‘Barentsburg is a small place,’ Kristian interjected, answering for him. ‘It’s just a mining colony, really. Less than five hundred people. So I think Ivan would have told us by now if—’

‘Yes.’ Ivan cut him short, his lean face now suddenly serious. ‘As it happens, I have.’

Luke put down his half-finished glass of akvavit. They were past jokes now.

‘It was two, maybe three weeks ago,’ Ivan continued. ‘I was on my rounds on my snowmobile to the east of here.’ He gestured out of the window, where the snow was whipping against the glass pane. ‘You know, checking my traps, monitoring the reindeer, like I always do. Then I noticed that someone had moved into Karlsen’s house, and I thought, That’s strange, because the old bastard died two years ago and he still owes me money.’

‘When you say “moved in”,’ Luke asked, frowning, ‘how do you mean, exactly?’

‘Moving in! Isn’t that what you say in English? Yes, they had packing cases, lots of them, and rolls of plastic. So I drove up to the door. There was this guy standing there, and I said, “Hello, I’m Ivan. I’m kind of like your neighbour, you know?” But this guy, he wasn’t from here, he wasn’t even from Norway. I spoke to him in Russian, he answered me, and he was quite rude actually.’

‘What did he say?’ Kristian this time. Luke noticed he had downed his shot in one.

‘He told me to mind my own business,’ Ivan replied. ‘He said that they had come here for the nature, for the peace and quiet, and they did not wish to be disturbed.’

‘Didn’t that … um,’ Luke said, trying not to sound rude himself, ‘didn’t that sound a little suspicious? Did you report this to anyone?’

Ivan stretched out his lean frame on the chair and folded his arms behind his head before answering. ‘Please understand, Lou—’

‘Luke.’ Immediately he wished he hadn’t said that, because this man was only trying to be helpful. Luke reminded himself that he had just flown through the night from London, driven halfway across Svalbard and watched a man bleed out in front of him. ‘Sorry, I interrupted you,’ he said.

‘Please understand, Luke, that this is Svalbard. If you’re not here for coal or fishing, you’re here for the nature. It’s all we have, mister. So, no, I didn’t report it.’ Ivan turned to Kristian and said something in Norwegian. Luke watched the two men smiling and sharing a joke before Kristian turned to translate it for his benefit.

‘He says the local police chief is a piss-head who couldn’t care less anyway.’