Ice Diaries (11 page)

I leaned on the rail next to Morgan and
got out my own binoculars. I focused them on the windows of my flat,
then swung along to Mike’s, easily identifiable by the row of
sleds. There weren’t any people about. “Were you with him
from the start?”

“Yup. I helped him break into
empty buildings and sort out the space, fly-post the area, act as
bouncer when I wasn’t fighting. I needed the money at the
time.”

So Mike had started with an
acknowledged debt of gratitude to Morgan, and they’d worked
together for two years, then had a blood row of some sort.

“What did you argue about when he
threw you out?”

Morgan gave me a sidelong look. “A
logistical matter.” He raised the binoculars again.

“What does that mean?”
Silence. It was clear he had said all he intended to. I abandoned
that line of enquiry for the matter in hand. In the current
circumstances it was in both their interests to settle, surely. “Why
don’t you strike a bargain with him, hand over the gold –
their share of the gold – in exchange for the spare part? He
struck me as quite civilized and reasonable.”

“Civilized and reasonable. Yeah,
I can remember when I thought that.”

“But he has everything to gain by
coming to an agreement with you. Aren’t you going to at least
try?”

“Maybe. But he wants the ACE, and
the gold, and I got the better of him in front of the others. He
doesn’t like me, and he’ll want to show the gang you
don’t mess with him and get away with it.”

He lowered the binoculars and turned to
face me. His voice was matter-of-fact.

“I think I’ll have to kill
him.”

“You can’t just kill
people!”

“You’re right – I’ll
send him a solicitor’s letter. Oh wait – can’t do
that, no solicitors. I’ll have to kill him. Tori, you aren’t
being realistic. I could go round tomorrow morning and give Mike all
of the gold, the whole lot, keeping not even a half sovereign for
myself, dig out the ACE for him and fix the fuel pump diaphragm, then
make a grovelling apology for the nuisance I’ve caused. He’d
still want to drag me behind his sled till I was dead, or push me off
the top of the Shard, or break my legs and leave me in the snow.”

Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian

I walked back home, disturbed. Morgan’s
reaction was so extreme. You couldn’t just
kill
someone
because you thought you would not be able to come to an agreement
with him, and he didn’t seem to see this, there was no
convincing him – he refused to discuss it.

I’ve disagreed with a lot of
people in my life, and if it weren’t for SIRCS and the snow
they’d still be around. Nina still was, case in point, and we
failed to agree on a daily basis. Again the thought occurred to me
that he lived in a tougher, harder world than I did, where they did
things differently. Then there was the fact that for the first time
in many centuries, it was possible to murder without legal
consequences; the police no longer existed, and nor did the criminal
justice system. Morgan could kill Mike and go on his way, the only
penalty a guilty conscience. Had he been misleading me, and he rather
than Mike was the psychopath? Perhaps I ought to warn Mike, put him
on guard. But doing that would betray Morgan, and anyway, Mike had
three strong men to protect him.

Uneasily, I decided to do nothing. I
realized I was starving – I still hadn’t had lunch. I got
out some tins.

In the afternoon I lay on the sofa,
reading. The sun went in and the sky became a luminous light grey.
Thick flakes of snow began to fall. By teatime, several inches had
settled. Had his sled been working, it would have covered Morgan’s
tracks as he made his escape. Every so often I stared out of the
window, but could barely see the Gherkin in the white-out.

Archie called, which reminded me it was
Sunday (Nina Time). I made him a cup of tea. He had just been round
to call on Mike. Apparently Mike is a Christian and told him he was
sorry to have missed the service that morning.

“He said he’ll come next
Sunday if he’s still here. Nina bumped into Mike this morning
and was very taken with him, they had quite a chat. One of his
friends is a male nurse, which is a stroke of good fortune. Perhaps
Claire would like him to take a look at Toby – not that there’s
anything wrong with him, but she might find it reassuring.”

A nurse passing through – it
seemed a waste we were all quite healthy.

Archie got an envelope out of his
pocket and handed it to me. “We’re going to have a dinner
party for Mike and his friends, Tuesday evening. You’ll come,
won’t you, Tori?”

