Arctic Wargame (Justin Hall # 1) (8 page)

“So we’re just going to stay here?” Alisha asked with an accusatory frown.

“No. Follow me.” Carrie pushed the helicopter’s door shut and gestured toward one of the houses. “We’ll go after them.”

“Who tipped him off?” Anna asked, trying to keep up with Carrie, who began running. Alisha had already fallen behind, struggling with the slippery ice sheet covering the trail.

“Maybe one of Kiawak’s buddies. But then, people caught up in these kinds of deals keep an ear to the ground at all times and live in constant fear. I mean, look, this guy bolted out of his home as soon as he heard the chopper.”

Before Carrie knocked on the door of the house, she looked to her right. Kiawak and Justin were just getting into the Mazda truck. Carrie knocked hard on the door, which opened within a few moments.

“We need your snowmobile,” she demanded from the sleepy-eyed man at the door. “I’m with the Rangers.”

* * *

Within five minutes, Justin and Kiawak had given up their chase. Nuqatlak was riding over the coastline. The ice was too thin to support the weight of a truck. It was dangerous even for the snowmobile, but Nuqatlak was determined to avoid capture at all costs.

Carrie and Anna were riding over a slope, on a higher level than the fugitives and at a safer distance from the coast. The zigzagging trail of Nuqatlak’s snowmobile snaked around crevasses, leads, and heaps of packed ice. He kept going toward Jones Sound, where the melting ice floes met the water.

“Left! Turn left!” Anna screamed into Carrie’s ear as she clung to her waist.

Carrie turned the handlebar to avoid crashing into an ice hill. They were airborne for a couple of seconds.

“I saw the damn thing too,” Carrie yelled back. The snowmobile responded to gravity’s call and landed on the packed snow.

“Sorry.” Anna took a deep breath, loosening her grasp around Carrie, even though they were going faster. “It just seemed so close.”

Nuqatlak and the woman—Carrie was sure the passenger was female, since at one point they were so close her silhouette was very clear—were doing more than fifty miles per hour, extremely dangerous for the fragile terrain.

“Can’t they see they’re near the water?” Carrie asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I hope they turn around. We can’t interrogate the dead.”

Carrie eased on the throttle.

“Why are we slowing down?” Anna asked. “We need to catch up to them.”

“I’m not sure if we’re riding over the ice sheet on the ground or over floating ice.”

“What? But, in that case—”

“Yeah. We may go through the ice.”

The open water leads, formed wherever sections of ice floes pulled apart because of ice shifting, confirmed their fear. They were riding over a thin layer of ice. Ice hills had become less frequent, another sign of the dangerous conditions of the area. Nuqatlak must have realized the ice might become too thin very soon because he slowed down and made a sharp U-turn. The snowmobile lost traction for a couple of seconds, skidded over the ice sheet, and crashed into a low snow bank. The woman almost fell off her seat.

“They’re trapped,” Carrie shouted. “Maybe we can get to them now.”

Her hope was short-lived, as Nuqatlak’s snowmobile pulled away from the snow bank and barreled toward Carrie and Anna. Carrie avoided a head-on collision by sliding to the left at the last possible moment. As the fugitives passed them, she noticed a sawed-off shotgun hanging on the side of the snowmobile.

“They’re armed,” Carrie said.

“Let’s hope they don’t start shooting.”

Carrie had just turned around when Nuqatlak’s snowmobile jerked to the right. The woman raised her shotgun.

Carrie gripped the throttle lever. The snowmobile jumped forward and landed behind an ice hill. Lead pellets struck their brittle cover. Sharp ice slivers showered Carrie and Anna.

“They’re shooting at us.” Anna squinted as shreds of ice crackled against her helmet.

“Here.” Carrie reached inside her jacket for her Browning 9mm pistol. “You know how to use this?”

“Yes, I do.” Anna cocked the gun. “Grandpa used to take me to the range.”

Carrie took a quick peek. The shotgun blast had given the fugitives a big advantage. She resumed the chase, and soon Carrie and Anna were gaining on their target. Nuqatlak attempted to climb over a small ridge. The woman behind him raised her shotgun. Before she could point it at them, Anna pulled her pistol’s trigger twice.

She missed both times.

“Shoot the bastards,” Carrie encouraged her.

The snowmobile was almost over the ridge when Anna made her grandfather proud. She drove her third bullet into the woman’s right shoulder. The woman was able to hold on to Nuqatlak, at least for a short time, then she tipped to the left. The snowmobile dragged her until she brushed against an ice boulder and fell off.

