Arctic Wargame (Justin Hall # 1) (20 page)

“Sometimes I coach our teens,” Ned said in justification of the mess in the backseat. “But what’s the rush with your friend?” He started the Land Rover, and they took the road snaking downhill toward the ice-covered Adams Sound.

“Kiawak may be in danger,” Justin said. “We think he’s been kidnapped.”

“Kiawak? Kidnapped?” Ned snickered. “Who would dare to touch a Ranger?”

“Some really bad people,” Anna replied. “Any ideas where he may be? I’m sure Alisha wouldn’t drag a tied Kiawak into a hotel.”

“Kiawak tied by a woman?” The scorn was clear in Ned’s voice. “What kind of weed have you guys been smoking?”

“No, seriously,” Justin said. “Alisha’s really dangerous, even for Kiawak.”

“Well, usually Kiawak crashes at Mike’s, but if I had a hostage, that’s the last place I’d go. I don’t think the trucker’s back from Iqaluit, so, first we’ll check out Paul’s house, the guy from the co-op.”

Ned sped up. The Land Rover hopped over natural speed bumps formed by frozen ice blocks on the road. The haze was dwindling, and the Land Rover’s bright headlights offered a clear view of the road ahead. They swung around a couple of curves as they drew closer to the bay shores.

“Paul lives at the other end of town,” Ned said, “but we’ll get there in a couple of minutes.”

They drove by two log houses, and Ned tilted his head to the left, observing them closely. “That’s where Abe lives, the house in the dark. He’s still gone, I guess. But Tania, she’s still up? What, she’s still grading papers?”

“Tania?” Justin asked. “Who is she?”

“Kiawak’s ex.”

“What?” Justin shouted. “Stop, stop the car, right now, here. Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“Because they kind of broke up.” Ned pressed slightly on the brake, steering toward the edge of the road. “About a month or so ago. There’s no way he’s there without everyone in town knowing about it.”

“Alisha can use Tania to squeeze information out of Kiawak,” Anna replied.

Ned stopped and Justin jumped out. Justin switched off the safety on his M-9 pistol and tiptoed toward the snow-covered wooden stairs leading to the back door of the house. Overcast clouds hung over the town, but the snow reflected a considerable amount of the grayish light, giving him sufficient guidance for a stealthy approach. He noticed small footprints on the snow along the wall of the house.
A single set of footprints. Let me guess who they belong to.

Justin tried to make as little noise as possible as he slithered up the slippery staircase. Gun drawn, he advanced with small, silent steps. Once he reached the landing by the door, he stopped for a moment and listened for noises coming from inside the house. After hearing nothing but the howling of the sharp wind, he proceeded to turn the doorknob. It yielded, and he pushed the door open.

As soon as he had taken the first step inside the house, a flashlight blinded him. A sharp object hit him squarely on his forehead. Justin saw bright stars, then his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He felt a warm liquid dripping from the wound down to his lips. It tasted like copper.
Blood.

“Don’t move,” Justin shouted. He leaned against the wall, raising his gun and squinting in search of the invisible attacker.

Floorboards cracked under heavy footsteps, but he could not see anyone. A second later, he noticed a small shadowy silhouette running toward him. Before he could make out the person’s face, a swift kick to the stomach knocked the air out of him. The shadow overtook him. Two strong arms lifted him and shoved him through the door.

He looked up just as Alisha’s left fist closed in on his right temple. His body smashed through the staircase rail. He became airborne for a second or two before dropping into the three-foot-deep snow covering Tania’s backyard.

The fresh snow softened his fall, and the icy feeling on his head and neck pumped up his survival instinct. Feeling dizzy and noticing his vision was blurry, Justin threw a handful of snow on his face. He repeated the motion again, until the fuzzy curtain covering his eyes began to fall away. As he climbed back to his feet, Alisha was shoving someone who looked like a small-statured woman toward a nearby pickup truck.

“Anna! Ned! Where are you guys?” Justin shouted at the top of his lungs. “Don’t let her go.”

He searched in the snow for his pistol and found it by his feet.

“Anna! Anna!” he kept shouting, while struggling to step out of the slushy, slippery snow.

Lights came on in one of the houses across the street. The truck turned the corner and vanished around a downhill curve.

Justin swore and jogged to Ned’s Land Rover.

