Arctic Wargame (Justin Hall # 1) (21 page)

“I apologize for my delay,” the captain said as he entered the conference room.

The commander gestured for the captain to take a seat. “How are the men doing?”

“They’ll all make it. No one is in danger of their lives.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. So what do we have?”

“The Seahawk handled the storm without a scratch. The pilot, Ms. O’Connor, did a damn good job riding the blizzard,” replied one of the men at the table.

“Where did they land?”

“We lost our tracking signal when the Seahawk was about six miles east of Nanisivik, Canada.”

“They did four hundred miles in the blizzard?” the superintendent asked. “Who are these people?”

“The blizzard, like most Arctic storms, was localized mainly around our air base. The tail end of the storm stretched over Ellesmere Island,” explained the same man who had earlier expressed admiration of the Canadian pilot. “Still, it’s quite an amazing feat.”

“Which confirms my initial suspicions these Canadians are anything but geologists,” the commander said. “Special Forces? Rangers? Canadian Air Force?”

“Whoever they are, sir, we should dispatch immediately two rescue teams,” said the deputy commander in a tense voice. “Then, when we find them—”

“Wait a second,” the commander said, trying to calm him, “we need a plan for the rescue.”

“We’re here for this purpose, sir, to draft a plan,” the deputy commander replied. “If they made it through the snowstorm, so can our pilots. We know their coordinates, and we’ll find them. Then, we’ll engage these people and force them to release the hostage and return our helo.”

“There are so many issues with your suggestion,” one of the other men said. “First, the difficulties of a night flight in the blizzard. I’m not saying our troops are incompetent, but it’s just too great of a risk to order them into a doomed mission before they even take off from the tarmac.”

The deputy commander opened his mouth to begin his objections. The commander stopped him with a stern gaze.

“Second, it’s clear from the data that we know only the possible destination of the helo, not the exact coordinates of its landing. And that’s their position as of what, thirty minutes ago?”

“Fifty minutes ago,” said another man.

“Yes, thanks. They could be anywhere, and our teams will have trouble locating them. Third, the Canadians took a Seahawk, a helicopter this air base is not even supposed to have. And we’re planning to go after them with what, other Seahawks that shouldn’t be in Greenland’s airspace? Fourth, we’ll be sending our troops into Canada, our ally. Can you imagine the repercussions of such an action?”

The deputy commander shrugged. “Since when do we worry about ‘repercussions’ of our acts? We carry out missions like this on almost a daily basis all over the world. Somalia. Pakistan. Colombia. These renegades kidnapped one of our soldiers. That act should not go unpunished.”

“It will
not
go unpunished,” the commander spoke softly, setting an example of the tone he expected from his men. “As it was pointed out accurately, we will not jeopardize our relationship with a strong ally by wreaking havoc in the Arctic. We revert to the use of force as a last resort, by targeting a precise location. Canada is not like the countries you mentioned. Our first step will be to inform the Canadian government about this crisis and to seek to resolve it through diplomatic means.”

The deputy commander raised his metal-framed glasses to the bridge of his nose and scratched his shaved head. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

“Good. I’ll contact our Chief of Mission to Canada, and he will follow this matter further through diplomatic channels.”

“Is that . . . is that all we’re doing, sir?” asked one of the men in a faltering voice. He was Support Squadron Commander of the airbase. A nurse, Emily Moore, and Sergeant Tom Brown were two of the people in his team.

“Of course not,” the commander replied. “Emily is my highest priority, and we’ll do everything we can to bring her home. I had a chance to interrogate the Canadians, when they were still recovering in the hospital. While I may have misjudged their abilities, they didn’t strike me as vicious criminals.”

“‘Vicious criminals’ is an understatement, sir,” the same man replied. “Sergeant Brown’s skull is fractured. He was tied up and left naked on the emergency room floor.”

“It’s all because of that stupid radar signal that notified us about these people in the first place,” another man blurted out. “If those technicians would stop messing around with their toys, we wouldn’t even be here at this graveyard hour.”

“Whoa, whoa,” said another voice. “If it weren’t for my team, we would have three dead people on our conscience. Three dead people, whom we could have saved. There was no way for anyone to know about this turn of events.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, my conscience is already burdened with a head-split sergeant and a kidnapped nurse, held as hostage who knows where.”