I opened the envelope. An invitation
card with a picture of deep red roses, a silver bow on the corner,
and my name inside. It said the theme was crimson and silver, and
would guests dress to match. Nina seemed to be going all out to
impress the newcomers.

“Let me see,” I said. “I’m
going to the opera tomorrow, then there’s the private view at
Tate Modern Tuesday, and Thursday I’m seeing a film … but
yes, I’ve a window on Wednesday. Who else is going?”

“Everyone, I hope. It’ll be
quite a big party. Mike’s got four friends and his young lady
with him.”

“So six of them …”
One fewer than Morgan had said there were. I wondered what had
happened to the seventh man, and what Mike’s girlfriend was
like.

Archie said, “It’s a pity
Morgan’s no longer here.”

“He wasn’t very sociable
when he was.”

“No, I think perhaps he was a
little shy. I’d have liked to get to know him better. I feel he
had hidden depths.”

I didn’t tell Archie I was
currently worrying over Morgan’s hidden depths, anxious about
what sort of predator might emerge, covered in mud and slime, from
their murky waters.

I’d just settled down with a book
after Archie’s departure when there was a rap on the window. A
woman slid the door open and came in.

“Hi. I’m Serena.” Her
gaze darted over me, taking in every detail. I became aware my
sweater was stained and my fingernails grimy and my fringe could do
with a trim. By contrast, she was immaculately groomed; shiny hair,
discreet makeup, manicured nails. She smiled. “You must be
Tori. Mike said he’d met you.”

“Hello.” I offered her tea
(“Ooh, tea, lovely,”) and put the water to boil. I waited
to find out why she’d come. Serena perched on a stool, opened
her jacket and looked around her. Improbably, she had the air of a
wholesome English rose in Val d’Isere after a good day on the
slopes.

“This
is
nice. You’re
very well organized. I
love
your tulips! And the stove … we
have boring old generators and electric kettles and fan heaters as
we’re travelling around.” She slipped off her jacket. The
soft pink sweater underneath had the expensive sheen of cashmere. “So
who else is there I haven’t met?”

I ran through the list. “But
you’ll meet them all at Nina’s party the day after
tomorrow.”

“You’ve got a nice balance
of numbers. The last place we stopped was all men.”

I laughed. “Charlie and Sam are
women. Paul and Archie and Greg are outnumbered.”

“Oh.” Her face clouded and
she didn’t say anything for a moment. “How old are they?”

“Not sure exactly. Sam’s a
bit younger than me, Charlie a bit older I’d guess.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll see them
soon. Mike said Morgan stayed with you while he was here.”

“That’s right.”

“But you didn’t go with him
when he left.”

I laughed. “No. Why should I?”

“No reason really, I just
assumed … he’s terribly attractive, and I thought maybe …”

Why did everyone think Morgan was so
attractive? “I only knew him a week,” I said, coolly,
getting out the tin of biscuits.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean … it’s just most people want to go south. How was
he?”

“How do you mean?”

“Was he okay? He was bleeding
from a cut when he left. I was a bit worried about him.”

“He was fine. The cut wasn’t
much.” I was not sure why my instinct was to play this down. I
put teabags into mugs and got out a tin of biscuits.

“Oh good. I’m fond of
Morgan, in spite of everything.”

“Everything … ?”

“I don’t suppose he told
you. He stole from all of us when he left. Mike’s team had
spent a year stockpiling stuff, collecting valuables on the way south
so we wouldn’t arrive poor – and after all, none of it
belongs to anyone anymore – and he took the lot. All except for
this because I was wearing it.” She felt below the neckline of
her sweater and lifted a heavy gold chain round her neck. I leaned
closer to see; like Sam she wore perfume, a subtle floral scent with
hints of jasmine, roses and lilies. Set at the front of the necklace
was an ancient Greek coin with a warrior’s helmeted head.
“Nice, isn’t it? It’s Bulgari.”

“Why did he take your … things?”
I’d nearly said gold, and the less I appeared to know the
better.

“There was a row. Mike told him
to go. But he came back when we were asleep and stole our stuff.”

“What was the row about?”

“Oh, they’d been drinking a
lot, that was what caused it,” she said, vaguely. I was
beginning to get curious about this row. No one wanted to talk about
it; they all got evasive whenever the topic arose. She leaned towards
me and lowered her voice. “Has Morgan really gone?”

