by Mark Davis
If George was Freyja, he might have used a shotgun to blow the top off of Everett Walleen’s head and chased Thor to his death.
If George was Freyja, he was holding her son hostage in a cabin in the middle of Norway.
Elizabeth could not believe any of that. But then she had not recognized the George she had just seen, shirtless, with a frenzied expression as he swung the axe. And why else would he be here?
There was an upside. She could not believe that George would hurt her. She could not imagine George harming Max. This was a cry for help. She would talk him down with gentleness. The mentor would become the patient.
Elizabeth walked out of the forest, along the side of the cabin. She wanted to learn as much as she could before George saw her. She glanced in a window and saw movement again, the forms of several people, and heard a murmur of conversation.
There was nothing to do now but go straight in. Elizabeth walked up the frail wooden steps, the sound of her feet on hollow wood now unmistakably heard by anyone inside. She gave the door three hard knocks, slowly turned the handle and swung the door open.
In front of her, Karl Pedersen leaned against a long wooden table, a toothpick twirling from one side of his mouth to the other.
“Good to see you again, mia cara,” Karl said.
The black leather belt of a holster crossed his chest, clasping a small black pistol to his hip.
“You are looking truly magnificent today.”
Elizabeth stepped backward, tripped on the front steps and fell flat on her backside. She pulled herself up on her elbows and looked for the best direction to run.
“Relax,” Nasrin said, stepping outside. “All is well. Karl is not in a particularly rapey mood this afternoon.”
Elizabeth rose, crouching, still ready to run.
Nasrin leaned over her smiling.
“Besides, I’d have the drop on him anyway,” she said and pointed to the dainty side holster on her belt that held her ‘Lady Glock.’ “Come inside. George has started a fire to brew us all some tea.”
___________
“It makes my heart glad to see you again,” George said to Elizabeth, buttoning the last button on his shirt. “I know you’ve been through quite an ordeal this morning.”
A kettle popped and clanged and finally whistled. George lifted it from the top of the old wood-burning iron stove. Elizabeth looked around at the crude, wooden structure. She could make out enough cognates in a plaque to see that it had been built by park service volunteers for the Norwegian Guide and Scout Association. The wooden walls were gnarled and a weathered gray, as if the structure had been constructed from driftwood.
Elizabeth cast a wary glance at Karl, who sat on a wooden bench opposite her on a long bench against a well-worn pine table.
“Care to tell me what is going on?” Elizabeth asked.
Nasrin retrieved old cups in a cupboard. She washed them out with water from a canteen and set them out.
“The park service does a pretty good job stocking this place,” Nasrin said as George poured tea in each cup. “But I’m afraid there is no sugar.”
“Damn it,” Karl said. “I like sugar.”
“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”
“Very well,” Nasrin said, sitting next to Karl, while George put the kettle on the cool side of the stove. “Let’s step out back, why don’t we?”
Three Adirondack-style wooden chairs sat on the rock and concrete patio. There was a grill and cooking pit to the side.
“Have a seat,” Nasrin said. “You look thoroughly knackered.”
Nasrin handed Elizabeth a cup of tea. They all took seats except for Karl, who paced behind them.
The view opened over Tyssedal and a lake, Ringedalsvatnet. Afternoon sun beat down on cliffs opposite them and made the navy-blue water sparkle. It had to be 2 p.m. already.
“I had secured us some of these,” Nasrin said, waving a cellphone with an antenna as wide as Elizabeth’s thumb.
She pushed a button and Elizabeth heard the tune of an auto dial.
A man’s voice answered. Lars.
“She’s here,” Nasrin said, “only a little worse for the wear.”
Nasrin listened, nodded at what sounded only like murmurings to Elizabeth.
“We shall, thank you.” Nasrin pushed the off button.
“Sat phone, new Inmarsat model straight from GCHQ, encryption most nation-states couldn’t beat,” Nasrin said. “We shared these around PIG the day you left. We also kept your devices under surveillance, Elizabeth, so Ingrid picked up all your messages from Freyja soon as you did. Within half an hour, Lars had us all on a helicopter that shot us from Oslo to land on that hydroelectric dam in Tyssedal. We were on a Land Rover up here before you even left the Bergen Airport in your rental. Fancy moves, by the way. I bet Charlie will get reamed out by Langley for that.”
“And Max?”
Nasrin chuckled and smiled.
“Elizabeth,” George said. “Max is fine. He always has been. He has not left the United States.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You never actually spoke with Max, did you?” Nasrin asked. “Freyja just took control of his devices to trick you into coming here. She knows his diction, his verbal ticks, even his nickname for you—Lizzie.”
“Max is okay?”
“A pair of FBI agents checked in on him at Rutgers. They were amused at the clumsy way he tried to distract them from the bong in his living room.”
“Oh God.”
Elizabeth cradled her face in her hands, her cup fell and shattered on the stones. It all came out at once, racking sobs, all the day’s terror and stress. Nasrin went inside and returned with picnic napkins.
“Oh that changes everything.” Elizabeth wiped the corners of her eyes and blew her nose. “Oh thank God.”
