“Local police have confirmed that Ivan Linauskas is currently residing in Aasiaat. They have his location.” Snap. Gaba pointed at a small apartment block close to the harbour. “But don’t have the resources to apprehend him.”
Atii changed slides following a soft snap of fingers from the back of the room.
“Luui,” Tuukula whispered, as Gaba took a sharp intake of breath.
“Magic,” she said.
“Aap. But not now.”
“Sergeant,” the commissioner said, hiding his grin behind a mug of coffee. “If you’ll carry on.”
“Hmm,” Gaba said. He nodded at Atii and waited for her to switch back to the previous slide before continuing. “Linauskas is here. Confirmed as of…” Gaba paused to check the chunky watch on his wrist. “One hour ago. The King Air is ready, and I suggest we leave within the next fifteen minutes.”
“Who?” Duneq said, as he stood up. He thrust a fat finger in my direction, and then turned to point at Atii. “I need these two here, in Nuuk. Not flying halfway up the coast.”
“George,” Gaba said, throwing Duneq a look that pressed him back into his seat. “Constables Napa and Jensen were with me in Ingnerssuit. Linauskas is related to that investigation. I’m taking both of them with me to Aasiaat. We’ll be back by this evening.”
“And in the meantime, I have to change the duty roster, again,” Duneq said. He turned to the commissioner, as if expecting him to make the final decision.
“I gave Petra seventy-two hours,” the commissioner said. “She has until the end of the day. Sergeant Alatak promises to have her back in Nuuk by then. I’m deferring to Gaba’s judgement on this.”
“But she lied,” Duneq said, rising again. He jabbed another finger at Tuukula, gesturing at the tuft on top of his head. “He fits the description of the missing man. Exactly.”
Snap.
I looked at Gaba, then turned as he pointed to the back of the room.
“Petra found ataata,” Luui said, followed by another snap. “Magic.”
Duneq snorted, then jabbed his finger at me for the second time. “She’s wasting police resources, Commissioner. I expect disciplinary action.”
“That’s enough, Sergeant,” Gaba said.
“You don’t tell me what to do or say, Gaba. Remember that.”
“I will.” Gaba tucked his thumbs into his utility belt. “But in operational situations, I have command. I’m taking Napa and Jensen with me to Aasiaat, together with Taatsiaq,” he said, turning to the commissioner. “With your permission.”
“Agreed.” The commissioner placed his mug on the table before addressing the room. “Obviously, there are some details that need ironing out once this is over. But our first priority is finding Linauskas and bringing him in for a quiet chat. Once we have him here in Nuuk, then,” he said, with a nod to me and Sergeant Duneq, “any outstanding concerns will be resolved.”
“I want her privileges revoked,” Duneq said, bringing on another bout of cramps in my stomach.
“We’ll see,” the commissioner said. He turned to Tuukula and held out his hand. “I’m glad you were so easily found,” he said, with a flash of amused light in his eye. “And I’m pleased we could finally meet.”
“I need to go with them,” Tuukula said.
“To Aasiaat?” The commissioner frowned. “I don’t think that’s necessary, or appropriate.”
“It’s my case.” Tuukula turned to look at Duneq. “I made the call. I reported the missing person.”
“He should go,” Duneq said. “Take him with you.”
For once, Duneq was difficult to read. I couldn’t tell if it was spite or confusion, spurred on by the shaman in the room, that encouraged him to side with Tuukula. I waited as the commissioner mulled it over, avoiding Gaba’s glare and the slow smile curling the side of Duneq’s wide mouth.
“Fine,” the commissioner said. “But if I might suggest, the girl stays here.” He waved his hand as Tuukula started to speak. “Sergeant Duneq?”
“Aap?”
“Luui is your responsibility.”
“Commissioner…”
Whatever Duneq might have said next was lost, the words stalled inside his mouth as the shaman’s daughter clicked her tiny fingers.
Snap.
Part 18
The King Air flight, normally reserved for medical emergencies, bumped down on the runaway in Aasiaat just a few hours after the meeting ended with a snap of Luui’s fingers. I might have enjoyed the thought of Sergeant Duneq looking after the shaman’s daughter, but found myself preoccupied with the straps of another bulletproof vest, twisting and turning on the back seat of the Aasiaat police patrol car as we raced to the apartment block down by the harbour.
