The classic team role-playing game of conspiracy and strangeness
Jungle All The Way
8.30 pm, Friday 22nd May 1998
Fabry, glaring about him, stalks back into the makeshift prison, no doubt to interrogate Sioux and Spider about their nefarious doings. Greg waits outside the building, his arms folded, leaning casually against the wall.
Iain hurries off after Jacquie Murdoch, catching her just as she enters the engineering workroom. She is walking with a spring in her step, swinging her arms: clearly her capture of Spider has boosted her morale considerably. 'Jacquie, do you mind if I ask you another quick question about the probe? What do you think would be the effect of including about 2.4kg of carbon black in the probe or having it dumped into the atmosphere?'
'Eh?' She looks at him quizzically. 'That's a weird question. What do you know about that?'
Iain spreads his hands innocently.
'Has someone been telling tales out of school? Catherine, I'll bet - I've seen her hanging round with you lot. Silly little twit.' She puts her hands on her hips, facing Iain. 'OK, so you know about the 2388 grams - and you reckon it was for the carbon black, do you? Makes sense. Well - no, it doesn't really. That sort of load wouldn't have much effect, really. Let's assume the container was pressurized and designed to rupture below a particular atmospheric pressure, so at a certain height above sea level. You'd get a sort of cloud of carbon particle spreading through the air, and if it was high enough they wouldn't come down. Inside a day or so they would have diffused, but before that there'd be obstruction to sunlight for whoever was underneath it - some nice sunsets for people nearby - nothing very serious, though. Seems like a daft plan to me.'
Together they look at the probe and the container, and Jacquie estimates that it would probably have ruptured at around 50,000 feet. 'That's a real guess, though, could be a lot more or less than that.' She looks across at Iain. 'None of this goes in your TV programme, OK?'
When Fabry emerges from Sioux and Spider's room, he is pale, and appears to be walking slightly unsteadily. Greg falls in behind him, giving him no more than a moment to calm down a little as he returns towards his office. As Greg speaks, Fabry jumps in startlement, not realizing that he was being followed.
'You're good at locking people up, aren't you? You locked your own research team up in here at just the right time for someone to have sabotaged the launch. What didn't you want the others to know, Doctor Fabry? And why try to cover up the way that Knut Johannesen died, when you should have known that any investigation would turn up the truth?'
Fabry pales still further, opening his mouth helplessly, but Greg takes a step closer, his hands balling into fists, without giving him a chance to respond. 'It's not just Johannesen who's dead, Doctor. I've just learned that Erika Mahringer died the same way, frozen to death from the inside out.' Fabry looks genuinely surprised at that revelation. 'Who else will die now, or might be dead already, if you hadn't tried to hide what happened to the friend you mourned? Someone killed him, and we have no idea who or how or why.' One of the fists turns into a stabbing finger, punctuating who and how and why with a fingertip bouncing off Fabry's lapel. Greg's eye is twitching now, and a vein is pulsing in his forehead - tell-tale signs, were his colleagues watching, that he is struggling to retain his self-control.
Fabry quails, retreating before Greg's stabbing finger. 'I-I do not know what you are talking about - stop this monstrous...'
'But what you've covered up could help us find out!' continues Greg relentlessly. 'Why did you lock your own team up? Who put you up to that? Why have you jeopardized not only the success, but the very existence of the Demeter Program - what secret could be worth that to you? Why did Bernard Joubert threaten to kill Knut Johannesen?' Again genuine surprise. 'Why did Erika Mahringer leave the project, and why would someone kill her because of it? The truth, now, Fabry - spill it!'
Finally the Demeter director seems to find a reserve of inner strength, and he draws himself up to his full height (still somewhat less than Greg's) and puffs out his chest. His forehead is deeply furrowed and points of high colour are over his cheekbones. 'Mr Wentworth - these accusations are monstrous, monstrous. To suggest that I would jeopardize the project - incroyable! – You must know that this project is dearer to me than a child.'
Greg sets his teeth together. 'Don't try and weasel out of this, Fabry. You're guilty at the least of obstructing justice, in covering up Johannesen's death. We can prove that. And I reckon we can prove conspiracy too...'
He is about to say '... in allowing the rocket to be sabotaged', but at the word 'conspiracy' Fabry's face suddenly sags, and he appears years older. He plucks weakly at Greg's sleeve. 'So, you know that too, eh? Then I am finished.' He gazes up piteously into Greg's eyes. 'If those stupid children had not come here! - but will you no forgive my youthful folly, Mr Wentworth? It was a long time ago.'
