Becwethan (The Leopold Dix Thrillers Book 1) Page 10

  “Pascoe’s cool dad; but you’re the detective so let’s keep a lid on it and check details tomorrow night.”

  “It might be harder to keep a lid on than you think. Robert, in there, is Pascoe’s godfather; I don’t think he suspects anything, but if he starts on about it tonight it could make for a bit of a mess”.

  I had a single bar of signal strength on the phone. I placed the call.

  “Pascal, I’ve found a picture of Klaus, yes the dates match, 99% certain. I’m at Tracuit; no I can’t leave it I’ve a feeling it’d be destroyed. I’ll take it with me, will be back in Zinal late tomorrow 9.00 perhaps 10.00. The signal died, but the message was complete, the weather had thickened up and the drizzle had turned to light snow.

  Pascoe arrived at five to six, just as everyone was settling down to the one sitting on offer. The six German walkers had one more night to spend, and two Italians had arrived to climb Les Diablons.

  “He said he’d try and get you on the mobile” Pascoe said. “He’s twisted his ankle, ‘badly swollen’ he’d said”.

  “Poor Gustav” Rufus added, “he’ll be gutted; he was looking forward to reuniting the old team”.

  I joined in the sentiments, I was really starting to distrust Pascoe, and I didn’t want him to know. ‘This climb might just work in my favour now’ I thought.

  Service was canteen style, “looks great” I said to Chantal as she passed me a bowl of hot broth, reddish brown, over the counter. There was a basket of wholemeal bread on the tables, with a collection of spoons and forks.

  The three of us sat down in the corner of the cabane. “Can’t see that it changes anything, you two still ok with the climb” Pascoe said.

  “We’ve been looking forward to this all summer, weather’s set fair for tomorrow; I can’t wait” Rufus replied.

  “Sounds good to me” I nodded.

  The noise levels began to rise as the broth reinvigorated the German walking party. A feeling of unity, togetherness permeated the cabane and drew the tables close together. Outside the snow clouds pushed higher, over the Bishorn and Weisshorn and off into the next valley.

  I left Pascoe and Rufus at the table and headed outside. The temperature had dropped. I checked my phone, there was a signal flickering in and out. I tried Gustav’s number.

  “Gustav, it’s Leo, sorry you’ve twisted your ankle, I was just checking up on you; speak soon” I left the message. It wasn’t what I wanted to say. I wanted to ask him why Pascoe had never mentioned he knew Klaus. I’d always thought Gustav was a good judge of character and Pascoe was going to be his best man; Rufus thought the sun shone out of his arse. Maybe I had got him wrong, but it didn’t all add up to me. I knew I should be heading down the mountain with the photograph, it would be a major break in the case, but I hadn’t the heart to do that to Rufus, it’d just have to wait another day. I went back in.

  The warm light, music, and laughter welcomed me back.

  “I was beginning to think you’d made a start” Pascoe joked.

  “Come and join in” Rufus said dealing the cards. The Italians had moved over to our table and the money was out.

  “Play another couple of hands and I’ll be there” I moved over to Chantal and took my pudding and sweet tea. The cake was solid with fruit and encrusted with nuts. I could feel the phone vibrating in my pocket, a text, ‘it’ll be Gustav’ I thought. I pulled the phone out. The text was from Pascal; ‘will be in Zinal tomorrow night from 8.00, come to Besso, Pascal’. Good, he was as keen to get the photo as I was to pass it on.

  We played cards for nearly two hours; as it drew close to 9.00pm we finalised our plans for departure and checked equipment and food. Rufus and I headed upstairs around 10.00 for our four hours, leaving Pascal and Robert chatting.

  The beds were arranged in a dormitory style and bunks. The Germans had already turned in; the room was full of snorts and coughs, the smell; sweaty, dirty, and typical.

  My phone buzzed me awake. I turned it off.

  “Rufus” I gave him a shove.

  “Right O” he was up and moving in an instant.

