Death in a High Latitude, page 14
‘I said only that they might be imaginary. I’m trying to make sense of what seems a meaningless jumble of murders and an absurd kidnapping.’
‘You’ve recovered the map, and I think we all accept your view that he is on board the yacht, bound probably for the Arctic.’
‘And due to get to wherever he’s going around the end of the month. That’s why I’m bothered about the date June 30 in the latest ransom note.’
My mind went back to the schoolboy algebra I’d played with on the train to Cambridge. We had, I thought, two separate but related cases, the murders and the Braunschweig map affair. Two cases, two equations? What common factors did they have. I turned to Ruth. ‘Look, you’re a real mathematician whereas my maths stops at elementary algebra,’ I said. ‘Can you formulate two equations from the muddled data that we have? Let’s call the murderer or murder-group x and Dr Braunschweig’s group – they may be kidnappers, or they may be voluntary companions – y. What can we say about x and y?’
‘You can say that both are concerned with the Arctic. You could express it algebraically as x plus y equals some Arctic enterprise.’
‘All right, that’s one equation. Now we need another to enable us to try to derive some values for x and y. How would you express x minus y?’
‘If what you call the Braunschweig group didn’t exist the murder-group would presumably have got what they wanted – say all the known facts about the Arctic Calorific Syndrome. If the first equation is to be valid we must assume that because of the existence of the Braunschweig group – our y – the murder-group –x– hasn’t got what it wanted, and can’t get it without taking Dr Braunschweig to the Arctic, or going with him to the Arctic; from the point of view of the maths it doesn’t matter whether he is on a voluntary or involuntary trip. What does matter is that he is in some way imperative to something connected with the Arctic that x wants to secure. So you could say that x minus y equals success in something or other.’
Keller was listening keenly. ‘I think that’s really illuminating,’ he said. ‘True, it’s merely algebra, but it’s a good way of thinking clearly and it does suggest that the murder-group regards the Braunschweig lot, or Braunschweig alone, as in some way inimical to its interests. Inimical – but at the same time important. That would explain the various gaps in time which have puzzled me all along. The murder-group needs Dr Braunschweig for something, but hopes, or expects, that by June 30 it will have got what it wanted from him.’
Ruth shivered. ‘After which he will be disposed of,’ she said.
‘It looks rather like it. We need some more assumptions. What can Braunschweig have that the murder group wants?’ Keller asked.
‘Adrian Stowe’s calculations,’ I suggested. ‘Stowe worked for Braunschweig and they may have had a close relationship. I think Stowe was murdered for his calculations, but perhaps the murderers couldn’t find all they wanted. Perhaps they thought that Braunschweig had them, or knew about them. That may be the reason, or part of the reason, for the murder of Ingrid Mitchell. We can assume that she knew a good deal about Stowe’s work, and perhaps the murder-group felt safer with her out of the way.’
‘The assumptions seem reasonable,’ Keller said. ‘The immediate point is, what do we do about them?’
‘Go after Dr Braunschweig and find him before he is murdered.’
*
There was a long silence. We were all tired, but all too much worked up to think of breaking off. Finally Keller said, ‘Agreed – a splendid course of action. But where, and how? What is the next step in mathematical detection?’
‘Simple,’ Ruth said. ‘All we have to do is to go to the place p.’
Keller laughed. ‘I like mathematical detection. But I’d like still more to get murder-group x locked up. How do we set about finding the place p?’
