Snow Rush Read online

“Ok. I’ve got one question,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Have you got feelings for this guy?”

  She knew Julian still wanted her. It was easier when he didn’t make it so obvious. But definitively ending his hopes now wouldn’t be the best thing.

  “Come on, it was a one-night stand three years ago.”

  She leant forward and let her hair tumble, moved her head a degree, so it would sway. He pursed his lips as he watched it. Memories.

  “Do it. I’ll take your other stuff myself. You and me on this, nobody else for now.”

  “Thanks, Julian.” Robin smiled and looked around the room at all the comfort. He took it the wrong way.

  “You could stay,” he said.

  “No.”

  He looked wounded. “We were going out when you met this Haim. I remember you telling me about Cannes.”

  Robin remembered Jean Haim, in Cannes. Whoosh.

  “We weren’t going out, Julian. We were having an affair. And you were married, remember?”

  He looked at her with something desperate in his eyes.

  Robin said, “Play rugby, you’re going to get muddy.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eva Pérez looked into her cup. “Interior Ministry coffee is definitely better than MoD stuff. Even at my exalted level.” She smiled as if she wanted to make Carolina feel comfortable.

  Carolina smiled back, not feeling comfortable. Wishing señora Pérez would get the hell on with it.

  The cup went back down. Elegant fingers folded on the table.

  “I’ve been looking among ex-soldiers and police officers. Nobody had the exact skill set apart from you. And your age is an additional advantage for this task.”

  It was every bit as bad as she had anticipated. This task. A self-contained, one off mission.

  Eva said, “Now, I understand you are going to work in London?”

  “Yes. I am joining a private security agency.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents’ financial difficulties. I hope things work out.”

  Carolina would kill Pablo for mentioning that. “We’ll be OK,” she smiled in a way she hoped drew a polite line under the subject.

  “I’m sure. When does the new job start?”

  “In two weeks.”

  “There’s time, then.”

  Carolina didn’t smile. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Carolina, along with my husband, Ignacio Álvarez del Valle, I require a chaperone to accompany our son Miguel on his snowboarding holiday. It starts tomorrow. I am sorry it is such short notice. But you will be able to start your London position on time.” The elegant fingers formed an apologetic fan shape.

  “Snowboarding?” Carolina said, hearing the confusion in her voice.

  “Pablo said you are very good. Carolina, we need someone who can keep Miguel on the board. He is not a very physical boy. It will take a lot of patience.”

  “Patience?” Babysitting an uncoordinated rich kid for winter sports would take more than patience. And while she did not want some solo spy mission, at least it would not be a professional insult.

  Eva pressed on. “Pablo said you are great with kids. Miguel is fifteen, not a kid anymore, but he does need managing. He is precociously intelligent and knows it. I say this as his mother.”

  Carolina shifted her weight to channel an urge to squirm. “Pablo said I can do this?” She would now kill Pablo twice. Slowly. After she’d kicked his arse to warm up.

  “Oh, yes. Specifically, that you have a nice teaching manner and will be able to handle Miguel.”

  She thought, No. Just No. “Eva, it is very kind of Pablo to mention me to you, but I have no teaching experience. This is not in my skill set.”

  “My husband and I both do work that is sensitive,” said Eva. “Ignacio is a major defence contractor as well as a former army officer. My family has to be careful about security. There is no specific threat, but I need someone who can protect Miguel, so I don’t have to worry about ‘what if’ scenarios.”

  Carolina was qualified for a protection role, so this did not strengthen her objection. But looking after a teenage boy? Teenage boys were not normal. She could not see it going well.

  Please, God, an excuse…

  “I need to practice my English. Before London.”

  This was dismissed with an efficient wave. “Morzine is the perfect place.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know it. Morzine?”

  “It’s in the French Alps, near Switzerland. I want Miguel to improve his French, so you will both be working on your languages.” Her eyes flashed with a mix of enthusiasm and steel. “Honestly, Carolina, he will not be able to snowboard all day. You will have time to study. This is perfect for you.”