Greg has no idea what he means but seizes his advantage with both hands. His voice softens. 'I think you'd better tell me everything, Gustave. Right from the start. Why don't we go inside?'
Fabry sits behind his desk and polishes his glasses, tears in his eyes. Greg remains standing, near the doorway.
'It was many years ago - when I was a student. You were young yourself, Mr Wentworth? Did you not do foolish things? Old allegiances - ah! - what one must regret, eh? This was 1968 - in Paris. Exciting times - dangerous times! We said it was the Commune come again. The police charged our barricades, but we prevailed against them. I was a young man - foolish! - reckless! - filled with hot ideals! It was then I joined the Green Dawn Brigade.'
Greg raises his eyebrows. He has heard of the Brigade - a shadowy group of European environmental terrorists, responsible among other things for the derailment last summer of a train carrying empty nuclear waste containers across Germany, in which half a dozen lives were lost. He had not realized they were in existence thirty years ago, though.
'Anyway, I left when I grew out of these foolish delusions - that violence could save the world! Now I seek to serve the planet through constructive work. But you can imagine, these recent years, when the Brigade becomes active - in my day it was just for talking, really - how I feel. Will ESA find out I was a member? I would lose my job, lose Demeter, lose everything. So I keep quiet and hope they will never know.' He looks up at Greg pleadingly, but the Senator's face is stern.
After a brief pause Fabry continues. 'And now these two appear - from the Brigade. This tattoo the girl wears - their badge. And she tells me that the boy has been instructed by the Brigade to sabotage the probe, by changing the computer program. This is what he was doing when you caught him. And she tells me that unless I let them go into the jungle, they will tell everyone that I was in the Brigade, and it will all be over for me.'
'But if you'd let them sabotage the mission, it would all have been over for you too,' says Greg. 'Another failure would have meant the end of this project.'
'But of course I would not let them! That is why I was not told of this. Their knowledge of my membership was just a getaway for if they were caught. Which they were, thank God, in time, before any damage could be done.' He polishes his glasses again. 'Mr Wentworth, you must understand - the most important thing is that this project succeed. For that I would do anything. What man would not? This is why I locked the staff in - to make sure they caught up with work that had slipped!'
'And that was why you covered up the death of Johannesen?'
'Of course! If the truth had been known we would have had investigators here, police, who knows what - very disruptive. As it was, it was nothing but an accident, and no-one knew anything different.'
'Then who did kill Johannesen?'
'I have no idea.' And Greg believes he is telling the truth. 'Maybe Joubert did - although why, I could not begin to guess. They are both - were both - good workers, vital to the project. If Bernard did kill Knut he has damaged this project considerably, and I would not expect that of him.'
'What about Erika Mahringer?'
Fabry shrugs. 'She had left - what does her death matter? She was always a prima donna. Wanting this, wanting that, arguing with me - she was more interested in herself than in the project. Not a good team member. Young Catherine is much better. More... amenable.'
'You still haven't been able to tell me who would want Johannesen and Mahringer dead,' persists Greg.
A sigh. 'Mr Wentworth, the who, the how and the why, they are not important. What is important is that we lost a valuable team member. Our hands will be full enough dealing with the problems that causes, without wanting to concern ourselves over such things.' He puts his hands flat on the table. 'As for the other matter - if you and the BBC know about my membership of the Brigade, then those children have no power over me. I can hand them over to the authorities in Kourou as I should. All I ask of you, Mr Wentworth - with all my heart - keep my secret, and allow me to stay here, until Demeter has taken to the skies, please?'
The investigative team regroup, and Nora passes on SITU's instructions. Everyone is consumed with agitation.
'Leave for Norway! but I haven't anything to wear!' exclaims Ella.
'You've got that lovely fur coat!' says Maddy. She seems the most excited of all.
'But seriously,' says Ella, 'this means we'll have to throw caution to the winds and act quickly to finish everything up this evening.'
Nora has already started packing. 'And I think we should pass on a sanitized version of our suspicions to Irma Helting - the tie-up between the carbon black canister and the space and weight available on the probe. There's a small risk that this'll be foiling anti-conspiracy plans, but it seems unlikely.'