‘We have some clues,’ I said. ‘First, there’s the map, which for all Ingrid Mitchell’s dismissal of it as of no great importance does indicate some kind of navigable route through Smith Sound and the Robeson Channel to the Lincoln Sea and the Arctic Ocean. Of course it doesn’t follow that what may have been possible in the ice conditions of the seventeenth century will be practicable now, but at least it’s a starting point – we can assume that is the general area of our place p. Regrettably, it’s a big area, and even an air search may not spot a small boat. But we have two other clues – Ingrid Mitchell’s amber beads, and her statement to me that Charles Jackson came across a seam of coal during his own travels in the region. I’ve not had time for much research and I’ve never heard of amber in the Arctic, but the coal undoubtedly exists. A seam was discovered by the Nares Expedition in 1875–76, and it’s mentioned in the Admiralty’s Arctic Pilot as being exposed in a ravine about a mile inshore from the western coast of Hall Basin – that’s a stretch of water lying between Smith Sound and Robeson Channel. The coal is not far from Cape Murchison in Latitude 81 degrees forty-five minutes North, Longitude 64 degrees seventeen minutes West, and it ought still to be identifiable. More important it suggests that wherever we’re looking for is on the west, or Ellesmere Island coast of the sound, and not on the Greenland side. If we could get any idea where the amber came from we might narrow the area of search to quite a small district.’
‘The coal implies the existence of forests at some period in geological time, and amber is a fossilised gum from trees,’ Ruth said. ‘I’m not a geologist, but it would be reasonable to suppose that the climatic conditions which provided the vegetation for coal continued long enough to enable trees to produce the gum for amber.’
‘We can say a bit more than that,’ I went on. ‘Charles Jackson was interested in the sea, and he was studying the coast. The coal is near the coast, and he must have picked up the amber somewhere on the coast. Therefore it seems probable that if we follow the coast northwards from Cape Murchison we shouldn’t go too far wrong. It’s an appalling coast, with sheer cliffs rising to a thousand feet or more, and often no sort of beach. That may help in a way, for if there’s hardly anywhere a boat can get to, we shall have to look only for the few places where there is some kind of open water near the shore. My guess is that we shall find Apfel somewhere near the Lincoln Sea end of Robeson Channel. The cliffs there fall away, and there’s a short stretch where the heavy Arctic ice runs aground up to a couple of hundred yards offshore, leaving a narrow channel between ice and shore. One of the ships in the 1875–76 expedition lay there for eleven months, and horrible as the place sounds she was quite safe. This strange channel may, indeed, have given rise to the idea of a navigable passage so far north. That’s where I think we have to go.’
‘How do you propose to get there?’ Keller asked.
‘The only practicable way is by air. There’s not enough time to attempt the route by sea, and we have none of the specialised knowledge that Dr Braunschweig may have obtained from Stowe. According to the Arctic Pilot, which is all I’ve had a chance to study, a bit south of where we want to go there’s a place called Gould Bay which was visited by an Oxford University expedition in 1935. They found a big patch of gravel, about two miles square, at the head of the bay. The gravel bank had a hard, smooth surface, with occasional patches of snow. They thought that it would make a useful landing place for aircraft. I’d suggest that we make for Gould Bay by air, taking a helicopter with us. The helicopter could be assembled at Gould Bay and from there the rest of the area we want to search would be within the range of quite a small helicopter. This would need cooperation from the Services, but in the circumstances I’m sure we’d get it.’
‘I could get help from our German authorities without any difficulty. They’d welcome the exercise as an unusual form of training,’ Keller said.
‘Well, let’s go ahead and do it. If the German Air Force will help and we can fly direct to Gould Bay in an aircraft big enough to take a helicopter we don’t need to let more than a handful of people know what we’re doing. And since we’ve no idea how widespread the conspiracy we’re up against may be, the fewer people who know about our plans, the better.’
‘Right. I don’t think I need to get anyone out of bed, but I’ll start first thing in the morning. I shall come with you, if I may.’
‘Of course. You will be invaluable.’
‘And I shall come too,’ Ruth said.
We both tried to dissuade her. ‘Gnādige Frau, I am no believer in the superiority of men – I am conscious always of the work that women have done in war, and in my own trade as a policeman,’ Keller said. ‘But there is a fitness in things, and this job is not fit for you. You have heard what your husband said – it is a terrible place, and we may have to meet some terrible people.’
‘My name is Ruth. If we are going on an Arctic expedition together you will have to call me Ruth,’ she said.
‘It’s all very well, my darling, and I know how tough you are, but you have no experience of conditions in the Arctic,’ I tried to argue.
