The Number 8 (22 page)

There was a small river that was fed by the waters of the pool. It was easily wide and deep enough for a person to have been carried out of the pool and along the river. They had taken thirty minutes to get down. He could have drifted off during minute one or minute twenty-nine. They had no idea. All they knew was that Marco was dead and they had no body to prove it.

An hour later the group were back at base and search parties were out for the body. The police had been called and the helicopter group had been recalled. Asmir walked in. Bypassing everyone he strode over to Dante who was huddled up in a corner with a blanket over him.

“What the hell happened?” Asmir asked, already knowing the answer.

In a soft tone Dante explained what he had seen and what had happened to the body. It was a short explanation. He knew nothing really.

Asmir grabbed Dante’s legs and dragged them off the bench so that he could sit down.

“So there goes our theory about Marco. You’re sure you didn’t see anyone near him?” Asmir asked, baffled.

“No, I’m not. Like I said, I didn’t see anything. One minute he was there, the next he was face down in that pool. It could have been an accident, Az. He was sliding everywhere. He’d been given some pretty crappy shoes.”

“You really believe that?”

“I don’t know what’s happening, Az. Why is this happening?”

For the first time since the first day he let out some emotion in the form of one, lonely, solitary tear. He wiped it away as soon as it appeared.

Asmir pretended not to see this and Dante was grateful for that.

“So what’s our move?” Asmir asked hopefully.

“We’re out of moves, Az. It’s time for the police to get involved. We cannot let someone get away with two murders.”

“You just said you thought it was an accident?” Asmir pointed out, confused.

“Az, it was planned so perfectly. It looks like an accident and no one here is going to question it. I feel like I’m crazy for even believing that it
is
a murder, but there is one thing that keeps coming back to me. At first I thought…I thought it was something else, but now, I see it clearly.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, spit it out.”

“Well, do you remember that right at the beginning, I got the feeling that a couple of the passengers were purposefully avoiding any contact with each other? I didn’t even see either of them look at the other, not once.”

“Yeah, I remember, why?”

“The passengers were Marco and Viktor.”

Chapter 41

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Asmir asked, looking a little hurt.

“Well, after I had that talk with Marco you told me you weren’t interested, so I dropped it.”

“OK, but what does that mean?”

“Well, for one it confirms our theory that they knew each other. It also explains the note you found on the bus. One of them was trying to communicate with the other without being noticed. It was probably Marco’s note to Viktor. But it brings up another question: what the hell happened between them?”

“They are from two different walks of life. It makes no sense that they would have history together.”

“Maybe not now, Az. But what about when they were younger? Do you remember what James told me?”

“Oh my God. There was something in Viktor’s past that changed him. That made him move away from where he lived as a child and start somewhere else. You think Marco was involved?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I got back. What is it Sherlock Holmes said, “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” I have racked my brain thinking of anything else that makes any sense at all and there’s nothing. Unless, of course, that both were tragic accidents and all this time my mind has been playing tricks on me.”

“You’re a crazy bastard, but you know I trust you, so if you think that’s our best theory, I’ll go with it.”

Dante nodded, acknowledging his friend’s faith.

“But what now?” Asmir asked impatiently.

“We wait for the body to turn up, I have a theory about that too.”

They were set to leave in the afternoon and complete the last section of Highway Six, but there was no chance they were going anywhere, at least for the rest of the day.

For some reason the police were not treating the case as suspicious and, if Dante were to go up to them and explain their elaborate theory, he would be laughed at and he would alert the killer. Although, now he was certain there were at least two, especially if the theory he had about the body was correct.

Dante had been so sure it had been Marco that drugged them, but now it was looking increasingly unlikely. He may still have wanted to know what they had discovered about Viktor, especially if what had happened between them was serious enough to keep hidden. But, it was pretty clear to him that Marco, alone, could not have effectively handled the two of them. He had overlooked that fact to fit his theory, but now it made sense to him.

Another hour went by with no news. Most of the group had decided to go back to the hostel and get showered. Dante and Asmir stayed along with a few of the others. Their patience was rewarded when a group of three guys carried in Marco’s lifeless and drenched body through the door and into the medical area. He was long dead, but the nearest hospital was miles away and the police were already on scene. No need for an ambulance.

Marco was stripped of his waterproof clothing and shoes and a sheet was put over him. The leaders and the police were having a discussion about what they should do with him. They needed to determine cause of death. That was easy to see, even for the untrained eye. Blunt force trauma to the head. His skull was crushed in several places. It must have been caused by impact to his head clattering against the rocks as he fell. Next, the relatives needed to be informed and preparations for him to be taken back to the UK would almost certainly be made. But, they had definitely ruled the death accidental and were still going to investigate the Glacier Expeditions Company and determine how culpable the leaders were in Marco’s death.

But amazingly only Dante noticed the real problem with the scene here. It even brought out a slight smile. Now he knew he was right. This was murder. He knew this because Marco was not wearing the same shoes as he had died in. They had been replaced with the same shoes that every other passenger had been wearing. Marco had been murdered and they had their first tangible piece of evidence.

Chapter 42

Dante explained this to Asmir who reacted in much the same way, except a little less subtly. He beamed brightly and gave Dante a rare embrace. A strange reaction to the discovery of a dead body, but it meant that they weren’t crazy. There had been two murders committed on bus number 8 and now they had a sliver of proof to support their theory.

