Twelve.
"This is insane!" Ruffnut grumbled as they paused outside the main branch of BerkBank, just off Chietain's Plaza. Tuffnut had insisted on accompanying his sister, since he was genuinely worried about her safety. His sister had explained exactly what they were facing and though he had expressed his concerns, he could see that Ruff was determined to help. And then mention of all that money had allayed his disquiet as well. Astrid stared at her: Ruffnut had attempted to dress smartly-presumably in the dress she wore for her various court appearances-but seeing the woman in her bright pink strapless satin party dress with a bolero style black jacket and improbably high heels, she wondered if anyone would take the woman seriously at all.
"Do exactly what I say," Astrid told her firmly, clenching her fists. Tuff was looking more normal-though this was a relative term with his long blond dreadlocks-because he was wearing a skinny brown single-breasted pinstripe suit with pale cream shirt and tie. The only thing that ruined the effect were his green converse. He took his sister's arm and looked into her worried eyes.
"You okay, butt-elf?" he asked in a low voice and she nodded, chewing her lip thoughtfully.
"Did you ever think we may accidentally be working on the good side for once?" she asked him and he shuddered.
"Yeah-I was trying to forget that," he grumped. "If word of this gets out, we'll be thrown out of the family-literally."
"Hey-that's true!" Ruff admitted. "Can I change my mind, Ast?"
"AST?" the ghost snapped and narrowed her eyes. The diminutive echoed Heather's name for her and she needed to keep her volcanic temper under wraps. "Focus! I need you to listen to me. You will walk up to the main information desk and ask for the personal accounts manager. Introduce yourself as Miss Wenda Shearer." Ruff rolled her eyes.
"Do I look like a Wenda?" she huffed.
"You do today," Astrid told her firmly.
"Wenda?" Tuff giggled, pointing at his hapless sister. "What did you do to deserve that?" Ruff turned and punched him then stomped into the Bank, pausing just inside and gaping.
BerkBank was the premier bank in the Archipelago, a massive marble-lined construct with a high ceiling to the main hall, deep green carpet and frosted glass etched with the double-headed axe of the Bank on all windows and surfaces. Tuff arrived and blinked, then linked his arms with his twin and the two walked confidently up to the main information desk, looking really confident since they were experienced confidence tricksters. There was an awkward pause and then the very homely and solid woman in the green and brown uniform looked up, her stern face calm. Her badge read: Hello. My name is Phlegma.
"Hello...Phlegma," Ruff said with her unsettling leer. "I wish to speak to your Personal Accounts Manager urgently." The woman frowned.
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked coolly.
"You don't need an appointment as a customer with a Platinum Wealth Account," Astrid told her.
"My Platinum Wealth Account is my appointment, dearie," Ruff smirked. The woman's dark eyes widened and she reached for her phone immediately, murmuring a hasty conversation. "Please take the seats over there," she said and gestured to a selection of three neat green armchairs, all crisply unholstered. The twins nodded thanks and sat as directed, Tuff pinching a pen along the way. Astrid slowly turned around.
"We always use Archi Bank," she murmured. "No one here knows Heather personally-she chose here because they're big and busy and have a reputation for pandering to clients with substantial accounts...the account was opened online so this is her first trip in person. You have the account number, passcode and password so you will be able to access the money."
"How much money are we talking about?" Ruff hissed. The only reason Astrid had agreed to her twin coming along was it gave her someone to talk to, so she didn't seem to be quite as insane. Quite...
"A lot. Now please do as I say and...here we go," Astrid said calmly, seeing a medium sized bald man with jug ears and a bushy moustache approach. His suit was a neat grey and his name badge read 'Hello. My name is Sven Shepherd.' Ruffnut shot up to her feet and leered, offering her hand.
"Hi! It's a pleasure to see you ..." she began.
"Managers are all called Mister!" Astrid hissed.
"...Mr Shepherd," Ruff continued. "My name is Wenda Sheeter..."