‘You haven’t either. All right, you’ve put in a lot of time in small boats and you’re good at sea, but the Arctic isn’t just sea. We’re not going there by sea in any case. And you are not fit. If you make any more difficulties about my coming with you I shall do what I said I would, and get your surgeon to tell Sir Edmund Pusey that you must go back to hospital.’
That was that. ‘There may be some trouble with the Air Force. You and I have official positions, but what can we say about the lady?’ Keller said.
‘You can say that I am one of your investigating team – after all, I am your mathematical detective. Peter will have to fix it with Sir Edmund to get me put temporarily on the strength of his Department.’
I was afraid Sir Edmund would agree. When I rang him later that morning he accepted Ruth with a readiness I found alarming.
*
Having decided on a course of action Keller pursued it with the efficiency and thoroughness I’d come to expect from the German police. By that afternoon the Air Force had agreed to put a plane at our disposal, and got down to the job of working out details. They wanted two days for an aerial survey of Gould Bay, and said that if the landing area proved suitable the rest of the plan could be carried out. They would provide a transport aircraft capable of carrying a helicopter and fuel for it, and a pilot and co-pilot for the helicopter.
Keller and I had to decide on the strength of our party. ‘Our assumptions may be wildly wrong, but as they’re all we’ve got to go by we must stick to them,’ I said. ‘We’re assuming that Gustav Braunschweig has taken Apfel to the Arctic for some purpose that we don’t yet understand, though in a sense that doesn’t matter because what does matter is to find him before June 30. My further assumption is that he had made up his mind to sail to the Arctic voluntarily, but was put on board Apfel somehow or other by other people, and made, or persuaded, to sail with them. He must have at least two others on board with him, possibly as many as four – I don’t think there can be more than four, because the dinghy would have been a bit crowded and more noticeable. Whether he knows it or not – we still don’t know whose side he’s on – his companions include at least one person who is determined to murder him. I think it’s more likely that the whole crew are related to our murder-group x and in the plot to do away with Braunschweig, but we don’t know that. What we must take into account is that up to four people may be hostile, ready to use any violence to resist our attempt to rescue Braunschweig.’
‘We must assume that they will be armed,’ Keller said.
‘Yes. On the other hand we should have the advantage of complete surprise, and our helicopter will be much more manoeuvrable than their boat. A party of six should be enough to deal with them.’
‘Including the pilot and co-pilot?’
‘That’s a point. We might want to send back for reinforcements, and we couldn’t risk both pilots being injured. But we could use one of them.’
The matter was settled for us by the size of the helicopter which the Air Force wanted to use. It had to be transported to Gould Bay, and the machine judged most suitable was a smallish one with a carrying capacity of six people, including the pilot. The experts considered that Ruth could safely be added, so with Keller and me and the two pilots we could take two other men. There was some discussion about whether they should be airmen or police, and it was decided that as this was a police operation they had better be policemen. Keller selected two men from Hamburg. The big transport plane would have an Air Force crew augmented by half a dozen extra men, so that if necessary the helicopter could be sent back for help. The expedition was to carry a doctor and, partly, perhaps, out of politeness to Ruth, a nurse. They would stay at Gould Bay while we went forward with the helicopter.
While these arrangements were being made an aircraft was dispatched to Gould Bay to inspect the landing site. We used the time collecting kit and studying everything we could get hold of about the region. Kit was not much of a problem, for the Air Force equipped us with the most up-to-date survival clothing, specially designed for air crews who might be forced down in conditions of extreme cold. It was light, comfortable, completely weatherproof and beautifully warm.
Weapons had also to be selected. All of us, including Ruth, were to carry small automatic pistols, and we decided to take rifles as well. We might have no need of such armament, but if we didn’t need rifles they could be left in the helicopter, and if by any chance we did need them it would be as well to have them with us. Keller’s Hamburg men were police marksmen, and he and I could both handle a rifle. The helicopter carried its normal complement of machine guns, so we should be a heavily armed party if it came to a fight.
