Casanova (8 page)

She said
for
him, not
about
him.

‘Yes, of course, it must be dreadful,’ Charlotte said.

‘Shouldn’t you have stayed at home in case he calls?’ I asked.

Again, there was just the hint of something in her eyes. ‘He knows we were coming here; it’s been booked for months; and I have my mobile with me so he can still call me.’

I was now confident she had heard from him.

‘What do the police say?’ Charlotte asked.

‘They’re doing all they can but they told me that finding a missing person was difficult, but that most adult men who go missing turn up again safe and sound.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you’ll hear from him very soon,’ Charlotte said and glanced at the girls sitting on the sofa. Neither of them seemed to be listening to the adults’ conversation.

‘Well, we won’t stay any longer,’ Charlotte said. ‘Are you and the girls skiing tomorrow?’

‘Yes, yes we are.’

‘The snow’s falling heavily so there should be good powder in the morning; perhaps we’ll see you on the slopes.’

‘Yes, perhaps; that would be nice.’

We put on again our coats, hats, gloves, and then left. At the end of the path, Charlotte gently tugged on my arm and whispered, ‘Well, what do you think?’

‘I think Casanova is here in the resort, and staying somewhere nearby.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘I saw something in her eyes. I think she knows he’s here. She’s scared but not because he’s missing; it’s something else.’

‘The reason he went missing in the first place,’ Charlotte said.

We walked back to Charlotte’s chalet through the heavy snow and were soon in the warmth once more. A log fire crackled and the Christmas tree lights twinkled. Her grandfather didn’t seem surprised to see me.

‘Why did you leave the army?’ he asked.

‘They wouldn’t let me stay any longer; I was using up all the bullets.’

He didn’t ask anymore. Charlotte intervened and said, ‘The army only has so much to teach; it’s best not to stay in for too long. Isn’t that right grandfather?’

‘Yes, yes I suppose so.’

He himself had left young and then joined the bank. Charlotte was a skilled amateur diplomat.

We finished the meal with a course of cheese and biscuits. Charlotte sipped her claret and her eyes smiled at me over the large rim of her wine glass.

I drank my coffee and turned to her grandfather, ‘Sir Sebastian,’ I said, ‘we called in on Alice Chester earlier this evening; she and her two daughters are staying in the chalet behind this one.’

‘Oh, yes; yes, I know they, um, are staying nearby.’

‘It’s terrible that her husband, William, has disappeared.’

‘Oh, yes, yes, it is.’

‘I don’t suppose you know where he is?’

‘Me? No, I don’t know where the young man is. Why should I know?’

‘I just thought he might have told you.’

‘Oh; no, no he didn’t tell me.’

I wasn’t going to get anything out of the old man, although I thought there was a good chance he knew a lot more than he was saying.

It was time for me to leave. I said my goodbyes. At the door Charlotte said, ‘Skiing, tomorrow; I’ll meet you outside the lift at nine o’clock.’ She kissed me on the cheek and then smiled.

Outside it was still snowing. I dug in my boots and climbed the slope back onto the track. The freezing night air stung my face and the dark snowflakes smothered any chance there may have been of decent visibility. A dead silence seemed to hang across the mountain like the stillness before the fall of the executioner’s axe. It was late and the track was deserted. I pulled my collar higher and trudged towards the village.

The roadway led me onto a sweeping turn and on the apex, through the falling snow, I caught a glimpse of the village lights in the distance. Ahead, the mountain loomed and at this level, it was thick with fir trees. They showed black against the lighter snowy ground.

Fleeting movement, somewhere in the trees, caught my eye. I wasn’t certain what it was but something dark had moved. I slowed my pace and scanned the area. The snow was falling like cotton balls from a bag turned upside down. I continued to look and then I saw the movement again. It was a man and a woman. They were making their way down through the trees. Each moved carefully so as not to fall. They had obviously dropped down from a pathway higher up and were now attempting to connect with the roadway on which I was. I watched them take sideways steps between the fir trees. The man’s feet disappeared and then reappeared in the deep fresh snow. The woman followed closely behind. Before they reached the roadway, I passed them still in the trees. I looked up at them and watched them move closer as I went by. I slowed my pace and looked back. The man reached the roadway and stepped onto the level ground with obvious relief. The woman did the same. They embraced and then headed off in the direction I had just come from. I watched them for a few more seconds until they disappeared around the sweep. It had given me an idea. If Meriwether was right then my idea just might prove worthwhile.

I returned to the chalets. They were quiet. The stillness was almost eerie. Using Charlotte’s chalet as cover I found a dark corner in which to hide. I pushed my back against the wooden slats and waited. The sight lines were good and visibility was clear. In the shadows, I was invisible. The lights along the snow-covered path and above the doorway gave me the best seat in the house. The outside lighting illuminated the area like a play at the Old Vic. As a soldier, I had waited like this many times. The coldness began to seep through my feet and face. I moved a little. I remained silent. I listened. All I heard was the falling snow and an occasional diesel engine on the road above my head. One hour passed. The second hour came and went. I held my concentration. I heard the movement before I saw the figure. A man, wrapped warmly, with his head covered stepped carefully. He walked down the pathway. The lights glinted in the snow that lay on the shoulders of his coat. He glanced around before approaching the doorway. The overhead lamplight sparkled on his damp hat. He knocked softly. The door opened and I saw the woman smile with relief. She raised herself towards him and he turned his head to kiss her. For a moment, I saw his face. It was Casanova.

