Arctic Wargame - Страница 37

“Ehe.” He nodded. He squinted in order to read the small inscription on one of the screens of the aircraft’s control panel. The number, 137, showed the distance in miles from their destination, Nanisivik. “What’s our ETA?” he asked.

“ETA is twenty-eight minutes, if we keep our current cruising speed of two hundred and fifty knots,” the pilot replied. “Plus five, ten minutes, depending on conditions at destination.”

“Alisha’s pictures showed the runway at the Nanisivik airport as clear and suitable,” Yuliya said. “The meteo data confirm favorable conditions for landing.”

Gunter nodded.

Yuliya smiled at him. “Why don’t you give your wife a call, sir?” she asked.

Gunter peered at her. “I called her earlier this morning, before leaving.” He did not say the words, but his eyes asked whether there had been a change in FSB’s one call a day policy.

“Oh, I’m sure she would love to hear from you again,” Yuliya said. “Today’s the big day and once everything’s done—”

“Then, I’ll call her when we land,” Gunter said. “We’ll do our job here perfectly, and then I’ll give her the good news.”

“All right,” Yuliya said, exchanging a quick glance with Gunter.

Magnus’s frown grew larger. He was supposed to be the chief of this operation, but Gunter and Yuliya were blindsiding him on every step. He had told Valgerda about the cold-blooded murder he witnessed in the barracks and how Yuliya, not Gunter, was in fact in charge of the Arctic Wargame. Magnus and Valgerda had agreed to watch each other’s back. They could no longer trust Gunter or Yuliya.

Arctic Bay, Canada

April 14, 7:20 a.m.

Kiawak’s speech had revived the warrior spirit among Arctic Bay’s residents, and their response was overwhelmingly patriotic. Everyone, young and old, men and women, even children, wanted to take up arms and fight the Danish invasion. Justin and Kiawak were very selective in their recruitment and only enlisted those who could actually be of help in the nearing battle. Eventually, around one hundred people were loaded in half as many pickup trucks and Suburbans. They took anything that could be useful: coils of rope, shovels, boxes of dynamite and ammunition, and as many firearms as they could carry.

As she stood inside the Health Center, Emily’s eyes followed the long convoy of the ragtag militia trailing south toward Victor Bay and then heading for Nanisivik. She moved away from the window and retreated to the kitchen for a warm drink. The coffee she made was bitter and weak, but steaming hot, which was the only thing she cared about. She blew gently on the cup and took another sip.

After gulping down half of the cup, she felt much better. With everyone gone, the Health Center was empty. This was the first time she could enjoy a few moments of silence and peace since Justin had forced her at gunpoint to take him to Carrie’s and Anna’s room. From that moment on, everything had taken a scary downward spiral. At times, Emily felt like she was clinging to life by the skin of her teeth. Yes, like the time the chopper was being shot at. By my own people! Or when we almost crashed into the Dundas Mountain. And the time when Seahawk’s rotor blades sliced through the ice hill. Man, I could have been killed so many times. Then, the resuscitation of Justin, the constant care for Tania and Kiawak. It was all so crazy!

She shook her head in disbelief and finished her coffee in slow sips. She stretched her legs and arms while still sitting on her chair. Her entire body was tense, and she felt her head pounding. Emily began to massage her neck muscles, which were completely stiff, while turning her head to the left and to the right. Then, she paced in the small hall.

After about ten minutes, she reached for the cordless phone mounted on the wall and dialed a cellphone number from her memory. It took her a few unsuccessful tries to realize the phone line was dead. She glanced out the window at the clear blue sky and the bright sun. The view gave her the determination she needed to keep dialing until she got a free signal. As she heard the dial tone, she quickly punched the number.

“Hello, this is Bryan,” the familiar voice replied after the first ring.

“Hey, Bryan, it’s me,” Emily spoke fast, afraid the line might go dead at any second.

“Emily, you’re OK, sweetheart? Where are you?” Technical Sergeant Bryan asked, all in one breath.

“Arctic Bay. North of Borden Peninsula, on Baffin—”

“I know where it is. Are you OK?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Can you guys come and get me?”

“Well, the commander wasn’t sure if we could violate Canada’s sovereignty.”

