Free Casanova by Mark Arundel

close. He walked away along the path towards the slope. I waited until he reached the brow of the incline and then I followed him.
    I moved quickly to the top of the slope. I didn’t want to lose sight of him. I needn’t have worried. He hadn’t gone very far along the track. The deep new snow was making it hard going for him. He wasn’t an athletic man and his steps were cumbersome and slow.
    I held back and gave him time to get ahead. Once he had reached the turn in the roadway, I moved from my concealed position by the side of the track, crossed over the roadway and travelled to the end of a snow-covered hedgerow. I dropped down out of sight and waited for him to reach the end of the turn. I stood up in time to see him cross away from the flat roadway and enter the fir trees where the slope of the mountain rose steeply. After climbing for a minute or so, he was on his hands and knees in the deep snow, struggling to make progress. This was going to take a while. On the edge of the tree line, I dropped down behind a wide trunk and watched him. I gave him as much of a head start as I dare before I left the cover of the tree and started the climb myself. I followed the wide track he had left which made it slightly easier for me. I maintained cover using the trees wherever possible and kept him in visual contact. I closed the gap rapidly when I could tell the climb was reaching its end. I didn’t want to lose him on the flat pathway at the top. I lifted my head and could just make out his dark figure moving northwest and farther up the mountain. I came out of the trees and onto the pathway in silence. I quickened my pace until I was close enough behind him to hear his rasping breath. I stopped and waited until the gap was larger.
    We continued to climb slowly using the narrow pathway, which traversed the mountain. Casanova’s breathing would have been loud in his own ears and he never once looked back. There was no way he was going to realise he was being followed. This journey was taking longer than he had anticipated because it was starting get light, and I expected he wanted to be at his destination before then. He looked at the sky a couple of times and tried to quicken his speed without any success.
    Finally, we reached a cabin-style chalet, camouflaged in the snow except for an outside wall light by the porch. Casanova went to the door, turned briefly and glanced back, before going in. I was far enough away and flat in the snow, for him not to see me.
    I waited until he was safely inside and then I got up and scouted the area. The cabin-style chalet was isolated except for a nearby restaurant, which I got up close to, read the sign and then memorised its French name. The cabin and the restaurant were far enough up the mountain to make access difficult in the winter months. A normal vehicle would not be able to make the climb. It would need to be something fitted with proper snow tracks.
    I made a complete three-sixty of the property before dropping down into the snow on the high side in a gully where the slope hid me. I checked my wristwatch and considered my options. I tried to think of a reason why Casanova would disappear from London and come to the Swiss ski resort where he had holidayed for the past two Christmases, and where he and his family were booked to come again this year anyway. I wondered who owned the cabin and whether the owner or anyone else was currently living there. I wanted answers but I didn’t have them.
    I pulled out my K106 and removed a glove. I tapped the screen and used the satellite phone to pinpoint my position, which I stored in the memory. I wanted to be able to find the cabin again, from wherever I was on the mountain. I put my K106 away and took out the piste map I’d picked up from the hotel lobby. I got my bearings and marked the map with a circle where I thought the cabin was located.
    Now, it was time for me to make a decision. Should I confront Casanova immediately or wait