“That's the one Kjersing highlighted in the mission briefing.”
“We'll need the screwdrivers to remove it,” Fenna said and stood up. “I'll go get them.”
ITTOQQORTOORMIIT, EAST GREENLAND
Fenna stopped speaking and waited as Petersen and Vestergaard exchanged a look. Vestergaard closed his notebook, pushed back his chair and stood up. He leaned against the cracked kitchen counter next to Petersen. The look they gave Fenna reminded her of wolves she had seen in a documentary on television, at the moment when they had run their quarry ragged and were regrouping to finish it off.
“Maybe I should see that letter,” Fenna said. “The official one.”
Fenna caught the faint smile teasing Petersen's lips before he looked away. She stared at Vestergaard. He took a long breath before reaching into his pocket and removing a packet of cigarettes.
“Do you smoke, Konstabel?” Vestergaard said as he tapped a cigarette into his hand.
“No, and I didn't think you did.”
“That thing with the ashtray?” Vestergaard laughed. “I thought it would make you more comfortable to remove it.”
“Comfortable?” Fenna looked around the kitchen and smirked.
“Yes,” Vestergaard said and paused to light his cigarette. “It’s cosy in here isn't it.” He took a drag on the cigarette. The tip glowed as he stared at Fenna. “Leave us for a moment, Sergent.”
“All right,” Petersen said. He shrugged and walked out of the kitchen. “I'll wait outside for Maratse.”
“And go and find out if Burwardsley is done with his report,” Vestergaard called after him. He turned to face Fenna, took another drag on the cigarette and then extinguished it with water from the tap above the kitchen sink. “Foul things,” he said and tossed the cigarette into a bag of rubbish in the corner of the kitchen.
“Mikael preferred pipes,” Fenna said. She watched Vestergaard as he washed his hands and returned to his seat at the table. “Although, I think it was a comfort thing considering the little he actually smoked.”
“Yes.” Vestergaard nodded. “Comfort.” He opened his notebook and flipped through the pages from the beginning. “I can't imagine it was very comfortable on patrol.”
“It had its moments.”
“Like at the cabin?”
“Yes. Loch Fyne was a...”
“Was that the first time you heard the name Humble Technologies?”
Fenna frowned. “At the mission briefing? Yes.”
“Have you heard of Richard Humble? In the media perhaps?”
“No.” Fenna paused. This is taking a new direction, she thought. “Is he the owner of Humble Technologies?”
“A relation,” Vestergaard said and continued. “What did you do with the component?” he said and pressed the nib of his pen on a fresh page in his notebook. “Where did you put it?”
“In the sledge bag that hangs from the uprights, we put all kinds of crap in there,” she said and gauged the reaction on Vestergaard’s face. To his credit, she mused, he practically ignored her, but for the smug dimples of satisfaction at the corners of his mouth.
Chapter 12
NORTHEAST GREENLAND NATIONAL PARK
Fenna unscrewed the part labelled Humble Technologies Inc. and gave it to Mikael.
“Put it in the sledge bag, together with any of the other smaller bits,” Mikael said and laid the panel flat on the snow beside him. “We’ll put the larger pieces in the net. Should be okay.”
Fenna carried the circuit panel to the sledge, opened the flap of the canvas sledge bag looped between the uprights and dropped it inside. She walked to the rear of the sledge, gripped the uprights and pushed it over to Mikael. She teased the cargo net out from where it was wedged under the lengths of cord tied between the sledge thwarts and spread it out on the free area at the front of the sledge. Mikael pulled large sections of the satellite across the ice and laid them on top of the net.
“We’ll have to dig the last part out. I’ll do that while you box the area and see if we have everything. Better do that now, while the wind is favourable.” He looked at Fenna and paused. “Better call it in on the satphone.”
“I’ll do that,” she said and pulled the satellite phone from the sledge bag. Fenna called Daneborg while boxing the crash site. She scanned the ground three times in ever increasing boxes, finding nothing of interest. She walked back to Mikael as he placed the last parts of the satellite on the cargo net. “The guys at Daneborg say ‘hi’.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Mikael pointed at the sledge. “I found the lens. That’s probably the most important part.”
