They rode straight into the wind, Luke in front, Kristian clinging on behind, with the snowmobile’s 800cc engine whining in protest as they lurched over the crests and unseen bumps. If the going had been hard before, it was worse now. As the wind-borne snow stung their cheeks, even Luke began to wonder if he had made the right decision. Svalbard felt right now like the remotest place on Earth, and he had known some pretty inhospitable corners of the planet. Hell, at least on the Norwegian mainland they had trees …

Once again, the house they sought appeared to rear out of the gloom right at the last minute so that Luke had to brake quite suddenly, causing his passenger to bump up hard against him. They parked up in a spot behind a slight rise and just out of the wind, then dismounted. With the snow swirling and the light fading fast it was hard to tell, but the place certainly looked deserted. Instinctively, Luke patted his right hip and then the side of his thigh, looking for the pistol that wasn’t there. Damn. Once more he was finding himself compromised, heading unarmed into an uncertain situation with the clock running against him.

He beckoned Kristian closer and cupped his hand as he spoke into his ear above the noise of the wind. ‘Are you carrying?’ he asked the Norwegian.

‘Again, please?’

Luke removed his glove and held his hand across his chest, finger pointing, thumb cocked. ‘I said, are you carrying a weapon? Are you armed?’

Kristian shook his head sadly. ‘Only this.’ He produced what looked to Luke like a car fob.

‘What’s that, then?’

‘It’s a beeper. To contact my office in Oslo. In emergency.’ Kristian looked down at the fob. ‘But I think it’s not working.’

‘All right,’ Luke said, speaking directly into his ear as they stood against the outside wall, just to one side of the front door. ‘We split into two. The light’s going, so we’ll cover more ground that way. You go in through the front.’ Luke pointed at the door. ‘I’m going to check out round the back. Then I’ll join you inside. Shout if you run into trouble.’

The wind nearly knocked Luke sideways and tiny frozen ice particles stung his cheeks as he moved round the corner of the house and out of its lee. His eyes scanned left and right: a long low wall encircling what looked like a yard with a row of outhouses, or they might have once been stables, at the back. He peered over the wall into the yard. He could see an abandoned fridge, its door hanging open, its shelves bare, and a pile of agricultural pallets. In one easy movement he flipped himself over the wall and into the yard, making a direct line for the outhouses.