Nuqatlak flew over the ice floes even faster than before. He dodged a small crevasse by shifting the weight of his body to the right. His move lifted the left ski of the snowmobile off the ground. Nuqatlak leaned to the other side and avoided tipping over. He looked over his shoulder and produced a small pistol. He continued riding in a crisscross pattern, struggling to control his snowmobile with his left hand while trying to point the pistol with his right hand at Carrie and Anna, who were now less than one hundred feet behind him.

Anna leveled her pistol at Nuqatlak’s shoulders. She moved the sight of the gun a fraction of an inch, aiming for his right arm, before firing two shots. The first one missed. The second one found its target. Nuqatlak leaned forward very slightly, as if hitting an unexpected bump on the trail. Then he took a plunge along with his snowmobile. He rolled over the ice, his head slamming hard on a boulder, as he went through a couple of three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spins. Finally, he lay flat on his back a short distance away.

“That was great, Anna.” Carrie stopped their snowmobile beside Nuqatlak.

His chest was barely rising, and his neck was twisted unnaturally to the left.

“Is he . . . is he still alive?” Anna whispered in a shaky voice.

He answered her question with an involuntary hand twitch.

Carrie dashed toward him. She lifted up his head very slowly. Blood trailed down from his lips, his nose, and the left side of his head. His helmet was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t worry.” Carrie steadied his head in her hands.

Nuqatlak coughed out blood.

Anna checked his pulse. She shook her head at Carrie and said, “It’s weak.” She looked at him. “You’re going to be OK,” she said with a whimper.

“No, I’m going to die.” His lips hardly parted as his voice rasped. He struggled to breathe and speak at the same time.

“We’ll take you to a hospital. We have a chopper,” Carrie whispered. She wondered if the end would have been different had she decided to use the helicopter in the chase.

“Too late,” Nuqatlak groaned. “I won’t make it.”

Anna fought back her tears.

“Why . . . why did you run away?” Carrie asked.

He coughed out blood again. “The guns. I know you came for the guns.”

Carrie hesitated, thinking about her next question. Nuqatlak’s pulse was growing weaker by the second. “The guns . . . where did they come from?”

His head fell forward, but he muttered no words.

“Where did you get them?” Carrie asked.

Nuqatlak’s eyes moved toward the right. “North . . . northeast,” he mumbled.

“What?” Carrie and Anna asked at the same time.

“Did you say north?” Anna asked.

“And northeast?” Carrie said. “That’s Greenland. Did you get them from Greenland?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes.

“No . . .” he said in a very weak voice.

“Then where? Tell me where?” Carrie said.

Silence. His eyes remained closed.

“Nuqatlak, where did you get those guns?” Carrie placed her lips close to his ear.

“Danish . . . Danish depot.” His words came between gasps, and he opened his left eye.

“Where? Where’s the depot?”

“Pig, pig . . .”

His breathing stopped.

“What? What was that? ‘Pig’ what?”

No answer.

“Where did you find the weapons? Where?” Carrie repeated.

His blank left eye kept staring at the gray sky.

“Nuqatlak, don’t . . . don’t you die,” Anna said through her tears.

Chapter Six

Grise Fiord, Canada

April 12, 9:25 a.m. local time

The small kitchen of Nuqatlak’s house was turned into their command center. Kiawak made coffee and they were assessing their situation while sitting around a white dining table.

“There are at least a dozen of these weapons,
Let Støttevåbens,
in the closets,” Justin said. He was holding a brand new light machine gun equipped with a bipod and a night vision optical sight.

“Enough for a small army.” Carrie examined her gun, running her fingers over the trigger and the sight of the barrel. “And there are around two thousand rounds in the den.”

“Holy cow,” Anna said. She almost dropped the gun Carrie gave her, not expecting it to be so heavy. “What were they planning to do with this? Shoot Moby Dick?”

“What troubles me is where these guns came from, and how many others are out there,” Kiawak said. “
Slædepatruljen Sirius
uses this exact kind of weapon.”

“Who’s the Sla . . . Sirius?” Anna asked.

“The Sirius Patrol,” Kiawak replied. “One of the best units of Danish Special Forces in Greenland. They use sleds, helicopters, and boats to patrol those territories. They have bases in Daneborg, Nord, Mestrersvig, and all over Greenland.”

