A young man with a broad face and smile approached them as they entered the terminal. “Are you Van Horne?” he asked McAllen. “I’m Danny, your pilot to Ellesmere. You want a tour of the town first, or are you good to go?”
“No, we’re ready to go now,” McAllen said. “How’d you know it was us?”
“You both look pretty white. And Van Horne wasn’t any native name I’d ever heard,” Danny said.
They picked up their bags and followed Danny outside the terminal and back onto the airport tarmac. They walked 700 metres to a hanger with several small planes in front.
“This is our plane,” Danny said, pointing to a twin-engine Otter with large tires. “This thing can handle the short runway in Grise Fiord.”
McAllen coughed slightly. “Ah Danny, we’ve had slight change of plans, can you drop us off at Eureka? We want to visit the PEARL station there. That okay with you?”
Danny shrugged and smiled. “Sure thing. They aren’t far by air. A hell of a long hike overland with no roads, so no problem, I can drop you there.”
“You don’t need to file another flight plan do you?” McAllen asked.
“Hell no, we drop in on Eureka all the time, I tell them I’m coming when I’m on my way there,” Danny said.
When Danny walked away, Bernadette turned to McAllen. “Why did you do that? Book our flight to Grise Fiord and change it with the pilot?”
“I thought if he filed a flight report to Eureka which is a research and weather base, the information would go to your Canadian Security and Intelligence people. I’m just trying to keep our tracks covered,” McAllen explained.
They climbed aboard the aircraft, which was surprisingly spacious inside. It had nine seats for passengers and the rest was loaded with cargo for Ellesmere Island.
As Danny fired up the engines and put on the seat belt sign, Bernadette realized they were the only passengers. The little plane roared with its big engine. It taxied onto the runway and with a powerful surge of its engines became airborne in what seemed a matter of seconds. It seemed to literally jump into the air.
Danny smiled from the cockpit. “Hell of a takeoff, eh? These babies can take off and land on almost any runway. These are the workhorses of the High Arctic. There’s next to no roads up here in summer and the winter roads are by snowmobile and ATV’s, so we’re in use all year round.”
The little town of Iqaluit grew smaller as they rose into the air. The snow-covered mountains were bathed in the setting Arctic sun. Bernadette checked the sunset time of where they were going. There was none. They would be travelling into Arctic night. There would be no sun again on Ellesmere Island until January 23rd. Almost four months of total darkness.
“Hey, I forgot to ask,” Danny said from the cockpit. “You meeting someone in Eureka?”
“Well no, this is kind of a surprise visit. We’re both with Environment Canada. We’re a surprise drop in to see how the research station is being kept up,” McAllen said as he leaned forward to answer Danny.
“Not a problem. I’ll call ahead about an hour out. There are only a few people there now. When the Government pulled the funding on PEARL, I was picking up people for the homeward journey. Man, there was a bunch of pissed off scientists.” Danny got on the radio and gave his position to Iqaluit tower.
“Is the station still manned?” McAllen asked.
“Yeah, they got like two or three guys there keeping the lights on and all that expensive equipment from freezing. The rest of the people work at the weather station that’s fifteen klicks away, I’ll give them a heads about your arrival and they’ll take you by truck or ATV to the research station.”
“That’s great,” Bernadette said.
“Don’t worry, they got lots of places you can sleep tonight. The place is mostly empty,” Danny said.
McAllen and Bernadette sat back in their seats and watched the rugged landscape of the Arctic flow beneath them. There were mountains covered in snow, and an expanse of sea. None of the sea was full of ice. Both of them knew it should be at this time of year.
The ice should be forming; seals, polar bears and walrus would be making their homes on it. But it wasn’t happening. Global warming was hitting here and changing the way the people interacted with the land.
Bernadette fell asleep in her seat and woke an hour later to hear Danny on the radio. He was repeatedly calling Eureka. There was no answer.
“They might be out doing some outside stuff. I’ll call later. But don’t worry, when they hear my plane come in, there’s always at least three or four of them show up at the landing strip,” Danny said.
Bernadette looked at her watch. It was 3 pm. They were supposed to land in an hour. She got out of her seat to stretch her legs. There was a perfect view of the horizon through the cockpit window. They were flying into total darkness.
33
Adam Morgan opened his eyes. He was tied to a chair in the basement, his feet, hands and body bound with a rope. He hated the basement. He hadn’t been down there since his wife left him. All of her things were there. He realized the rope he was tied with, was hers. The rope was supposed to secure a kayak to her car. She’d left it there telling him, “I hope you hang yourself with it.” He struggled against the rope as he heard footsteps descending the stairs. The little guy in the rock n’ roll outfit appeared in front of him holding a large bundle in a kitchen towel.
“My companions are upstairs hard at work on your computer. You have a lot of password-protected files. You want to save us some trouble and give those to me?” Sebastian asked.
“Go screw yourself,” Morgan said. He wanted to spit at Sebastian but that was extremely bad form.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Sebastian moved another chair closer to Morgan and placed the bundle on it. “Now, before I start, do you have any allergies? Like gluten, peanuts or lactose?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“I’m just screwing with you.” Sebastian chuckled as he opened the kitchen towel. He laid out an assortment of kitchen knives and a large kitchen shear with care.