  I’d slept well for four hours, and now it was time to go. We convened downstairs. Filled our thermal flasks from the tea urn and spooned in plenty of sugar. I pulled on my climbing gear, Gore-Tex trousers over base layers, fleece, and jacket. It may have been August but this was going to be close to a winter ascent in summer. The forecast temperature on the summit was minus 10 centigrade. Pascoe and Rufus made their adjustments and attached harnesses. We left the inner sanctum of the cabane, laced up our boots, grabbed the ice axes and moved outside. It was 2.30am, the cloud had passed, and the stars beamed their brilliant light at us from their distant galaxies. Rufus led the way, the head torches flashing back and forth as we picked our way through the 200m of rock towards the bottom of the Turtmann glacier.

  “I made the mistake of standing on the edge here yesterday” Rufus said pointing at a flat area of ice at the side of the glacier; “it was an arse over tit moment”.

  We listened to his advice on the safety of the rock whilst fitting our crampons. I pulled on my gloves; hoicked up my rucksack, attached the rope to my harness and stepped onto the glacier. .............The first half kilometre was fun, deep crevasses which needed to be circumnavigated or jumped; it was more like an adventure park than the slog up the glacier I’d been expecting. As the fissures reduced in number the slope increased and we started to snake up the glacier and the side of the Bishorn. Rufus was setting a good pace, a fast pace but an easy rhythm to follow. We had planned on the ascent taking 7 hours, a further 5 and a half for the return. We pushed on up the side of the Bishorn and towards the Northern ridge of the Weisshorn.

  “Choc break” Rufus announced.

  “It looks magnificent” I said, breaking off a piece of frozen chocolate and sipping the sweet tea.

  After 3 and a half hours of relentless glacier work we arrived at the Northern ridge. We stood for a moment looking across the Alps from our 4000m vantage point.

  “It’s such an exceptionally long ridge that ‘speed is our friend’ here” Rufus said. We left the glacier and scrambled up the rocks, keeping about 10m of rope between us, but setting no additional protection. Confidence was high and we hip belayed, a move designed more for speed than safety, when required. We arrived at the famous Grand Gendarme; thirty metres of more technical climbing and a short decent brought us to the long snow ridge, sometimes corniced, leading to the summit.

  “There’s a good 4000ft of exposure down there” I shouted to Pascoe in front.

  We reached the summit after 7 hours of consuming work.

  “9.30 we said, and 9.20 it is” Rufus beamed.

  I gave my best yodel.

  “You’ve got to get higher than that dad, like this,” Rufus gave a good impression of a yodel as I pulled my camera out of the rucksack. We ran off a couple of shots.

  “You ok Pascoe, seem a bit out of sorts” Rufus enquired.

  “Fine, just can’t believe the speed you got us here” he replied. But I didn’t believe that was what he was thinking. Pascoe had become preoccupied with something. His relaxed, bullet proof, easy going personality seemed to have changed from the night before; ..... edgy, even furtive.

  We refuelled quickly whilst absorbing the beauty of the surrounding peaks. We were, after all, standing on top of the fourth highest peak in the Alps, only Mont Blanc, Mont Rosa and Dom were higher.

  I grabbed Rufus’s arm “just be careful on the way down, keep your wits about you; something’s up with Pascoe” I whispered and finished “I think we should try the East route next time. Have you climbed on the East ridge Pascoe?”

  “Yes, it’s the normal route, but I prefer this one” he replied.

  We started the descent, Rufus led; I followed with Pascoe ‘bringing up the rear’.

  We’d only been descending for a few minutes when all hell broke loose. Pascoe fell off the ridge, down the North face, a 4000ft drop yawned below h
im; his rope taut.

  “Fuck, I can’t hold him” I shouted as I started to slide towards the edge.

  Rufus took one look at the situation and did what he had to to save all three of us. He jumped over the other side of the ridge, equalising the weight on either end of the rope.

  In an instant the rope stopped moving. Rufus and Pascoe scrambled for purchase on either side of the ridge and within seconds, both ropes had become slack; I jammed a couple of nuts into the fissures and connected the ropes to provide an anchor point.

  “Rufus, You ok?” I shouted. He looked up, his face covered in blood.

  “Taken a face plant on this rock, and I think my leg’s pretty knackered, but I can hold my weight on the other one.”