“The most expensive,” Fenna stared at the scrap metal lying on the sledge. “Not quite so glamorous anymore. Not worth Cisko.”
Mikael walked to her side and let the shovel fall into the snow at his feet. “Somebody thinks so,” he shrugged. “I think we have everything. If we leave now we can be back at the cabin in a couple of hours,” he said and glanced up at the clouds. “The weather is holding. If all goes well, we can arrange a pick-up for tomorrow morning and save what’s left of our patrol.”
“Even without Cisko?”
“Yeah, I think so. We’ll hit the books tonight in the cabin. Make a new plan.”
“Sounds good.” Fenna reached for the shovel. She slid it between the lines securing the boxes at the rear of the sledge. They worked from both sides, secured the cargo net, and added the smaller chunks of space debris to the bag before lashing the net tight to the sledge.
The mid-morning light burned through the clouds as the sun shone down on call-sign Fever Dog. Mikael and Fenna pulled off their outer layers and hooked the team up to the sledge. They stowed the anchor line and clicked their heels into their skis for the return journey. Picked clean of debris, the crash site disappeared with a fine dusting of snow blowing gently across the surface. With a last look to check they had everything, Mikael nodded to Fenna and gave the command for Lucifer to lead the team back along the tracks they had made.
They slowed at the crest of the long, shallow slope leading down to the cabin. Situated on the exposed shore fifty metres above the ice foot, the cabin overlooked the smooth sea ice covering the fjord. A thin, grey drift of smoke from the chimney twisted in the breeze. Fenna rubbed Lucifer’s ears as she crouched in the snow by the side of the lead dog. She pinched the ice beading her eyelashes and turned as Mikael clumped through the snow to join her.
“What’s up?” he said. The air creaked out of the snow as Mikael dropped to his knees.
“Smoke coming out of the chimney,” Fenna said and pointed at the cabin.
“Who? I haven’t heard any helicopters.” He took a moment and scanned the snow around the cabin. “No dogs. We’re way too far north of the Greenlanders’ hunting grounds.”
Fenna stroked Lucifer’s nose as he wormed his head underneath her arm. “How do you want to play it?”
“If it wasn’t for the satellite,” Mikael glanced back at the sledge, “we would have been down there already.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know.”
Fenna looked to the east across the flat expanse of ice covering the Greenland Sea. A shiver trembled across her shoulders. This is it then, she thought. This is when life gets interesting.
ITTOQQORTOORMIIT, EAST GREENLAND
Richard Humble. Fenna considered the name in her head. She remembered the manufacturer’s name stencilled onto the satellite component, although she had no idea how it functioned or how secret it was, only that she and Mikael had been tasked to retrieve it. During a hurricane. She recalled the prick of ice on her cheeks and rubbed her fingers over the skin on either side of her nose. The sun had brought her freckles out, and the wind had burned her skin to a shade lighter than her hair. A sigh from Vestergaard brought her out of her thoughts and back into the close confines of the police kitchenette. Fenna decided to take a chance.
“Who is Humble?”
“We’ve already establishe
d that you don’t know who he is,” Vestergaard said and checked his mobile. “Still no signal.”
“So, humour me,” Fenna said.
“To what purpose?”
“Curiosity. We pushed through a storm for a piece of satellite with his name on it...”
“The name of his father’s company,” Vestergaard corrected her.
“Mikael died for it.”
“Yes,” Vestergaard said.
“Then people will kill for it, or him.”
Vestergaard leaned back in his chair and studied Fenna’s face. She felt his scrutiny pick at the peeled skin on her cheeks, peeling it back further and deeper as if he was searching for something. If I’m lucky, she thought, he will think I’m just a dumb pawn in this game, and let something slip. Mikael died for something. I’m in the shit because of the same thing, and this guy Humble, he must...
“Richard Humble is the third in a line of Richard Humbles. His father and his grandfather before him have run Humble Technologies Inc. successfully for the past forty years, under one name or another. The current Richard Humble maintains a more advisory role within the company – he became a lawyer. Humble and Lunk is a well-established law firm with a main office in Toronto. I read this in Variety magazine.”