“Yup. He packed his bags, said
goodbye and everything.”

“Mike said there aren’t any
sled tracks leading out of here.”

I poured the boiling water. “That
would be because he went on foot.”

“He had a sled when he left us.
Maybe he hid it somewhere and didn’t tell you.”

I didn’t want to pursue this line
of conversation. “Sugar? Milk powder?”

“No thanks.”

“So how long are you staying?”

“That’s up to Mike. Now
we’re here he’ll probably want to look for gold.”

“The Bank of England’s not
far away. It’s got four hundred tonnes of gold.”

Serena laughed. “We’d need
a nuclear bomb to get inside the vault. Anyway, Mike reckons the
government took it out – to pay for the evacuation, for one
thing. No, more likely he’ll go for the British Museum or Bond
Street.”

Movement on the balcony caught my eye.
It was Big Mac, a bull of a man with short ginger hair. His ears were
lumpy and didn’t match, his neck as wide as his head above
massive shoulders. He knocked on the glass, opened the door and stood
there letting in a blast of cold air. He looked at me.

“The boss says, could you come
round if it’s convenient. He’d like a wee word.”

“What about? We’re just
having a cup of tea.”

“He didnae tell me.”

Why would Mike summon me like this? All
my apprehension returned. I looked at Serena; she’d got to her
feet immediately as though what Mike wanted, he got, and this request
was perfectly normal. Perhaps it was. If I didn’t go he’d
no doubt come round here. Anyway, I was curious to meet the rest of
his entourage. I picked up my jacket and went outside with Big Mac
and Serena, outwardly calm but inwardly agitated.

The wind had got up and a fine snow
blew in my face as we followed the curve of the building. The six
snowmobiles outside the balcony of Mike’s apartment were
covered by a tarpaulin. Once inside, I didn’t take in the
details of the room, just saw Mike sitting on a sofa with four men.
One of them was Eddie, one looked Chinese, the other … I stared;
for a moment he looked so like David with a beard; the same bright
eyes, gangly build, the way he sprawled on the sofa … he must be
the male nurse. At a closer look the resemblance diminished; his face
was narrower and less intelligent. The fourth was Greg, looking
bewildered.

“Greg … Hi.”

At a glance from Mike Serena went past
us and settled behind the counter in the kitchen area out of the way.
Mike got up and came towards me, beaming. “Thank you for coming
round, Tori, I apologize for disturbing you. Take off your coat. Do
take a seat. You know Eddie and Mac, this is BJ and Hong.”

I sat on the sofa opposite, dumping my
jacket beside me, feeling as if I was about to be interviewed. Or
interrogated. Mike leaned forward.

“Greg has told me he saw Morgan
today.”

Damn Morgan. How could he have been
so careless, letting himself be seen
? I turned to Greg. “I
expect that was before he left, was it, Greg, this morning?”

Greg shook his head. “No, it was
about an hour ago. Near Claire and Paul’s.”

“In the distance, was it?”

“Yes. I waved at him and he waved
back.”

I addressed Mike. “Greg can’t
have seen Morgan an hour ago, because he left this morning. He must
have seen Archie or Paul – even Charlie. We all wear quite
similar jackets with the hoods up. It’s easy to get confused
from a distance. I do myself.”

Greg said, “I wasn’t
confused, Tori, he –”

I interrupted, fixing my eyes on Greg
meaningly. “D’you remember that time you mistook me for
Nina? You were absolutely certain I was her.” Greg’s
forehead crinkled as he tried to recall this fictitious episode. He
started to say something, then stopped. “We had the same colour
parkas for a while. Not that we’re at all alike really.”
He blinked. He’d grasped I was trying to get some message to
him. He just had to work out what it was. “We had a good laugh
about it afterwards, you remember, Greg? I think this is like that
time – you just thought it was Morgan when it wasn’t.”

Greg’s face cleared. He’d
got it. “That’s right, Tori. I thought it was Morgan at
the time, but thinking back, perhaps I made a mistake and it wasn’t
him at all.”

Mike considered us for a moment,
nodding his head. “My feeling is you two have got friendly with
Morgan over the past few days, am I right?”