7

MONDAY, 00:00—10:20

I had found him. It was as much by luck as judgement, of course, but even so, found he was. The problem I now had was what to do about it.

Meriwether had been right about where Casanova had gone to, but I didn’t know why. In fact, I didn’t have any of the answers. All I did have was a long list of questions.

I also had three main options of what to do next. The first one, which at this stage was a non-starter, was to carry out Bradshaw’s ST. The second, which again was not really an option either, was to call Little Miss Marple and let the police have him. The third option, and the most obvious, was to inform Bazzer I’d located him and await instructions. It probably doesn’t come as a surprise to learn that I didn’t follow any of these three options and instead did something different. Knowing, as I did, that Casanova had taken a risk in going to visit his wife and daughters I thought it was almost certain he would stay in the chalet until, at least, first light when he would probably leave and return, on foot, to wherever he was hiding. My plan was to follow him and find out where he was holding-up. I checked my wristwatch. The luminous dials told me first light was still five and half hours away. I left Mr. and Mrs. Casanova in their chalet together and returned to my hotel in the village.

I slept for four and half hours, got up, dressed in white ski clothes (thoughtfully packed for me by Hoagy) and then returned to the chalet and took up a concealed position from where I could observe the door and, just as importantly, hear when someone opened it.

The snow had fallen all night and my walk back to the chalet was a trudge through the deep fresh powder. The snow had lessened but it was still falling. My concealed position was more than adequate in the dark but I wasn’t sure how good it would be once the sun came up. I had gone the long way round to avoid the possibility of my tracks being seen in the fresh snow and giving any cause for concern.

I checked my wristwatch. Green luminous hands told me there were still forty minutes until first light. I wrapped my arms around my chest and waited.

It was less than thirty minutes later when the door opened. I heard Alice Chester’s voice but she spoke softly and I didn’t hear what she said, except for two words, which sounded like
careful
and
love
. Neither of which helped me in any way. Then I heard Casanova’s voice but again I couldn’t hear the words. He only spoke very briefly and then he left and I heard the door close. He walked away along the path towards the slope. I waited until he reached the brow of the incline and then I followed him.

I moved quickly to the top of the slope. I didn’t want to lose sight of him. I needn’t have worried. He hadn’t gone very far along the track. The deep new snow was making it hard going for him. He wasn’t an athletic man and his steps were cumbersome and slow.

I held back and gave him time to get ahead. Once he had reached the turn in the roadway, I moved from my concealed position by the side of the track, crossed over the roadway and travelled to the end of a snow-covered hedgerow. I dropped down out of sight and waited for him to reach the end of the turn. I stood up in time to see him cross away from the flat roadway and enter the fir trees where the slope of the mountain rose steeply. After climbing for a minute or so, he was on his hands and knees in the deep snow, struggling to make progress. This was going to take a while. On the edge of the tree line, I dropped down behind a wide trunk and watched him. I gave him as much of a head start as I dare before I left the cover of the tree and started the climb myself. I followed the wide track he had left which made it slightly easier for me. I maintained cover using the trees wherever possible and kept him in visual contact. I closed the gap rapidly when I could tell the climb was reaching its end. I didn’t want to lose him on the flat pathway at the top. I lifted my head and could just make out his dark figure moving northwest and farther up the mountain. I came out of the trees and onto the pathway in silence. I quickened my pace until I was close enough behind him to hear his rasping breath. I stopped and waited until the gap was larger.

We continued to climb slowly using the narrow pathway, which traversed the mountain. Casanova’s breathing would have been loud in his own ears and he never once looked back. There was no way he was going to realise he was being followed. This journey was taking longer than he had anticipated because it was starting get light, and I expected he wanted to be at his destination before then. He looked at the sky a couple of times and tried to quicken his speed without any success.

Finally, we reached a cabin-style chalet, camouflaged in the snow except for an outside wall light by the porch. Casanova went to the door, turned briefly and glanced back, before going in. I was far enough away and flat in the snow, for him not to see me.

I waited until he was safely inside and then I got up and scouted the area. The cabin-style chalet was isolated except for a nearby restaurant, which I got up close to, read the sign and then memorised its French name. The cabin and the restaurant were far enough up the mountain to make access difficult in the winter months. A normal vehicle would not be able to make the climb. It would need to be something fitted with proper snow tracks.

I made a complete three-sixty of the property before dropping down into the snow on the high side in a gully where the slope hid me. I checked my wristwatch and considered my options. I tried to think of a reason why Casanova would disappear from London and come to the Swiss ski resort where he had holidayed for the past two Christmases, and where he and his family were booked to come again this year anyway. I wondered who owned the cabin and whether the owner or anyone else was currently living there. I wanted answers but I didn’t have them.

