Now that it was flying along the frozen river at the bottom of the valley, the helicopter was flying more smoothly,
The worst of the snowstorm was behind them, and beneath the skids the night was no longer quite so harsh, but dark enough once more to look like the real world. Springfield lay somewhere ahead, with an airport that at this hour probably offered more neon light than hope, and likely just the odd tightly lashed-down airship.
Jennifer had shifted her headphones slightly and pulled the wide sable stole tighter around her shoulders. The evening still hung over her: the ice rink lights, the press questions, Toolidle’s disappearance, Shane’s injured shoulder, Ilya’s overly controlled gaze, Dana’s precise concern, Fox’s phone call with an unknown man.
Jonathan looked at her from the side.
“You’re thinking out loud.”
“It’s impossible to do otherwise in a helicopter.”
“I’ve been married to you for years. I can hear you even through the rotors.”
Jennifer smiled wearily. “Then you know what I’m thinking.”
“That Denver is cold at this time of year.”
“Denver is cold. The Mexican entry formalities are a hassle every time. Alexis is a jeweller. And after that ice rink, I have a desperate need for a place where no trophy, no doctor and no old foundation lies on ice or is drenched in blood.”
In front of them, Max cleared his throat over the on-board intercom. He was sitting next to the pilot, perfectly buckled in.
“If a recommendation is required, madam: warm, relaxing and as far away from ice rinks as possible would be a sensible profile.”
Jonathan leaned back. “Max, you sound like a travel agent.”
“I’m trying my best, sir.”
Jennifer looked out of the window. “The Caribbean?”
Jonathan pursed his lips slightly. “Too prone to hurricanes.”
“Bermuda?”
“Too many British sailing clubs.”
“Honolulu?”
“Too many Japanese who’d like to feed Jonathan to sharks on the beach.”
“You’re a difficult one.”
“I’m underchallenged and rich.”
Max’s voice came through the headphones again, dryly. “Lubumbashi would be warm.”
Jennifer lifted her head.
Jonathan looked ahead. “Lubumbashi?”
“Yes, sir. Far enough south to neutralise this snowstorm. Besides, Hart Industries has had documents checked there anyway.”
Jennifer turned slowly towards Jonathan. “What documents?”
Jonathan looked a touch too innocent. That was never a good sign.
“Future economic opportunities.”
“Jonathan?”
“A former state-owned cobalt mine that the Belgian authorities want to sell.”
Jennifer asked, “You want to buy a cobalt mine after an evening of asbestos, dead benefactors and old sporting secrets?”
“Not tonight; our yacht wouldn’t be that fast.”
He raised a hand reassuringly. “I just want to look into it. The mine is Belgian, but that’s precisely why it’s interesting. If you invest there quickly, you could improve local jobs, working conditions and environmental pollution.”
Jennifer continued to look at him.
“Improve environmental pollution?”
“And the Belgian government is looking for discreet partners for an industrial park,” said Jonathan. “Technology, processing, training, perhaps battery materials. You know the Hart motto: raw materials out, heart in!”
Jennifer let the word hang between them for a moment.
“An industrial park in Lubumbashi is supposed to distract me from that dreadful ice rink?”
Max chimed in. “May I point out, madam, that Lubumbashi would have the advantage of being both warm and commercially viable. That’s a rare combination in this world. Usually, one of them is just an excuse.”
Jennifer tilted her head back and closed her eyes briefly. “I really just wanted some sun.”
“There’s sun there too,” said Jonathan.
“And cobalt?”
“Cobalt is very sun-tolerant.”
Max’s voice remained completely serious. “I could start making arrangements straight away from Springfield: light clothing, visas, vaccinations and a small villa as holiday accommodation.”
Jennifer laughed softly. This time, for real.
“Max, if you ever resign, I’ll buy a small country just to make you prime minister.”
“Very kind of you, madam. I’d prefer an island in the Baltic Sea, though.”
Jonathan looked at Jennifer. “So? Denver for Alexis, so she can prepare for her Manama adventure, but then far away from here and from her to Lubumbashi?”
“Denver first,” said Jennifer. “Alexis doesn’t ring in the middle of the night just because she’s found a good tailor.”
“You never know. I even suspect you rang her beforehand so she could lure us away from Shane and Ilya.”
Jennifer winked at Jonathan, then looked out into the darkness again. The snow had become lighter, but the cold still clung to the glass. Somewhere behind them lay the chalet with Shane and Ilya, warmth, tea, unspoken sentences and three or four days’ worth of weather. Somewhere even further back lay the ice rink, a dead building full of old, asbestos-contaminated bills.
“Lubumbashi,” Jennifer said at last. “Warmth, cobalt, Belgian diplomacy and Congolese food.”
Jonathan took her hand. “That sounds just like you.”
Volume 1: Ice, Blood and Old Debts
Following
Table of Contents
Black Reef in the light of the chandelier Dutch tea from yesterday Frozen masks from Cartagena The trophy with the boar's heads Shanes misunderstanding Ilyas misunderstanding Two minutes of Hart-escape Brothers in the corridor A timetable under the spotlight It all comes down to the ice The Fall After the stretcher Four captains and their stories A quadrille against the panic The table of suspects Two half-brothers with three motives Rozanov under suspicion Almost the truth Trophies of past guilt A better decision Snow on the files Departure through White The south awaits Honest tea for tomorrowThe south awaits
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by 3 Armored Kittens · Prodromos v.1.1 - World Anvil 0.9.15.049 © 2017-2025 [en] | Anvil Time: 01:43, May 16 2026