“Gentlemen,” the commander shouted, silencing their bickering. “There’s no gain in figuring out who’s to blame. Let’s focus on solutions, rather than accusations.”

Some of the men nodded in agreement.

“I was saying the Canadians seemed like decent folks,” the commander said. “I know Hall mugged Sergeant Brown, and I don’t condone his action. I’m simply accepting it as a fact, regrettable as such, yet still notable, since it tells us about his determination. It also testifies to his character. Hall is not into overkill, but precise, controlled use of physical force, in correct proportion with the needs of the situation.”

He looked around the room. “I’ll explain myself, since some of you seem lost. When the Canadians had a chance to fight back, their machine guns blasted tarmac chunks, not the flesh of our soldiers. I’m sure they’re not going to hurt Emily. They did not kid . . . take her for ransom or to pressure us into submission or negotiation. Hall was afraid we were going to pulverize the chopper. The bastard was right; I may have issued the order to shoot down the Seahawk, if it had nothing valuable on board.”

There were some nods around the table.

“Now, my question is: Why were they in such a hurry to go back? What was so important that couldn’t wait, not even three, four days, until their health improved, and we could escort them safely back to Canada?”

“They were trying to hide something,” one man guessed.

“Rushing to get rid of their tracks in whatever illegal scheme they were working on,” the deputy commander said.

“Hall claimed they had secured evidence confirming their suspicions about Danish soldiers attacking their Arctic territory.”

“What?” the superintendent asked.

“Really? That’s a clever one,” the deputy commander said in a mocking tone.

“Yes, a fascinating claim,” the commander said. “I dismissed it offhand as nonsense. But after their death-defying stunt, I’m not so sure. I want to check yesterday’s satellite monitoring records for anything out of the ordinary, in terms of Danish aircraft or icebreakers heading toward Canada. Hall talked about some isolated maneuver Denmark may be carrying out. I remember seeing a memo a few weeks back, when they were planning a training exercise, but I don’t recall its details. At the time, it looked pretty harmless. Find me anything recent about the Danish preparations for this exercise. I also want the other Seahawks on standby for a rescue mission at a moment’s notice. Pilots and armaments should be ready, awaiting my orders.”

“Sir, hmmm . . .” the superintendent began, “those choppers, the Seahawks. We’ll have to anticipate a considerable backlash from the Danish government if news about their existence at our base appears in the media.”

The commander thought about the superintendent’s words for a few moments. “I’m quite aware of our agreement with Denmark on the expansion of our base. I know it prohibits the presence of sophisticated and heavily armed fighter aircraft. But thank you for the reminder. Now, allow me to remind everyone around this table we’re the only people in possession of this secret. If the Danes start asking about our Seahawks and whether they’re in violation of our treaty with their government, I’ll start an investigation of the leak. I will not hesitate to court-martial anyone who leaks the information. Is this clear?”

The commander waited until everyone had nodded their acknowledgment before continuing. “I’ll make sure our personnel are informed about our official position on the situation. We’re actively pursuing a diplomatic solution with the government of Canada. At the same time, we’re working to ensure the return of our airman. I’ll address the troops over the radio as early as this morning. Hopefully, we’ll have more positive news by then.

“One last thing, I want all our eyes on the Canadian coast. Nothing flies over or swims in or under the waters separating Greenland from Canada without me, personally, knowing about it.”

Arctic Bay, Canada

April 14, 01:47 a.m.

“He’s a lucky bas . . .” Nilak’s voice trailed off.

He stood up as Anna entered the small spare bedroom. She tiptoed toward the bed, where Justin was buried underneath a mountain of sheets and blankets. His pale face was the only uncovered part of his body. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was heavy.

Iluak, who was sitting on a small wooden stool next to his twin brother, asked Anna, “How’s Tania doing?”

“The nurses are still with her.” She gestured toward the hall leading to Iluak’s bedroom, where Tania was wrapped in warm blankets. “They say her exposure to the freezing water was not severe, so no internal rewarming is necessary.”

