Arctic Wargame - Страница 30

“There, do you see the King, at ten o’clock?” Justin asked Anna.

They were falling through a quasi-transparent veil of mist. Carrie tried to take in as much as she could of the rugged terrain. She recognized the flat shape of the King George V Mountain top. A little further, she noticed the vast opening of Adams Sound. A large iceberg was wedged between the ice floes. As she titled the Seahawk to the left, dropping a few dozen feet, she was able to see the first houses of Arctic Bay, clustered along the coastline of the inlet.

“I see the school,” Justin said.

“Yes, I do too,” Carrie replied. “It’s great some places still have their lights on.”

The Seahawk continued to draw nearer to the town.

“I’ll try to take the chopper there.” Carrie pointed to her left, toward a small clearing far away from the mountain. “It’s a good distance from the closest houses. Just in case someone may be listening for strange noises.” She remembered the last time they landed in Grise Fiord.

“I wouldn’t worry about the noise,” Emily said. “Just get us down there safely.”

“Yes,” Carrie replied, “but then we’ll have to chase Alisha if she hears us coming.”

They dropped another hundred feet. Suddenly a dense layer of fog concealed the ground.

“What happened?” Emily said, her voice filled with panic. “I can’t see anything.”

“We’ve got to crash-land,” Carrie replied. “Just when I though we got a break, as if it weren’t enough to fly blind…”

She slowed their fall by decreasing their speed and spinning the Seahawk around in a small circle. The altimeter showed there was still one hundred and fifty feet between the helicopter and the frozen land. A fierce crosswind could still push the helicopter away from the intended landing area. Carrie tried hovering in one spot, while coming down slowly. The ice blanket covering the permafrost glistened under the Seahawk’s powerful light beams, revealing for a few seconds the shape of the clearing. Carrie estimated the height of the snowbanks and the ice mounds, the angle of the hill slope, and the distance the heavy Seahawk might slide when sinking into the snow.

“Get ready,” she shouted. “We’re touching down in ten.”

Emily clung to her armrests.

Justin and Anna locked hands.

Carrie held the throttle, manipulating the controls with utmost care, as if they were made of crystal. She knew any wrong move could cost their lives. After slowing their descent even further, she battled the last wind gusts blasting white powder at the windshield. A moment later, she realized the helicopter was the source of the snowstorm swirling around them. Air currents caused by the helicopter’s rotors were lifting snow and ice chunks from the foothill. As they touched down, the helicopter shook, bouncing twice off the ground before sliding to the left.

“Crap,” Carrie shouted, tapping the control panel.

Her efforts paid off. The Seahawk reluctantly obeyed her commands. It gyrated on its axis, slower and slower, while Carrie kept it stable on the ground, avoiding a deadly rollover. A sharp crash came from the tail rotor. The blades cut through hard-packed ice. The blades survived the impact, but the Seahawk slid another couple of feet. Finally, it rested next to a snowbank as high as its windshield.

“Welcome to Arctic Bay,” Carrie announced then turned off the Seahawk’s main controls.

“Thanks, God,” Anna finished aloud her silent prayer.

“Let’s find Kiawak,” Justin said. He took a deep breath and slid open the cabin’s door.

Arctic Bay, Canada

April 14, 00:32 a.m.

A young man in his early twenties, dark-skinned, but sporting a blonde goatee, opened the door at Justin’s first knock.

“Yeah, what’s with the chopper?” he asked, dragging his words like heavy boots through thick snow. The young man was fully awake and held a PlayStation controller in his hand. His eyes flashed a sincere excitement about their sudden appearance. “You guys Army or something?”

“Eh, no, no. We’re… we’re friends of Kiawak,” Justin replied.

“What Kiawak?”

“Kiawak Kusugak. The guy who owns the bar in Nanisivik. Parting Waters.”

“Oh, Julian’s bro. The Ranger.”

“Yes, that one. You’ve seen him today, I mean yesterday or the day before?”

The young man passed his left hand over his long, black hair tied in a ponytail. “No, I don’t know, man,” he said with a slow shrug.

“Where does Kiawak stay when he comes to town? Who are his buddies?”

“Oh, buddies. Well, Mike, the Mountie. Abe, the honey trucker and Paul, the guy at the Safelife Co-op.”

“Great, can you show us to these guys’ places?”