“Let me,” Atii said.
“I’m never going to get the hang of this,” I said, letting Atii make the final adjustments on my vest.
“You will,” she said. “One day.”
The local police officer slowed the patrol car, pulling in behind the taxi that carried Gaba and Taatsiaq. He pointed at the apartment block, a two-storey wooden building painted bright red. It was a stone’s throw from the water, and a row of fibreglass dinghies and small trawlers bobbed in the water opposite the building.
“Let’s go,” Gaba said, rapping his knuckles on the window. “Not you,” he said, as Tuukula got out of the car. Gaba pressed his palm against Tuukula’s chest and nodded at the side of the road. “You wait here, until I tell you otherwise. Understand?”
Taatsiaq grinned from where he stood at the front of the patrol car, and I caught the look in his eye that could have been satisfaction. I wondered if he had forgiven Tuukula for stealing me away from the dance floor the night he arrived in Nuuk. I hadn’t thought about it since, which confirmed that I didn’t need to. I tugged the helmet onto my head, adjusted my ponytail and clicked the chinstrap closed.
“Ready,” I said, as Gaba did a visual check of my gear.
“You’ll be behind me,” he said, clicking his fingers for Atii to turn around as he checked her vest. “You’ll do what I say, or what Taatsiaq says – without question.”
This seemed to be the part he enjoyed most, and I wondered what Atii saw in him, beyond his muscles, his square jaw, and… I stopped myself before I could go any further. It wasn’t the time. I took a last look at Tuukula, flashing my hand in a discreet wave, before Atii whispered that I should take my pistol out of my holster.
I turned to follow her, impressed by the way she carried herself, as if this was something she could get used to, that she actually enjoyed. I wondered if Atii might be the first female officer to join the SRU. And then the thought was gone as I took my first step onto the stairs leading to the second floor of the apartment block.
Gaba stopped me at the top, pointing with two stiff fingers at the position he wanted me to take, against the corner of the building, with a good view of the stairs.
“Atii will be in front of you,” he said. “Watch her back.”
I intended to. I just hoped the sudden surge of adrenalin would settle so that I could hold my hands steady in the event that I had to use my pistol.
I didn’t know how Gaba trained his SRU team, but I remembered how it was drilled into us that if we ever drew our pistol in the line of duty, it would likely be fast, that the situation would be – for lack of a better word – messy. Soldiers were trained to be efficient with their shots, putting bullets downrange to keep the enemy’s head down, or assaulting a position, situations in which there was a tactical purpose to using their weapons. We were taught to use our weapons to stop a bad situation getting worse, often requiring quick actions with little time for finesse. I imagined Gaba and Taatsiaq operated someone in between the two extremes.
Gaba clicked his fingers, drawing my attention to his face and then back to his fingers as he held three of them up, counting down from three, two…
Taatsiaq kicked in the door as Gaba folded his last finger onto his fist.
> I held my breath as Atii moved up to where Gaba had been standing, her pistol held in a steady two-handed grip, covering the door, as Gaba followed Taatsiaq inside Linauskas’ apartment. I heard Taatsiaq’s voice calling Clear! Followed by Gaba doing the same. Atii lowered her pistol as Gaba exited the apartment, talking into his radio, calling for the local police officer to come on up.
“Petra,” Tuukula called up from the bottom of the stairs.
“What?”
“He’s getting away.”
Tuukula pointed out to sea, and I saw a small fibreglass dinghy, bow raising, as it powered out of the small harbour.
“Atii,” I said, as I holstered my pistol. “Look.”
I took two stairs at a time, thudding onto the gravel outside the apartment block, just as the local police officer brushed past me on his way up the stairs. I heard him curse, then turned to see Atii as she thundered down the stairs, calling out a quick apology as the police officer stepped smartly out of her way.
“Over here,” Tuukula said. “Quickly.”
I raced across the road with Atii right behind me. We both ignored Gaba’s shouts for us to wait and the second one that threatened more than one kind of disciplinary action.