“The entertainment magazine?” Fenna said and frowned. “What does satellite technology have to do with entertainment?”
“Absolutely nothing, but the money,” Vestergaard said and smiled, enjoying the topic. “Money and entertainment go hand in hand, and Richard Humble enjoys plenty of both.”
“So we sledged after a piece of kit to save some millionaire’s reputation?”
“No. You retrieved a sensitive component to stop it falling into the wrong hands.”
“Whose?” Fenna said. “This is Greenland. There are fewer people in the entire country than there are in a small town in England. In the National Park, there is only a handful.”
“And one of them is dead, Konstabel. I would say the wrong hands are obviously in this up to their necks. As are you,” Vestergaard said and picked up his biro.
Bastard, Fenna thought. And yet, she realised, he had been relatively forthcoming with the information.
Fenna flicked her head towards the door as Petersen walked into the station. She noticed the sheet of paper in his hands, focusing on it as the Sergent handed it to Vestergaard. The light from the window highlighted a watermark in the centre of each of the two pages of printed writing. Fenna tilted her head and studied what looked like an image of a large ship sailing past an iceberg.
“What is The Ice Star?” she asked as she read the words around the logo. Vestergaard folded the papers to his chest and stared at Fenna. “It’s written on the paper,” she said.
“It’s not important.”
“No? Nothing I could read in a magazine?”
“Actually,” Vestergaard said, and tucked the papers inside his jacket. “The Ice Star has been the subject of several articles.”
“It’s a ship?”
“A ship?” Vestergaard said and laughed. He turned to Petersen and gave the Sergent a look that made Fenna feel stupid. “Yes, Konstabel, you could say it was a ship.”
“And Burwardsley works on it,” she said and held her breath. It was a gamble.
Vestergaard’s laugh died on his lips. “More coffee?” he said and waited for Petersen to take his mug.
“He wrote his notes on headed paper from the ship. Didn’t he?” Fenna said and nodded towards the papers Vestergaard had inside his jacket. “His version of the story, written on the only paper he had available.”
“You’re quite the detective all of a sudden.”
Petersen stopped pretending to make coffee and turned to listen. Fenna pressed her hands together beneath the table and steeled herself to meet the Premierløjtnant’s scrutiny.
“Yes,” she said. “I have nothing to lose.”
“All the same,” Vestergaard said and pulled his mobile from his pocket. He thumbed the screen and then put it away, a slight fleck of irritation flickered in his eyes. “You shouldn’t ask too many questions, Konstabel. It’s not your place.”
“So I can’t ask about his side of the story? Burwardsley’s?”
“No.”
“Then I have nothing to go on.”
“You suggested you were drugged...”
“Yes,” Fenna said and stabbed her finger at the corner of the paper sticking out of Vestergaard’s jacket pocket. “By him.”
“Which he maintains was necessary, given your heightened level of anxiety. You were,” he said and paused to remove the papers, “...a danger to yourself and others. Lieutenant Burwardsley administered a sedative as a precautionary measure prior to transporting you here, to Scoresbysund, where you could be both treated and questioned regarding the death of your partner.”
“Bullshit.”
“And yet, that’s what it says,” said Vestergaard as he pocketed Burwardsley’s report.
“This is a setup,” Fenna said. She clasped her fingers together as they began to shake.
“Perhaps so. But if we don’t get to the bottom of it, then the Lieutenant’s report will be the only report that matters.”
“What about my statement? Don’t I get to write my version of what happened?”
Vestergaard tapped his notebook. “I have my notes. Petersen has... Well, he started making a shorthand reference. Perhaps you can resume once we have the proper facilities at our disposal?”
“Yes, Premierløjtnant,” Petersen said and glanced at Fenna. “As soon as the Knud Rasmussen gets in.”
“This is a sham.”
“I beg your pardon, Konstabel? A sham?” Vestergaard said. “Whatever it might be, it only exists because of you. So, call it what you will.”
