Free ICEHOTEL by Hanna Allen Page A

millions,
billions even. It would make a serious dent in Wilson’s coffers, if not empty
them entirely.
    ‘It’s going to mean a lot of extra work for the Foundation,’
I said cautiously.
    ‘The work’s not the problem.’
    I was tempted to ask what was, but the finality of his tone
made me stay silent.
    After a pause, I said, ‘Marcellus, you may already know this
but one of my friends, Henry Auchinleck, is an academic who’s been receiving
grants from the Bibby Foundation.’
    ‘An academic?’ He shook his head. ‘Then advise him to look
elsewhere for his money.’
    I felt my mouth go dry. ‘But why?’
    Marcellus’s mobile rang, and he reached into his pocket.
‘Because his source of funding is about to come to an end.’ He glanced at the
phone. ‘I’m sorry. I need to take this.’ He got to his feet. The chair came
with him. He pulled it away and set it on the floor.
    I gripped his arm. ‘Wait. Please. What do you mean, his
source of funding is about to come to an end?’
    ‘As of next year, my father is scaling down the Foundation’s
range of supported activities. He’s decided scholarly research is to be the
first casualty.’
    ‘Funding for research is coming to an end? That’s definite?’
    ‘My father still has to run it past his board of governors.’
    ‘And what are they likely to do?’
    He laughed bitterly. ‘Nothing. They’ll do absolutely
nothing. They never do. They probably won’t like it, but my father always gets
his way.’ He hesitated. ‘As I said, it’s his money. Now you really must excuse
me.’ He clamped the phone to his ear and left the room.
    I thought about the resentment in Marcellus’s eyes as he’d
said it. And he’d said it twice: It’s his money.
    Money which Wilson was spending like water.

Chapter 6
    I was still grappling with the
implications of what Marcellus had said, when Mike arrived. Flushed after his
workout, and breathing heavily, he looked ready for a drink.
    ‘I wouldn’t sit in that chair,’ I said lightly. ‘It’s liable
to break.’
    He stared at the array of empty glasses. ‘You been here
long?’
    ‘I’m a fast drinker.’
    He set down his beer. ‘ So Maggie,
before she comes in, tell me about Liz. I’d like to get to know her better, but
I don’t want to make a fool of myself right and left.’
    ‘She’s not married.’ I kept my eyes steady. ‘I’m guessing
that’s what you want to know.’
    He laughed. ‘So like a woman. Straight for the jugular.’
    ‘You should look her up when we’re back in Edinburgh. You
can meet her children,’ I added mischievously.
    His didn’t rise to the bait. ‘So what does she like to do? What
sort of a person is she?’
    ‘Easy to talk to. Personality-wise, she’s just like me –
warm and wonderful, and she laughs a lot.’
    ‘A merry widow?’ A smile crept onto his lips. ‘Even better.’
    ‘Actually, she’s divorced.’
    ‘And is she with someone at the moment?’
    It was my turn to laugh. ‘Now who’s going for the jugular?’
    ‘It’s a straightforward question, so it is.’
    ‘Well here’s a straightforward answer. It’s none of your
business.’
    He shook his head in mock exasperation. ‘And, here I am,
thinking I might enlist your help.’
    ‘I would think again, pal,’ I said good-naturedly. ‘Oh, did
I mention she’s a karate expert? You wouldn’t think it to look at her, but
she’s incredibly strong. She can floor a man twice her size,’ I added, making a
point of looking at Mike’s body.
    He said nothing, but his smile widened.
    ‘What about you, Mike?’ I said, after a brief silence. ‘What
are you all about?’
    If he was surprised by the directness of my question, he
didn’t show it. ‘I work hard and I play hard.’
    ‘And what form does playing hard take?’
    ‘Oh, I’m like everyone else. I drink, I socialise, I . . .’
He moistened his upper lip with his tongue.
    ‘Womanise?’
    He laughed. ‘Who doesn’t? I’m a red-blooded male.