Arctic Wargame - Страница 35

“Right, but they don’t know that,” Carrie replied. “When are we going to start?”

“We’ll wait a few more minutes,” Justin said. “After all, it’s only six in the morning.”

“If only those cowards in Resolute would have listened to me,” Carrie said, “and sent over men and choppers, we wouldn’t need to bother these people.”

“You did your best to convince them. Some people just aren’t persuaded that easily,” Justin said.

More people appeared in the doorway. Some strutted in, eager to take up arms, Justin thought. Others dragged their feet, looking like they regretted getting out of bed. There were very few women. Justin counted only five out of about fifty people in total. Not bad, he thought, but now let’s see how they feel about me calling them into battle.

“Ahem, ahem,” he cleared his throat, but his voice came out raspier than he intended. His cough drew the attention of almost everyone, especially those few who had already been measuring him up. Nilak and Iluak reluctantly walked toward Carrie, who was standing to the right of Justin. They stopped a few steps away from her, a clear indication the twin brothers were not a part of Justin’s group.

“Welcome, welcome every one of you,” Justin said in a strong voice. A big smile adorned his face, and he stretched out his arms toward the people. “I appreciate you coming out so early in the morning.”

He noticed an old man nodding and a few people taking a timid step forward.

“My name is Justin Hall, and I’ve already met some of you. These are my colleagues, Carrie O’Connor and Anna Worthley. We all work for the federal government. We’re part of Canada’s security services. This is—”

“You cops?” asked one of the young men who had been chatting with Nilak and Iluak.

“No, no, we’re not the police,” Justin replied quickly, as a quiet mutter rose up from the crowd. He looked at the young man and tried to read the white letters embroidered in the young man’s bandana. All he could make out was a white skull. He added, “We’re—”

“What then, spies?” interrupted another young man, standing next to the bandana young man. He was wearing a gray hooded shirt with the words Ecko stamped on the front.

“No, of course not,” Justin answered his question before any grumbling from the crowd. “We’re with the defense forces.”

“The Army?” an old man asked. Justin could not see his face, but his voice had a feeble ring to it.

“Yes, today, here, we’re the Army,” Justin replied. I wish Kiawak was here. Justin let out a small sigh, before continuing. “As some of you are aware, we flew here last night, I mean early this morning, looking for our friend, Kiawak Kusugak.”

A few people nodded as he mentioned Kiawak’s name. Justin understood the clue.

“Kiawak Kusugak, one of my best friends and a courageous Canadian Ranger, was kidnapped by someone, someone who has chosen to sell out our country to the enemy.”

Justin allowed time for his words to sink in. The crowd grew weary and agitated.

“Sell out our country?” a woman’s high-pitched voice came from the back of the hall.

“Our land?” shouted another old man.

“Enemy? What enemy?” asked other people.

“Let me explain,” Justin raised his voice in order to silence them. “This person had struck a deal with the Danish military forces to enable their entry into Canada through our waters, so they can take control of our Northwest Passage.”

The crown erupted in a loud noise.

“What?”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Is this true?”

“Yes.” Justin limped toward them and tried to calm them with hand gestures. “The Danish troops are going to attack us, right here in the Arctic, in our homes.”

“The Danish troops are not our enemy,” said one man. “They’re our allies. They have troops in Afghanistan to fight terrorism and Canada trades goods with the Danes.”

“Yes,” the bandana young man said, “I had some Danish for breakfast.”

Noisy laugher roared among the people. Some young men were shaking their heads in disbelief.

“Any help would be appreciated,” Justin whispered at Carrie and Anna.

“I’ve got nothing,” Carrie replied. “If I open my mouth, I’ll make matters worse.”

Anna raised her shoulders. Justin glanced at Nilak and Iluak, but they were staring at the ceiling.

“Listen,” Justin tried again, “I’m telling you the truth. The Danes are launching their attack under the pretense of a training exercise. We need your help to stop this attack.”

“Wrong choice of words, Justin,” Carrie muttered under breath.

“Training exercise? All this brouhaha for some training?” The squeaky voice had the unmistakable hint of scorn.

“You’re the Army, right?” An old man pointed his shaky hand at Justin. “Why don’t you call for reinforcements? Why do you need us, eh?”

“Yes, why?” other people joined him.

