The Cold Edge (20 page)

Kjersti asked the obvious question. “What now?”

Jake shrugged. “Like I said. We split up. The two of you head to Oslo. The NIS and Agency are working together there. Meet up with them across the runway at Gardermoen Air Station. The scientists will be there, but of course they aren't needed now. Explain what happened, just as I've told you.”

Anna put her hand on Jake's leg. “I don't want you to leave me, Jake.”

“Listen,” he said, his eyes concentrating on Anna. “There's no need for you to get shot at again. Petrova will stop at nothing to get this box of gems. I can't even imagine how much they're worth, assuming this box is full.”

“What about you?” Anna asked, squeezing down on his leg, a tear coming to her left eye and rolling down her cheek.

He wiped away her tear. He can't remember her ever crying. She had always been as tough as steel.

“I'm not sure,” Jake said. “I don't want you to know. Either of you. It's better if you don't know.”

Jake got out and put his backpack in the trunk. He thought about all the guns and ammo he had inside the packs, and decided he would have to keep them. The two of them couldn't fly with them. He slammed the trunk and got back behind the wheel.

“We're going with you,” Anna said defiantly.

He turned to Kjersti.

“That's right.”

He didn't say a word. He simply shook his head and drove away. In a couple miles he turned into the airport, which was a small, regional terminal with commuter flights to Stockholm, Goteborg and a few other smaller Swedish cities. Jake pulled to the curb but kept the engine running.

“We're going with you, Jake,” Anna reiterated.

“No, you're not. Get the fuck out. Now.” He had never raised his voice to Anna. Not even during the last three months while he was drinking himself to sleep each night. They had argued quietly and respectfully. Part of that was due to not seeing each other much, Jake knew. The anger in his voice even surprised him somewhat. But he had to at least appear pissed off.

“You have no standing at all,” Anna said to him, her jaw tight. But another tear appeared now.

Kjersti was quiet in the back, her disposition uncertain.

“You too,” Jake yelled, his eyes cast on Kjersti in the rearview mirror. “Get the fuck out.”

Reluctantly, they both opened their doors almost simultaneously. Kjersti slammed her door and crossed her arms over her chest.

Anna leaned back inside the car for a second, tears in both eyes. “Why are you being such a dick?”

“Maybe this is me without alcohol,” he said. “Close the door.” He felt like a monster dick now.

She hesitated. “I'll wait for you in Oslo. The same hotel.”

Jake gazed straight ahead. “Are you sure you still want me?”

“Now you're being a royal dick.” She slammed the door as hard as she could and went away toward the terminal.

As he drove away, his eyes drifted to the right and he saw Kjersti with her arm around Anna. Maybe he had been too rough on them. But he didn't think so. He knew Victor Petrova. The man was relentless and would not stop coming until Jake stopped him. And that's exactly what he planned to do.

Victor Petrova, still in his Elvis pajamas in the posh hotel, slammed his cell phone shut and threw it over his shoulder onto the bed. He had just gotten off the phone with one of his men in Sweden, who had explained what happened to he and his partner on the train the night before. Somehow Jake Adams and the two women had gotten the best of them, killing one of them and beating and humiliating the other. Shoved a Coke bottle up his ass? Jake had gone off the edge farther than he had realized. And the second crew waiting for them at the Mora train station had monitored everyone coming off the train, not seeing the women or Jake.

He scurried back to get his phone and punched in a number, then waited for his people at his Norwegian mountain estate to answer.

“Yes, sir?” came the response on the other end.

“Where do you have our friends right now?” Petrova asked.

“You must be a mind reader, sir. I was just going to call you. We have them almost to Stockholm. Looks like on a train, according to the couple of stops they made.”

Petrova did the math in his head and said, “Almost two hours since they changed direction, and you were just going to call me now?” He'd pay the price for that. But not right now.

Let's see. They weren't in Mora and the GPS had them near Stockholm. Jake Adams was better than he thought. They got off the train in Falun and somehow put the SAT phone on the Stockholm train. Good idea. Especially with incompetent fools working for him, those who couldn't see a feign move to save their ass.