  She rubbed behind her ear. “I’m not sure.”

  “I know you are at a loose end just now, and I want someone with your integrity. Your reputation for honesty was notable in the references I took.”

  That was an odd thing to bring up. Reputation for honesty? Did this woman know about her English test? She felt a flash of anger at herself. You idiot, Carrasco. Did you think they wouldn’t find out?

  Eva flashed the steel in her gaze again. “My husband and I will be very positively disposed toward you if you help us. We know a lot of people in London, Carolina.”

  It could be a genuine offer of good references from a well-placed person, used to direct negotiation and unafraid of offering a favour. It could also be a threat. Either way, Carolina did not like being pressed. She did not react though. She did not consciously offend powerful civil servants with rich husbands. She searched for another excuse. When she couldn’t find one, she compromised.

  “Maybe I could do the protection role. Someone else could coach him, maybe if you find a local instructor?”

  “Miguel is very shy about his physicality Carolina. He is awkward and will not want more than one person with him. Also, instructor quality is an issue. I don’t want him injured. I sprained my wrist in Zermatt last year. The emergency room sounded like a labour ward on a busy day. Miguel is sensitive.”

  “I’m not sure, Eva.”

  Eva softened her eyes. “I will pay you six times your police salary and cover all expenses.”

  That was even more than Carolina’s prospective London day rate, which had floored her when she learned of it. How could something so much easier than her police role be worth so much money? She had no choice but to accept this job at that price. She rubbed behind her ear again. Embarrassed to change her mind so obviously over money.

  Eva laughed. “You know how to hold out, Carolina. I will add ten percent for the short notice. Will you help us?”

  It was great to have a friend like Pablo, looking out for you. She’d buy him a beer and only kill him once.

  “I’d love to.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Paris, Tuesday morning. Max Rokos had worked out already. He liked to do it before breakfast because it set the day up. He was relaxed, sitting back against a locker and waiting for Eric Scandella to return from drying his hair by the showers.

  Max never dried his hair. It was cut very close to his head, and he didn’t need to. The gym he used in Marseilles didn’t offer hair dryers. Max had the money for a nice suburban gym like this one. It was OK, with a decent free weight section that he’d made use of while Eric did the girls’ machines. But he felt he wouldn’t relax here. It just didn’t feel like him.

  Eric came back, wearing a brilliant white house towel around his waist, as was Max. Eric was small and slight. His towel looked like a sarong. The same towel on Max looked like a miniskirt.

  Eric opened his locker.

  Max asked, “It is OK to talk here?”

  Eric put on his socks. “Absolutely.”

  Max sat forward, cracked his knuckles. “So, I’ve got a problem.”

  “Is that so unusual?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, Max, you are a criminal armourer fro
m Marseilles. It’s the territory, no?”

  Max laughed, getting it. “Yeah, right. This one’s different.”

  Eric hung the towel and snapped the elastic of his high-waisted underpants. They matched his knee socks. All in black. Eric saw Max looking. “Scandinavian thermal. I bailed out the owner and got a lifetime supply. I can ask for some in your size if you’d like to try them. Why not? Very good for the winter.”

  Max shrugged. “Not my style.”

  “What is your style?” Eric seemed serious, like it mattered to him to extend his good fortune to Max.

  “More like a brief.”

  “A brief?”

  “Yeah, like a speedo,” said Max, to clarify it.

  Eric stared at him for a few seconds, and Max thought he didn’t understand, but then Eric smiled. “Is that a Czech thing?”

  “What?”

  “Your dad was Czech, no?”

  “What’s my dad got to do with it?” Max frowned, feeling the conversation move away from him.

  “You told me he raised you after you mum took off. I thought maybe he influenced your choices, you know, growing up. Try these speedos, son…”

  Under most circumstances, Max would probably have put Eric’s head through one of the locker doors in his fancy gym here for mentioning his family in such a vein. Or he’d at least have thought about it then maybe downgraded the violence to a couple of slaps. But he needed this deal, so he kept it to a grunt. He looked at Eric’s underwear, then at his eyes.