"Shearer!" Astrid snapped.
"Shearer!" the spiritualist corrected herself. "And I need to withdraw some funds from my account."
"Miss Shearer, it's a complete pleasure to meet you at last," the man said, his voice ridiculously squeaky and high. He gestured forward to a neat desk to one side with two chairs. Tuff rose and walked by his sister, his eyes flicking around the sumptuous space. Ruff made a great show of sitting down. "Please-how much do you want to withdraw?"
"All of it," Astrid said steadily.
"The whole lot," Ruff said after a pause. Sven's eyes widened in shock.
"You-you want to withdraw three hundred and eighteen thousand dollars?" he checked.
"How much?" Ruff choked.
"Dude-say again?" her twin echoed and Astrid used her new focus to prod both of them in the ribs. Both yelped.
"Pull yourselves together!" she snapped. "Remember-this is your damned account! You know what's in there!" Ruff scowled.
"I mean...of course I do..." she announced. "I had...forgotten...that there was only three hundred and eighteen thousand dollars..." Sven Shepherd sighed.
"Give me the account number please," he asked. Astrid closed her eyes and concentrated. Since she had died, her memory had achieved a new clarity-presumably because all the mortal things like breathing, eating, digesting and so forth were no longer detracting from her attention. She smiled.
"9-2-1-5-..." she began.
"Let me think...9...2...1...5..." Ruff began, listening hard.
"...6-8-3-7!"
"...6...8...3...7..."
Sven smiled at her. "And the passcode?" he asked.
"1015," Astrid smiled. Ruffnut repeated it and gave a huge grin.
"And the final password?" Sven asked her.
"BROR," Astrid said clearly, though she could have guessed it. Brother. The reason why she was dead, why Hiccup's life was in danger-and why Heather had to be stopped. Ruff smiled.
"Bror," she repeated. Sven nodded.
"And how would you like the money?" he asked as the twins' eyes widened in utter delight.
"Cheque-made to cash!" Astrid commanded. The spiritualist was almost trembling with excitement as she repeated the instructions. Sven stared at her.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Couldn't I just arrange a nice bank secure transfer?"
"Cheque made to cash!" Ruff repeated instantly, her eyes round. Tuff looked at her.
"Anyone could cash it," he pointed out.
"Yeah-as long as that anyone is us," she snapped, seeing Sven head to the cashier and log into the computer to generate her cheque. "This is really gonna change our lives, mutton-head! We can get a better place, maybe a car...pay off those guys..." Astrid sighed and watched Sven print out the cheque.
"You can't keep it, guys," she told them heavily. This was the part of the plan that she knew she couldn't share with Ruffnut.
"What?" Ruff squeaked.
"What is it?" her twin asked, eyes searching the empty space as if loving accusingly for the ghost. There were moments when Tuff almost felt he could catch the edge of her voice-but he knew that was impossible: only Thorston women had 'the gift'. Then Ruff turned to him, her expression like thunder.
"She says," she growled, "that we can't keep it."
"Um, pretty sure we can, Ast," Tuff said smugly. "Fold cheque, put in pocket...yup!"
"No," Astrid said firmly. "The money could be traced-by Heather and her psychopathic murderous brother..."
"We could move away...a long, long way away..." Ruff suggested, rather desperately. "Maybe to the Loki Mission in Antarctica?"
"Heather is very clever, very cunning and unfortunately, completely amoral," Astrid explained. "Look-he's coming back-and he's going to ask what you want the cash for. It's standard banking procedure to check you aren't laundering money or removing the proceeds of crime." Both twins froze and sank back into their seats. Sven sat neatly down at his desk and smoothed the cheque on the blotter in front of you, his hands flat on the precious piece of paper. His eyes were cool.
"I have to ask," he said. "This is an extremely large amount of money to be able to cash and I have to check that you are not planning on using the money for nefarious purposes." Ruffnut raised an eyebrow.
"Nefarious?" she asked archly. Tuff clouted her shoulder.