“Oh my gosh,” Anna cried upon seeing Justin’s bruised and bloody face. “What happened to you?”

“Turn around and go left,” Justin instructed Ned. “Alisha took me by surprise. She’s gotten hold of Tania.”

Ned nodded without any of his usual wisecracks. The Land Rover roared and slid, but his experienced hands kept the car on the road. He made a quick U-turn, ramping up one of the smaller snow banks, and gave chase.

“There are paper towels in the glove box,” Ned said. “Alisha hits like a man.”

“And she’ll die like a man,” Justin vowed, cocking his pistol. He crumpled a couple of paper towels and dabbed at his forehead. The blood had started to coagulate, and his finger rubbed against the rising bump.

Ned kept snaking from one street to the other, always going east, but there was no trace of Alisha’s truck. Lights began to shine inside a few houses, as the rumbling car stirred up the sleeping town. As Ned eased around the corner next to the Health Center, almost slamming into an ice heap, a truck appeared ahead of them.

“There she is.” Justin tightened his grip around his gun. “Get closer.”

“I’ll try.” Ned pressed on the gas pedal. The Land Rover skidded over a stretch of black ice for a couple of feet. Ned controlled the car, aiming toward the snow banks to the right, to increase the tire traction.

“Where’s she going?” Anna asked. “We’re out of town.”

“Victor Bay,” Ned replied. “It’s about two miles south.”

“Maybe that’s where she hid our Eurocopter,” Justin added. “Speed up!”

“It’s not safe to go any faster,” Ned replied.

“Why not? She’ll get away.”

“She may, but we’re not gonna die trying to catch up to her.”

“Just gas it up, Ned.”

“Listen, I know this road. I drive it every day. It’s paper-thin.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ice cover. Look, right there on the shore. The erosion has been eating away at the ground. In the summer, we drive around these huge holes, six, seven feet deep. The snow and the ice fill them all up in the winter, and the road’s safe for small trucks going at low speeds.”

“So we’re driving over the bay waters now?” Anna asked.

“Yes, we’re on pure ice.”

A loud crack exploded under the Land Rover’s tires, confirming Ned’s words. He slowed down even further. The taillights of the truck grew larger and glistened brighter. Alisha had finally found a use for her brake pedal.

“She’s slowing down,” Justin said.

“Yeah, but she’s still too fast. Way too fast,” Ned replied.

The distance between the Land Rover and the truck was about eighty feet now. The fog was quite thin, allowing the blurry contours to be somewhat visible to the attentive eye.

Justin blinked in disbelief as he thought he saw the square shape of the truck box fishtail very unusually. “What . . . what is she doing?” he asked.

Before anyone could reply, he got his answer. The truck twisted and turned, skidding and sliding on black ice. It seemed Alisha was able to regain control because the truck drove in a straight line for a couple of seconds. Then it resumed its winding. A moment later, it slammed into a couple of ice blocks and bounced over a pressure ridge. It came down hard, plunging through the thin sheet of ice.

“Oh, crap, crap, crap,” Justin shouted, watching the truck nosedive into the frigid waters. Unless they were very careful, they could meet the same fate.

“Are they . . . are they dead?” Anna asked.

“No . . . I hope not,” Justin replied quickly, “but they will be if we don’t pull them out.”

Ned stopped at a safe distance. The Land Rover’s headlights lit up the scene of the accident. The truck had already vanished underwater. Small ice crystals were floating over the open pit. They could still hear loud cracks.
It’s probably the truck sinking deeper.

“How deep’s the water here?” he asked, stepping out of the Land Rover. He removed his leather jacket.

“It’s not supposed to be deeper than seven, eight feet, but if it gobbled up the truck like that . . .”

“You’re not thinking—” Anna shouted.

“It may already be too late, but I’ve got to do this.” Justin trod slowly toward the pit.

“No, you don’t.” Anna followed him, reaching for his arms. “Don’t go. Don’t do this.”

Justin sat down on the edge of the pit. The ice sheet cracked and bent under his weight.

“Stay back,” he shouted at Anna. “The ice is cracking.”

She nodded and moved back.

He took a deep breath and whispered a quick prayer. Then he let his body slide down into the dark pit.