'I've been thinking about that,' says Greg. 'If Demeter has some secret higher purpose, that might be enough to cause these deaths. And she might be the one to know. I'll talk to her later this evening.' He turns to Maddy. 'You might like to look at Erika Mahringer's old quarters - to see if you can find some personal effects of hers, as you did with Knut Johannesen. Another ritual might be helpful.'
'I'll have a look, sure,' says Maddy. 'What d'you reckon to the answers the Chaos Lords gave about Knut?' She shows the piece of paper onto which she has copied the scraps of paper the spider indicated. 'I'll try and think about it on the plane - your mind works better when you're high, doesn't it?' She giggles.
'Perhaps one of you others should try and talk to Bertoldo de Santa Croce,' continues Greg, gesturing towards Ella, Nora and Diana. He is concerned that Maddy's forthright approach may have scared the young Italian. 'And we should take Knut's effects - the music-box, the sweets, the photographs - with us when we go.'
'Right,' says Ella, 'I need you, Nora, and you, Greg, to help me deal with Joubert. I don't think I can handle him without some backup. I've never blackmailed anyone before, but I thought a journalist or a politician might be more skilled at it.'
Both look at her sharply before realizing she is joking. 'I don't know if intimidation is the best idea for working on him,' says Greg. 'His pride, which Sioux has already injured, is more likely his weakness.'
As the group disperses, Ella takes Diana aside. 'You seem to be good at reading people - what would you think to confronting Catherine with Erika's death? She might reveal something.'
'It seems a bit cruel,' says Diana uneasily.
Ella, Nora and Greg cross the compound to Joubert's office, where he is still busily tapping away at the keyboard. He looks up annoyedly at Ella's knock. 'What is it? Can you not see I am busy? Have I not had enough interruptions for one day?' His expression softens slightly when he sees who it is, though. 'Ah, the lovely Miss Wallace! For you I would interrupt anything.'
Ella puts her hands on the edge of his desk, leaning forward, the others one to either shoulder. 'Joubert, we know that you threatened to kill Knut Johannesen.'
'What!' He seizes the keyboard with both hands. 'You accuse me, Joubert?'
'That's right - we have witnesses who heard you. And then Johannesen dies - coincidence, eh?'
'Of course! Is it my fault if many people wanted that foolish rubbish-eating man dead?'
'Maybe, but it wouldn't look all that good going out on international TV, would it?' asks Nora. 'But we can keep quiet about the whole thing, if you'll help us with a little favour.'
Joubert stands up, drawing his dignity about him. 'Outrageous! You suggest corruption? How little you know Joubert! Rather than forsake my duty I would suffer any slur!'
'All we want is access to Knut's diary files,' says Ella placatingly. 'Just to find out what he was thinking before his death - and what he was up to.'
'Hmm... I have often wondered this myself. But no! This cannot be! You ask me to betray a sacred trust, the responsibility the citizens of Europe have given me, in response to crude blackmail - never!'
'Maybe he just doesn't want us to know how badly he was doing his job, with Johannesen roaming all over the system,' says Greg.
Joubert pales and rocks slightly. 'Ah! Do not think you can taunt me into acquiescence with your fiendish schemes!'
Nora, growing impatient, steps around the edge of the desk and makes a swift grasp for Joubert's wrist, intending to armlock him. But swifter still he steps back, as athletic as a ballet dancer, and snatches up a cane that is propped against the edge of the desk.
Nora is annoyed now, and she pulls out an immense knife, advancing on him menacingly. 'Are you going to talk, or do I have to make you?' she spits.
Joubert, grinning wildly, gives each end of the cane a half twist, and the wood comes away from all but its handle to reveal three feet of springy steel rapier. 'Aha! En garde!'
Nora kicks upwards at his sword hand, while Greg and Ella watch aghast, and strikes inwards with the knife. But Joubert dodges expertly around her foot, and ripostes - she feels the chill touch of the end of the blade laid gently against her cheek as she recoils.
Then Joubert advances, blow after blow pressing down on her, she frantically parrying with the knife, sinking slowly to her knees. Finally he strikes firmly with the forte of the blade against the bone of her wrist as she raises the knife one last time, and she numbly drops it with a yelp.
Joubert has barely broken a sweat. 'So! Know that in me you face a master swordsman, Mlle McShane! Your knavish and clumsy assassinations will get you nowhere with Joubert.'