"Oh-you know, sis. Illegal!" he explained smugly. "Buying drugs, booze, paying off gang members, receiving stolen goods, organising a hit, gambling, bribes, prostitution..." Ruff was making frantic gestures to get him to shut up and Astrid-unseen-was face-palming. Sven's face hardened.
"Precisely," he said in an icy voice. Ruff sagged.
"Please ignore my idiot brother," she grumped. "He watches far too much TV and imagines he knows all about that stuff!" Then she stared at the man and sighed. "I appreciate this is a lot of money but you are aware that I work for Hofferson Investments and our founder, Chief Executive-and my closest friend, Astrid Hofferson-was recently murdered..." Sven's face instantly changed and he looked shocked and sympathetic.
"Oh, I am sorry," he mumbled, reaching for the tissues, Ruff grabbed two and immediately began dabbing her eyes.
"It has been a very hard time," she sniffed behind the tissue as Astrid watched in mild horror. This was Ruffnut Thorston, con-woman in full flow...and Sven was buying it. "And the money in question was from her personal dividend...so rather than allowing it to be lost, I wanted it to be used to honour one of her final wishes." Sven instantly nodded and handed the cheque over.
"Of course, Miss Shearer," he said sincerely, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "I truly hope this helps you honour Miss Hofferson. Though she did not bank with us, her reputation was well-known in the financial community and she was well-respected for her honesty and diligence."
"Except in choosing my friends," Astrid grumbled. Ruffnut prised the cheque from Sven's hands and swiped her dry eyes again.
"I feel it will help her rest easier if she feels her last wishes are being honoured," she said then rose. She stuck out her hand. "Thank you so much, Mr Shepherd. I truly mean it. You have been...amazing!" Sven shook her hand firmly and Tuff's, though the male twin was shocked at how easily the man had bought the con.
"Yeah-thanks," he mumbled and offered his twin his arm. "Ready, my dear?" Cheque clamped in her hand so tightly her fingers were turning white, Ruff grinned.
"Indubitably, dear brother," she said and they walked calmly out of the bank without meeting anyone's eyes. It was only when they were out on the sidewalk that they screamed in joy and began an impromptu barn-dance around one another. Astrid folded her arms and watched them with a sigh.
"We're rich!" Ruff yelled, swinging around her brother.
"And you have to give it away," Astrid snapped. "If you keep it, Heather will hunt you down like a dog."
"She can do that?" Ruff asked suspiciously. Astrid sighed, seeing other people on the grey morning street begin to look at the twins' antics.
"All financial people can trace money-and you're not exactly being discreet," the ghost snapped. "People will remember you as those idiots who were dancing on the street waving a cheque in the air, describe you-and then they will be able to trace who you are..." The twins looked rebellious.
"Hey-we can be discreet it we want!" Ruff said very loudly. More heads turned at that.
"Yeah-really discreet!" Tuff yelled.
"Fine-but don't blame me when you two are looking for a medium to communicate with someone to complain that Dagur has murdered you!" she snapped. They paused. "Look-we're doing this to stop Heather and make sure she and her murderous brother don't get away with what they have done to me and Hiccup," she added grimly. Ruff sighed, hearing the tone.
"Come on, idiot-let's get out of here," she said, grabbing her brother's arm. "She's right-people are looking at us-and remember what that judge said?"
"You mean about scamming and conning people out of money?" Tuff asked, falling into step alongside her. Ruff stomped along grumpily.
"More like not conning people any more," she grumped. "Or something about lengthy custodial sentences being applied?" Tuff sighed.
"Is there no limit to their no-funness?" he lamented as they ambled down the street. Despite being dressed for a party, Ruff was stamping along like a labourer and Tuff was scampering to keep up. But at least Astrid had achieved her first goal-and the she smiled.
"STOP!" she ordered. Ruff screeched to a halt and her twin slammed into the back of her, almost knocking her over. The female twin rolled her eyes.
"What now?" she protested. There was a pause.