“No time,” I said, slowing to follow Tuukula over the rocks between the road and the boats moored on the water below. He leaped into the nearest boat, and, before I could think about it, I followed him.
“Untie us,” he said, as Atii thumped onto the deck. I caught her arm, grinning despite myself, as I reached for the rope tethering us to the land.
“Knife,” Atii said, reaching around me to cut through the rope as Tuukula tugged the starting handle and the outboard roared into life.
Atii folded her knife back into her utility belt as I pushed away from the rocks. Tuukula put the motor into reverse, pulling away from the harbour just as Gaba appeared on the rocks above.
“Constable Jensen,” he shouted, stabbing his finger at the water right below him.
“Sorry,” I said, as Tuukula spun the boat in a tight turn. I gripped the gunwale as he accelerated, leaving Gaba on the shore shouting at Taatsiaq to find a bloody boat.
Atii squirmed her feet onto the deck, nodding at Tuukula as she pulled her pistol from her holster, checking the magazine and holding the pistol by her side as Tuukula increased speed.
Part 19
In the short space of just a few days, I had seen Atii look hurt, seen her jealous side, seen the confident, striking side of her as she dressed to impress, and now, in the bow of a stolen boat, I saw the strong young woman I had always known her to be, throwing off whatever insecurities she might have had, as she embraced the power that burned within her. She kept her arm straight, pointed directly at Linauskas’ boat, calling out the distance, guiding Tuukula with one hand, her pistol gripped comfortably in the other. I made myself useful as ballast, shifting my weight under Tuukula’s direction to trim the boat. Behind us, I could see Gaba, standing tall in a boat, hands folded across his chest as he waited for Taatsiaq to get the motor started.
I felt the rumble of my phone vibrating inside my jacket. I pulled it out and pressed it to my ear, turning my head out of the wind.
“This is Salaat from Nukissiorfiit. You wanted to know about Ivan Haarløv.”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you have an address?”
“He moved to Denmark, but one of my colleagues said he came back to Nuuk to teach.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s very helpful.” I ended the call, nodding to Atii that Nukissiorfiit had confirmed another piece of Ivan Haarløv’s and Linauskas’ story.
“Good,” she said. “Because we’re gaining on him. Get ready.”
I turned away from Gaba, wondering for a moment just what we intended to do when we caught up with Linauskas, but also confident that he wouldn’t run if he didn’t have something to hide, giving me hope that I would be able to justify my actions to the commissioner, and to circumvent any action that Sergeant Duneq intended to take.
Of course, everything depended on what happened next, and when Linauskas slowed to pick up a rifle, I realised that the situation was about to change – drastically.
“Stay down,” Atii said, pressing her hand on top of my helmet.
“Two guns are better than one,” Tuukula said.
“And make a bigger target,” she said.
Atii shifted her stance, anticipating the small waves from the wake of Linauskas’ boat, raising her pistol in a two-handed grip, preparing to shoot.
Linauskas’ first shot cracked above our heads, causing Atii to do little more than flinch, then bite her lip as she steadied her aim.
“A little closer,” she said to Tuukula. “A little faster.”
“Atii,” I said, ducking as Linauskas fired for a second time.
“Not now, P,” Atii said. “Concentrating.”
She lifted her hands to aim, cursing as the boat bumped over a tiny wave. Then, with another bite of her lip, Atii fired.
“Again,” she said, as her first shot plumed into the water just behind the outboard motor of Linauskas’ boat. Atii pulled the trigger. Another plume of water. She fired again, cursed, then bit her lip so hard it turned white. “This time,” she said, as she curled her finger around the trigger.
Atii’s fourth shot slammed into the outboard motor, splintering the casing and punching a hole out of which thick oily smoke pillowed around the dinghy. I heard Linauskas cough as Tuukula cut the power and we drifted towards him.
“Up, P,” Atii said. “Draw your pistol.”
I snapped the flap of my holster, remembering the last time I had pointed it at a man in the mountains of Kangaamiut, wondering why this week had been so different. It hit me then, as we approached. I was better at the unexpected, reacting to something, rather than planning for it. I stood next to Atii, bumping my shoulder against hers as Tuukula turned us in a wide arc around Linauskas’ dinghy.