Morgan’s eyes grew wide. “What do you think you’re going to do with those?”
“Oh, these knives? They are nice, aren’t they? You have excellent taste. I love your Japanese Santuko Knife. Excellent craftsmen, the Japanese.” Sebastian admired the blade as it gleamed in the light. He ran his thumb across the blade to test its sharpness.
“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Morgan, this hasn’t had a proper honing in a while. I mean, it will cut but it’s going to leave a ragged edge,” Sebastian said with reproachful eyes.
“You can’t do anything to me that the Russians won’t do worse. Don’t you know that?” Morgan said.
“Now, that’s a good start. Admitting that you’ve been working with the Russians. You want to tell us your boss’s name?”
“No, he’d kill my entire family.”
“We know a few things about you. You’re divorced and you never see your mother. You’re not making much of a case, Morgan.”
“They’d kill me. Is that what you want to know?”
“Okay, fair enough.” Sebastian took the kitchen shears and tested them on a Bic Pen. The pen was cut clean in two. He laid the pen on the towel and let it bleed out its blue ink.
“My agents won’t let you do anything to me. This is just a ruse to get me to talk. Besides, if you try anything I’ll scream my head off and have the neighbours calling the cops,” Morgan said. He looked at Sebastian, trying to see if this had any effect.
Sebastian walked over to a workbench in the corner and found a roll of duct tape. He pulled off a long piece, cut it cleanly with the Japanese knife and stood over Morgan.
“Let me tell you something, Morgan. Your people upstairs don’t give a shit about you. If I torture you to death, they’re fine with it. We need the information to get into your computer. I will gag you with this duct tape and start taking off your fingers. Then I might take off some toes. Sure you�
�ll pass out, but I’ve got the chemical know-how to bring you back to consciousness.”
“What kind of monster are you? You couldn’t possibly do such a thing to another human being.”
“You wouldn’t think that would you? I was trained by the United States Government to interrogate Vietnamese prisoners. I was told American lives were on the line—to use whatever means possible to get information. I’m about to do the same to you. Because the stakes are the same.”
Sebastian walked slowly forward with the duct tape. Morgan shrank away. Before Sebastian could place the tape over his mouth he screamed, “Okay damn it. I’ll talk.”
“Wonderful. Let me get a pen and I’ll write the passwords down.”
“You don’t need that. They’re all the same.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“The password is mywifesabitch, all lower case.” Morgan sighed.
“You really do harbor some major resentment. But, I get it, I had three wives and some of them could be a bit testy.” Sebastian turned and headed for the stairs.
“None of this will do you any good,” Morgan said.
“And why is that? We’ll have all of your contacts in your network and we can prove what you’ve been up to.”
“You may have my contacts, but there is nowhere in there detailing what they’re up to. Sure I have an idea they’re screwing with the Earth’s core temperature, but I don’t know the whereabouts of the project,” Morgan said cocking his head to one side.
“Really? Well, how about if we check your files and get back to you when we need some clarification?”
“Suit yourself, but you won’t find anything more than a bunch of emails and files concerning my dealings with some disreputable Congressman and some shady business people. Most of my files are from ongoing FBI investigations.”
“And, where will we find the files on you and Sokolov and your Russian friends?” Sebastian asked.
“They were hired help. My operatives in the FBI were busy at the time. I needed to contract out,” Morgan said with the slightest of smiles.
“Don’t you mean you needed contract killers and the FBI wasn’t up for it?”
Morgan shrugged in his ropes. He looked away.
Sebastian went upstairs to the den that Morgan used as an office. Valdes and Winston were there, searching his paper documents. He gave Winston the password Morgan had given him.
Winston raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, I’m sure a lot of women could use this password as well. No wonder hackers have such an easy time.”
Valdes got busy with opening the computer and reviewing files. “I see mostly FBI stuff here. He’s careful about putting things in here that could incriminate him if he’s caught.”
“Can you access some of his hidden files?” Sebastian asked.
“Yeah,” Valdes said. He went to the file menu and typed a command, chflags nohidden/path/to file-or-folder. A set of files appeared.
“What’s this Climate Killers document all about?” Winston asked.
Valdes started to read it out loud. “The plan to take over the United States Government by manifesting a Climate Catastrophe. It has names of everyone in the USA that is involved.” He read down the page. “This is a step by step diagram of how the Russians would increase the temperature in the Ocean and cause major drought and killing heat to the US heartland. They drop in a little tidbit about a forecast for forest fires that would be devastating.”
“Isn’t that nice of them to give a full narrative on what they plan to do to us?” Winston said. “Does that document say if they plan to attack us?”
“No, nothing like that. But on this third page it talks about how they would infiltrate the USA in relief planes,” Valdes said.
“Clever bastards,” Sebastian said. “The old Trojan Horse scenario. They send in help with their transports loaded with Russian soldiers. We should have thought of that in some of our wars. Might have saved us some casualties.”