I pulled out my K106 and removed a glove. I tapped the screen and used the satellite phone to pinpoint my position, which I stored in the memory. I wanted to be able to find the cabin again, from wherever I was on the mountain. I put my K106 away and took out the piste map I’d picked up from the hotel lobby. I got my bearings and marked the map with a circle where I thought the cabin was located.

Now, it was time for me to make a decision. Should I confront Casanova immediately or wait until later? Moreover, when should I tell Bazzer and C that I’d found him?

After deliberating for a few moments, I decided to leave Casanova until later. I reasoned that with his wife and daughters nearby and with Christmas only a day away, he wouldn’t be going anywhere new anytime soon.

I was right, but it turned out not to matter anyway.

I made my way quickly back down the mountain. I passed a piste basher on the lowest run and gave it a wide berth. The diesel engine grumbled and the ridged tracks pounded the snow like a steak tenderiser.

The village was still quiet except for a snowplough chugging slowly up and down the main street. It was much easier to walk on the road where the scraped snow was flat and smooth.

The moved snow had compacted into a decent looking wall where the plough had pushed it aside and piled it high. I had to climb over the icy barricade, as the hotel staff hadn’t yet dug an escape route.

Inside the lobby, I instantly felt the change in temperature. I went straight to my room and took a hot shower. I dressed in dry ski clothes from the bag and then I ordered breakfast from room service.

Throughout this time, I hadn’t stopped thinking about all the options. I made a decision to call Meriwether. His mobile rang. It took a while before he answered and then I heard his distinctive voice.

‘Dear boy,’ he said, ‘you’re up early this morning.’

‘I’ve found him,’ I said.

‘Oh, good, that didn’t take long, well done. Where is he, somewhere comfortable and warm I expect?’

‘He’s staying in a cabin nearby.’

‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘No, not yet, I didn’t want to spook him into running again.’

‘No, quite, that’s very sensible. How did you find him?’

‘He made a night-time visit to a loved one and I followed him home.’

‘You really are such a resourceful fellow.’

There was a pause in the conversation and I could tell Meriwether was thinking. He was silent for many seconds. I waited patiently. At last, he spoke again.

‘What to do,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ve been struggling with the same question?’

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. I didn’t respond.

‘I want the money back,’ Meriwether said.

I kept silent.

‘Have you told C the good news?’ he asked.

‘That I’ve found him?’

‘Yes.’

‘No, not yet,’ I said.

Again, there was a pause while Meriwether thought. When he spoke again his voice had more gravitas as though he were about to deliver a soliloquy from a Shakespearean tragedy.

‘I was just speaking with Hoagy,’ he said, ‘before you called, and he gave me some news from VX. The team of experts working on the hole at the bank have discovered to where Casanova transferred the money. It went to a small independent Swiss bank in Zurich. It’s an investment bank still owned by a very old Swiss family and it provides wealthy clients with an exclusive personal service. The family patriarch and current chairman of the bank is a keen skier and he owns a ski chalet. He always stays in the chalet over the Christmas and New Year period. I think you probably know where that chalet is.’

Meriwether was right; I did know where it was. I didn’t need him to spell it out for me.

‘The Swiss banker’s name will be sent to you. For our purposes, I have named him Ulrich. I would like to persuade Ulrich that it would be in everyone’s best interest if we got our money back. I’ll have his photograph sent to your K106 as well, so you can identify him. I want you and C to pay him a visit this morning. I’ll call C now to brief her.’

‘What about Casanova,’ I asked.

‘Yes, Casanova; you can speak with him too and explain if the money is returned and if he didn’t strangle the girl then he may get to keep his life and even his job if he’s very lucky.’

I got the feeling that Meriwether was, in his words, a little piqued with this whole assignment. I also had the feeling, as always, he knew more than he was saying. I didn’t question him on either of my suspicions. We ended the call.

My breakfast arrived brought on a tray by a girl with no make-up and no smile. I asked her in French if she had freshly squeezed the orange juice.

She looked at me.

‘It’s fine; I drank some on the way up,’ she said.

She left and I looked at the glass. It was just over half full. I smiled to myself, picked it up and finished it in one. She had freshly squeezed it.

I finished my breakfast and decided to call Charlotte.

‘I just got off the phone with Bazzer,’ she said. ‘It sounds like we’ve both got to work over Christmas.’

‘It shouldn’t take long. All we have to do is persuade Ulrich to give back the money and then find out if Casanova did or didn’t strangle the girl and we’re done.’

‘Does Christmas always make you optimistic?’ she asked.

‘What time does the lift open?’

She told me and I checked my wristwatch. ‘The sooner we get up there...’

She interrupted me and asked, ‘You can definitely find the cabin again?’

‘I stored the satellite coordinates on my K106.’

‘Good; I’ll see you at the lift in fifteen minutes.’ Charlotte ended the call and I checked my wristwatch again. For a moment, I thought it had stopped.

Fourteen minutes later, I trudged over to the lift in my ski boots, balancing my skis on my shoulder with my poles in my hand. My goggles were around my neck and my ski jacket was still undone. The snow had stopped but the dense grey cloud remained. It was cold. It felt as if the air itself was frozen.