It turned out the police had a working relationship with the company and filled in all the paperwork explicitly stating that they were not at fault for Marco’s death. Dante had conflicting feelings about this decision. Firstly, it was corrupt and reckless but it also meant that the next day they were free to head to Queenstown. The place he was sure everything would come to a head. He was so close now. There was a theory coming together in his mind that was so outlandish that, if it were true, it would have taken years of planning. He needed the internet. He needed to search for articles involving Viktor and Marco that would be well over ten years old. That held the key to this story. But, there was no internet in Franz Josef. He was stuck for now.

In the meantime, he had someone to talk to.

He took Asmir with him and went in search of James. He knew something of value, Dante just didn’t know quite what.

They found James in his dorm room having showered and changed.

“James. What did you know about Viktor and Marco?” Asmir blurted out before Dante could even get in a word.

“What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!” he bellowed, his tattooed shoulders rose and sunk as his breath quickened.

“No chance. Viktor and Marco. Go,” Asmir said again.

“They didn’t know each other.”

“Oh, how wrong you are…” Asmir started before Dante shushed him loudly.

“What was Viktor’s surname?” Dante asked, changing the line of questioning.

“He’s had so many, but I knew him as Viktor Martin.”

Dante shook his head. “No, I’m talking about before you ever met. Did you talk much about those times?”

“I told you we didn’t. He never wanted to talk about his past. But,” he paused, fighting with the idea of telling them what he knew, “his birth name was Viktor Swan. He changed it because he hated the name and there were too many bad memories of that time in his life.”

That was all Dante needed to know. He thanked James politely and dragged Asmir away. James grunted after them like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t really be bothered.

The group dedicated the rest of the day entirely to Marco. They went back to the hot pools and told stories about him. They were few and far between and most were of the themed party at the Poo Pub, where Marco had gotten a little merry and decided to dance and sing with the pub landlord who was used to his pub being frequented by inebriated youths.

The group had decided amongst themselves not to mention the manner of his death but to focus on his life. No one, it seemed, knew Marco very well but, unlike Viktor, everyone liked him. He was polite, considerate and easy to talk to, but only when they started the conversation.

They had a couple of drinks for Marco in the bar and then went back to the hostel. No one was in the mood to stay out, especially not Dante who could not wait until he got to the hostel in Queenstown. It was killing him that he couldn’t verify his theory. Instead, he went to sleep early. But when he closed his eyes all he saw was Marco’s colorless face staring back at him. Haunting him. Begging Dante to get him justice. He made a promise to Marco’s battered, unblinking, face that he would not leave New Zealand until he knew for certain who had killed him. Dante never broke his promises.

The morning couldn’t come soon enough for Dante. He hadn’t slept much. The tortured face had haunted him all night. He felt such guilt even though he knew he could not have prevented his death. Yet, he had known that someone else was going to die.

The bus rolled up to collect them at a little after ten. Queenstown was the highlight of the tour but the magic had well and truly fizzled out for the bus. They had lost two passengers in a fortnight. Dante had even heard some passengers saying that they were going home after Queenstown. It was understandable. Even Dante felt that way and he had no idea what he was going back to.

They were back on Highway Six and Queenstown was their next stop. It was two and a half hours drive away with no stops and Dante was hoping that there wouldn’t be any. Dante and Asmir were both sat in their usual seats but, all around them, they didn’t see fellow passengers now. They saw suspects. For the whole journey they remained silent or talked about issues not relating to what was really on their minds. They couldn’t risk someone overhearing them any more. They were so close to a breakthrough, finally.

The road cut through lowlands and then ascended slowly until, before they knew it, they were in the mountains. The roads got smaller and the bus took longer and longer to turn the sharp corners. The view would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the torrential rain blasting its way through the mountain pass.

The descent was even more terrifying. Watching as a giant chunk of metal careered down a tight mountain road in the rain was not fun. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Ben, who was trying to take it slow despite the every-growing line of cars behind him that were constantly edging closer. But he handled himself and the vehicle well.

When they finally reached Queenstown, Dante was not disappointed. It was situated on the banks of Lake Wakatipu which was colossal in size. Unlike the surrounding area, the town was on a flat piece of terrain. Because of the rain, not a great deal could be seen, but it was their accommodation that took his breath away. The hostel they were staying in was right next to the lake which made for incredible views. Several of the double rooms even had balconies. The moment they entered Dante was struck by their facilities. The reception was modern and painted a painfully bright shade of orange. To the left was what he had been praying for since the previous evening. There was a sunken area that housed about six desktop computers. Four of them were taken, two were free. In the back there was a large dining area which was currently buzzing with the sound of people who had just finished making lunch.

Everything inside him was telling him to drop his bags and head straight for the computer. But he decided to at least take his bags up to his room first.

It turned out that they had been given one of the coveted twin rooms with a balcony. They decided not to venture out onto it. The rain had eased up but they had more important things to do. They dropped their stuff on the floor and, without unpacking anything, went back downstairs.

There were still two free computers, so Dante jumped on one and Asmir the other. They began to type furiously, but seconds into their research they were stopped.

“I’m glad I found you two.” It was Ryan and he had news. “The company has decided to call this trip off. They’re getting bad press from the incidents on this bus and they don’t want to leave the door open for any more. As a result, we’re going tomorrow afternoon. But there is one piece of good news. We’re still going to be doing all the activities we planned in Queenstown. Only problem is, we have to fit it all into this afternoon and tomorrow morning.”

Dante and Asmir couldn’t argue with the company’s decision to call off the trip. Two passengers dying on one of their buses is most definitely not good publicity. But the news was sure to cause major disruption to people’s plans.

“So what’s gonna happen about the flights that we have booked a few days from now back to Auckland from Christchurch, and how are we gonna get to Christchurch for that matter?” Asmir asked, more concerned about the sights that they were missing out on than the money it was costing.