Eugene angled forward, his eyes drawn to the folder.
‘You’d better be right,’ he said, his smile shifting slightly until it resembled a snarl. ‘Because he is going to be arriving in a couple of minutes and I for one am not going to sit here with my thumb up my gat just on your say-so.’
Bear didn’t flinch. ‘Like I said, it’s all in there.’
As Eugene stretched forward towards the file, Bear raised her hand.
‘Wait,’ she commanded, making him turn a shade redder at being addressed in such a way. ‘I want Pearl’s plane immediately impounded and every inch of it searched. Tear the damn thing to pieces if you need to, but my sources say there are over four million dollars’ worth of uncut diamonds cached inside.’
She said the words with as much confidence as she could muster. She knew only too well that the State Security Agency would never have believed her if she’d said Pearl was trying to introduce some kind of exotic compound into Antarctica, with all the consequences that Lotta had described. They would have kept her bouncing between agencies as they tried to figure out what it was, and more importantly whose jurisdiction it fell under. And while they procrastinated, Pearl would simply have climbed on board his jet and gone. Better to keep it simple.
It would take them days to search such a massive jet for something as easily concealed as diamonds. Then there would be the endless paperwork needed to get the plane re-certified for flight. When they finally discovered the truth, the SSA would never trust her as a contact again, but that was just something she’d have to live with.
Ever since she had left Lotta the previous evening, Bear had been trying to think of a way to detain Pearl yet keep herself out of harm’s way. She was pregnant now and, however reckless she had been in the past, had to be mindful of that fact. By contacting the SSA she had found a way out. All she needed to do was to get them to detain Pearl on reasonable suspicion. ‘Sources?’ Eugene repeated. ‘I want to see backgrounds on everyone you spoke to. I want to . . .’
His demands trailed off as behind them the glass door swung open and a smartly dressed Indian man presented himself. Despite the cut of his immaculate blue suit, it was obvious that he was wire-thin. His dark hair was oiled and parted dead centre, framing the red smudge of a bindi on his forehead. He was holding a black leather briefcase and with the slightest hint of a bow, let his keen brown eyes pass from one person to the next.
Behind him, on the far side of the glass door, they could see another four men. They had the build and bearing of a security detail. Each had military-style haircuts, and as Bear looked closer she could see the coiled wire of earpieces running down into the collars of their starched shirts.
‘My name is Hara Predesh,’ the Indian man said softly. ‘I am the personal assistant to Mr Pearl and have been instructed to assist you with these quite . . . disconcerting allegations.’
Frankie was the first to get to his feet. ‘Mr Predesh, I believe that our office was very clear on this matter. We need to talk to Mr Pearl himself.’
Predesh gave a conciliatory smile, raising the palms of his hands slightly as if to imply that he was nothing but a humble servant.
‘My employer has a demanding schedule, so perhaps I might offer some details prior to his arrival. He will be here soon and is looking forward to clearing his name most swiftly.’
The news that Pearl would be arriving in person seemed to appease Frankie. He sat back down, gesturing for Predesh to do likewise. With the briefest of nods to the security detail outside, he placed the briefcase next to the coffee table and sat down on the same sofa as Bear. A smile tinged with boredom played on his lips, as if this were just another meeting for him in a day filled with far more significant matters.
‘First things first. I must make it clear that we are not pressing any charges or making any accusations at this stage,’ Frankie began by way of a disclaimer. ‘It is purely a routine investigation in light of an official complaint.’
‘I understand,’ Predesh replied magnanimously.
‘Quite. Quite.’ Frankie’s eyes flicked towards Bear. ‘We just have some informal questions about the whereabouts of Mr Pearl, relating to his travels to Zimbabwe late last year.’
Predesh’s fingers gently touched the top of his briefcase. ‘I have already taken the liberty of printing out the itinerary of Mr Pearl’s plane on each occasion it entered African airspace. As you will see, it went nowhere near Zimbabwe at any time.’
Eugene nodded in agreement, glaring at Bear as he did so.
