Hiltunen Cold Courage

1. Auflage 2013
ISBN: 978-1-78094-182-0
Verlag: Hesperus Press Ltd.
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 420 Seiten

Cold Blood. Cold Case. Cold Courage. When Lia witnesses a disturbing scene on her way to work, she, like the rest of the City of London, is captivated and horrified. As details unfurl in the media, the brutal truth emerges - a Latvian prostitute has been killed, her body run over by a steamroller and then placed in the boot of a car to be found. As the weeks pass and no leads are found, the news story dies but Lia finds herself unable to forget. When she meets Mari, another Finn living in London, she thinks it fortuitous, but Mari has engineered the meeting for her own advantage. There is much more to Mari than meets the eye: she possesses an unnatural ability to 'read' people, to see into their innermost thoughts and pre-empt their actions. Mari heads up a unit she calls the 'Studio' - a group she employs made up of four disparate people: a hacker, a set designer, a private detective and an actress. They are loyal to Mari, and she has bound them to her by granting them life-changing favours. Cold Courage is a gripping psychological thriller debut by award-winning Finnish author Pekka Hiltunen - skilfully paced, intense and intelligent.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Hiltunen, Pekka

Weitere Mitwirkende

Witesman, Owen

Leseproben

3

Towards the end of April came a special night.

Not quite one month after Lia had seen the frightening scene on Holborn Circus, it was her birthday. The actual day was Sunday, but she had invited her colleagues to join her at the White Swan, their local, after work on Friday.

Lia had looked forward to the evening anxiously. Celebrating her birthday was not like her but, as it had approached, she had felt the need to do something different this year. In part it may have been due to recent events.

‘If you don’t have anything else on,’ Lia had said as she invited everyone. She wasn’t sure whether many would want to come.

Generally they seemed to think of her as that introverted, slightly strange, slightly hard, Finnish woman. But hard in a way that meant they could have a friendly go at her about it.

No fewer than eight of the office’s dozen-odd employees turned up at the White Swan. Matt Thomas was not among them, which was a relief for Lia. Two hours later, five of the boys remained.

Lia knew that these men had their own lives, a relationship or a family, so spending a free night drinking with the weird Finnish lady from work was a display of real warmth.

The evening had been fun so far. The boys were displaying openly their affection for Lia, even making toasts.

The mention of her sense of humour in more than one of these especially delighted her. According to the boys, she put an entirely new spin on the blonde joke: here was a blonde who could throw barbs sharp enough to strike fear into the hearts of weaker men.

She received CDs by some of her favourite artists, albums she already had of course, and countless hugs and drinks. She competed with the boys in their silly drinking games.

Around ten o’clock the stage of inebriation Lia loved best began. When the buoyancy of alcohol bears up everything a person does. Leaving the table, Lia went to the toilet.

As she returned, she stopped at the bar, asked for a glass of water and drank it. Water was the best way to draw out the drunkenness in a slow, pleasant burn.

She looked at the table where the five guys sat, her dear and distant workmates. She thought of Finland, her parents and her friends from school with whom she no longer kept in touch.

How many women were celebrating their twenty-eighth birthday tonight? Lia tried to imagine the places they would be celebrating. Bleak Helsinki and countries to which she had never been. What would her party have been like in Australia? Or Mexico?

A woman with dark hair wearing a dark, slim-cut dress approached the bar and stood next to Lia. Roughly Lia’s age, Lia took note of how clearly the woman’s manner spoke of her self-confidence. She smiled at Lia, and Lia smiled back.

The woman sidled closer to say something, and what she said took Lia by surprise. Not because of the words, because of the language.

,’ she said. Congratulations, birthday girl – in Finnish.

Being addressed in her native language amid the bustle of an English pub was so weird that Lia laughed. She hadn’t heard anyone speak Finnish in ages – not since she last called her parents. The woman was speaking a secret language that only they could understand.

‘,’ Lia replied in thanks.

Finnish. Open vowels and thick consonants, its taste strong and direct, a language that didn’t belong here or, really, anywhere.

The woman said her name was Mari.

‘Lia,’ Lia said, and they shook hands. Given how tipsy she was, this all felt very formal and thoroughly amusing.

‘How did you know it was my birthday?’ Lia asked.

‘I was sitting near you and heard you all talking.’

‘You’ve been eavesdropping on us all evening then.’

‘Yes, but not only on you,’ Mari replied. ‘You seem to have lived in London for some time now.’

‘About six years. And you?’

‘Five, but it hardly seems it.’