Atii called out for him to drop the rifle and he threw it over the side of the boat. I kept my eyes on him, ignoring the splash, but with one ear tuned to the sound of another boat approaching fast from Aasiaat.
“Gaba’s on his way,” Atii said, as Tuukula settled into a second circle around Linauskas. “Do you think he’ll confess?”
“To poisoning the water?” I thought about it for a second, imagining that it would have a lot to do with the results of the water in Ingnerssuit, and whatever lay hidden inside the pipes of the pumphouse. “I hope so,” I said. “For everyone’s sake.”
Tuukula pulled away, loitering to one side as Gaba and Taatsiaq moved in to arrest Linauskas. Atii holstered her pistol the second Gaba slapped a pair of handcuffs around Linauskas’ wrists. I did the same, sighing as the adrenalin leaked out of my blood and my heart returned to a normal rhythm. Tuukula said nothing, not even when I asked how he was doing. He stared at Linauskas for what seemed like a minute, then pulled alongside the stricken dinghy to tow it back to Aasiaat.
“Let’s go home,” he said, as we followed Gaba’s boat back to the harbour.
Part 20
Atii was the star of the show on the flight back to Nuuk, drawing praise from Taatsiaq and Gaba at her incredible shot, which she re-enacted for them several times before the captain of the King Air suggested we take our seats for landing. Linauskas said nothing, keeping his head down and avoiding everyone’s eyes, especially Tuukula’s.
“You’re not going to say anything to him?” I asked Tuukula, as we tightened our seatbelts. “This is probably your last chance.”
“There’s nothing to say. He knows what he has done. He knows we know, and the results of the water will confirm it.”
“But you don’t want to ask him why?”
“I know why,” Tuukula said, raising his voice. “He thought he was protecting the land, that he would use the people for the greater good. But he forgot something important, something you don’t see in Denmark or the city.” Tuukula leaned forward, closer to Linauskas. “W
hat you forgot,” he said, “is that in Greenland, the land is the people. They are one. You can’t separate them, and you shouldn’t pit them against each other. If you do that, nobody wins.” Tuukula leaned back and settled in his seat. He took my hand, and said, “I have said what I needed to say. Qujanaq.”
We landed shortly after, with little more than a soft bump of the wheels and the whine of the engines as the captain taxied to the hangar. Taatsiaq took care of Linauskas, flashing me a grin as he left the plane. I followed Gaba and Atii onto the apron slowing to wait for Tuukula as he climbed down the short aircraft steps.
“We’re going to Mattak tonight,” Atii said. “SRU tradition.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I need my bed.”
“Taatsiaq is going.”
“I know, but I’m tired. Maybe another time.”
“Okay.” Atii pulled me into a tight hug, then loosened the Velcro tabs of my vest. “Are you riding with us back to the station?”
“No,” I said, as Tuukula joined us. “I think we’ll go to the hospital first. I’ll see you later, or tomorrow.”
I waited for Atii and Gaba to leave, wondering if we would need a taxi before I remembered that Sergeant Duneq was still looking after Luui.
“There she is,” Tuukula said, as we walked to the airport building.
He waved as Luui pressed her face against the window, blowing air out of her cheeks and smearing the glass. Sergeant Duneq stood just behind her, alternating between a stern look in my direction and a softer one aimed at Luui.
“You shouldn’t be too hard on the Sergeant,” Tuukula said.
“Me? Too hard on him?”
“Aap. He is a good man, even thought it might be difficult to see it sometimes.”
“A good man? Really?”
“I wouldn’t leave Luui with anyone I didn’t trust,” Tuukula said. He crouched as Luui bolted through the door and into his arms.
I nodded at Sergeant Duneq, waiting for him to say something, but, in that moment at least, training was over, and he had nothing more to say. I waved as he turned to leave, only to see him stagger as Luui raced from her father’s arms to grab Duneq’s leg. She extended her hand to give him a proper handshake, then ran back to Tuukula as Duneq turned to leave.
The Fever in the Water: A Constable Petra Jensen Novella (Greenland Missing Persons Book 4) Page 6