‘My office is genuinely bemused by these allegations,’ Predesh continued, ‘and welcomes any chance to refute them.’
As he spoke, the low rumbling of a jet’s engine started up. Parked on the apron outside the lounge were a profusion of planes, ranging in size from the small Pilatus PC-12s to the heavier jets of Gulfstream and Bombardier. These were all private planes held in a different location to the massive Boeings and Airbuses of the commercial operators.
Bear listened as the sound of the engines mounted. She knew the difference between one of the smaller jets doing its pre-flight checks and the roar of a fifty-million-dollar Bombardier. The turbofans of the BMW Rolls-Royce engines were deeper, with a smoother, heavier rotation. For years her own Cessna 206 had been parked only a few hundred feet away in one of the cheaper hangars, and she had often passed the heavy jets coming out on to the taxiway.
Bear stared at Predesh. For the briefest of moments, his eyes flicked towards the window before quickly re-engaging with Frankie. Then, like a lantern being switched on, his faint smile glowed a little brighter.
Bear studied him closely. The allegations she had made were nothing less than outrageous. In all truthfulness, she was amazed that the SSA had not simply dismissed them out of hand. So why was Predesh being so conciliatory? Any normal person confronted like this would have shown signs of indignation, or at the very least confusion, but Predesh was displaying neither. He had another agenda. She was sure of it.
Frankie was about to speak again when Bear suddenly stood up.
‘Given that I’m the one making the allegations, perhaps I might say a couple of words.’
Frankie seemed to hesitate for a second, then with an air of resignation he gestured for Bear to continue. Instead of immediately addressing the room she strode towards the long bank of windows, looking every bit the barrister cross-examining a defendant in the dock.
‘Mr Predesh, tell me – how many times has Richard Pearl flown to South Africa in the last three months?’
‘Four.’
‘He must have some pressing work commitments to travel such long distances, or does he come here for pleasure?’
As she spoke, Bear came to a standstill in front of the windows. She poked her finger into the blind distractedly, as if Predesh’s answers were all part of an inevitable stream of logic, but while she waited for a response, her eyes scanned the runway’s apron, searching for the jet that was starting up. Could it be Pearl’s Bombardier?
Unlike the international airport with its security fences and restrictions, the private lounge of Interjet opened directly on to the tarmac where the jets were parked and Bear could clearly see all the way to the runway. As her eyes passed from one plane to the next, she caught sight of the N-registered tailfin of an American aircraft. It was fifth in line amongst the row of parked planes. Pearl’s was the biggest, dwarfing the others in width and height, and as she stared more intently she could see the faint wash of exhaust fumes in the air behind it. Her instincts had been right. The plane was getting ready to depart.
Suddenly, she spotted two figures hurrying across the tarmac. One was definitely male, while the other ran in his shadow, half-concealed, as they ducked under the wing of the neighbouring jet. As the two heads re-emerged, Bear caught the slightest hint of red in the man’s hair. It was Pearl! It had to be, and he was running towards the open entrance of his plane.
Suddenly it all made sense. Predesh was only here to dist
ract them. In just a few minutes, Pearl would be airborne.
Bear turned back towards the men. ‘So tell me, Mr Predesh. Were the journeys for business or pleasure?’
She moved her hands to her hips and stared down at Predesh as if arriving at the crux of her argument. She desperately needed time to think and had to keep up this pretence. Eugene snorted at the clichéd courtroom antics, before his eyes switched back to Frankie, imploring him to take charge.
‘It is no secret that my employer is a major benefactor of an Antarctic scientific base,’ Predesh answered. He spoke slowly as if the words might somehow need to be translated for Bear’s benefit. ‘We access the base from right here in Cape Town, which adequately explains his previous visits. Now, I think it is time for us to see some evidence rather than continuing ad infinitum with Ms Makuru’s conjecturing.’