"Sign the back of the cheque," Astrid ordered and Ruff snatched the stolen pen from Tuff and scrawled her name on the back.
"What now?" she demanded. Astrid glanced across the street, at the two scruffy women shaking a bucket in hope rather than expectation, the thin black mutt sitting by their side, giving a very Toothless-like doggy smile. The sign on the side of the bucket read: BERK DOGS HOME.
"Over there," the ghost said firmly. "Across the street. The couple collecting..." Ruff's eyes widened in shock and horror.
"You want us to GIVE IT AWAY?" she screeched. "What kind of person are you?"
"A ghost murdered by the brother of the same person you've just stolen the money from!" Astrid reminded her.
"What is wrong with you?" Tuff asked, scowling. He couldn't hear Astrid but his sister's appalled exclamation had told him what she had suggested. Astrid leaned close to Ruff's ear.
"Ruff-you will give the money to those people collecting for the Dog's Home," she said sternly. "Heather will not let this go and if you keep the money, you will be in danger..." And then the ghost grasped Ruff's shoulders and frog-marched her across to the collectors. They looked cold, their woolly hats pulled down and scarves wound around their necks but their eyes widened and they smiled at the overdressed and very grumpy blonde who was speeding towards them, her brother running after her and shouting what she was doing. Ruff was whimpering.
"RUFFNUT THORSTON! Hand over the damned money!" Astrid shouted and with tears in her eyes, Ruff stuffed the cheque into their collecting bucket.
"This is for you..." she said, her hand not quite letting go of the paper. The older woman grasped the cheque and there was a brief but unseemly wrestle before she managed to drag it from Ruff's ferocious grip. "Cramp..." the spiritualist mumbled as the woman glanced at the cheque-and then dropped the bucket, her jaw hanging open in astonishment. She showed her friend and they both looked up in awe and gratitude.
"Noooooo!" Tuff shouted, dropping to his knees and clutching at his dreadlocks as he saw their joy at receiving the signed cheque. "Why, Loki? Why do you torment us so!"
But the women had tears in their eyes and they both clasped Ruff's hands tightly.
"Thank you so much," they said, over and over. Ruff sighed.
"You're welcome, y'know?" she said defeatedly and turned away.
"Odin bless you!" the older woman shouted to her as she trudged off down the street, Tuff crawling after her in misery.
"Yeah, preferably with wealth and long life, emphasis on the first, by the way," Ruff grumbled as she marched off. "And get up, mutton-head! You'll ruin your only court suit!" But Astrid was smiling, seeing the happiness the stolen money-her own money, by the way-was creating. In some small way, supporting the Dog's Home-which was where Hiccup had gotten Toothless from as a puppy, after he had been left in a cardboard box in an alley-was a small way of repaying the mutt for giving his life to protect her lover.
"You've done a very good thing," Astrid reassured her as she stamped down the street, trying to hail a taxi. Tuff looked close to tears and kept mumbling that 'the chicken was right!' Ruff shook her head as she waved at a cab. It sped past.
"This is officially the worst day of my life!" she grumbled as it began to drizzle. Astrid stood by her and sighed.
"Take it from some one who knows," she said. "It really isn't. Get home and lie low. I have a call to make."
oOo
Heather was still in Astrid's office and the ghost found anger rising in her throat at the sight of her betrayer sitting at her desk in her chair with Hiccup's picture still perched on the corner of the desk. The raven-haired woman was on the phone, talking agitatedly.
"I am sure we can come to an accommodation," she said, using all her negotiating skills. "If we give you three hundred now and the other two seventy five in a week?" She paused and nodded. "Yes, Mister Grimborn. I understand. And I realise your generosity is expensive but..." She sighed. "I'll make the transfer by midnight." She scribbled the numbers down on the jotter. "Yes, Mister Grimborn-you can count on me." And then she held the phone against her face after he had hung up, closing her eyes with a shuddering sigh. "Gods, Dagur-do you realise what you've cost me?"
