As the buffet was completely overwhelmed, a motley crowd of visitors spilled back into the ice rink, despite Jonathan and Fox’s attempts to prevent this by sheer physical force. The crowd simply pushed them back in with the mollusc-like force of the masses. Sponsors chattered amongst themselves in hushed tones, drifting about. Players sought out their coaches in tears. The Austrian cadets tried to step out of the flow of people to the edge and reform their formation under the leadership of Cadet Felinger. A few ladies from the gala committee whispered behind gloved hands. Two local politicians spoke so loudly of a ‘regrettable incident’ that everyone could hear how much they hoped it would remain just that, before one of them slipped on the ice and the other’s main task suddenly became helping his comrade back to his feet. A photographer tried to move closer, unobtrusively, to the spot where Walter Franklin had fallen.
Fox spotted him first.
“No,” he said.
The photographer didn’t stop.
Jonathan stepped into his path from the other side.
“The agent said no.”
The photographer blinked. “Which agent?”
Fox reached into his inside pocket, pulled out his ID and held it up so that not only the photographer but also the three nearest guests could see it.
“Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI.”
The word FBI achieved what neither the microphone nor the brass band had managed: it cut a clean circle through the chaos.
Heads turned. Voices fell silent. A cadet stopped tugging at his glove.
Jonathan looked at Fox as though he had both expected his improvised takeover and decided to make use of it.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Fox, without moving towards the microphone. His voice carried nonetheless. “No one is leaving the hall or the foyer. This is not a request, but a provisional security measure until the local police can take control.”
A city councillor cleared his throat. “Agent Mulder, with all due respect, there hasn’t even been an official—”
“A man has collapsed during an international awards ceremony after touching a trophy whose handling no one can currently explain.” Fox looked at him kindly. “I’m sure your police will be pleased if we don’t let all the witnesses flee out into the snow before then.”
The councillor shut his mouth.
Jonathan stepped up beside Fox. “I support Agent Mulder. Anyone who keeps things in order now will save themselves far more unpleasant questions later. And I’ll pay ten gold ducats to anyone for a tip-off, and ten dollars in paper money for peace and order.”
That had almost more impact than the FBI badge. Jonathan didn’t sound like someone making a request. He sounded like someone whose lawyers had sued the government itself for damages.
Fox nodded gratefully, then pointed to the stands.
“We’ll divide everyone present into groups. Men to the left side of the stands. Women to the right. Staff, servants, cooks, drivers, technicians, hall staff and medical assistants will remain down by the barrier at the entrance to the corridor behind the stands.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
An elderly lady in purple velvet lifted her chin indignantly. “Servants?”
Jonathan smiled thinly. “You have no say in the police’s sorting arrangements here, madam. Let’s treat this as a federal police order with dire consequences for non-compliance. Imagine having to wait out in the snow until your interrogation begins...”
Fox shot him a sidelong glance. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Eleanor Price appeared at the edge of the ice rink. “Agent Mulder, I can have the guest lists and the staff list fetched whilst the battle at the cold buffet is slowly drawing to a close outside, because even the driest biscuit has been nibbled away by now.”
“Do that. All the lists. Guests, crew, staff, caterers, press, musicians, cadets, paramedics. Anyone who’s set foot in this hall gets a line.”
“Of course.”
“And no one corrects names later to cover anything up.”
Eleanor looked offended for a moment, then realised that being offended was a luxury right now. “Understood.”
Jonathan turned to a security guard. “You’ll lock the front exits with padlocks, just so there’s no doubt about the seriousness of the situation. Anyone needing medical assistance may, of course, go to the paramedics by the boards, but only with their name and an escort.”
The security guard nodded immediately. “Yes, sir. Will you pay me extra for that?”
Jonathan nodded irritably and slipped him a five-hundred-dollar note.
“And call the police again!” said Fox. “Tell them the FBI is on site and requests immediate assistance with securing witnesses and protecting the potential crime scene.”
“Potential crime scene?” asked the man.
Fox looked at the empty spot on the ice where the trophy had stood.
“Say it exactly like that! And don’t expect me to bribe you as well. I’m a federal officer.”
The movement began. Men moved to the left, most with the half-offended slowness of people accustomed to having crises resolved for them. Women gathered on the right, some angry, some curious, some already displaying that dangerous alertness that made society ladies excellent witnesses. Servants and other staff remained downstairs: waiters in jackets that were too big, kitchen assistants, drivers, musicians, technicians, paramedics, the young man from the cloakroom, and even Alberica Alkba, the school cook, who stood there with her arms crossed as if, if necessary, she could call the FBI to order with a wooden spoon.
The teams were getting more difficult.
“Players to your teams,” said Fox. “Captains stay visibly at the front and ensure silence in your team!”
Shane froze at the commanding tone.
“Visible doesn’t mean accused,” Jonathan added quietly as he walked past him.
“But it feels bloody stupid!” Shane growled under his breath.
“Yes,” said Jonathan. “That’s why you’re going to breathe now and not do anything heroic.”
Shane looked at Ilya.
Ilya was standing with the Soviet team, as composed as before, but the distance between them was suddenly no longer just physical. It had been orchestrated. By Fox and Jonathan.