Eugene murmured in agreement, while Frankie gave Bear a look that suggested she’d better know what she was doing. Bear remained still, her mind reeling. She had to act, had to do something, or Pearl would be gone. Something was triggered within her at the thought of Pearl landing in Antarctica – that would put him right next to the lake and, by extension, Luca. As the thought began to crystallise in her mind, an impulse surged through her. It was the same impulse that had seen her charge into the crippled mineshaft in Chile all those years ago; a realisation that if she didn’t do something about the situation, no one else would.
Her eyes settled on a small item sitting on top of the bank of refrigerators.
‘With your permission,’ she said, turning back to address Predesh, ‘we should close the door. Some of the documents I have brought within this file are extremely sensitive.’
Predesh shrugged as if it were a matter of no importance, but inwardly he knew that his security detail just outside had been carefully briefed as to their mission. Whether it was by force, or by Predesh himself managing to spin out the meeting until Pearl was safely in the air, they had to contain the two SSA operatives and the Makuru woman. By locking the door, all she was doing was playing into their hands.
Eugene got up to close the door, turning the key in the lock.
‘The blinds too,’ Bear commanded.
Muttering under his breath, he found the dangling cord and clattered them down.
‘Gentlemen,’ she began, ‘what you are about to witness is something that cannot pass beyond these four walls.’
She gave them all a look of the utmost severity as she placed the folder down on the table. Predesh stayed still, seemingly content for Eugene to reach forward and open it. The first page consisted of a long and rambling history to the background of the Marange Mines in Zimbabwe. Eugene scanned through it, quickly realising that this was little more than information pulled from the internet.
His eyes narrowed in confusion as he flipped to the next page, then the next. There was nothing but generalities that would be accessible to pretty much anyone with a computer. He looked up, questioning how any of this was related to the case in hand, and noticed Bear backing off towards the bank of refrigerators while pulling the leather strap of her handbag tight across her shoulder. He then watched as she clicked open the back of the SodaStream and slid out the smooth gas cylinder contained within. In the drawer directly beneath she found two spare cylinders and, pulling the elasticated hair tie from her ponytail, she wound it around all three, securing them together in a bunch.
Eugene watched for a moment longer before a snarl appeared on his lips.
‘Wat di fok are you playing at?’ he hissed, raising himself to his full height. He was slightly overweight with a paunch that stretched the mid-section of his shirt, but still had quick reflexes, and knew it. His neck muscles twitched in anticipation.
Bear hesitated for a split-second more, torn between the need for action and an innate sense of self-preservation. Then her reflexes seemed to take charge and on pure impulse she swung round, throwing open the double-glazed window of the lounge. She stared out. The drop could be no more than ten feet.
Stretching up her arms, she grabbed hold of the dark-wood blinds and wrenched them off their fittings. Now both Frankie and Predesh had got to their feet and were staring in absolute bewilderment, as if witnessing the antics of a lunatic. Eugene was the first to react; but just as he took a step towards Bear she kicked off her shoes and hitched her skirt up past her hips. Confronted by the sight of her long thighs and a pair of black lace knickers, Eugene faltered. He tried to speak, but confusion momentarily paralysed him.
Without looking back, Bear planted her right foot on the windowsill then levered the rest of her body on to the ledge. Only then did the others fully understand what she was about to do, and both Eugene and Frankie pushed past Predesh, sending him flying back on to the sofa.
Bear dropped down on the tarmac outside, knees jarring from the impact. With the gas cylinders from the SodaStream clamped in her right hand, she ran as fast as she could, while somewhere behind her she heard shouts as both SSA men craned their necks out of the window, screaming at her to stop. She half turned, catching sight of Eugene trying to push past Frankie, but he was leaning so far out of the window that he couldn’t manoeuvre his way back for several precious seconds.
Eugene grabbed the collar of Frankie’s shirt and heaved his colleague back into the room. He himself then surged forward, jumping with both feet on to the windowsill, but as he pushed himself on, his right boot caught in what remained of the rope for the blinds. His body pivoted downward so that he fell head first, with the side of his face smacking against the tarmac with a grim slap. He groaned, briefly dragging his head off the ground before it slumped back down again. He passed out before his eyes had managed to close.
