Free Isvik by Hammond; Innes Page B

Sunderby’s background. Her father, Juan Connor-Gómez, had been head of the family department store in Buenos Aires. He had committed suicide just before the Falklands war, his business having failed following a fire that gutted the main building and destroyed something over a million pounds’ worth of stock. Her brother, Eduardo, a bio-chemist, had disappeared at about the same time. According to the police, the possibility that this is a political killing cannot be ruled out. ‘It may be that it goes back to the period when people all over the Argentine, but particularly in cities like Buenos Aires, were disappearing. A report on the family background from the police in Buenos Aires is urgently awaited. Until our people have that report the purpose behind this brutal killing will not be known .’
    I phoned Ward at once, but got no answer, and it wasn’t until evening that I finally got through to him.
    â€˜Are ye all set, Peter?’ Those were his opening words. And when I asked him what he was talking about, he said, ‘Are ye all packed an’ ready to go, ’cause Ah’ve booked tae seats fur Sunday on a flight to Madrid. We stay overnight, then fly Iberia direct to Mexico City. Meet ye at the BA check-in desk at 13.00. That all right?’
    I couldn’t think what to say for a moment, the abruptness of it taking my breath away. ‘You mean you’re going ahead with the expedition?’
    â€˜Och aye.’ He said it quietly, a matter-of-fact statement. ‘Why not? The boat is there. We can sail as soon as we get to Punta Arenas.’
    â€˜But …’ It was now Wednesday evening. ‘Are you serious? I mean … well, you can’t leave for a sail in the Weddell Sea just like that. We’d need stores, gear, clothes. We’d need to plan ahead, to plan very carefully.’
    â€˜All taken care of.’
    â€˜But …’
    â€˜Ye just listen to me. Ah’m used to organism’ things at short notice. Ah’ve cabled that Norwegian to have the boat stored an’ ready to sail within a week and Ah’ve transferred the necessary funds to a local bank wi’ instructions to settle all accounts. Ye’ve got a passport, have ye?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜A valid passport. Ye’ve no’ let it run out?’
    â€˜No. It’s fairly new.’ My thoughts were running away with me, my imagination too. It was one thing to sit in on a meeting like that in the Cutty Sark theorising about whether or not there was an old frigate locked in the ice of the Weddell Sea, talking vaguely about an expedition to recover it; quite another to have somebody say we leave in four days’ time, destination Antarctica. ‘Visas,’ I said. ‘I’d need visas. And money – traveller’s cheques. Another thing, what do we wear? For an expedition like that you need special clothing.’
    â€˜All taken care of,’ he said again. ‘Ah provide the money, an’ the special clothing, the very latest in protective gear, that’s being flown out, Ah hope tonight. ’Fraid Ah had to guess yer size. Visas will be dealt with by me travel agent. His office is in London.’ He had me write down the address, which was in Windmill Street. ‘Have yer passport there by 09.00 tomorrow mornin’ and Jonnie Crick promises to hand it back to ye wi’ all the necessary visas in time fur us to catch the plane. Okay?’
    â€˜No,’ I said. ‘Not okay. This is Norfolk, not London, and it’s already past eight in the evening.’
    â€˜Of course. Ah should have told ye. A motorcycle courier from a delivery firm callin’ itself the Norfolk Flyer will pick yer passport up at 06.30 tomorrow mornin’. And see that there’s a full-face picture of yerself with it fur photocopying. And when ye pick yer passport up on Sunday mornin’, pick mine up as well.’ For the moment his