  “I’ve fixed an anchor here, but see if you can tie in as well; perhaps over there on your left” I directed him. Rufus found a suitable location and fixed a second anchor.

  “Good, I’ll see how Pascoe is, and get back in a second” I turned to shout down to Pascoe.

  I managed to fend off the first blow with my axe, the second one followed almost immediately. It was not the time to reason, he was trying to kill me and my son.

  I needed a knockout; I kicked his feet away from him and as he hit the ridge aimed a blow with the ice axe at his body. The axe pierced his heart; the final muscle spasm drawing him over the edge and down. No longer attached to the rope he fell and fell.

  I got to my feet and moved back to Rufus.

  “Rufus” I got his attention.

  “How’s Pascoe?” He asked.

  “Not good, we’ll get you up first. I’ll set myself to pull you up; I need as much help from you as you can manage.”

  “No worries.”

  I checked the mobile; no signal but I tried it anyway; nothing.

  I positioned myself for maximum leverage, and with Rufus pulling himself up with his arms and one good leg it wasn’t long before his grimacing, smiling, bloody face appeared.

  “Shit, it’s good to be up here. Where’s Pascoe?” He was looking at the other end of the rope; next to it a frozen blood stain.

  “He’s gone off the deep end”. I didn’t know what else to say; Rufus visibly paled.

  “Your quick thinking saved us Rufus, and now we’ve got to get down this ridge.” I sat him down and looked at the damage. The ankle was swollen, I gently rotated it. “It’s not broken, nasty ligament damage I think”. His trouser leg was torn a gash on his calf. “Not too deep, I’ve got some tape for that”. I pulled out my first aid kit, taped the cut, and sprayed an anaesthetic on his ankle. I bound the ankle to give it as much support as possible, and tightened his boot. “Not much I can do for your face, it’s largely superficial, but I think you’ve broken your nose again. Can you breathe ok?”

  Rufus inhaled through his nostrils; “I think it’s better than it was” he smiled, but smiling hurt so it turned to a grimace.

  I checked his chest and ribs “ready to roll” I said.

  “What happened here dad?” He replied looking at the blood stains.

  “We need to concentrate on getting down safely, I’ll tell you later.”

  The climb down was treacherous. The snow had softened in the sunshine and stuck to the crampons, negating their effect. Every few steps we had to stop and knock the snow off.

  “We’re making good progress” I said encouragingly. We stuck it out and just kept moving. By 5.30pm we had made it off the ridge.

  The signal strength returned and I called Pascal.

  “Pascal, It’s Leo, can you hear me ok? Don’t talk I need you to listen. We need an emergency helicopter with medics on the top of the Bishorn, call me back when you’ve sorted it; thanks”. The relief was massive; I knew a chopper would be with us in the next forty five minutes.

  “We’ll load up on tea when we get to that flat area over there” I said pointing about 200 yards away.

  “Enough dad, what the fuck happened?” A solemn Rufus demanded as we sat down to wait for the helicopter.

  “The bastard attacked me with an ice axe, just after you’d tied in” I said.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve only got one theory at the moment; I reckon Pascoe was told to recover the picture of Klaus. It connects him and his family to the death.”

  “Yes but dad, it’s even more suspicious if we’re found dead and the picture’s missing when they recover the bodies.”

  “Maybe they thought I’d not made contact with the police yet or perhaps he was going to switch the picture with another one” I replied. “There are too many unknowns, let’s get off the mountain first”.

  The phone rang. I listened to Pascal as he gave me instructions for the landing. “I’ll see you in half an hour” I said. “Before you go, can you check on Gustav, no he never made it to us, he’s supposed to be at home with a twisted ankle; cheers”.

  Rufus looked at me “do you think something’s happened to Gustav?”

  “Just covering all the bases” I said.

  THIRTEEN

  We sat in relative silence for the last fifteen minutes; just occasional words of encouragement. The thumping blades of the helicopter drew closer, clouds of freshly fallen snow plumed upwards from the glacier’s hard surface as the machine landed. Two medics jumped out, crampons, stretcher, straps; the operation was faultless as Rufus was loaded into the helicopter. I stepped up, the door was closed, and we were airborne.