“I remember they were saying something about a hot bath,” Iluak said.

“You’re right. They did that already. Has Justin said anything?”

“Not much. He complained about being cold, ten minutes ago, so I turned up the heat. It takes some time for the house to warm up, since it’s so damn cold outside,” Nilak replied.

“What did the nurses say about his arrhythmia?”

Nilak rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they mentioned it. But how do
you
know so much about this?”

“Just recovered from some serious hypothermia of my own.”

“You did?”

“Yes. All thanks to the one who’s frozen solid at the bottom of the Bay.”

“Alisha, she’s such a f . . .” He stopped and offered an apologetic smile.

Anna shrugged.

“So why did Alisha do that?” Iluak asked.

“Oh, it’s a long story. A very long story.”

Anna looked at Justin’s face. One of the nurses had combed his hair to the side and had attended to the wound on his forehead, which was now dressed neatly in clean gauze. She reached over to remove a loose hair from his eyelids, but her warm breath on his face disturbed his light sleep.

“Carrie,” he muttered, his eyes still shut. “Is that you?”

“No,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s Anna.”

“She gave you the kiss of life, and you’re confusing her with another woman?” Nilak wondered aloud, quite loud, for the small room.

“Yeah, man, what’s wrong with you?” Iluak said with a smug grin.

“I . . . I don’t know . . . maybe because I’m exhausted,” Justin replied with a wheezing sigh, which turned into a loud cough. “And dead, if she had to revive me,” he added after his hacking stopped.

Anna helped Justin to sit up. Nilak straightened Justin’s pillow and blankets, forming a soft support against the headboard.

“Did you really kiss me?” Justin whispered, reaching for her hand.

“Why? You really don’t remember?” Anna replied, her left fingers toying with a few curls at the back of his head.

“I was going to say ‘get a room,’ but you already have one,” Carrie said, interrupting their ill-timed romance. She stood at the doorway, staring at Justin and Anna, as their fingers parted ways.

“Gentlemen,” Carrie said to Nilak and Iluak. “Thank you for your help. We need the room to go over a few things.”

“We’re at the Health Center to talk to Kiawak,” Iluak said, speaking for himself and his brother. “Call us if you need anything. Mi igloo es su igloo,” he added, the usual smug grin returning to his face.

“Gracias.” Carrie closed the door behind them. She sat on one of the stools. Anna kept standing at the left side of the bed.

“What did Kiawak say?” Justin asked.

“He hasn’t said a single word, other than painful grunts,” Carrie replied. “The two nurses at the Health Center and Emily are doing what they can to detox him. That psychopath shot him with a bunch of ‘truth serums,’ as they call them, so Kiawak would do whatever she wanted. The nurses are cleaning him up pretty good. Liver, kidney, blood. When he wakes up, he’ll feel like a new man. What about you?”

Justin smiled. “I’m doing well, just very, very tired. But don’t worry about me. What did you find at the inn?”

“Alisha’s laptop. That traitor kept track of all our moves, but she was vague about the Danish schemes. But we know they’re planning to take over our Northwest Passage.”

Justin nodded as his eyes lost some of their hopeful glare. “As I suspected,” he mumbled.

“D-Day is tomorrow, well, today, April 14, 8:00 a.m.”

“We’re gonna turn it into their Day of Defeat, I promise.” Justin clenched his teeth.

“Calm down, Rambo,” Carrie said. “We don’t know where they’re flying or sailing from, but I’m a hundred percent sure it will be somewhere in west Greenland.”

“It can’t be Thule,” Anna said. “Too close to the Americans for a secret mission.”

“Wherever they’re coming from,” Carrie said, “at least we know where they headed. Nanisivik.”

“Nanisivik?” Justin asked with clear amusement.

“Yes. According to the traitor’s notes, Nanisivik is supposed to be their landing point. It’s far away from Grise Fiord and Pond Inlet, and it has a good deep-water port. And she could have flown there in the blink of an eye.”

“Before we talk about our defense strategy, can you get me some painkillers, please? Whatever they have; my head is exploding.”

“I’ll get you some aspirin,” Anna said, heading for the door.

“Maybe even something stronger,” Justin said.