Arctic Wargame - Страница 51

“Once I began to feel uneasy about the whole deal,” Magnus said, “I began backing up anything I could get my hands on. I figured the information might come in handy if my survival was at stake. If not, it was hidden so well that your own men missed it.”

Anna nodded. “It’s very clever. Hidden, but still in plain sight. I would have never thought these things even existed.”

“They do, and for a couple of hundred bucks these days you can get larger capacity models.”

“OK, let’s see what secrets you actually have in here,” Justin said once the computer was ready. “Let’s start at the beginning.” Justin selected the oldest folder, “March 30.”

Three other folders were stored inside it, named respectively “To Do”, “In Transit” and “Completed.” A simple method of keeping records of the mission’s daily progress. He accessed the To Do folder. The screen was flooded with an abundance of files. JPEG and PDF files, as well as Word documents. The first picture he clicked on was a blown-up map of Cape Combermere in Ellesmere Island. There was another satellite picture, showing crystal clear details of a rocky beach and a structure that looked familiar to Justin.

“Do you know what that is?” Magnus asked.

“A Sirius Patrol depot,” Anna replied.

“Yes, very good,” Magnus said.

“We were there actually right here.” Justin tapped the monitor with his index finger and pointed at the wooden hut. “The depot was pillaged by some of the locals, but we still found leftover items, evidence of your patrols landing and stashing weapon caches.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We retrieved some of the looted Let Støttevåben. Come to think about it, we used your own weapons against you.”

Magnus’s face grew pale, and he looked away.

“What’s this one?” Justin asked.

The image he was referring to was a topographical map of Ellesmere Island’s east coast. A series of red and green dots were scattered all over the area.

“Green dots are possible locations for other Sirius Patrol depots. Red ones are places where we actually set up weapons and supplies caches.”

Justin began to count the red dots.

“There are seven,” Magnus said, “minus the one that was discovered. Once we learned that area was too hot, Nanisivik was suggested as an easier point of entry because of the deep-water port and its considerable distance from the hot area.”

“Alisha suggested Nanisivik, didn’t she?” asked Anna.

“Yes,” Magnus replied with a nod of defeat. “I guess you know everything about her.”

“We do. But you changed your plans at the last moment and that threw us off,” Justin said.

“Yes, we were worried because the Americans were sticking their nose into our business, as they usually do. So we didn’t want to send icebreakers, opting instead for an aerial assault. So, we left our Rasmussens anchored in Søndre Strømfjord.”

Justin shook his head.

“So, are we worth the witness protection?”

“Every byte of it,” Justin replied, pointing at the screen.

“I’ve got a question,” Anna said. “Why are you so loyal to Valgerda?”

“If you’re asking me if we’re lovers, the answer is no. Valgerda is an excellent agent, but after this mission, her career is over. Her life will be in danger, as well. I’m just doing my duty as her commanding officer and looking out for my teammates.”

“What about the other survivors?” Anna said.

“They’re all felons, and they didn’t keep their end of the deal. I have no obligations toward them. Jail them or deport them. It’s up to you.”

A loud, rattling thunder announced the helicopters arrival. A quick glance outside the windows and Justin recognized them as the Canadian Forces. “OK,” he said, getting up quickly. “You,” he said, pointing at Magnus, “you died during the fight. Valgerda, she’s dead too and, of course, your bodies will never be recovered.”

Magnus nodded.

“Joe will hide you both for now. Once the DND is gone, we’ll fly you to a safe place, after I make a few phone calls. Anna, call Ned and tell him to bring Valgerda here very discreetly. Give him a few details, but nothing they don’t know already. Something about her being a potential witness and that we need to take her into custody. That should be sufficient.”

Anna nodded.

“I’ve got to meet the military.” Justin leaned over the keyboard and closed all documents still open in the computer. He fastened Magnus’s watch to his left wrist. “We’ll make sure Magnus and Valgerda are all set,” he said to Anna. “Erase the history of this computer, and make sure there are no traces we ever used this station.”

“Yes, I’ll take care of that.”