“Oh, I’m out of here, bro.” The young man in the Ecko shirt threw his hands up in the air with a snort. He turned around to leave. Justin tried to remain calm. Other people followed the young man.

“Where the hell are you going?” A stern voice echoed throughout the entire court, suppressing everyone’s whining and mumbling.

The crowd went still for a moment. Then it began to divide right in the middle. A low, screeching sound, resembling the metallic rattle of rusty door hinges, was the only thing breaking the silence. People were making room for a man to walk through. Not walk, roll in. A woman pushed in a wheelchair holding a man wrapped in blankets. Kiawak! Yes, that’s Kiawak!

“It’s great to see you, man.” Justin tapped Kiawak on the shoulder. His pale face was the same color as his blankets.

Carrie and Anna offered pleasant smiles. Kiawak nodded back. The woman, who Justin realized was Emily, turned the wheelchair around so Kiawak could face the crowd.

“I can’t believe it’s you who brought him here,” Justin whispered at Emily. “I thought you hated us.”

“I used to, but he convinced me you’re actually the good guys.” Emily gestured toward Kiawak.

“Maybe he can convince them, as well,” Justin mumbled, taking a few steps back.

Kiawak faced the curious and angry stares of his own people.

Søndre Strømfjord, Greenland

April 14, 07:40 a.m.

“Why the handcuffs?” Sargon asked.

Magnus ignored his question. He marched past the man and the other recruits scurrying to form five rows of ten soldiers each inside the wooden barrack. Magnus’s team, four people in all, was handcuffing the hands of every man in front of them, refusing to give more than one line answers to their questions.

“Hurry up,” Magnus barked at a skinny man fumbling with his shirt’s buttons. “We’re out of here in less than thirty minutes.”

“What’s the rush, boss?” asked a large man with a thick voice. A few steps away, he straightened the ear flaps of his woolen hat.

“The special op, for which you’ve been preparing for so long, is finally under way.” Magnus stopped in front of the man and asked, “Jack, right?”

The man nodded.

“Jack, and everyone else,” Magnus shouted, while scanning the faces of the disorderly bunch, “the handcuffs are for your own protection. This mission is extremely important. We don’t want it to be threatened by your emotions, which, at times, have triggered your violent responses. In this way, your aggression will be focused at the right target.”

“Great mental shit, boss,” Jack replied. “We still don’t know our target or any details about this important mission.”

“Mr. Madsen, our Commander, will soon inspect this platoon. He’ll explain these final details.” He stood toe-to-toe with Jack, whose defiant grin swung from one corner of his lip to the other.

“Platoon my ass,” mumbled a man from the last row. “We’re being tied like prisoners.”

“You are prisoners, but this mission will make you free, each and every one of you. That’s why your minds and your bodies should work toward accomplishing this mission.”

“Which we still don’t know,” retorted the disgruntled man.

“I’ll tell you exactly what it is,” Gunter replied, standing at the entrance of the barrack.

The recruits scrambled to complete their lines. Magnus and his team turned to face the commander and stood at attention. Gunter strutted in with Yuliya in tow. She was followed by six armed guards Magnus was seeing for the first time.

Gunter stopped in front of the platoon. “Soldiers, my name is Gunter Madsen, and I’m the commander of this operation. Soon we’ll embark on a short flight, a mission to defend our country’s sovereignty in a much disputed region, the High Arctic. It is our duty to march forward as the leading unit to secure these Danish territories.” Gunter kept pacing in front of the platoon, his voice reaching a crescendo with the rhythm of his speech. “We will fight, and if need be, we will shed our blood, so that our land may be prosperous and secure.”

“Did he say shed our blood?” a small man in the fourth row whispered to a tall recruit to his right. “We were told this was a patrol mission, to confirm Denmark’s presence in the Arctic.”

“Shhhhh,” the tall recruit replied.

Gunter paused and scanned their faces with his bright eyes. “In terms of exact details, you’ll be flying in one of the Hercules that brought you here. Our destination is Nanisivik, a small Canadian settlement at the northern tip of Baffin Island. Once on the ground, you’ll take over the town. When the area is secured, we’ll continue up north, to Resolute. At the same time, another group will take over the town of Arctic Bay, another insignificant obstacle in our way to control the entire Northwest Passage.”