond, then paused. He could hear a sound coming from somewhere beyond the canteen door. A second later and the heavy clump of workmen’s boots filled the air, followed by a deep, growling voice.

‘Matthews!’

More footsteps.

‘Where’s that scrawny . . .’

The words trailed off as a giant of a man stalked into the room. He was wearing thick orange overalls, with a clipboard clamped in his right fist. As he came closer they could see that he was entirely bald, with a mixture of sweat and rain glistening off his domed head, which glinted under the canteen’s fluorescent lights. His eyes blazed with undisguised annoyance, while his mouth looked to be somehow twisted. It was only as he halted in front of them that it became obvious he had a cleft upper lip, with the pull of his lips revealing a row of yellow-stained teeth.

‘I got the safety report,’ he bellowed. ‘What the hell are you playing at? You have to wear two safety ropes on the scalf towers at all times. Not one, but two. And you unclipped from both!’

Luca raised himself off the armchair, eyeing him closely. As they stood in front of each other Luca looked even more wiry and lean, the antithesis to the foreman’s barrel chest and brawny forearms.

‘Look, we’ve been through this,’ Luca said, keeping his tone measured. ‘The drag on the ropes is too much. It would have been a two-hour climb pulling all that shit. Instead, I got the job done in twenty minutes.’

A vein started to pulse at the side of the foreman’s neck. He raised his clipboard, pointing it like a weapon at the centre of Luca’s chest.

‘You free climbed over two hundred and fifty feet into the air! Who do you think you are? Fucking Spiderman?’

A globule of spit flew from the back of his throat, catching Luca on the shoulder. He raised his hands defensively. ‘Look, I told you . . .’

‘No! I’m telling
you
,’ the foreman shouted back, jabbing the corner of the clipboard into Luca’s sternum. ‘How do I explain this to the mainland?’

He jabbed again, causing Luca to step back a pace. As he did so his expression darkened, the thought of Bates’ new job at last providing him with an alternative. He didn’t need to put up with the foreman’s bullshit any longer and the realisation triggered a long-simmering resentment to finally boil over.

‘Have you any idea how many forms I’ve got to fill in?’ the foreman continued, oblivious to the sudden change in Luca. He then pushed forward with the clipboard once more, but this time Luca slapped it out of his hand, sending it spinning across the floor.

‘So go and write your fucking reports,’ he said, nodding to where the clipboard lay. ‘Go on. Pick it up.’

The foreman’s eyes bulged incredulously and his sneer widened, exposing a couple more teeth.

‘That’s it!’ he shouted, raising one arm to strike but finding it suddenly stopped by a stranger grabbing on to his wrist. The foreman turned, taking in Bates for the first time.

‘Enough,’ Bates said.

For a brief moment the foreman’s expression clouded in confusion as he tried to figure out where on earth he had come from. But then his anger returned, redoubled by the thought of a total stranger issuing orders.

‘Don’t you . . .’ he began.

‘I said, enough,’ Bates repeated, without releasing his grip.

The foreman’s shoulders suddenly flexed as he swung his free arm round, his fist aiming straight at the side of Bates’ head. Before it had time to connect, Bates grabbed on to the foreman’s shoulder and, dropping his opposite knee, sent him sprawling in a classic jiu-jitsu roll. The foreman’s huge body toppled forward, his own weight sending him crashing across the dining tables. He skidded to a halt against the service hatch as the last of the coffee mugs smashed to the floor.

‘What the . . .’ he began, more shocked than hurt. His eyes flickered between Luca and the nondescript office worker who had so easily bested him.

‘You’re suspended, Matthews!’ the foreman bellowed, quickly finding his voice but still eyeing Bates warily. ‘Suspended without pay! I’m going to make sure they throw the fucking book at you!’

Bates was the first to react, reaching forward and taking Luca by the shoulder. He bundled him out of the room and along the corridor, while from behind the sound of the foreman’s voice echoed up the flight of stairs. As they passed through the neighbouring Portacabin and walked towards the storm-locked doors, Bates drew to a halt.