Justin extended his hand to Magnus, who readily shook it. “You made the right decision,” Justin said.

Iqaluit, Canada

April 15, 9:07 a.m.

“Where did you get that?” Carrie muttered in a throaty voice, pointing at a box of chocolates Justin was holding in his left hand.

“You weren’t supposed to see that, and the doctor said you should be sleeping.” Justin closed the sliding door of Carrie’s emergency room and sat on a low stool by her bed. Her left arm was connected to numerous intravenous tubes, while her right arm was completely wrapped in white gauze, from her wrist all the way to her shoulder.

“When every inch of your body hurts like it has been run over twice by a train, it’s impossible to even close your eyes, let alone sleep.”

“Do as you wish. You always do, anyway.”

“Yes, and it works. Well, most of the time.”

“It may work when it doesn’t involve jumping out of helicopters, you crazy nut job.”

“Eh, jump, shjump,” Carrie said. She sighed and coughed a dry, deep hack.

“You’re OK?” Justin leaned over her bed.

“I’m… I’ll be fine. You know I had another visitor earlier today.”

“Who? Johnson?”

“No. Mr. Carter Hall. Your dad.”

“No, he didn’t…”

“Yes, he did come to visit. He was actually looking for you.”

Justin frowned. “I’m not really in the mood to argue with him.”

“He’s worried sick about you. Your brother came with him too. You should talk to them both.”

“Look, Carrie, if I want your advice—”

“I know you don’t want it, but I’m giving it to you anyway. You need to make peace with your family, OK? Don’t let the past haunt you any longer.” Carrie looked deep into his eyes. “I know you want to see your old man again.”

“What, you’re an oracle now?”

“I’m just saying they’re staying at the Welcome Inn, in case you change your mind.”

Justin nodded, then gave her a shrug.

Carrie sighed. “Oh, I’m so tired. Everything hurts, and the doctor says it will not get better for a few more days.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time and get your strength back. Our job is done.”

“Kiawak told me a few things about what happened after the explosion, but his version was sketchy.”

“You’re not going to believe what I have to tell you and show you,” Justin said, unfastening his wristwatch.

“That’s new. Where did you get it? At the gift store?”

“No. This watch belonged to Magnus Tornbjorn, the Danish Chief of Operations for Arctic Wargame.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me correctly. This watch is not what it seems. Actually, nothing in this story is as it seems.”

Chapter Thirty-three

Federal Security Service Headquarters, Moscow, Russia

April 16, 8:15 a.m.

Grigori Smirnov stared for a long time at the Lubyanka Square. His weary eyes followed the black Mercedeses, Porsches, and other expensive vehicles zooming around the traffic circle. A stream of pedestrians flowed from the Metro station, heading for their offices, braving the chilling breeze and the first snowflakes blanketing the streets.

Smirnov sighed and frowned. His day had begun as chaotic as the traffic outside his office. It had been over twenty-four hours since he last communicated with Yuliya, just before the beginning of the Arctic Wargame. Smirnov hated silence. Silence meant bad news. Bad news meant mistakes, blame, and scapegoats. Especially since his superiors had started asking questions. Questions to which he had no answers. Or worse, questions he could not afford to answer.

He allowed himself a small grin. Yuliya had disappeared and he wished she was dead or somehow incapacitated. She and her silence had become a liability. And so had become Helma, the kidnapped wife of Gunter Madsen. The prick. Botching up a perfectly good operation.

He sighed again. His breath fogged a small section of the window glass. The view became blurry, and the cars and the people disappeared from his sight. He turned around and walked to his desk, determined to erase all traces of his involvement in the Arctic Wargame, his brainchild, and cut all his ties to this operation.

There was a knock on his door. Smirnov grinned. He was expecting the man behind the door. The man who was going to fix all his problems. The man he should have sent in Yuliya’s place. “Come in, Vladimir.”

A lean man in his late thirties entered his office. Vladimir was Smirnov’s assistant for overseas clandestine operations and the man who was personally involved in the kidnapping Gunter’s wife.

“Hello, boss,” he said and remained standing by the door.