As Ella helps Nora to her feet and rubs her pained wrist, Joubert turns to Greg. 'So! You see that you have no power over Joubert. You have bitten off more than you can chew here, Mr So-Called-Wentworth.' He returns the sword to its cane and sits once more.
'But, I confess, you have piqued my curiosity. I too am interested to learn what that imbecile Johannesen was writing about in his last days. So I will now open his files, and you may read - but, understand that this is for my curiosity only, not for your feeble threats. You may tell the whole world that I threatened his life, if you wish - it holds no fear for me. I would do the same to any whom I caught trying to hack my system!'
He leans back, tapping at the keyboard, and Greg and Ella come around to look. A sequence of commands flashes by, too fast to see, and Joubert frowns. 'This is strange.' He taps again, and exclaims 'Merde!'
'What is it?' asks Ella.
Joubert leaps to his feet and begins to stalk the confined space. 'That buffoon! That Norwegian poltroon! That garbage-munching homunculus! How dare he? But he gains my grudging respect, I must confess.'
'What has he done?'
'He has been more successful in his hackery than I had thought. He has managed to lock his files away from even me, the system administrator. This is most clever. He has, in effect, given himself higher authority than me. I have no more way of reaching those files than you do.' Joubert looks perplexedly at Ella. 'Without the password Johannesen took with him to the grave, those files will remain forever mysteries to humanity.'
'Catherine, have you got a moment?' asks Diana.
Catherine Maxwell pushes her hair back from her face, turning away from the workbench. 'Oh, Diana. How are you? Still at work here, as you see, even at this time.' She gestures weakly. 'It's... you know, I'll be glad when all this is over, really.' She takes in the seriousness of Diana's face. 'What is it?'
'Bad news, I'm afraid. I called Salzburg, wanting to talk to Erika Mahringer...'
'Oh, Erika. How is she? I'll try and see her when this is finished.' Catherine smiles.
'No, Catherine, dear, I'm afraid you won't be able to. She had an accident, skiing - she's dead.'
'No!' Catherine gasps in horror, her hands flying to her mouth, her face paling. 'Not Erika! No! She can't be!' She shakes her head frantically, hair flying all over the place. 'She can't be!'
As Catherine dissolves into sobs, Diana gathers her into her arms, stroking her hair gently. It is more than a few minutes before the young engineer has calmed enough to speak coherently. 'An accident? Skiing? But Erika was such a good skier - she was in the national team, the Austrian downhill team, when she was a student! I don't believe it - it can't be true, surely?' Another cascade of sobs, followed weakly by 'She was so kind to me...'
Diana thinks it unlikely that any more information will be gained from this encounter.
Nora, her spirits slightly restored by the discomfiture of Joubert over Johannesen's hacking exploits, strides into Sioux and Spider's quarters - the broken Fabry has given Greg a copy key.
She stands over them as they lie sullenly on their beds. 'Right, you two, start talking. Who are you, and what are you up to?'
'It's no secret,' says Sioux defiantly. 'We are commandos of the Green Dawn Brigade, revolutionary soldiers for the planet.'
'Eco-guerrillas,' adds Spider with pride.
'And they sent you here to sabotage the Demeter probe? Why? It's a eco-friendly project, isn't it?'
Sioux laughs without humour. 'You've bought their whole story, haven't you? What a joke. They put up this pollution monitor into the air, so that it gives them licence to pollute as much as they like - they can say "the probe says it's not dangerous yet". And what do they use to put it up? A rocket, burning wasteful fuel, all its parts falling down in the sea... and all this,' she gestures around her at the base, 'this used to be jungle two years ago, you know? Now - concrete, trucks, industry. Despoliation.'
'So what was your plan?' asks Nora.
'Spider here may seem like a fool, but he has his skills,' says Sioux crisply. Spider nods and grins shyly. 'He was going to reprogram the computer so that the probe would crash straight into the sea, instead of going up into the air. Another failure like that and the whole project would be cancelled - perhaps the whole ESA would be cancelled.'
'Up - and then sideways - and then down,' says Spider, demonstrating with his hands. 'But, it's strange, you know, I think someone else had been working on hacking these programs before me.'
Sioux looks at him in disgust. 'What nonsense you do talk. What, one of the people here? Don't be absurd - they are all capitalist despoilers too, you know.'