“Why do I have a feeling the Sirius Patrol did not lose all these weapons?” Anna said.

“It’s too early to jump to conclusions,” Alisha said. “We still don’t know where these guns came from.”

“Nuqatlak said he took them from a Danish depot,” Anna replied.

“Did he really tell you the truth? Can you believe him?” Alisha shrugged.

“Those were his last words,” Anna said, “and I’m just repeating them. The man is dead, so that’s all we have.”

“Yeah, I know. You killed him.”

“We told you what happened, Alisha. And I’ve had enough of your attitude.” Anna got up and headed for the door.

“Wait for me.” Carrie followed her to the door. “For your information,” Carrie said as she turned around and pointed her finger at Alisha, “she did well shooting him in self-defense. Otherwise we would be dead.”

“You need to watch your mouth,” Kiawak growled at Alisha. “Those women risked their lives, but I haven’t seen you do anything useful.”

Alisha waited until Carrie slammed the door behind her. “We’re on a cold trail right now because they killed the man who could have explained the mystery of these guns. Now we’re back to square one, and we have to explain the deaths of two innocent people.”

“Nuqatlak was anything but innocent,” Kiawak replied. “He was in possession of illegal weapons and was trying to sell them. We have two people who were shot at by Nuqatlak and had to respond in order to defend themselves. It’s that simple.”

“And now we know more,” Justin said. “We had no idea about a number of things until a few hours ago. Now we have evidence: these machine guns. We know they’re Danish and Nuqatlak, the gun smuggler, confirmed their origin. We need to find the location of this depot and how this ties to the Sirius Patrol and to those icebreakers, which most likely are Danish too.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Alisha objected. “These machine guns are made by Diemaco, the Canadian subsidiary of America’s Colt. They may have been produced for Denmark and their armed forces, but that doesn’t mean the Sirius Patrol or Danish icebreakers dropped them in Grise Fiord. They could have come from anywhere within Canada or the US.”

“I don’t think so,” Kiawak replied. “There are way too many coincidences. Two unknown icebreakers cruising our waters and machine guns used by Danish forces pop up on our Arctic shores. Plus, the man himself said he found the weapons in a Danish hut.”

“My other point exactly,” Alisha said. “I know their huts are spread all over Greenland. Maybe Nuqatlak and his woman or other people snowmobiled to Greenland. They broke into one of these stations, which happened to be stashed with guns, instead of food or supplies.”

“You’re right about one thing,” Kiawak said, “The Sirius Patrol has depots in east and north Greenland, but these weapons are on the wrong side of the pond. Besides, Nuqatlak said he found the weapons north.”

“North Greenland?” Alisha said. “He took his last breath, so maybe he left out some words?”

Justin said, “If it was really a Sirius Patrol depot, I think they would be guarding these weapons pretty well, not leave them for Nuqatlak and his friends to take their pick. At this time of year, it’s very dangerous to travel all the way to Greenland. According to Nuqatlak’s file, last year he barely left Grise Fiord, but there was one time he flew to the Pond to buy pork.”

“Pork? Pig meat? Pig?” Kiawak said. His eyes widened and he scratched his head. “Why does the word ‘pig’ sound familiar to me?”

“Because women call you a pig all the time,” Justin replied with a grin.

Kiawak leaned back in his chair, holding both hands over his chest. “Oh, my heart. That hurt, Justin. I can’t believe you would say such hurtful words . . .”

“It’s because Nuqatlak called Carrie a pig after they shot him to death,” Alisha said with a deep frown and a stern headshake. “Which was very polite of him given the circumstances, if I may add.”

“Yes, yes, we know.” Kiawak dismissed Alisha’s comments by waving his hand in her direction. He tapped his forehead with his palm as if wanting to push his brain into action and spark up the missing idea.

“Yes,” he shouted a few moments later, slamming his fist on the table. “Pig Fiord. Sverdrup, the Norwegian guy, the explorer who discovered this area more than a hundred years ago and later sold it to Canada.” Kiawak was reeling off his words like a verbal machine gun. “Sverdrup named this place Grise Fiord, which translates as ‘pig fiord’ in his native language. Walruses used to live here at the time, and their grunts reminded Sverdrup of pigs. So if Nuqatlak said ‘pig’ and ‘northeast’ when Carrie asked him where he found the weapons, he meant northeast of Grise Fiord. That’s where Nuqatlak found the weapons cache. Some of the locals still call Grise Fiord by its old name, Pig Fiord.”