Killer

“What do you want me to say? It is a childish coincidence that he resembles Torgasoak, true; and yet . . .” He thought for a while, trying to define his almost religious regard for his friend, trying to put it in a way she would understand. “Among Innuit,” he said quietly, dreamily, “there is a belief that a man can only become a shaman, a truly powerful person, a man who can control the Inua and communicate with the gods, in only one way. He must be eaten by the white Bear and survive.”

“And Colin had his arm chewed by the polar bear on the first night . . .”

He laughed. “Yes, there is that, but no, it’s not what I meant. It was what Jeremiah told me of the Antarctic. The storm there, when it came in its final stage came as a white bear. There was no doubt in his mind, you see, and he placed certainty in my mind also.”

“He loved Colin Ross, too.”

“Oh no. Jeremiah hated him during those last few days. I have never seen such hatred in a man.” Job shook his head.

Kate’s head snapped back, her eyes wide, searching Job’s calm face. “He hated him? But why? I mean, Colin saved him . . .”

“Yes. That was it, you see. Jeremiah wanted to die in the cold. You don’t understand . . .” He paused again, thinking carefully. “Jeremiah knew he was dead when he broke his leg. There was no chance of surviving after that. For a while he might live, but he would never walk, he would never know a woman. And he was a proud man, Jeremiah, he would take nothing from anyone. He hated a debt, and he died owing Colin an arm, owing him a life he didn’t even want.”

“But his testimony saved Colin’s reputation.”

“True. He was never a small-minded man, my brother. He would not strike back like that. If he could not do it man to man, he would leave it to spirits more powerful than he.”

“And you? How do you feel about it?”

“There is a death joining us. I will stay with him and help him if he needs helping, until the debt is paid.”

“But you haven’t been near him in five years!”

“We have been close enough.” There was silence. Suddenly Job seemed to her to have become a strangely sinister figure. She remembered the fear his quiet voice had engendered in her on the plane when she had first met him. The basic fundamental pattern of his and Colin’s relationship as she saw it had been upset, and she was by no means certain whose side the debt was on; whether Job felt he owed Colin a life, or whether he expected to take one.

Kate frowned, trying to understand. Anywhere else, with any other people involved, it would be too ridiculous for words; and yet she found she could believe it of the strange, silent Eskimo torn between two fundamentally opposing cultures, full of strange mystical beliefs which seemed to make so much sense up here in this nightmare environment.

“But you think he’s one of these shamans?”

“I don’t know. What I believe is of no importance. Jeremiah believed. I said I would be here at an ending. I swore. I will be here.”

“An ending?” She didn’t really want to know, but she had to ask.

“Yes. I swore. Until an ending: his or mine. It is necessary for Jeremiah.”

“Do you really believe all of this?” Her voice was strident.

“It is of no importance.” His voice was weary. He had fallen into the trap he feared for the others. He had revealed too much of himself to this girl. He could not stay with her any longer, now that she knew so much, for she would try to find out more, and God alone knew where that might lead. He pulled himself to his feet, put on his anorak, overtrousers and boots, and went outside.

For several moments, Kate waited, her mind trying to fathom it, a strange sense of unreality making her doubt everything about her. Then she got up and followed him outside.

Colin and Simon were crouched over the fire tray, and Job was picking up stuff from around the wreck of the storage tent, putting the tins he had collected into the latrine-cum-storage tent.

“More coffee?” asked Colin.

“Long as it’s hot,” she said absently.

For a while they remained as they were, the two men bending assiduously over the fire, the girl reserved, distant, watching the Eskimo with narrowed eyes. Then Colin asked, “What is it, Kate?”

“Umm? Oh. Nothing.” She frowned, angry with herself— no sooner had she decided it would be unwise to dig further into what Job had told her than she was making it quite obvious that there was something wrong. She joined them and, much to his relief, took the pot away from Colin, who went to help Job.

“What’s the matter with Kate?” he asked, quietly, in case his voice carried.

“She asked too many questions.”

“And you answered them?”

“Yes.”

“Was that wise, Job?”

“It was not wise, no.”

They took the last of the tins into the new storage tent with its untidy pile of boxes and its single evil-smelling chemical toilet. There was no more to be said, so they silently cleared the glass and the orange ice off the floe and dumped it all into the quietly slopping hole around which it lay.

“It won’t take much more,” said Ross, looking around at the remains of the floe.