‘I know the feeling. You wouldn’t… Would you like to join us?’

‘Thank you, I’d be delighted to.’

‘Boys, if this girl joins us, will you try to behave yourselves?’

‘Anything for you, Lia.’

The waitress brought more drinks. Lia told them that Mari was from Finland. That was all it took.

It was as if the party had started all over again. Having been able to provide her boys with a good conversationalist who was so easy on the eye gave Lia genuine pleasure. Mari brought out both the gentleman and the horny teenager in them. Bombarding her with polite questions, they devoured her with their beer-swollen eyes.

Lia watched the revelling men around the table.

These five writers held in their heads an astounding amount of information about politics, sport, high culture and entertainment, and that was another reason Mari enchanted them. She knew all about the current events that came up in conversation. Through the noise of the pub, Lia listened to Mari talk about her background, picking out the words insurance company and personnel manager. The men didn’t ask anything more about that, but Mari’s political views piqued their interest.

‘Bloody hell, Lia, your Finnish friend knows local British politics better than I do!’ Sam said with enthusiasm.

As was his way, the political reporter, Timothy Phelps, had to test the newcomer by debating with her. The subject he broached was the Tory chairman Brian Pensley, who had been in the headlines recently.

‘Pensley has a problem. Whenever he opens his mouth, all anyone can remember is the Tories’ wretched healthcare overhaul. He’s going to be carrying the burden of that failure for a long time,’ Phelps said as if giving a lecture.

Mari shook her head.

‘I think Pensley’s problem is his diffidence. He doesn’t know how to appeal to any specific voting bloc. He never would have become party chairman if David Cameron hadn’t decided to elevate him for some bizarre reason,’ Mari said.

‘Pensley was chairman even before Cameron assumed office,’ Timothy objected.

‘No, he wasn’t,’ Mari said and then expounded from memory: Cameron had begun as leader of the Conservative Party a few years earlier, at the beginning of December. Pensley was promoted to chairman less than a month later, so it was clear that this was done with Cameron’s support.

Timothy went quiet, clearly peeved.

‘C.Y.F.F.,’ Sam said with a grin and then explained the expression to Mari. Ambitious editorial offices valued three things: a feel for language, good networking skills so you could get the scoop on competitors and diligent background work. The last of these had its own acronym, which they used in emails to mock writers guilty of passing on bad information: CYFF, Check Your Fucking Facts.

‘By the way, we work at ,’ Sam said proudly, but Lia was glad to see that this had no particular effect on Mari.

‘I gathered as much,’ Mari replied.

Clearly she was intelligent and also capable of holding her own in a debate, which was the sexiest thing in the world to these men. Still they remembered to treat Lia like the star of the show.

Lia had worked as a graphic designer at for nearly five years, and she got along with the male-dominated staff of the magazine precisely because she held her ground and never let a quip go unanswered. The staff of were a clever bunch. Founded in the 1960s out of the idealism of a group of young journalists, the magazine had initially focused on politics. Gradually it had added arts and entertainment coverage. Producing astute commentary on the latest right-wing party platform and engaging reviews of hot new pop albums was no trifling task. Circulation had waned of late, but still remained a small but influential voice.

Sometime after eleven o’clock, Mari asked the waitress to bring a jug of water to the table. Lia realised she had forgotten her strategy. You had to tend inebriation like a campfire.

‘And here I was thinking Finnish girls knew how to drink,’ Sam said teasingly.

‘Drinking,’ Lia said emphatically as she raised her water glass, ‘is only one of many things at which Finnish girls excel.’

This rejoinder received whoops from the men and a smile from Mari.

The growing intoxication was beginning to show in repetition in the conversation. Timothy even dredged up the Brian Pensley argument again.

‘Mari, all credit to your knowledge of politics, but you can’t really explain Pensley’s unpopularity based on his lack of charisma. Have you ever seen him speak in person?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ Mari said.

‘And you still believe the Tory platform has nothing to do with his problems?’

‘Of course it does. But when I saw Pensley speak, I knew his speeches were never going to convince anyone of anything. At most the bedridden residents of an old people’s home in a Tory area.’

Everyone waited to see what Timothy would say, but Mari beat him to it.

‘Timothy, what if I told you I thought you could know anyone, be it Brian Pensley or any of us, simply based on their speech and bearing? I don’t know Lia; I just met her tonight for the first time. But if you ask me something personal about her, I bet I can give you an answer.’

Silence fell over the party. The men eyed each other, and Lia thought,

‘Right,’ Timothy said. ‘Give me just a...