* * *

The sharp claws of frigid waters tore at his skin. The water crept from all sides, filling his boots and climbing up his pants. Justin felt the numbness starting to petrify his hands. The feeling pressed on him the urgency of the rescue. His entire body jerked in a series of throes, his muscles beginning their involuntary contractions.

He lunged downward, blindly searching with his hands and feet. He did not open his eyes, afraid the seawater would instantly freeze them. He spun around and dove deeper, frantically thrusting his arms to all sides. All he could feel were broken ice pieces.
Where did the truck go?

He felt the strong water current pushing him underneath the ice sheet and realized the truck had been dragged away. His feet struck something hard, which felt like rubber.
Is that one of the tires?
After a back flip, he stretched his hands toward the bottom of the pit.
Yes, that’s a tire,
he thought after touching the hubcap. His breathing became difficult, and he swam back to the surface.

“I’ve . . . brrrr . . . I found it,” he could hardly mumble, as he lifted his head over the slushy water. “Now . . . I should . . . pull . . . pull them out.”

“Justin,” Anna called. “Come out. You’re gonna freeze.”

“One . . . more . . . try.” Justin quivered as he took another deep breath, his muscles tensing. He braced himself for the return dive to the frozen hell.

This time he kept his eyes open. He blinked rapidly to fight the sharp needles of water seemingly puncturing his eyeballs and intensifying his jackhammer headache. Justin clenched his teeth and carried on, reaching the bottom of the pit. He found the truck tipped to its left side. Hypothermia was slowing his limbs’ movements and was shutting down his brain.
What do I do now? Oh, yeah. Open the door. The passenger’s door!

As he reached for the door handle, a sudden movement inside the truck’s cabin startled him. He heard a weak thud and saw a horror-stricken face pressed against the window. Justin did not recognize the terrified eyes buried deep in their dark sockets, but he knew she was not Alisha. He read the terror in her lips. She was crying for help, shoving the door with her hands and her shoulders.

Justin tried prying the door open, but his vicious yanking was in vain. He gestured for the woman to lean back and stepped on the glass. He stomped his feet. The water was softening the impact of his boots. The glass was resisting his repeated attacks.

The woman’s motions were dwindling away. Justin wondered whether she was resigning herself to her fate. Maybe he was experiencing the early symptoms of hallucination. Suddenly, he felt a sharp object jab him on his hip. He lifted the bottom of his shirt, fearing an ice fragment had stabbed him. It was his M-9 pistol, its metallic barrel stuck to his skin.

The gun! I can use the gun to break the glass!

In a single, swift move, he pulled the gun from his right side, ripping a chunk of his skin. He slammed the gun muzzle against the glass as hard as he could, but there was no crack. After the fourth failed attempt, he gestured to the woman to hide behind the door frame. He placed the gun muzzle at the center of the glass and pulled the trigger.

Twice.

The first shot would have been enough for the job. The glass shattered, fragments raining over the woman’s head. Justin finished clearing the leftover glass pieces on the truck’s window frame and stretched his arms toward the woman. She grabbed his hands, and he pulled her out of the cabin. Once her body was outside the deathtrap, he lifted the woman by her waist. They swam together toward the blurry headlights gleaming over the water’s surface.

* * *

“Quick, let’s get them both somewhere warm,” Ned instructed the two men standing next to him.

Awakened by the noise, a large group of curious onlookers were observing the rescue mission.

“Our home,” said one of them, lifting Justin’s left arm.

The other man moved to the right side, dragging Justin’s almost unconscious body to the truck.

“OK,” Ned replied. “We’ll bring Tania.” He helped Anna carry the gasping woman to his Land Rover.

“What about Alisha?” Anna asked, as they laid Tania in the backseat.

“She’s . . . she’s dead,” Tania mumbled. “The crash . . .” She broke into a violent cough.

“Don’t talk.” Ned started the car and followed the truck. “Save your energy. You can tell us everything later. Once you’re better.”

Chapter Nineteen

Thule, Greenland

April 14, 01:00 a.m.

The commander fumbled with his wristwatch. He was awaiting the arrival of a captain who was visiting five of his men in the hospital. They had been wounded during the shoot-out with the Canadians. He looked around the table, trying to read the thoughts of his colleagues. The superintendent of the air base was writing on a yellow notepad in front of him. The commander was unsure of his reaction. Before the commander could fix his eyes on the other two men sitting to his left, he heard quick footsteps coming from the hall.