The Perfect Corpse

by Giles Milton

  He walked over to the reception desk and was greeted by the smile of a receptionist with perfect white teeth.

  ‘Hello. Doctor Raven?’ She extended a hand. ‘Tammy’s been telling us all about you.’

  He smiled and gave the stock response. ‘Good things I hope.’

  She laughed. ‘Yeah. She’s been giving you a big sell.’

  She looked up at the clock. ‘You can go up straightaway. To the conference room. They’re all there. Upstairs, fourth door on the right. And good luck now.’

  Jack climbed the stairs and found himself in a long corridor lit with the same white spots. They were humming slightly, emitting a sound that clashed with the buzz of the air con. He made his way along the corridor and stood outside the room for a moment. He could hear Tammy’s voice. She was talking about him to the team.

  ‘He’s smart. Calls himself an amateur expert. Very British. Guess some of it’s self-taught. But a lot of it’s just brains.’

  He knocked on the open door and entered the room just as Tammy finished speaking. Eight pairs of eyes snapped towards him. He immediately sensed hostility. He’d had it once before, exactly like this, when the Pryce brothers went down for murder.

  There was no doubting which one was Tom Lawyer. He was suspiciously tanned, like he spent too many hours under a sun lamp, and balding, though in denial. He was half-heartedly wearing a tie, a flag at half-mast. His suit was cut to look expensive.

  ‘You must be Doctor Jack Raven. We’ve been hearing all about you.’

  Jack sat down in the empty seat next to Tammy and looked around the room. Sterile as a corporate boardroom. An interactive whiteboard hung on one wall, a touch-screen unit on the other. There was a huge framed photograph of what seemed to be an abstract landscape of frosted hills and valleys. But when he looked at it more sharply he realised it was a highly magnified human cheek and eyebrow, dead and frozen to ice.

  ‘I’ve been telling them how you saw Ferris Clark last night,’ said Tammy.

  Jack glanced across to the windows. Strange how the thick glass gave the sunlight a greenish hue that fell into the room as a dull block, like it was shining through water.

  ‘Can’t we cut the air con?’ said Jennifer, the only one who seemed oblivious to Jack’s presence. ‘It’s July, it’s a heat-wave and I’m cold.’ She folded her arms across her chest, tightening them for warmth.

  Jack looked more closely at Tom. There was a contrived menace in the undone tie and the red face suggested high blood pressure. A bit of a hard-ass. That’s what Tammy had said. He reckoned she’d got him just about right.

  ‘So -’ said Tom in more emollient tone. ‘I guess you better meet – ’ He paused, looked round the room. ‘Tammy you already know. Doctor Hunter King. He’s my number two. Doctor Ryan Lee. Jennifer Jackson. Riley Young. Owen Green. Doctor Luke Gonzales. He’s smart. And me -’ he pointed to himself - ‘Tom Lawyer. Doctor.’

  Jack looked at them one by one and nodded. ‘Good to meet you all. And great to see Ferris Clark last ni– ’

  ‘You bring quite a reputation,’ said Tom, interrupting him. ‘We’ve all been looking at your website. Mallory. And that iced up corpse in, where was it? Austria? Italy? Tammy tells us you’re the best in the business.’

  Jack smiled. ‘She’s over-selling me.’

  Tom’s eyes narrowed to a squint. He emitted a brief snort and leaned forwards in his chair, folding his arms on the desk in front of him like he had something important to say.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I have to tell you this straightaway, before we go any further. There’s been a mix up. Worse. You’ve been brought here under false pretences. You see Tammy here – ’

  He paused for a moment, as if in search of the right words. And then he changed tack.

  ‘There’s nothing more to be discovered about our frozen corpse. We’ve been through all the records. FBI too. If there was anything more to know about him we’d know it already. Fact is, we’ve found everything there is to find.’

  There was a moment’s silence before he continued. ‘Real sorry you’ve been dragged all this way, but I don’t want to waste your time any further.’

  Jack looked to Tammy for an explanation, but she’d turned to face Tom and now had her back towards him.