Ella corners Jacquie Murdoch as she heads for the residential block. 'Jacquie, I'm a bit concerned about Catherine Maxwell.' She explains the Joubert situation while Jacquie listens impatiently. 'Could you keep an eye out for her?'
Jacquie blinks. 'She's a grown woman, isn't she? Good God - if you started making a fuss every time some guy looks at you a bit funnily, you'd never get anything done, would you?' She shakes her head amusedly. 'A swift knee in the cobblers, that'd sort him out. Oh well, I suppose Catherine's a bit of a delicate flower, isn't she? How she ever became an engineer I'll never know. Right, I'll give her a little pep-talk - sort her ideas out. How's that sound?'
Ella is not certain that what Jacquie seems to have in mind is the same as what she intended, so she presses on to Fabry's office, where the Frenchman is sitting in the dark, his head in his hands. She knocks gently. 'Dr Fabry?'
'What? Do you come to harass me more?'
'No, this is something different - a problem between two of your staff, which you've probably already noticed,' says Ella, thinking that he probably hasn't - as managers go he does not really seem to be much of a 'people person'.
She explains the situation and Fabry nods slowly. 'This is bad - we cannot have these personality clashes! For an efficient team everyone must be able to work together! Both Bernard and Catherine are vital to the team.' He pinches the bridge of his nose wearily. 'I will speak to Bernard, tell him to leave her alone - stop pestering and frightening her.'
Iain has been looking for Alan. He finds him cloistered in a corner with Maddy, chatting animatedly - they break off as he approaches. Iain is surprised to see that Alan appears more lively and engaged than he has done at any time since they first met.
'Anyway - I'll sit by you on the plane, shall I, if that's OK?' asks Alan. 'And we can talk some more.'
'Fine,' shrugs Maddy. ''S long as you don't mind the Walkman.'
'Come on,' says Iain to Alan as they walk back to the accommodation block, 'we don't have much time left. Nora managed to take the hikers' computer - we need to have a look at it.'
They fire up the laptop, which is very new, and are disappointed to see that there is hardly any software on it. There are a number of program files which Spider presumably intended to put into the Demeter software. Apart from those, the system, and three programming environments, the only other file of note is a small diary utility.
It is written in German, but Iain is able to understand enough of it to get the sense. It only starts when Spider and Sioux arrived in French Guiana, three weeks ago, and describes the wildlife and landscape in tones of awe and excitement (similarly the parts of Sioux's body of which Spider has been able to sneak occasional brief glimpses). There is no description of the pair's plans, other than general nuisance-making: it appears to have been Spider who introduced the arachnid that bit Joubert into the lavatory block.
They take a copy of the interesting files - the hard disk is not detachable - and return the PC to Fabry as evidence.
Somewhat late in the evening, Greg seeks out Irma Helting, finding her making ready to retire for the night. He tells her that he is sorry if what he said earlier upset her so much, but that the more he learns about what has gone on here, the more he is sure that she is mistaken, and that there really is a connection between Knut Johannesen's death and the failure of the launch, that it's not just a matter of sensationalism.
She looks at him doubtfully. 'If you can prove this, that would be valuable, Mr Wentworth. I had not realized that you were an investigative team as well as scientific documentarists.'
Together they walk out into the jungle a little way, at Greg's urging. 'If you're here investigating, you must have learned many of the same things that I have about what went on here. And you're too intelligent a woman not to see that there is a lot more here than what meets the eye.' As she listens intently he proceeds to share what he has learnt, leaving out the scout troop and its connection, and Maddy's ritual, but including the news that Erika Mahringer has been killed in the same way that Knut was.
At the end she nods. 'Fabry is not the ideal man to be directing a project like this. A better director would have seen that something was wrong with Johannesen. I am thinking we will have to cancel this project.'
'Have you found anything else out? Or have you any theories?' asks Greg.
'I have really been looking at the financial and administrative side of matters - that is my brief. On those counts there are few problems. Fabry certainly gets hard work out of people, and they are well under budget. But... this business is not good for people, or for the European Union as a whole. If it gets out that our scientists are cracking up... bad publicity.'