* See Death in the Caribbean
IX
Accident
IF THIS WAS death, I thought, then it was a lot more painful than being dead is commonly supposed to be. I opened my eyes, but could see nothing but a swirling whiteness. There was an intolerable weight across my chest. I ached all over, but found by experiment that I could move my fingers. My left hand was in a glove and still quite warm, but my right hand was gloveless and rapidly getting frozen. Using arms and shoulders I tried twice to shift the weight from my chest, and couldn’t. But unless I were dead and this was some peculiar form of hell I couldn’t stay where I was. Making a tremendous effort I pushed and heaved and wriggled until the weight was across my stomach, then my thighs, and at last I was free. I could kneel, and stayed on my knees for a time, panting. Then I got to my feet, at first swaying groggily, but steadying after a minute or two. As my eyes became accustomed to the murk of fog that engulfed me I could see a few yards. The weight across my chest was in the snow beside me – it was a bit of one of the blades from the helicopter’s rotor. Wreckage was everywhere. I thought despairingly that I was the only one to have survived the crash, and knew that I could not survive long.
Then I heard a faint call, more a sort of moan than a call. Groping my way in the fog I stumbled over a body, practically buried in snow. I scraped the snow away with my hands and found that it was Keller, still alive and, after I had dragged him from the snow, able to talk. ‘Who is it?’ he asked.
‘Peter. We’ve had a crash, and God knows if there’s anybody else alive. I’m bruised all over, but I don’t think anything’s broken. What about you?’
He moved first his head, then his arms, then his legs. ‘I think I’m probably undamaged,’ he said. ‘I suppose the snow saved me. But I can’t get a grip on anything. If you can give me a hand I’ll try to stand.’
He was badly shaken, but determination, and such help as I could give, got him to his feet. He even managed a faint grin, which distorted as it was by the mist, was cheering. ‘Well, there are two of us, anyway,’ he said. ‘The first thing we’ve got to do is to see if there’s anyone else.’
I was sickened about Ruth – it was my fault that she was here. Search seemed hopeless. As far as we could make out the helicopter had crashed into a mountain, and the slope on which we were trying to stand was excessively steep. The two of us were in a narrow gully filled with snow. Keller seemed able to think more clearly than I could. ‘It’s no use looking uphill – if there’s anybody alive they’ll have rolled down,’ he said.
The mist seemed thinning a little. It was daylight, about four o’clock in the afternoon, and what had wrecked us was the sudden swirl of fog. In theory we had been flying at a height sufficient to clear all known peaks, but the whole region was so remote and desolate that it was not easy at any given moment to make out precisely where we were. Perhaps something had gone wrong with the helicopter’s instruments; perhaps we had struck a mountain whose very existence was unknown. None of that mattered now – our concern was to see if we could find any other survivors.
The first place to look was in the wreckage itself, and in the twisted body of the helicopter we found three of our companions, the two pilots and one of the Hamburg policemen. All were dead, and appeared to have been killed instantly. In the pocket of the flying suit worn by one of the pilots I found a pair of gloves. It was vital to me to have a glove for my right hand, so I took them.
As far as we could make out the helicopter had struck a rock face on the mountainside. Keller and I were alive because we had been flung out into soft snow. Neither Ruth nor the other Hamburg man was in the wreckage, so presumably they also had been flung out. But where?
We began a systematic search downhill. I call it ‘systematic’ because we tried to follow a system of keeping on the same line of slope about ten yards apart, but it didn’t work because the ground was so broken. We worked down the gully that had saved us but could see nothing but snow. There was another gully running roughly parallel to ours and about thirty yards to the right of it. Here I found Ruth, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, unconscious, but still alive. Between us we got her out of the snow and carried her to a small platform of more or less level ground a little below the wreckage. Whatever had struck her on the forehead had knocked her out, but the cut did not seem too bad and I bandaged it with a handkerchief. Soon after I had got the bandage on she came to. ‘Lord, it’s cold,’ she said. It was scarcely an inspiring speech, but I doubt if any words ever spoken have sounded lovelier. I put my arms round her to warm her as well as I could, taking care not to press on anything that might be broken. She snuggled up to me, and like Keller, she managed a smile. ‘I can wriggle my toes, and my fingers,’ she said. ‘I think I’m all right.’