His man on the other end didn't even try to explain his actions, he just remained silent. His best move in weeks, Petrova was sure.

“Forget tracking the SAT phone,” Petrova ordered. “Get the word out to all our friends. Operation Huldra.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

Yes. You're ugly. “No. What else is there?” He snapped his phone shut. Time for a bath and a drive. He guessed Huldra wouldn't come for another few hours, perhaps a day. Jake Adams had forced his move much quicker, which meant he knew. He knew what was really in the box. Jake would now eschew any federal responsibility and come directly for him. He cackled with glee at that thought, stripping his silk Elvis pajamas from his body and shuffling to the bathroom, his naked pendulous structure sloshing side to side.

●

Toni had barely slept all night, and now her cell phone woke her, jarring her to her side. The room was still dark, but the clock read zero nine ten.

She checked the incoming number and said, “Yeah.”

“You sound asleep.” It was Kurt Jenkins calling from Camp Springs.

“I'm awake. What's up?”

“Our friends have changed directions. Looks like they switched trains in Falun, Sweden and are almost to Stockholm.”

“Maybe they'll catch a flight from Stockholm to Oslo,” Toni said, sitting up in bed and running a hand through her long, dark hair.

“With the virus?”

He had a point, she realized. “Something you're not telling me?”

Hesitation. “They found a man stabbed to death on the train when it came into Mora.”

Her heart skipped a beat and then almost stopped. “Jake,” she muttered.

“A Swede from Stockholm. Criminal background. Another man was found bound, gagged and drugged. Looks like someone worked the man over with great enthusiasm.”

Now that sounded like the new Jake Adams. “You think that was Jake.”

“I'm guessing. But whatever information this man had, Jake now has as well. Which probably sent him to Stockholm.”

Toni got out of bed and peered out the window at a solemn, damp Oslo morning. The sun had risen, but the clouds and rain kept it hidden behind a shroud. She thought about Jake and how he would react under those circumstances. He had to know they were monitoring the SAT phone by GPS. In fact, he had counted on it. But he also must have guessed that someone else had tracked them the same way, and was trying to throw them off his track for a few hours—until they realized, like her, that he was nowhere near Stockholm. No, Jake had something else in mind. But why?

“You still there?” Jenkins asked.

“Yeah. The scientists set down in a couple hours?”

“Right. You'll meet them.”

She didn't think so. “I need to think this over. Jake isn't in Stockholm. He probably got off the train in Falun, but they didn't change directions. They changed mode of transportation.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that's what I would do. Someone had found them. Jake had to assume the only way was by the GPS SAT phone, so he dumped that onto the Stockholm train and found a car.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” But she had no idea where he was going.

“Will he still bring the virus to Oslo?” Jenkins asked, concerned.

Something had changed. But what? “Jake will do the right thing. You know that.”

“I know. So I guess you get to the airport and wait for the scientists and Jake.”

“I understand,” she said. Not an actual promise. “Have you found Victor Petrova?”

“That was next,” he said. “We believe he checked into the Grand Hotel on Karl Johans Gate.”

“That's only a few blocks from here. What name's he using this time?”

“Vladislav Petrenko.”

“Keep it simple. Same initials.”

“Right.”

“I think I should stick with him. He doesn't know me. You can send someone from the embassy to meet Jake and the scientists. But I have a feeling Petrova is the key here. Better to keep an eye on him.”

Heavy sigh on the other end. “You're right. I'm glad you're over there, Toni. All right. I'll make it happen.”

“One more favor?”

“Shoot.”

“Could you make sure our NIS friend, Thom Hagen, escorts our embassy folks to the meet?”

“Why?”

“He's a stiff and I don't trust him.”

“No pulling punches with you, Toni. That's what I like about you.”

They both hung up and Toni quickly went to her computer and scanned Victor Petrova's file one more time, making sure she knew everything there was to know about the man. Then she grabbed her things and went to check out of her room.