  ‘Hold on, hold on,’ he said, not quite believing what Tom had just said. ‘Let’s get this straight. You’re saying I’ve been asked to come all this way. And now – ’

  ‘It’s like this,’ said Tom, interrupting him again. ‘ZAKRON’s been tasked with finding out about Ferris Clark, checking the records, doing the tests. That’s what we’ve been doing for the last four weeks. Not many places have got the sort of equipment we’ve got. And now we’ve reached the end of the road. We’ve found everything there is to find and the case will soon be closed, not by us but by the FBI.’

  He tapped the desk with his pen. ‘I’ve been away for a few days, see, and – ’ he cleared his throat – ‘Tammy here took it upon herself to get you over. Fact is, these sorts of decisions can only be taken by the board.’

  There was a moment’s pause, as if no one was sure what to say next.

  ‘Has it been in the press?’ Jack was looking directly at Tom. ‘I checked the internet but there was nothing. Why’s it not been in the papers? On TV? Twitter?’

  Tom looked up sharply.

  ‘Everything’s taken place in confidence. No one knows about the discovery of the corpse. No one’s been told what happened.’

  ‘Why so secret? Who actually found the body?’

  ‘The natural gas folk,’ said Tom. ‘Taking some sort of ice-core samples from the Greenland ice. And they were not - how do we put this? - drilling exactly where they were meant to be. And then, bang, they hit upon Ferris Clark. Stuck there in the ice, like he’s slipped into a crevasse. Those folk called the FBI, the FBI called us. And then Hunter and I flew out there with Sergeant Perez.’

  ‘What was the procedure? With the corpse, I mean? This sort of thing usually -’

  Tom sighed heavily before explaining how Ferris Clark’s corpse had come into their possession. The fact that he’d been found in Greenland, which ultimately fell under the jurisdiction of Denmark, had threatened to lead to red tape, bureaucracy, complications and bla, bla, bla, especially as the gas guys were drilling where they shouldn’t have been. But Perez smoothed the way and managed to get the body brought to America.

  ‘That’s why it’s had to be kept quiet,’ said Hunter. ‘The whole Denmark side of things could’ve caused problems. Wasn’t in anyone’s interest for the press to hear of it.’

  ‘And that’s also why these folk have all signed a confidentiality agreement,’ said Tom. ‘It’s sensitive’

  ‘I can see it’s sensitive. These things always are, especially if they involve two countries. We had similar problems with Utzi. He was found smack on the border. Almost sparked a war between Austria and Italy. But surely in this case -’

  Tom smiled, nodded. ‘Glad you get it,’ he said. ‘And before you leave us, you’ll have to sign the confidentiality agreement as well.’

  ‘I’ll sign. Of course I’ll sign it. But – ’ he thought for a moment - ‘Tammy said he was found with some sort of I.D. bracelet?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Tom, the impatience sounding in his voice. ‘A medical one. Army regulation. Only had his initials, of course - F.C. - but enough to set us on the trail. It’s gone to Washington now. FBI are keeping it.’

  ‘And the DNA results? What about them?’

  Tom Lawyer stared hard and cold. ‘Corrupted. Tried three times. No clean result. Distorted by the ice. We’ll try again, of course, but I’m not expecting much.’

  ‘And Ferris Clark himself? Naked? In fifteen years in the business that’s got to rank as pretty much the most bizarre death I’ve come across. Suicide? Murder? Or just some sort of weird accident? What’s your take on it?’

  Hunter leaned back in his chair and smirked. ‘Everyone gets their kicks somehow,’
he said. ‘A naturist at the ice cap. Takes balls.’

  ‘Ferris Clark -’ said Tom, cutting Hunter in mid-sentence. He sounded like he wanted to wrap the meeting up. ‘Okay, here’s what we know. Only child. Born North Carolina. Parents dead before the war. No family. No siblings. No children. Born in nineteen-seven. October. Makes him thirty-seven in nineteen-forty-four. Drafted in January. On paper, he got lucky. US Army Corps of Engineers, North Atlantic Division. Sent to Greenland in March. But not that lucky. He was dead in nine weeks.’

  He let out a heavy sigh.

  ‘Whole story’s in the Vegas archives. Clear as day. Six get home alive. One snuffs it. That one just happened to be Ferris Clark. Six to one - not a bad ratio for World War Two.’

  ‘I helped Tom put the stuff together,’ said Hunter. ‘And I’ve been involved in the searches. There’s not much to add. Some people make noise in their life. Some people remain silent. Ferris Clark was probably as boring as fuck.’