'I think it's more than just cracking up, though,' say Greg. 'All of this points to someone having an interest in the failure of the Demeter Project; and in order to figure out who that is, I have to understand everything that the Demeter Project will do. I've been thinking about this. A monitoring device like Demeter could easily be a spy satellite as well, which someone might want to stop. There are all sorts of other possibilities which I probably can't foresee. But, Irma, you know at least one thing that I don't: you know if Demeter has some purpose other than the official ones which could lead someone to want to stop it, and would be such a strong reason that he or she has been willing to kill to stop it. Can you tell me if this is a red herring - is there no possibility that some secret purpose or function of Demeter might be the motivation for the deaths of Knut Johannesen and Erika Mahringer?'
By the end of this speech Irma has withdrawn half a step or so, her eyes wide, and Greg is uncomfortably aware that he may be appearing over-enthusiastic. 'I can tell you - officially as well as personally -' Irma says slowly 'that there is no secret hidden purpose to the Demeter Project. As far as the European Union is concerned, and that is all I know for certain. And I have no suspicions about any other group or body. As for the deaths of Johannesen and Mahringer, they were unfortunate, certainly, but I do not really think that we can be seeing vast conspiracy behind everything - my guess is simply that Johannesen cracked up and hatched this carbon scheme, as you say, and that Mahringer's death was unconnected.' She smiles conciliatorily at Greg. 'After all, as the English philosopher William of Ockham said: one should not multiply entities unnecessarily. Or words to that effect. Meaning that the simpler explanation is more likely to be correct, no?'
Greg feels his face tighten in frustration. This is clearly a woman who has led a sheltered life - who has never been exposed to the workings of malevolent forces as he has himself. How could he expect her to understand? Fabry was a conspirator himself, so he had been able to reach him - but Irma Helting was on the other side of life's divide. Much as he might mistrust SITU and their motivations, perhaps they were in truth the only higher force to which people like himself had resort.
The next morning the SITU team decamp for Kourou and thence the airport at Cayenne. The flight is via Paris, and at the stopover Ella encourages a spending spree at the duty free shops. 'On the SITU expense account of course,' she says cheerily. 'We must be the most expensive group of agents they've got!' She buys a long, dark cashmere overcoat with fleeced cuffs, to keep out the Scandinavian chill.
Before leaving Cayenne, though, there is a brief incident. A flight has just landed as the operatives wait in the lounge, and on it is an Englishman who is arguing with officials about the non-appearance on the conveyor of a trunk he has brought with him. With it finally recovered, he looks around, and seeing the camera equipment comes over to the documentary team.
'TV people, eh? Been at ESA? Journalists?'
'That's right,' says Nora.
'Me too - headed out there now. I expect you heard about this Knut Johannesen business.' He extends his hand. 'Paul Elliott, Crab magazine.'
Nora shakes it warily, introducing herself. She has heard of Crab: it is a journal of conspiracy theory, based in Hull, publishing pseudo-scholarly articles on why the Mafia killed Marilyn and suchlike trash.
'Yes,' Elliot continues, 'Johannesen froze to death, in the middle of the jungle, and now - here's some news - a woman called Mahringer, who used to work here, she's dead too, in Austria.'
'Did she freeze too?' asks Nora non-committally.
'No, it's even stranger. She was out skiing on the glacier in the early morning, and she went over a lip, took a tumble, landed on some rocks, broke her neck. But here's the strange bit - six witnesses all swore blind that just before she fell there was a flash of brilliant red light in the sky, and a noise like harp strings. Makes you think, eh?' He taps his nose. 'Anyway, I'm off to Project Demeter - let's find out what they're really up to, eh?' He strides off across the concourse. 'Careful with my trunk!'
'What a strange little man,' says Nora to the others as they head out towards the plane.
At Oslo the team are met by a tall, blonde woman, who introduces herself as Virna Lindt, the local SITU organizer. 'Good to see you all - I hope you had a pleasant trip.' Her accent is slight, and her tone clipped and efficient. 'There's been another development - a third scout is dead. Harald Liberg, froze to death in his sauna.'
'In Lillehammer?' asks Iain.
'No, here in Oslo: he was a businessman. You may want to head up to Lillehammer straight away, or you may want to do some preliminary work here in Oslo. Alf Hansen's office is here, although he died in the North. And Liberg's home is here. We're issuing you with travel passes for the next few days, so that you can move back and forth between Oslo and Lillehammer as you wish, individually or as a group.' She hands them out.
Iain blinks at the price printed on each one. 'You must put a pretty high value on this investigation.'
'That's right. We can smell blood here, and you people are the ones to go in for the kill.' She smiles.