Jake had mixed feelings as he had driven through the remote Swedish countryside, the trees lining the twisting road and broken only by fields of hay and well-kept farm houses. He had been too hard on Anna, he knew, but he also had no time to play games. He had to make up time and get to Mora as soon as possible. As it turned out he had gotten to the town just after the train had pulled into the station. When he saw the police arrive shortly after, he knew a porter had swept through and found the two men. Jake guessed the man he had questioned was a small-time criminal, but the police would suspect he was the victim this time and let the man go after a brief stop at the local hospital. That's what Jake was counting on anyway.

Since Jake had anticipated the cops bringing the man to the Mora hospital, he had gone there in advance and had found the two men waiting outside in the black Volvo.

He sat now in his acquired Saab and waited, spending the time looking over information on Victor Petrova on his laptop. He was even able to access the internet with the hospital's wireless network.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it open. “Yeah.”

“Where the hell are you?” It was Kurt Jenkins, the director of Central Intelligence.

“Stockholm,” Jake said, his eyes still on the two douche bags in the Volvo across the parking lot.

“Ah, no. Some lady found the SAT phone in her purse and turned it over to the police in Stockholm. They traced the card to one of Victor Petrova's front companies.”

“How'd you find out about that?”

“We've been intercepting all of their unsecured communications. It doesn't matter. Can you just tell me what the hell is going on? We understand you ran into a little trouble on the train.”

“No big deal.”

“You have the package?”

“Of course.” Jake thought about telling Jenkins about the true contents, but that might keep him from helping him. And Jake could use his information.

“So, where are you?” he asked again.

“Have those scientists take a nap,” Jake said. “Better yet, you might want to get them a room. This could take a while.”

Hesitation. Silence.

Finally, Jenkins said, “You're going after Victor Petrova.”

The man who had attacked them on the train suddenly appeared at the entrance to the hotel, looked around until the brain trusts in the Volvo flipped their lights on and off, catching his attention. Then he adjusted his pants, pulling them away from his buttocks, and wiggled down the sidewalk like an old man. Coke bottle, Jake thought with a smile.

“Well,” Jenkins said.

“Listen. I've gotta go. I'm going to be following three Nobel laureates. I'll get back to you with my plan as soon as I know it.” With that he flipped the phone shut and cranked over the engine.

The three men in the Volvo were not hard to follow. In fact, he had a feeling he knew where they were going. Only time would tell if he was right.

They headed North immediately, but turned off onto a smaller country road in fifteen kilometers, heading west. An hour later they crossed a small frontier border station into Norway. Jake didn't get much more than a nod at the border from the disinterested old guard, and would have had a lot of explaining to do if they had looked in the trunk and found the guns and gems. Or even looked under his left arm, where his 9mm automatic hung in its holster. Especially without Anna or Kjersti pulling credentials.

Shortly after crossing into Norway, Jake's hunch about their direction was confirmed. He saw the signs for Hamar, Norway, 110 kilometers, and started to back off the Volvo. No need for them to entirely engrain the Saab in their mind. He knew where they were going.

While he drove the remote country road, Jake ran through his mind how he wanted to proceed. First, he would need to do a little house cleaning. He found an isolated area far from the nearest town and farm, pulling off on a tiny road that headed north. He drove for a while and parked the Saab on the side of the road. This road was nothing more than a logging access, but looked like the Norwegians had not cut trees here in ten years or more. That was good. It meant they probably wouldn't cut again for twenty or thirty years.

He got out and went to the trunk. Found his handheld GPS, turned it on and took a reading of his location, and rendered the reading to his memory, speaking the numbers over and over in his mind until he would never forget it. Then he purged the location from the GPS memory.

Looking around, Jake saw what he was looking for—a rock with a large tree behind it. Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, he went to that spot and found a stick. He set the pack down. The ground was moist and mostly moss and lichen, which he ripped back like a thick blanket at the back side of the rock. Then, digging with the stick, he finally had a hole deep enough for the box. He set the box inside and covered it only with the thick moss. Satisfied with his work, he flipped the lighter pack over his shoulder and went back to the car.