“Now?” the young man asked, shaking his head. The ponytail whipped the air behind his head from side to side.

“Right away. It’s urgent.”

The young man glanced beyond Justin, at Anna. She was waiting at the end of the driveway. Then his eyes rested on the helicopter. “Is this some kind of a secret mission?” He returned his gaze to Justin. “You guys are cops? National security? Like in Global Ops?”

“Something like that,” Justin replied. He had no idea what Global Ops was, a movie or a game maybe, but they needed the young man’s help.

“All right, let’s do this,” the young man said. He turned around and disappeared inside his house, leaving the door ajar.

Anna stepped closer to Justin. “Is he coming out?” she whispered, trying to control her shivering.

“I hope so,” Justin replied, fighting the cold wind by moving his arms up and down.

They waited at the doorsteps. Carrie and Emily had stayed behind with the Seahawk, in case Alisha had noticed their arrival and launched an attack or made a runaway attempt. At the same time, Carrie could keep an eye on the aircraft and on Emily.

“Let’s go, buddy. This way.” The young man showed up at the door. He was wrapped in a heavy duty trucker’s jacket. He led them to his garage at the back of the house. “Ned, that’s my name.”

“I’m Justin, and this is Anna,” Justin said. He rode shotgun in Ned’s souped-up Land Rover. Anna hopped in the backseat, after pushing away a pile of hockey sticks, skates, and helmets.

“Sometimes I coach our teens,” Ned said in justification of the mess in the backseat. “But what’s the rush with your friend?” He started the Land Rover, and they took the road snaking downhill, toward the ice-covered Adams Sound.

“Kiawak may be in danger,” Justin said. “We think he’s been kidnapped.”

“Kiawak? Kidnapped?” Ned snickered. “Who would dare to touch a Ranger?”

“Some really bad people,” Anna replied. “Any ideas where he may be? I’m sure Alisha wouldn’t drag a tied up Kiawak into a hotel.”

“Kiawak tied up by a woman?” The scorn was clear in Ned’s voice. “What kind of weed have you guys been smoking?”

“No, seriously,” Justin said. “Alisha’s really dangerous, even for Kiawak.”

“Well, usually Kiawak crashes at Mike’s, but if I had a hostage, that’s the last place I’d go. I don’t think the trucker’s back from Iqaluit, so, first we’ll check out Paul’s house, the guy of the co-op.”

Ned sped up. The Land Rover hopped over natural speed bumps on the road formed by frozen ice blocks. The ride on the uneven road was very bumpy. The haze was dwindling, and the Land Rover’s bright headlights offered a clear view of the road ahead. They swung around a couple of curves, as they drew closer to the bay shores.

“Paul lives at the other end of town,” Ned said, “but we’ll get there in a couple of minutes.”

They drove by two log houses, and Ned tilted his head to the left, observing them closely. “That’s where Abe lives, the house in the dark. He’s still gone, I guess. But Tania, she’s still up? What, she’s still grading papers?”

“Tania?” Justin asked. “Who is she?”

“Kiawak’s ex.”

“What?” Justin shouted. “Stop, stop the car, right now, here. Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“Because they kind of broke up.” Ned pressed slightly on the brake, steering toward the edge of the road. “About a month or so ago. There’s no way he’s there without everyone in town knowing about it.”

“Alisha can use Tania to squeeze information out of Kiawak,” Anna replied.

Ned stopped and Justin jumped out. Justin switched off the safety on his M-9 pistol and tiptoed toward the snow-covered wooden stairs leading to the back door of the house. Overcast clouds hung over the town, but the snow reflected a considerable amount of the grayish light, giving him sufficient guidance for a stealthy approach. He noticed small footprints on the snow along the wall of the house. A single set of footprints. Let me guess who they belong to.

Justin tried to make as little noise as possible as he slithered up the slippery staircase. Gun drawn, he advanced with small, silent steps. Once he reached the landing by the door, he stopped for a moment and listened for noises coming from inside the house. After hearing nothing but the howling of the sharp wind, he proceeded to turn the doorknob. It yielded, and he pushed the door open.

As soon as he had taken the first step inside the house, a flashlight blinded him. A sharp object hit him squarely on his forehead. Justin saw bright stars, then his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He felt a warm liquid dripping from the wound down to his lips. It tasted like copper. Blood.