“And Karl?” Elizabeth asked, not looking at him, just at Nasrin, who had returned to her chair. She was leaning close, one hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“Karl is working for me now,” Nasrin said.
“It is okay for him to have a gun?”
“I am glad he does,” Nasrin said.
“Were there signs Freyja had been here?”
“Come inside,” Karl said.
Elizabeth pulled herself up and reluctantly followed Karl Pedersen alone into the cabin. Karl pointed to a narrow strip of wall. “Just that.”
A white sheet of paper hung from a nail next to the door. A laser-printed note in large, black font read, “Elizabeth: Take the Trolltunga trail up to the rock.” The signature, “Freyja,” was in the same black font.
On the floor below were a new pair of hiking boots with thick, waterproof socks. A canteen leaned against one of the boots. Elizabeth was certain the fit of the boots would be perfect.
Karl stared at her, saying nothing, as if he expected her to tell him something. He slowly pulled a flask from his back pocket and poured gin into his tea and then smiled at her. Elizabeth went back outside to sit by Nasrin again.
“Are you sure Freyja did not see you come up here?”
“Lars, Dahl and a gaggle of young rangers were first up with binoculars and rifles. They scouted the cabin and the area and determined that there was no one around except for a few legitimate hikers. They secured the cabin and found no devices left behind by Freyja.”
“So this was another one of her ruses?”
“We don’t think so,” George said. “We’re pretty confident she is up at Trolltunga.”
“Troll what?”
“The Troll’s tongue,” Karl said. He had followed Elizabeth back outside. He slurped his teacup full of gin. “A high precipice much like Preikestolen. If you take a side road off this trail up from here, you hit the main trail up to Trolltunga, a good three-hour hike if we go all out.”
“The rangers are cordoning off all the trails and scouting the forest,” Nasrin said. “Rangers in plaincl
othes have already gone to the top to identify every hiker and tell them that a criminal is loose and to come down and call if they see anything or anyone unusual.”
“So Lars and the rangers will tighten the noose?”
“No,” Karl said. “They are leaving Freyja no avenue of escape. Nasrin and I, we’re the noose.”
Nasrin shook her head, irritated with Karl’s lack of discretion. She turned to Elizabeth.
“George and I are delighted to see you so well and to give you the good news about Max,” Nasrin said. “But you are a complication, a civilian complication. You will go back down and wait for the police in Tyssedal.”
“George is also a civilian,” she said. “Why is he with you?”
“He’s still on PIG, you are not. Besides, he’s here to assess anything we could have learned from the cabin, not go up with us to confront Freyja.”
“You need me,” Elizabeth said. “I am the only one here who has held conversations with Freyja. I know her like no one else.”
“You can’t come up with us.”
“I could go up, help with negotiations if needed,” George said.
“You’re strong, George, but I think you’d find the climb too much for a man your age,” Elizabeth said.
“I could outrun any of you,” he said. “No, I think I see what’s going on. The implications of your unfolding plan are becoming clear to me. If Freyja can be talked down, we have a legal and moral obligation to do that.”
“Very well,” Nasrin said. “So if we do need a negotiator shrink, which I hope we don’t, then I choose Elizabeth.”
“Choose me,” George said.
“Elizabeth is right, she knows Freyja like no one else,” Nasrin said. “And besides, you really would find the mountain to be too much.”
George went to make himself another tea, sulking in the corner by the stove.
Elizabeth didn’t wait. She laced up her shoes and poured water from a plastic jug into her canteen and stopped cold.
“What if Freyja laced my canteen with DMT or something?”
“Good point,” Nasrin said. “Leave it and you can drink from mine.”
She turned to George. “What will you do?”
“I suppose I shall have to trudge back to Tyssedal and use my analytical skills to locate the best place for lunch.”
Nasrin nodded and stepped outside, joining Karl, who had already laced up and was scanning the scenery as if the enemy could be watching them.
“You thought I was Freyja, didn’t you?” George asked.
“George … when I saw you up here, such a shock …”
“Well, I suppose you have every reason to feel disoriented by what has happened. It has been a hell of a day, and it’s only two o’clock in the afternoon.”
He walked across the cabin and wrapped strong arms around Elizabeth.
“Come back to me.”
He kissed her forehead.
Elizabeth nodded and stepped outside. She followed Karl and Nasrin as they set off on the upward trail. After a ten minute climb they came to a spur that opened to a narrow trail cutting deep into the woods. Nasrin and Karl consulted a map on the digital display of the sat phone and decided it was the correct path.
The climb was steep. Elizabeth again felt her breathing slip out of control and regularize. After a good hour of climbing a steep trail through more dense, humid forest, Elizabeth reached out and touched Nasrin lightly on the wrist. They slowed a bit, letting Karl bound forward out of earshot.
“Explain Karl,” Elizabeth asked.
“He escaped because the Russian Night Wolves had put a contract out on him,” Nasrin said. “He is clearly not Freyja. He had simply been contacted by Freyja, who tried to play her games with him, which is why his devices were linked to hers. He contacted me and we made a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
The trail rose sharply. After ten minutes of silent effort, they came to a cliff, the trail now a thin ledge overlooking a forested valley a good five hundred feet below. The ledge was covered with slate, slippery from algae and runoff.