  The flight to Sion was no more than ten to fifteen minutes. We landed at the hospital and Rufus was taken off for an examination. “I’ll catch up in half an hour; I need to wait for Pascal.” I said.

  I was trying to get my head around the best way to explain the events of the last 12 hours when Pascal tapped me on the shoulder. I span, rather too aggressively, and Pascal held his hands up, “slow down cowboy”.

  “Pascal, good to see you”, I shook his hand firmly.

  “You look in need of some caffeine; let’s catch the canteen whilst it’s still open.” He led the way.

  I sat at the table, Pascal was chatting to the woman on the till, and she waved him through without paying. He placed two large mugs of coffee on the table.

  “It’s much better than the machine stuff” he said.

  I began; “Pascoe’s dead”.

  “Shit, I thought he was here.”

  “He tried to kill us, just below the summit, on the way down. Have you found Gustav?” I suddenly remembered.

  “Dominique said his ankle was fine and that he was climbing with you. He didn’t come home last night. We’re looking for him; do you think he’s involved?”

  “Not Gustav” I said, “his only involvement is on the receiving end of this. I think it’s critical that you find him, if he’s still alive.”

  Pascal stood up, “fuck......this is out of control”. He pulled out his phone, wandered into the closed section of the canteen and went into a ten minute heated conversation with someone. I could hear the occasional word and sometimes a full sentence. ‘Search party,….. Overtime,…….. Fuck,……….. I want 20 men in Grimentz by 7.00am tomorrow’. He joined me at the table, “you probably got most of that, Christ Leo what’s happening?”

  “I think he was after this” I slid the picture of Pascoe and Klaus across the Formica table.

  He looked at it; again he reached for his phone. “In the canteen, now” he said. A man scuttled into the canteen after about 20 seconds. “Here’s the picture; get on to it now and..”, Pascal turned to me “where are we going to find the body Leo?”

  I pulled my rucksack over and took the map out. “He went off here; his body fell this way. I reckon ...... Here, ...... or here are the most likely spots. If you show the recovery team where he went off” I marked it with a cross, “they’ll have a better idea where to look.” I handed the officer my map.

  “I think you’ll find another picture in his pack, he was going to kill us both and swap the photos.”

  “Get moving” Pascal barked at the officer.


  “Ok, let’s start at yesterday morning, the start of the ascent. Take me through events with times; I’d like to build a time line.”

  It was always a good way to structure an interview, the time line brought sequence to your thoughts and less was forgotten. I spoke and Pascal made notes, constructing the timings on another page. “So the first time you knew he was missing was at five to six, when Pascoe arrived at Tracuit.” He noted it on the line. We spoke for forty five minutes.

  “I’ll need a formal statement tomorrow, where does Pascoe’s father live?”

  “Chalet Diablon, but he seems to spend a lot of time at the Lona cow sheds with his brother. You won’t be able to get there easily tonight; but I think you should; for Gustav’s sake”.

  “What’s your take on this Leo?”

  “Pascoe either killed Klaus, or is protecting someone very close;....... family?..... Immediate family are his father Raphy, and his uncle Pierre, whom I’ve yet to meet, whose photograph I picked up from the Lona sheds….. I’m beginning to wonder whether that was him, or left there for me to jump to that conclusion.” My thoughts were coming out, jumbled, but Pascal was sticking with me nodding. “Perhaps Pierre was one of my attackers…. perhaps he killed Klaus. I don’t like the sound of him, and I’m dubious about Raphy too….. My even longer shot is that Raphy and Pierre’s father, Pascoe’s grandfather, is wrapped up in all this, Marc. He was, after all, my mother’s brother and is the right age profile to have killed my father, even Klaus. I don’t know whether we’re looking for one murderer, a family of murderers, or a community of murderers.” I paused; my monologue was sucking the life out of Pascal. “We need to establish whether the second body was Klaus”.

  “We’ve an agreement with the Austrian press; his photo will be online tonight and all over Austria by tomorrow. I think we’ll establish it’s him very quickly and Jurgen’s looking at the photo tonight, to see if he can give us a positive ID,” Pascal replied. “And where does Gustav fit into all of this Leo?”