  ‘Who was assigned to the case?’ asked Jack. ‘When he was first found, I mean.’

  Tom stared at him. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘Always good to know. Often affects the way things are handled.’

  ‘It’s like I said. FBI. Within hours. Special Agent Jon Perez. Washington’s finest. Been on it since day one. And so have we.’

  Tom sat back in his chair and visibly relaxed. He seemed more expansive.

  ‘We were alerted to what happened within minutes. Speed was important and we’d dealt with Perez before, several times. FBI gets the call in the morning, we’re on the case before lunch.’

  ‘I see. And you flew out to -’

  ‘What d’you see?’ Tom’s momentary good humour passed in a flash. He stared at Jack, irritated by all the questions.

  ‘This Perez guy. He’s still on the case?’

  ‘Yeah. But it’s like I said. The original investigation’s all but closed.’

  Another silence. Jack looked around the room. All of them except Tammy were staring at him.

  ‘So what happens next?’ he asked.

  ‘What happens next?’ Tom threw the question back into the room. ‘He’ll be transferred to Arlington. Military funeral. Big brass band. Stars and stripes on his coffin. That’s when it goes public. There’ll be some backstage diplomacy with the Danes. And then, hell, Ferris Clark’s goin’ to get quite a send-off. He’ll be well looked after by the Arlington folks.’

  Jack nodded. ‘And when’s all that due to happen?’

  ‘Next week, the week after. Not sure just yet. Still waiting for the nod from Washington.’

  He tapped his pencil on the table-top as if to announce that the meeting was at an end.

  ‘Look,’ he said, adopting a more sympathetic tone of voice. ‘I’m real sorry you were dragged all the way here for nothing. Tammy here – ’

  He shot a look towards her. Jack also turned his head and saw that she was leaning back in her chair and giving Tom a detached stare. He had to hand it to her, she wasn’t fazed by anything.

  ‘We’ll get you a new ticket. Sort you out. Reimburse you for expenses and for your time. You won’t be out of pocket, that’s a promise.’

  He gave a smile that seemed to be genuine. ‘Anything else we can do for you? I’d be happy to make it up. You’ve been brought a long way for a whole lot of nothing.’

  Jack was silent for a moment, still wrestling with the unexpected turn of events. Of all the possible outcomes, this was the very last thing he’d been expecting.

  ‘One thing,’ he said, thinking aloud. ‘Since I’ve been brought all this way.’

  ‘Yep?’

  ‘I’d like to check out the body. Examine it. An external autopsy. Purely professional curiosity, but it would mean the trip wasn’t a complete waste of time.’

  He caught a reflection of Tammy in the framed photograph on the wall opposite. She had a half-smile on her face.

  ‘Deal,’ said Tom. ‘We can do that.’ He looked across to Hunter. ‘Yep. We can do that. Lab two. Can you arrange for Ferris Clark to be taken there? Three o’clock sharp. Luke, you can help.’

  He turned back to Jack. ‘You staying at Logan’s Corner?’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘You should get out of Hanford. Nothing of any interest here. Take a day or two in Vegas. Have a little gamble while you’re here.’

  ‘Gave up gambling,’ said Jack. ‘Only gambling I do these days is on dead bodies.’

  FIVE

  Jack stepped out of the taxi and was blasted by the midday heat. Logan’s Corner parking lot smelled of kerosene and a lone palm tree was spreading tyre-tracks of shade across the tarmac. Two vehicles were parked by the entrance, a blue Ford station wagon, all dents and chrome, and a Subaru Cruiser the size of a tank.

  He pushed the glass door and stepped into air-freshener coolness. The lobby smelled of pine forest and the floor was drying in smears. A red fire extinguisher hung on the wall like a glazed doughnut. The only sound came from the TPS vending machine, clunking loudly as it automatically refilled itself with Sprite and Cherry Cola.

  He made his way through to the dining area. There was a folksy cheerfulness to the decor, all wagon wheels and red-checked tablecloths, and Country music was spilling from the bar. You’ve broken the speed of the sound of loneliness. He knew that song. Nanci Griffiths. Why did country music always sound so melancholy?

  ‘You just sit where you want sir. Any table takes your fancy.’