Ahead of him Bear ran barefoot over tarmac that was scalding hot from the midday sun. Passing the parked jets one by one, she quickly drew nearer to Pearl’s. There in the cockpit was the pilot. She could see him through the armoured glass windscreen, talking into the radio as he completed the last of the pre-flight checks.
Just as she drew level with the wingtips, the plane’s engines roared with deafening power. They slowly pulled the standing weight of the plane into a roll and Bear watched as the porthole windows lining the fuselage passed by her in sequence. Then, suddenly, she saw him.
The sheen from the glass obscured the lower part of his face, but she recognised Pearl’s slicked back hair and steel-grey eyes. His face moved closer, nose almost pressing into the glass as he returned her stare. His eyes hardened with absolute focus as if he were attempting to stop her by force of will alone. Then he twisted back towards the cockpit and she saw him yell something to the pilots. A second later the plane lurched forward as the captain quickly shunted in the power.
There was a great whooshing sound as the jet engines sucked the air through the fan intakes, followed by the roar of vaporising fuel. It was deafening, shaking the ground all around her, and Bear had to fight every instinct not to drop the cylinders and run in the opposite direction.
With eyes narrowed against the rush of air, she watched as the massive plane began its inexorable roll towards the runway, gaining speed with every passing second.
Almost tripping as she forced herself on, Bear ran beside the wings. She wasn’t thinking, only reacting. With her back arched, she ducked beneath the expanse of riveted metal to get closer to the engines underneath. Now she could feel the heat; the intense, searing heat of the exhaust fumes. Shielding herself as best she could, she raised the cylinders with one hand and lobbed them in a low arc into the open intakes of the jet engine.
There was a sudden clash of spinning metal, followed by a small explosion. Splinters of broken metal spun off into the air like shrapnel, while the exhaust flame spluttered, then, a second later, went out.
The plane continued rolling towards the runway, seemingly impervious to the damage, but then it jerked to a standstill. There was a moment’s pause before an explosion broke out across the open expanse of the airport. The force of the blast li
fted the entire portside of the plane off the ground, wrenching it over to one side and buckling the length of one wing. Everything went quiet. The only movement was a smudge of acrid smoke clawing its way up from the broken engine and into the clear Cape Town sky.
Bear lay flat on the ground, dimly aware of a pain in her side. There was an intense ringing in her ears that seemed to block out all her other senses. The shockwave from the explosion had burst her right eardrum. As she lay on her side on the hot tarmac, a thin trickle of blood oozed out of her ear, running down the side of her jawline.
She stared in shock at the grazed palms of her hands before her eyes regained their focus and gradually settled on a group of four figures running around the corner of the Interjet building. She blinked, trying to see more clearly, but the silhouettes looked hazy and unthreatening. As she raised her head, her skull felt like it had just fractured across her temples and she let out a low groan before dropping it back down.
Seconds passed, with only the heavy thud of her heart pounding in her chest. Black spots blurred across her vision and she could feel herself slipping into unconsciousness.
Then something deep inside her commanded her to move. Bear groaned in protest, trying to ignore it, but the feeling rose within her, surging through the crippling apathy. The impulse was primordial, flooding new energy into each tired muscle. The baby. She had to save the baby.
Rolling on to her stomach, Bear pushed up from her palms, trying to wrench herself clear of the ground. She felt so heavy, as if a massive weight were pressing down on her back. Scraping her knees up underneath her torso, she struggled on to all fours and lifted her head. Through strands of black hair, she could see her pursuers clearly now, rounding the first of the planes.
‘Move!’ she whispered to herself as she struggled to get onto her feet. As soon as she stood vertical, her right ear seemed to explode with pain, making her stagger backwards and almost collapse. She swayed for several seconds, her knees threatening to give out from under her, as her gaze slowly settled on the airport fence line directly behind her. It was no more than three hundred metres away.
Beneath the Ice Page 16
