‘It did get him, but fortunately only in the shoulder. A few days previously he and Julian negotiated EMCO participation in Orley Space. By that time it was already fixed that Palstein should go to the Moon for the unofficial opening of Gaia. He’d secured himself a place years ago, but with a gunshot wound, with your arm in a sling, you don’t fly to the Moon.’
‘I get it. Carl Hanna went instead. The guy that Orley suspects. The one you set Norrington on.’
Jennifer’s fingers slid over the tabletop. A man’s face appeared on the screen, angular, with heavy eyebrows, his beard and hair shorn almost to the skin.
‘Carl Hanna. A Canadian investor. At least that’s what he claims to be. Of course Norrington checked him out when they were assembling the group. Now, you don’t need to put people like Mukesh Nair and Oleg Rogachev under the microscope—’
‘Rogachev,’ Yoyo echoed.
Jennifer Shaw looked at the stack of printed pages. ‘I’ve put together a list for you, of the guests that Julian’s travelling with. You might be more familiar with some of the others. Finn O’Keefe, for example—’
‘The actor?’ Yoyo’s eyes sparkled. ‘Of course.’
‘Or Evelyn Chambers. Everybody knows America’s talk-show queen. Miranda Winter, always involved in some kind of scandal, darling of the tabloids; but the real money is with the investors. Most of them are well-known figures, but Hanna seemed like a blank page. A diplomat’s son, born in New Delhi, moved to Canada, studied Economics in Vancouver, Bachelor of Arts and Science. Entered the stock market and investment business, repeated stays in India. Worth an estimated fifteen billion dollars, after he inherited a lot of money and invested the money cleverly, in oil and gas, by the way, before switching to alternative energies at the right time. Remains involved in Warren Locatelli’s Lightyears, Marc Edwards’ Quantime Inc. and a number of other companies. By his own account he considered investing in helium-3 before, but he thought it was too much of a fly-by-night proposition at first.’
‘Although that’s changed, as we know.’
‘As have the indicators for an investment. A year and a half ago, at a sailing tournament organised by Locatelli, he met Julian and Lynn, Julian’s daughter. They liked each other, but what was crucial was that Hanna thought out loud about sponsoring India’s space programme because of his old associations with the place. The bait, you might say, that landed Julian like a big fat cod. The group going to the Moon had already been decided, so Julian offered him a trip for the following year.’ Jennifer paused. ‘You’re an experienced investigator, Owen. How much of Carl Hanna’s CV could be faked?’
‘All of it,’ said Jericho.
‘His business interests have been confirmed.’
‘Since when?’
‘Hanna joined Lightyears two years ago.’
‘Two years is nothing. Long periods abroad, possibly born abroad, standard spy stuff. In the emerging countries all our investigations trickle away, nobody’s surprised when birth certificates disappear. Sloppy work by local authorities is the order of the day. Second, investor. A disguise par excellence. Money has no personality, leaves no lasting impression. No one can prove who’s really invested or since when. With a bit of preparation you could pull something out of a hat and everyone will swear it’s a rabbit. Do you know him personally?’
‘Yep. Pleasant enough. Attentive, friendly, not exactly chatty. Bit of a loner.’
‘Hobbies? Bound to be something solitary.’
‘He dives.’
‘Diving. Mountain-climbing. Typical interests of private investigators and secret agents. You hardly need witnesses for either.’
‘Plays guitar.’
‘That fits. An instrument evokes the appearance of authenticity and creates sym pathy.’ Jericho rested his chin on his hands. ‘And now you think Palstein had to be sacrificed to make room for Hanna.’
‘I’m convinced of it.’
‘I’m not,’ Yoyo objected. ‘Couldn’t Hanna have been picked for your tour group if he’d just begged nicely? I mean, one more or less, you’re not going to shoot somebody for it.’
Jennifer shook her head.
‘It’s different with space travel. Where you’re going there are no natural resources, either to move you around or keep you alive. Every breath you take, every bite you eat, every sip of water is factored in. Every extra kilo on board a shuttle is reflected in fuel. Even the space lift is no exception. Once it’s full it’s full. In a vehicle that accelerates to twelve times the speed of sound, you don’t really want any standing room.’
‘What does Norrington have to say so far?’
‘Hmm. The CV looks watertight. He’s working on it.’
‘And you’re quite sure Hanna’s our man?’
Jennifer said nothing for a while.
‘Look, your late friend Vogelaar spouted a whole lot of hints. About China, the Zheng Group above all. The Russians used to be the bad guys, now it’s the Chinese. Should we be bothered that Hanna’s about as Chinese as a St Bernard dog? If Beijing really is behind the attack, they couldn’t do anything better than send up a European, everything signed and sealed, in our lift and with an invitation from Gaia. Someone who can move about freely up there. But, Owen, I’m sure that Hanna’s our man. Julian himself gave us confirmation of that before he got cut off.’
Yoyo glanced at the guest list and set it down again. ‘That means, the more we know about the attack on Palstein, the better we understand what’s happening on the Moon. So where is this guy based? Where is EMCO based? In America?’
‘In Dallas,’ said Jennifer. ‘Texas.’
‘Great. Seven – no, six hours behind. Our friend Palstein’s having lunch. Give him a call.’
Jennifer smiled. ‘That’s what I was just going to do.’
Dallas, Texas, USA
Palstein’s office was on the seventeenth floor of EMCO headquarters, close to several conference rooms which, like inadequately insulated basements, filled again every hour with the brackish water of bad news, every time it seemed just to have been emptied. The meeting in which he had now been stuck for over two hours was no exception. An exploratory project off the coast of Ecuador, at a depth of 3000 metres, launched as a blue-chip enterprise but now nothing but a rusting legacy. Two platforms, giving rise to the question whether they should be dragged to land or sunk, which hadn’t been that easy to answer in the wake of the legendary Brent Spar debacle.
His secretary came into the room.
‘Would it be possible for you to come to the phone for a moment?’
‘Is it important?’ Palstein asked with barely concealed gratitude at being temporarily removed from the ranks of the dead.
‘Orley Enterprises.’ She looked around with an encouraging smile. ‘Coffee, anyone? Espresso? Doughnuts?’
‘Subsidies,’ said an elderly man in a croaking voice. No one laughed. Palstein got to his feet.
‘Have you heard anything yet from Loreena Keowa?’ he asked as he left the room.
‘No.’
‘Right.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I guess she’ll be on the plane already.’
‘Shall I try her mobile?’
‘No, I think Loreena was going to take a later flight. She said something about getting in around twelve.’
‘Where?’
‘Vancouver.’
‘Thanks for that. You’ve just reinforced my certainty that I will keep my job for another while yet.’
He stared at her.
‘Twelve o’clock in Vancouver is two o’clock in Texas,’ she said.
‘I see!’ He laughed. ‘My goodness. What would I do without you?’