  The cheery voice came from behind him, all rhythm and lilt. He turned round. The waitress wore a name badge, Destinee, and was carrying a large pitcher of iced tea.

  ‘Want something to eat? We’ve got burgers, pizzas, fries, I’ll get you the menu.’

  He chose a table by the window that was covered in sunshine. Trucks on the interstate were vibrating through the floor and the tarmac outside was shimmering in the heat. Tom had said the examination of Ferris Clark’s body would take place at 3pm. He checked his mobile. Three hours to kill.

  ‘Here’s the menu,’ said Destinee.

  He glanced down quickly. ‘A pizza, thanks.’

  ‘Texan Grill? Sicilian? Hot and Spicy? Boston Barbeque?’

  ‘Texan Grill. And a Coke. Regular.’

  She nodded, noted it down. ‘And what brings you to Hanford?’ she said, taking a bottle of Hunt’s ketchup from the adjacent table and placing it on his. ‘Business?’

  She gave a desultory shrug then continued speaking before he had a chance to reply.

  ‘What line of business? The air base? Most folks come for the air base. Or Sand Mountain. Biggest dune in the States, or so they say. But they’re tourists of course.’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Or, let me guess. ZAKRON. You’re here for ZAKRON?’

  He looked up sharply, but she said it with a smile so he took it with a smile.

  ‘ZAKRON. You’re right. D’you know the place?’

  ‘Everyone knows ZAKRON. Don’t want to be speakin’ out of turn,’ she said, leaning in towards him, ‘but it freaks me somethin’.’

  She played with the salt and pepper pots while she stood there, pushing the salt to the far side of the pepper and then the pepper to the far side of the salt.

  ‘I mean why would anyone in sound mind want to be frozen? Freaks me, tellin’ the truth.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll be burnin’ when I’m dead, and not in the flames of hell neither.’

  She wandered back to the kitchen. ‘Be right back with that Coke.’

  Jack picked up his phone and checked the pictures he’d taken on the previous evening. They were better than he’d expected. The face of the corpse was clearly in focus and he could even see the clear blue pupil of the left eye. He emailed them to his iPad and heard it ping as he took it from its case.

  The events of the last few hours had been so bizarre that he was still trying to get his head round it. Tammy must surely have known the case was almost closed, so why the hell had she got him all the way to Hanford? And w
hy was Tom Lawyer so anxious for him to leave? Every question spawned another two.

  What surprised him most was his own reaction. Christ, by rights he ought to be furious at having been dragged all the way here for nothing. Twelve hours on the move, what with the change of planes, and a shed-load of hassle. Yet he couldn’t help feeling the story wasn’t yet over.

  He looked back at the photos of Ferris Clark. Naked. And upside down. It had to be suicide. But, Jesus, what would drive you to take off all your clothes in the middle of Greenland?

  Sven Erikson’s diaries had shown that men could be tipped into madness by an Arctic winter. Four months in perpetual darkness and even hardened explorers start to crack. He’d also read about that solo yachtsman shipwrecked on Spitzbergen, Larsson, that was his name. They’d found him six months later, eyes glazed like marbles and a mind turned to slush. And he had been used to solitude.

  Destinee lumbered back to his table with pizza in one hand and Coke in the other. Then she wandered off to serve a couple that had just sat down in the corner of the dining area.

  Jack cut a thick wedge from the pizza and ate it with his fingers. His mobile buzzed into the table. Welcome to Verizon: Voice-mail is available for collection by dialing 1-877-469-2144. He saved the Verizon number into his contacts and then clicked onto his messages and read through the ones from Karin. There were seven in total - all more than a week old - and they stopped abruptly on July 17. If you can’t see it for what it was, a stupid mistake, then there’s nothing more I can do. How sad to end like this. I’m flying back to Germany tomorrow.

  He hit the delete key and then flicked through her other messages and deleted them one by one. He was on the point of deleting her name from his contacts as well when a voice in his head stopped him. Not yet.

  *

  He cut another triangle of pizza then took out the map Tammy had given him on the previous evening. Greenland, featureless, abstract and blank, terra incognita, an entire country in two colours, blue and white. He glanced down at the scale and made a rough calculation in his head. It was eight hundred miles from coast to coast and a further 800 from north to south. That, at least, was the area covered by the map. That made 640,000 square miles of nothing.