  “Listen. My cop contact from the Marseilles gendarmerie called me. They are going to raid my main cache next week. They need a bust, and it’s my turn.”

  Eric grimaced, rubbed his hand across his brow. “It’s expensive, no? I’m truly sorry.” Max knew Eric couldn’t stand financial loss so this reaction was genuine.

  “It happens. Anyway, I’ve got this particular thing. Higher tech than my usual stuff. It’s a custom order. I was holding it for the buyer, but this raid came along.”

  “So not a couple of rusty AK47s, huh?” Eric smiled again.

  Max didn’t sell rusty weapons. Everything he supplied was in good condition. Eric joking like this was pissing him off. He sniffed, stood up, opened his locker and started to change.

  “Max?” said Eric.

  Max remained silent. He put his briefs on.

  “Max?”

  Max stepped into his trousers.

  “Max, please. I’m sorry. Let’s concentrate.”

  Max still didn’t speak. He sat down, put on his socks, and slipped on his shoes. He pulled his crew-neck sweater over his head and adjusted the crucifix around his neck. When he felt he’d made a point, he spoke without looking at Eric. “OK, so, I told the buyer of this order about the raid, because I didn’t want him to hear any rumours and panic. I told him his goods would be safe.”

  He broke off and looked at Eric pulling on a pair of black lycra tights like the ones the women wore in the gym. Max thought these could look good on women. They didn’t seem to wear anything under them. In Eric’s case, you could see his underpants. But it was Eric’s business what he wore, and Max left it alone.

  “The buyer accepted my reassurances,” Max said. “But he wants the exchange to happen in a specific place. The problem is, I’ll need to case it out, and I don’t know anyone there. It’s a nice area, so I wondered who I knew that might know someone with a place there. You lend money to posh people who get into trouble.” He opened his hand and smiled. “Voila.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, can you tell me where it is?”

  “The place is Morzine.”

  Eric filled his lungs. His ribs stood out against his skin, but in his own way he looked quite strong, thought Max. Kind of bendy but strong.

  “That’s a ski town,” said Eric. “You need a house? Can’t you hire a chalet there, on the web?”

  “My client said we have to know the owner. Nothing hired. You know the deal.” He waited for Eric to look at him. “Eric, let me be clear, this guy is serious. If I get this right, who knows. Could be big for me, and you could be part of it.”

  Eric played with his dark, curly hair, thinking.

  “You know what, Max. I might know someone. A client of mine. I saw him yesterday, as it happens. He’s a liposuction guy. His wife inherited a place in some mountains. He offered it as collateral once so I wouldn’t break his legs. We were a long way from breaking his legs. I was joking. But he offered it in a panic. I think it’s in Morzine.”

  “Can you try him?” Max was trying not to sound excited.

  “Let’s discuss money first, Max. How much is the order for?”

  “The order’s worth three mil.”

  Eric looked at him. “What the hell, Max? Three mil? That’s serious. What’s my cut?”

  “Eight percent?”

  “Done.”

  Max felt relief and something like affection for Eric. “I thought you’d try for fifteen.”

  “Two-hundred and forty grand for storage? I’m not going to argue. How big is it, how much space I mean?”

  “Not so big.”

  “How long do you need to store it?”

  “Not so long.”

  “OK. Give me a few hours. You will be in Paris for a bit, you have some other business?” Eric reached for a pair of rollerblades.

  “Yes, I have other business. You think I came here from Marseilles just to talk to you?”

  Eric pulled on a cycling-style top, in fuchsia. “Sure. Of course.”

  Max stood up, towering over Eric. He let his eyes range over the loan shark’s face, its fine features, almost feminine looking. He got an image of it going bloody under his fists. He let Eric see him think it. “Don’t mention my parents again.”

  Eric offered his hand. “I apologise.”