Luc Moreau gathered his Frenchmen with a single sharp glance. Cemil Arslan spoke calmly to his players, first in Ottoman Turkish, then in Arabic to a coach. Kenji Takamura didn’t ask why. He lined up his Japanese team in a row and waited, whilst they all secretly muttered a Shinto curse against wandering spirits of the dead.
Felinger approached Fox and saluted briefly.
“Agent Mulder. The Wild Boar cohort is fully at your disposal. Shall I separate the cadets by gender or have them line up as a single block?”
Fox looked at Jonathan.
Jonathan looked at Felinger.
“How old are you?” asked Fox.
“Nineteen, sir.”
Jonathan said, “Keep the cadets together. They’re a supervised group and apparently the only people here who can maintain order on their own.”
Felinger accepted this with dignified pleasure. “Very well.”
He turned, gave three terse orders, and Gold and Lilac lined up along the boards as if someone had smoothed out a curtain.
Fox watched him go. “I feel as though I’ve just been mechanically overtaken by an Austrian schoolboy.”
“It happens to the best of us,” said Jonathan.
“You too?”
“No. But I wanted to be polite. Economics doesn’t seem to be offered as a major at this school.”
At the edge of the ice rink, a grey-haired sponsor was trying to push past a security guard. “I need to make an urgent phone call.”
Fox was there immediately. “Name?”
“That’s absurd. I’m a board member of the—”
“Name.”
The man looked at Jonathan as if expecting solidarity.
Jonathan smiled. “I’d be happy to answer.”
The sponsor did so.
Fox repeated the name aloud so that Eleanor could write it down. “You can make your call as soon as the police tell you where. Until then, you’ll stay with the group of men.”
“I’m not a suspect. And I urgently need to place an order with the Flamingo-Coloured Camel.”
“You don’t have to do that just yet.”
The sentence hung over the hall like a cold lava soup.
Fox let it hang there.
Jonathan watched as the groups continued to form up. He saw the ladies on the right, the men on the left, the staff down by the boards, the teams in their blocks, the cadets in close formation. It wasn’t perfect order, but it was orderly enough to distinguish flight from movement.
“You do this often,” he said to Fox.
“Not since my army days, but somehow it’s quite fun.”
“It shows.”
“That wasn’t a compliment, was it?”
“It was. But one tinged with concern.”
Fox looked towards the side door behind which Dana had disappeared. “Concern is appropriate right now.”
Jennifer joined them at the edge of the ice rink. She hadn’t joined the ranks. Her eyes swept over the groups, the exits, the players, the empty space on the ice.
“Very nice,” she said. “Almost like a ball, only with more suspects. At the buffet, there’s just a handful of dishwashers left, whom I’ve assigned to clear the tables. I’ve herded everyone else in here.”
“I’ve separated the men, women and staff,” said Fox.
“The staff won’t love you for that.”
“I’m not here to be loved, and I’m not the anti-diversity officer from Indianapolis either.”
Jennifer looked at him. “Men often say that just before they try to seize world domination.”
Jonathan cleared his throat. “I loyally support him.”
“I can see that. And there’ll be repercussions.”
Fox pulled out his notebook. “Ms Hart, can you put Franklin in his place financially, in case the police ask?”
“I can ruin him, put him in his place, and then regret it. In that order.”
“Let’s start with putting him in his place.”
Jennifer nodded towards the side door. “First I want to know what Dana finds.”
“Scully,” Fox said quietly, more to himself than to her.
A brief crackle from the loudspeaker rippled through the hall. Eleanor had apparently pushed the speaker aside and was now using the microphone with a trembling but clear voice.
“Ladies and gentlemen and HR staff, please follow the instructions of Agent Mulder and Mr Hart. The local police have been notified. This is purely a precautionary measure. Tomorrow there’ll be free tea with breakfast on the hall’s tab!”
Fox grimaced. “Purely.”
Jonathan said, “Precautionary measure.”
Jennifer added, “At least it’s not an ‘unfortunate incident’. We’re making progress.”
At the front of the group of men, someone whispered. Among the women, a lady began to cry. Down below with the staff, Alberica Alkba was stopping two young waiters from accusing each other of having drunk too much mulled ginger ale. The Austrian cadets stood still. The crew waited.
And on the ice, where the trophy had stood just moments before, a small dull patch glimmered in the spotlight.
“No one is to enter that area,” said Fox, pointing at the ice.
“I’ll have the ice cordoned off,” said Jonathan.
“With what?”
Jonathan looked around, took two barrier ropes from the podium and beckoned Cadet Felinger over.
The cadet appeared immediately. “Sir?”
“Four of your men. Block off the exits from the boards onto the ice.”
Moritz nodded. “Understood.”
Within a minute, four cadets in gold and lilac were standing at the corners of the ice rink, blocking the entrances with the ropes. It could have looked ridiculous, but it didn’t, because it appeared as though, for want of modern police tape, the arena had briefly come up with a Habsburg solution.
Fox took in the scene.
“I take it all back,” he said. “The operetta with marching orders is helpful.”
Jennifer looked towards the side door through which Dana had disappeared. “Then let’s hope Dr Scully quickly finds out whether we have a patient, a dead body, or just the most expensive medical blunder of the winter.”
“And until then?” asked Jonathan.
Fox let his gaze sweep over the men, women, staff, teams and cadets.
“Until then,” he said, “everyone stays where they are.”
The hall obeyed, not out of trust, but out of fear of what Fox might otherwise do to them. That was enough for a start.