Fenna pressed her palms to her eyes to shut out the light. Think, Fenna, think. The logo of the ship, The Ice Star, floated in her mind. A big ship. One Burwardsley works for – Vestergaard didn’t deny that. But what was the connection? If The Ice Star was in the area, and it had to be for Burwardsley to be here, then it must have an ice class certification. It had to be able to operate without the need for an icebreaker to be this far north. And it has to have a helipad, she realised.
“You’re doing a lot of thinking, Konstabel. Please, don’t wear yourself out,” Vestergaard said and tapped his biro on his notebook. “We need to continue.”
Fenna rubbed her eyes one last time and lowered her hands. She blinked in the light. She took a long breath, lifted her heels and let her knees rock up and down as she bounced on her toes.
“I’m lost,” she whispered.
“Then stick to the facts,” Vestergaard said. “And let me help you.”
“Okay,” she said and nodded. “Okay.”
“What happened next, Konstabel?”
Chapter 13
NORTHEAST GREENLAND NATIONAL PARK
Lucifer bit at the balls of ice frozen in the hairs between the pads of his feet. The rest of the team lay curled in the snow or flat on their bellies, their long forelegs stretched out before them. Fenna glanced at the team and then crawled back into position beside Mikael, the snow crunching beneath her elbows and knees.
“Well,” he said, “Whoever they are, they have all our gear and supplies.”
“I’ll get on the phone.” Fenna pushed Lucifer away and stood up. Mikael gripped her arm as she turned toward the sledge.
“This could be nothing. We might even have left something on the stove.”
“You know we didn’t.”
“I know.” Mikael glanced at the Glock holstered to Fenna’s waist. “You ready to use that?”
“You have to ask?”
“This is different, Fenna. Euthanising dogs is one thing...”
“And when was the last time you pulled a gun on someone?”
“I haven’t.”
“So don’t suggest this is any different for you than it is for me.”
“I’m just saying we don
’t know what to expect and I want you to be ready for anything.” He turned to glance at the satellite and Fenna caught a flash of concern in his eyes. “Okay?” he asked.
“Yes, okay,” said Fenna.
Mikael pulled Lucifer by the harness and turned the team away from the crest of the slope, drawing them down below the lip and out of sight. The dogs waited as he secured the travelling anchor line in the snow. Fenna stood a few metres behind the sledge, trailing the antenna for the satellite telephone a few metres from the handheld unit. She pressed the buttons on the phone and dialled the Sirius base at Daneborg.
“Hello? Noa? This is Fenna. I need to speak to Kjersing,” she said and waited for Noa's response. She shook her head at Mikael. “Kjersing's not in the office. He has to go look for him.”
“Just give him the message and we can get down to the cabin,” Mikael said. Fenna noticed the rifle slung on his shoulder. She nodded.
“Hey, Noa. Wait. Just give him this message.” Fenna paused to look at Mikael.
“Tell him,” Mikael stopped and held out his hand for the phone. “Hey, Noa, it's Mikael. Tell Kjersing that we think we have a guest at the cabin.” He paused. “No, no-one we know and no sign of helicopters or dogs. A bit of a mystery really.” Mikael paused again, nodding as Noa repeated his message. “Yep, we’re going to go and take a look. We'll call you when we know more.”
Mikael ended the call and handed the satphone to Fenna. She packed the antenna away and tucked the unit inside her jacket.
“You ready?” Mikael said with a flash of teeth beneath his beard.
“As much as I'll ever be,” Fenna said. “Nothing like a bit of smoke from the chimney to get the heart racing, eh?”
“Yeah,” Mikael laughed. “But remember,” he said, “We're Special Forces.”
“Oh, we're special all right.”
“So very special.” Mikael nodded. He took a breath and slipped the rifle from his shoulder and into his hands. “Be careful, Fenna.”
“I will,” Fenna said and tugged her pistol from its holster. “I'll come in from the south.”
“Sounds good.” Mikael took a last look at the dogs and nodded. “I'll cover you from above as you go inside the cabin.” He cuffed Fenna on the arm, turned and slipped over the crest of the slope.
The Ice Star (Konstabel Fenna Brongaard Book 1) Page 8