  Max shook, and smiled. He only had one other piece of business in Paris, but that was important too.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Henri Lange hung his jacket on his office door and sank behind his desk. He had a full day of consultations ahead. Since his problems had started, his consulting rooms had been a refuge, with their quiet routine. But that protective shield was now slipping. He felt terrible even in here.

  He answered his phone.

  “Henri? It’s me, Eric. I have something for you.”

  “We only spoke yesterday.”

  “Yes, and I felt we had a constructive conversation. But now you sound so resigned, Henri. That makes me worried, you know?”

  “Does it?”

  “Certainly. Because I think I need not remind you that you owe me money. If you get like that, all down, it might not come back. You might run. Or, God forbid, hang yourself in your closet or your garage. Here I am with something for you, something to talk about. And you’re all sad. Henri, I worry.”

  Henri blinked. Trying to clear his head. “I’m sorry. Yes, that sounds good, Eric. When shall we talk?”

  “Let’s take a walk. Paris zoo. Now.”

  “It’s not open now. Hang on.” He checked on the internet. His hands were shaking slightly. “It opens at nine-thirty. And I have clients today.” There was a tiny tremor in his voice.

  “Henri. Why do you not want to see me?”

  Because I am terrified of you? Could one say that to a loan shark?

  “Maybe I can move a couple of meetings back. I’ll have to rush even if I move people. Somewhere other than the zoo?”

  “Does anywhere else have orangutans?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Then it must be the zoo. Nine-thirty.”

  Henri moved his calendar around. Miserable as hell.

  At nine-thirty-eight, Henri paid his entrance fee and ran to the orangutan cage in the external section of the main ape house of the Paris Zoo. He nearly sobbed when he saw nobody was there.

  It wasn’t fair. He’d cleared his diary, but a client had called him wanting to talk about liposuction options. He doubled up, his paunch catching on his belt, the December air cold on the dam
p places on his shirt, the rest of him hot.

  Then he heard rushing wheels, tiny stones popping behind him. He turned.

  “Salut!”

  Henri confronted fuchsia coloured lycra. “Eric, I didn’t know you rollerbladed.”

  “I do it whenever possible.”

  Henri took in the fluorescent yellow stripes and wondered dimly why they were only on the inside of Eric’s sports tights. “I’m sorry I was late.”

  Eric glanced at his watch, “Were you late? Well, don’t worry. I won’t break your legs for it.” He laughed in his high-pitched way, as he pushed over to the enclosure. The huge orangutan, slumped in the corner, turned his big face toward them and let his forehead rest on the glass.

  Henri could relate.

  Eric waved. “Hello, Monsieur Orange-Brun.” The ape didn’t react. Eric pouted at him and waved again, then sat on a bench a few metres back and took his rollerblades off. He changed into a pair of trainers, glancing at Henri’s gut. Henri hadn’t been to the gym in months. It didn’t seem important.

  They started walking along the path.

  “So look, Henri, I’m worried about you. I heard it on the phone. I see it now. Where’s the vim? The determination to crack this problem? I think we’re going through the motions here. You won’t get out from under it, we both know. Probably won’t ever catch up. At some point, it will get unpleasant. Then it will get very unpleasant.” Eric shrugged, a long pause at the top of the shrug, his hands turned up to the sky. “That’s that. We know this.”

  Henri’s eyes were tired. He felt sick. Do you have a suggestion, Eric?”

  “What do you owe me now?”

  “You know what I owe you. We discussed it yesterday.”

  Eric looked at him like a teacher waiting for an answer.

  “Two hundred and twelve thousand,” Henri said. “At forty percent special rate.”

  “A friend of mine needs to leave some kit somewhere. I can’t say what it is. But it isn’t drugs.”

  “I can’t have anything at the house, Eric. That would be the end of my marriage.”

  “Henri, I want your marriage to survive, your life to be normal. For that, you need some money. So, if we are through your blue period, can we get some talking done?” He stopped walking.