"I think I can guess," Astrid commented, circling the woman. "Your business partner. Your liberty. Maybe your conscience?" Heather sat down and typed furiously.
"This can be traced to me," she sighed aloud. "I swear, if you weren't my only living relative, I would let you face what you've caused..."
"No," Astrid said quietly, "you had a choice between robbing me, killing me and turning in my killer-and instead, you set him on my Hiccup. And while I believe that you didn't intend my death, ever since, you have betrayed me...for a murderous psychopath." And she walked round to inspect the screen as Heather logged onto her account.
Account Number: 9215-6837
Access Code: 1015
Account Balance: $00.00
"WHAT?" Heather screeched. "No, no, no, no, no...there must be some mistake..." She logged out and logged back in again-and got the same result. Furious, she slammed her hands against the screen. "NO! HOW HAS THIS HAPPENED?" She grabbed the phone and dialled furiously. "BerkBank? Put on your personal accounts manager now!" She drummed her fingers on the desk and Astrid smirked, sliding the keyboard slightly across. "This is Wenda Shearer. Yes...what the hell happened to my account?" she demanded. Astrid grinned as she recognised the squeaky voice of Sven Shepherd.
"Nothing," he said. "It's exactly how you left it this morning when you withdrew all the funds..."
"WHAT?" she screamed. "NO! I never came in and..."
"I am sorry, Miss, but you had the account numbers and all codes...so I satisfied all security protocols...even making the necessary enquiries when we issued the cheque..."
"You gave my money to some imposter?" Heather shouted.
IT WASN'T YOUR MONEY, WAS IT HEATHER?
She stared in shock, jaw dropping as the words crawled across the screen.
"Wh-what?" she gasped.
"Miss Shearer, if you have any concerns, I am happy to transfer your call to our security and fraud department..." Sven continued.
The keys dipped again as the words appeared on the screen once more.
THEY'D LOVE TO SEE YOUR ID, MISS SHEARER. AND WHERE YOU GOT THE MONEY...
Heather hung up, the phone hitting the desk with a thud. "Who are you?"
The photograph spun round, displaying Hiccup and Astrid hugging with Toothless lain across their laps. They were in the Park, as usual. Then the seat shot across the room. Heather swallowed.
"Okay-very funny joke!" she said aloud. "Amy, Bella...Jeremy-it's you, isn't it?"
NOT JEREMY. AND NO JOKE. OUR MISDEEDS ALWAYS FIND US OUT.
Confused green eyes flicked back to the photograph. "It's can't be," she breathed. "Ast?" The pen rolled back and forth across the desk then flicked straight across the room. "What-what do you want?"
GIVE ME BACK MY LIFE.
Heather back-pedalled until she hit the back wall, hyperventilating.
"I never meant it to happen. I never wanted you hurt. He was just supposed to grab your bag and give me the account access numbers. I needed that money to save him. But you had to fight and he-he's not the most stable..."
WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST ASK?
"It was my mess. I had to sort it out. And he was my brother..."
IT WAS MY LIFE.
Heather scrambled forward, leaning so she was inches from the screen, talking in a low, pleading tone. "Please, please-I need that money. They will kill him and that will leave me all alone in the world. So you see-I had to help him-and no one was harmed by taking the money..."
EXCEPT ME. I SEEM TO BE DEAD. FUNNY THAT...
"I need that money by midnight," Heather growled. "Where is it?"
The cursor just blinked, the keys no longer moving. Heather swept the keyboard aside in rage then grabbed the photo. "See this?" she growled. "My brother is going after your boyfriend. Give me the money and I'll call him off."
"No, you won't!" Astrid snapped, slapping her hands forward and knocking Heather back a few paces. She shook her head. The focus needed was very draining because it was a skill that she was unused to-and she was sure she would improve with time....but she didn't have any time. Heather looked around and slammed the photo onto the desk, the frame shattering and tearing the picture.