“What? Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not, but I’ll get him on the line. Now that we know where you are, it shouldn’t be difficult to get authorization from Canada for a rescue mission.”

“Hurry up and… thanks.”

“OK, you just hang on in there. We’ll come and get you.”

Her nervous pacing, while holding the handset pressed to her ear, lasted less than a minute.

“Sergeant Moore,” the commander asked. “Are you doing well?”

“Yes, sir,” Emily replied. “Just eager to come home, sir.”

“Have they mistreated you?”

“Negative. Other than the horrors of battling the blizzard and crash-landing blindfolded on an ice field, I’m doing well.”

The commander let out a laugh of relief. “You don’t have a gun pointed at your head as we speak, do you?”

“No, no. Everyone’s gone.”

“They left you alone? Where are Justin and the others?”

“Oh, they’re off to battle.”

“What did you say? Battle? What battle?”

“You know the Danish attack they were mumbling about when at the base?”

“Yes, the wargame. Denmark has made plans for military exercises over the next couple of days.”

“Well, Justin and his gang are convinced the Danes are hostile, and they’re going to land in Nanisivik, believe it or not, to take over the Northwest Passage. This place, Nanisivik, they told me it’s about an hour from here. Justin and his men gathered around a hundred people to meet the Danes there and give them a real taste of the Canadian hospitality.”

“Nanisivik? You sure about this?”

“Absolutely sure, Commander. The town there has a deep sea port, and Justin has information about a Danish icebreaker that is going to anchor right there, in the Strathcona Sound.”

“That’s strange because our satellites show no images of sea vessels. Instead, a large footprint of a transport aircraft, possible a Hercules, is beeping on all radar screens.”

“Hercules? Where’s the airplane headed?”

“I thought it was Resolute until you mentioned Nanisivik. If you put together this and the bogus information about the icebreaker, everything makes perfect sense.”

“I don’t understand,” Emily said.

“If it’s true the Danes are carrying out an invasion, they have done an excellent job masking their true intentions. They’ve circulated false intel on seaborne maneuvers, but they’re mounting an air attack.”

“Air attack? Didn’t you just say the footprint was of a cargo plane?”

“I said it was a transport aircraft, since these Hercs are used mainly for supplying equipment and refueling, but also for transporting troops and weapons. These monsters can easily carry more than a hundred combat troops in their belly. Who knows what else, in terms of weapons, the Danes may have stored inside the plane, if it’s theirs.”

“You’re not sure whether this is a Danish plane?”

“Correct. Our identification capacity’s limited because of the great distance between our base and the target and their possibility of the pilots intercepting us. Besides, the Canadian Forces have a few of these planes. In any case, you don’t have to worry about anything. We have a few choppers on standby, and I’ll dispatch one right away to extract you. What exactly is your position in Arctic Bay?”

“I’m at the Health Center.”

“OK, stay there. Shouldn’t take long before our boys will come to get you.”

“Thank you, sir. What about Justin and his battle?”

“It doesn’t involve us, Sergeant.” The commander’s sudden change of voice, from a warm to a strict tone, expressed his feelings about the matter much stronger than his words. “It’s not our battle.”

“But if this Hercules is Danish that means it’s probably carrying a company of soldiers,” Emily said. “And if Justin and his men are making their stand at the seaport, instead of the airport, then—”

“Sergeant Moore,” the commander did not let her finish her sentence. “I’m ordering you to stay put until our Seahawk’s arrival.”

“Where’s the airport? Nanisivik’s airport?” she asked.

“Why, what’s that got to do with anything?”

Emily kept silent.

There was some paper shuffling on the other side of the phone line, then the commander spoke again, “The airport is southeast of town, about eighteen miles south.”

“Eighteen miles,” Emily repeated. “South, that’s behind their back. Justin will not see the Danes coming until it’s too late.”

“As I said, Sergeant Moore, this is not our fight.” The commander spaced his words equally, pronouncing them with a pause in between.

“I can’t just let them die, slaughtered like lambs, Commander. You don’t know, but Justin saved a woman’s life, bringing her out of the freezing ocean. He risked his own life and almost died while saving her.”