Winston looked up from the computer. “How do we get this out to the US government? Whom do we send this to?”
“If you send this to the government, they’d call it fiction. They’re so busy right now battling forest fires and trying to shore up the coastline that is flooding cities, they’d laugh us out of the room. Then they’d throw us all in jail for taking Morgan captive,” Valdes said.
“But he’s the one that was trying to kill us.” Winston put her hand on her neck and massaged a knot of tension that was building itself towards a headache.
“He could say there was a leak in the FBI, and the Russians were trying to get to Sigurdsson before we did,” Sebastian said. He placed his hands on Winston’s shoulders and gave her a deep massage. She almost groaned with pleasure.
“I think we need to work on our guy in the basement. Morgan knows a hell of lot more than he’s letting on. This is going to be my pleasure for the evening,” Sebastian said.
He left the room and headed for the basement. On the way down the stairs he heard the garage door open. A car engine started. Tires squealed. He ran down the basement steps. Morgan was gone.
Morgan hit the accelerator. The BMW’s tires burned rubber, making a loud screeching sound as he made his escape.
He chuckled once he made it onto the freeway. They’d never catch him now. The moment Sebastian had gone upstairs, Morgan bounced in his chair until he got to the knives that had been left there to torture him. With the Japanese chef’s knife, he’d sawed through the ropes on his hands. He’d thought of grabbing a handgun he had in the hallway upstairs and killing them but it was too much of a gamble. If they’d seen him first he’d been a dead man. He was never a good marksman.
He placed a call to Sokolov using his car’s voice activated phone.
“You’re calling me from your car and not a burner phone. What’s the problem?” Sokolov asked when he answered.
A chill went down Morgan’s spine. He had to report what had happened. He needed his help.
“I ran into a problem. Those people you were supposed to kill turned up at my house a few hours ago.”
“And?”
“They made me give them my computer passwords. I’m blown—don’t you get it? They know about what we’re up to. I need to get out of America, fast,” Morgan said.
He braked hard to avoid rear-ending a slow moving pickup truck in the right lane. He maneuvered around the truck and hit his accelerator, cursing as he drove.
“I don’t understand. How can you be alive if they tried to get information out of you? All of my men would have died before they gave away secrets,” Sokolov said.
Morgan sputtered, “I escaped, damn it.”
Sokolov went silent for a moment.
Morgan waited. He was in the Russian’s hands now. His escape was up to him.
Sokolov’s voice was slow and deliberate. “Go to the Elite Charters Hanger at Dulles Airport. I’ll have a plane take you out of there in an hour. You will meet a person named Katia. Follow her to your plane. She’ll take good care of you,” Sokolov said.
Morgan blew out a breath of relief. “Thanks. I’ll meet you for a drink in Moscow when this is over.”
“Yes, we will do that. Safe journey.”
Winston and Valdes looked at Sebastian as he told them the news of Morgan’s escape. “I guess we’re totally screwed,” Valdes said.
“You think he’s going to run back to the FBI and put a lockdown on the capital to capture us?” Winston said.
“I don’t think so,” Sebastian said. “I figure he thinks he’s been blown. He’ll probably run to a safe house or try to escape the country.”
“But you told us he said we had nothing on him?” Winston said.
Valdes looked at the computer. “No, there’s even more hidden files here. He’s put in notes on who’d be in charge of the FBI once the takeover happens and it’s none other than Adam Morgan. There’s even a guy named Derman who’d be taking over as Secretary of Commerce and an Admiral that would take over the
combined Russian and US seventh fleet. Looks more than fiction to me.”
“How do we get this out there?” Winston said.
“I’m going to download this to a USB flash drive and make copies. Then I plan to send these little gems to the Washington Post, the New York Times and every major newspaper in the USA,” Valdes said.
“It’s going to be called fake news by the White House. You know they have a standard response for that kind of thing. They’ve been saying that this weather catastrophe is a blip in the weather pattern,” Sebastian said.
“Well, hopefully the reporters will start to verify and call enough of the people on this list that it will shake them up,” Winston suggested.
Valdes made his copies and they left Morgan’s home. As they walked out the door there were several children playing in the street. Not an FBI agent to be seen. They breathed a collective sigh of relief and drove away.
Morgan’s drive to the airport was slow. The traffic was heavy. He kept checking his rearview mirror to see if he was being followed. He pulled into the parking lot. The tension melted away.
He was going to miss his good life in America. But he reasoned it would be for a short time. America would be brought to the brink of disaster and Russia would come to save it. They would just stay, permanently. He smiled as he saw the vision of him returning as the director of the FBI.
He left his lovely BMW with a backward glance of regret and made his way into the building. A young blonde woman in a blue business suit stood up as he entered.
“Mr. Morgan, I am Katia. Please follow me. I’ve been told to take special care of you.”
Morgan relaxed. The lady was pretty, nice features and an athletic sense about her. Sokolov only hired the best.
They walked to a private lounge. Katia opened the door and smiled for him to enter. He walked into the room. There was a plastic sheet on the floor.
Climate Killers: Book 3. Bernadette Callahan Detective Series Page 17