The three of them focused on their footfalls. The trail widened and they relaxed.
“It will be late in the day when we get up there,” Elizabeth said. “How are we getting back down?”
“There is an old funicular,” Nasrin said. “Lars’ people think they can get it running again. If not, rangers will meet us and we’ll be sleeping in tents tonight.”
The ledge widened into a trail, and the trail came to a wide meadow. The forest was boreal, thinner, the grass high and tall with only a few flowers. Karl was still well ahead of them, walking fast to a beat only he could hear.
“So tell me, what kind of deal?”
Nasrin’s cheek twitched.
“This whole episode is an embarrassment for both countries. And Lars’ career is on the line. He doesn’t want a trial. He doesn’t want Freyja’s methods sorted out there in the press for terrorists or other lunatics to pick up. This country has suffered quite a bit from such people.”
“And so Karl shoots Freyja.”
“Your words, not mine, Doctor Browne.”
“But you couldn’t condone ...”
“In my current line of work, I’ve learned to condone a lot of things I never would have before.”
“Then what happens to Karl? Now he has an escape record and a murder rap. I know he hates Freyja, but why would he do that?”
“Did he escape, or was he released for cooperation?” Nasrin asked.
“Even in Norway, some crimes are considered serious, like murder.”
“For smoking a non-existent fairy goddess?”
“There will be a body, an identity.”
“And an explanation.”
“Then what will you do with Karl?”
“He’ll have his uses.”
“Uses?”
“In other, less refined parts of the world.”
“And you think MI6 can control him?”
“We think he can be of use.”
“Because you backed him down, right, in my room? Now you think you own him because you’re his alpha.”
“My knowledge of people doesn’t come from a couch and a pad.”
“It won’t work Nasrin. He’s a psychopath. He’ll wind up owning you all.”
Nasrin cracked a smile.
“Assuming we don’t get up there and find that he’s Freyja after all,” Nasrin said. “And we’ve just given him a gun.”
“You’re pretty causal about all of this.”
“You have to be a good sport, or it doesn’t work.”
The trail took a sharp descent by a small lake surrounded by mountains. In the distance were several small cabins, emergency shelters for winter hikers. Elizabeth’s calves felt sore and hot. It was a relief to be walking downhill, but it didn’t last. The trail rose again, promising a harder climb ahead.
“Let’s stop a moment and replenish,” Nasrin said.
Karl and Nasrin pulled out ham and cheese sandwiches in plastic wrap and chocolate bars. Nasrin tore her sandwich in half and threw the slices of ham in the tall grass. Something out here would have a feast. Elizabeth ate too quickly and had to swallow precious canteen water to wash it down.
“Here,” Karl said, handing Elizabeth his chocolate bar, “you can have the rest of mine.”
She took it and ate the whole thing without guilt. She would need the calories.
The trail led them through a wide, muddy pasture. The trail rose again, steep climbs followed by short dips, and steep climbs again. Through the trees, Elizabeth caught glimpses of mountains and a winding lake stretching to the horizon. She felt small against the inhuman, geologic scale of the summits and the sky.
Elizabeth had become so fixated on the scenery breaking through the trees that she was late to notice a man with a rifle stepping out on the trail.
He was a ranger, a blonde be
ast no older than 25.
“We have activity,” he said.
“How close?” Nasrin asked.
“Just off the trail, several sightings of someone carrying a handgun.”
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
“The Chief Inspector believes this is our suspect. He has ordered us to sweep the area.”
Karl banged his fist against a thigh. “So we are to go down, after all this!”
“No,” the ranger said. “The Chief Inspector judges it too dangerous for you to stay here or go back. Trolltunga is just ahead. It is the most defensible area around here. You are to take a secure position and hold out there until it is safe.”
“On a bloody rock jutting out into space?”
“It is a clear area. No one can approach you without being seen.”
“Very well, then,” Nasrin said. “We have our marching orders. Literally.”
“I will secure your flank,” the young ranger said as they began to move.
“Secure your own bloody flank.”
They wove around boulders in the trail, some the size of medicine balls, some the size of small cars. The leaves of the thinning forest shivered in the wind. Elizabeth caught more flashes of blue sky and white glacier.
The trail cut back into the forest and split into two trails that cut around a wall of rock that rose a good twenty meters above them.
“We should separate,” Nasrin said to Karl.
“Doesn’t sound like a good idea,” Elizabeth said.
“We’re just behind the ledge,” Nasrin said. “If Freyja’s around here, we can clear both sides before joining on the other side at Trolltunga.”
Karl pulled his gun and thumbed the safety. Elizabeth had scant experience with guns, but by now she could recognize the kind of pistol Nasrin used.
“I thought that was a lady’s gun?”
“Nasrin has convinced me of its virtues. It is light and easy to handle.”
“I’ll see you on the other side,” Nasrin said.
Karl began to move away. His pace was slow, deliberate, gun out.
Nasrin took the same stance. Elizabeth crept behind her through the forest for ten minutes. There was a high rock wall to edge around. And then they were there.