‘Forget about that guy and focus on what’s in front of you.’

Luca nodded distractedly, suddenly trying to imagine himself on a flight to Antarctica.

‘And a word of warning,’ Bates continued. ‘Watch out for the Russian poet, Dedov. He’s one of those larger than life, charismatic types – all smiles and hugs, until you peel back the façade of course. Watch him like a hawk.’

‘I just have to put in this spyware thing, right?’ Luca asked. ‘That’s it.’

‘That’s it.’

Luca turned so that he was staring at his friend straight on. ‘And I’ve got your word I’ll be working for you? No one else.’

Bates nodded. ‘Just me. This doesn’t go any higher up the chain.’

As he said the words, he dug his shoulder into the door, swinging it back on its heavy iron hinges. Once they were outside rain beat down on them, soaking their clothes in a few seconds. Bates smiled.

‘And, trust me, I’ll be a better boss. I don’t even own a clipboard.’

SNOW FELL. IT
was light, flurrying in the updrafts off the Seine River. It caught momentarily in the orange glow of the street lamps lining the Quai Voltaire before finally sinking down into the dark folds of freezing water. A single car turned left off Pont Royal and out towards the vaulted glass archways of the Musée d’Orsay. It moved slowly, tyres leaving fresh tracks in the otherwise empty road.

It was five-thirty in the morning, and Beatrice Makuru was out jogging. Despite the treacherous ground she ran fast, with her breath condensing and lingering in the night air. She cast her eyes up to the snow-covered rooftops of Paris before switching them back again to the road ahead.

‘Come on, Bear,’ she muttered, forcing herself on, but she could already feel her thighs starting to cramp.

It had been nearly six weeks since she had last slept properly. Every evening as she got ready for bed, she would feel the panic rising in her chest. It was the anticipation that was the worst part, the dreadful certainty of what was to come. She would lie in bed just waiting for the hours to pass, trapped in the grey half-light between consciousness and sleep.

She had never suffered from insomnia before, but now, after so many weeks, it was starting to take its toll.

Pulling the scarf a little higher across her cheeks, Bear crossed the Pont de la Concorde and jumped over the low iron railings of the Louvre Gardens. She passed a carousel to her right, the silhouettes of the fairytale horses stretching out across the grey lawn. Just ahead, a row of trees blocked out what little light remained, making the pathway appear entirely black.

Bear skidded to a halt. There was the sound of her running shoes tearing at the gravel beneath her, then silence. She waited, her eyes scanning the darkness ahead. So many years spent growing up in the Congo had instinctively made her fearful of the dark. It was always at night that the predators came out, always at night when bad things happened.

Suddenly Bear let out a low groan and doubled over. Her whole body convulsed as a wave of nausea hit her, welling up from the pit of her stomach. Raising her hand to her mouth, she gulped then suddenly vomited.

‘
Putain
!’ she hissed, wiping the side of her mouth with the sleeve of her running jacket.
Shit.

Pulling her hair back from her face, she stared down at the stain in the snow, her surprise outweighing her revulsion. What the hell was wrong with her? She usually had a cast-iron stomach. Then it dawned on her – the new secretary. That was it. She’d taken the last week off work because of a stomach bug, and now she had given it to her.

Staring up at the night sky, she watched the snowflakes slowly swirl down towards her. They caught on her eyelashes, blurring her vision as she counted the seconds, waiting for the nausea to pass.

Just great, she thought with a shake of her head. On top of everything else, she was now going to be ill as well. Spitting the last of the acid taste from her mouth, she turned towards the park’s exit and forced herself back into a run.

Past the revolving door of the Legionnaires Club in Saint Germain des Prés, the staircase swept down in a long, uninterrupted arc. Heavy stone pillars stood either side of it like sentinels, shielding the interior from the clamour of the streets. Within the club there was a pervading sense of calm. It was a hushed, moneyed calm, with a small army of waiters and cleaning staff to ensure that it remained that way.