"The money by ten or Hiccup dies," she hissed.
And then the rage boiled up through Astrid-fury at the betrayal, the lies, the cruelty to her beloved Hiccup...and at her murder. Energy surged through her and Heather looked around in shock as sparks began to crackle from the computer, the power point and the light. The screen began to vibrate along with the windows. And then Astrid screamed, the lights exploding, along with the screen and the etched glass that formed the door and wall of her office. The sounds of shattering glass filled the office as every eye turned towards Heather, who was fleeing, her purse clutched in her hand. She ducked through the last flying shards-and then vanished into the elevator...and was gone.
Collapsing briefly to her knees, Astrid blinked and then looked around. "I guess negative emotions are much stronger," she murmured and then rose to her feet. "Except love...which is strongest of them all..." Her eyes trailed over the ripped picture. "Hiccup. I have to warn him...and I know just who is perfect for the job..."
oOo
"Is this correct?" Stoick's cool grey-green eyes flicked up from the report to the tall, buff shape standing at ease at the opposite side of the desk, his deep hazel eyes calm. The man was in nondescript brown pants, shirt and jacket, his thick black hair tied in a ponytail, his striking face calm and respectful. Erick 'Eret' Eretson was a former marine and special ops soldier whose father had known Stoick and who had turned to the financier when his life had taken a serious turn south. Stoick had smoothed over the problems and employed Eret as his freelance investigator-notionally on the books of Hoark Law's subsidiary, Eretson Investigations-for special investigations. He had never failed because he was highly intelligent, persistent, had excellent contacts and a knack for not taking 'no' for an answer.
"I checked the description, Chief," he said, his British accent clear. "The man who tried to kidnap your son and injured him-and who fits the description you were given for the murderer of Miss Hofferson-is one Dagur DeRange. A career criminal wanted for murder, theft, kidnapping and up to his neck in gambling debts."
"But why is he after Hiccup?" Stoick asked. Eret sighed.
"He's kidnapped before-though he doesn't return his victims alive-and he's desperate for money," Eret added, his brow furrowing. "He must know that Hiccup is worth the half million he owes!"
Stoick sat back in his chair, his face aghast.
"Half a million?" he gasped, grasping the peril. A man who murdered for fun-as the dossier indicated-would go to any lengths when he needed that much money. The fact he had killed Astrid was inevitable, given his record. And he knew his son wouldn't survive if he fell into Dagur's hands.
"But why her? Why him?" he murmured. His face tilting into a sympathetic expression.
"I'm sorry, Chief," he sighed. "But his only living relative is his sister-whom you know as Heather Oswaldson."
"Heather?" Stoick gasped.
"And your son's girlfriend held the access to sufficient money to save him," Eret said grimly. "Her death can be no coincidence. But something went wrong-and now the attack suggests he is after your son..." Stoick grasped the phone with a shaking hand and pressed speed-dial.
"Gobber? Is he with you?" he asked hoarsely. There was a pause.
"O' course not! He's yer son, Stoick! As soon as yer left, he went home!" At the brash words, the financier groaned and rested back in his chair.
"Of course he's gone home against my orders. What was I thinking? He's Hiccup!" he grumbled. "Pick me up and we'll head over there." Eret checked his pistol.
"Do you want me to come as well, sir?" he asked gravely and Stoick nodded, dialling another number.
"Spitelout?" Stoick said shortly, speaking to his brother and head of his forensic and misappropriation department. "I need you to investigate every access and financial transfer Heather Oswaldson has made since Astrid Hofferson's death. I have reason to believe she has embezzled a substantial sum of money that may be related to Astrid's death. Yes-of course I have authority. Astrid made me her partner and executor in case anything happened to her. And that means we protect her legacy!"
Eret raised an eyebrow. "A woman of impeccable judgement," he commented.
"Except with her best friend," Stoick said grimly rising to his feet. He finally dialled one last number: 9-1-1. He took a deep breath as it was answered. "This is urgent. I need the police..."