Read Online Operation Napoleon by Arnaldur Indridason - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Arnaldur Indridason
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receiver.
‘We’re on schedule, sir,’ Ratoff announced.
‘No trouble locating it?’
‘It was buried but the coordinates were correct. We’ve already uncovered half the fuselage. I estimate that we’ll have it in Keflavík in three to four days at the outside.’
‘No hitches?’
‘Nothing significant. There’s a rescue team from Reykjavík conducting a training exercise on the glacier. It’s located some distance away but two of its members managed to stray into our area.’
Carr tensed: ‘And?’
‘They lost their lives in an accident about thirty-five miles from here. Drove their snowmobiles into a deep crevasse. We’ll ensure they’re found quickly so the team doesn’t wander into our area looking for them.’
‘Were they young?’
‘Young? I don’t understand the relevance, sir. They were old enough to see us and the plane.’
‘So everything’s in hand then?’ Carr concluded
‘One of them had a sister in Reykjavík.’
Carr’s disappointment was impossible to conceal.
‘He made contact with her by phone after he entered the area. We know who she is but she gave us the slip. We’re tracing her now.’
‘Who’s we ?’
‘Ripley and Bateman. The best available option in the circumstances.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Ratoff, try to control yourself. The Icelanders are our allies.’
Carr put down the receiver, picked it up again immediately and started dialling. It was time to put phase two of the operation in motion. The defense secretary had been concerned about Ratoff’s involvement and now even Carr was beginning to have his doubts about his choice of mission director. Carr knew the alarming details of his army career better than anyone. Ratoff undeniably delivered results but he tended to be over-zealous.
He had to wait a good while for his call to be answered, and spent the time mapping out his next moves. He would have to fly to Iceland. But first he would honour an old promise.
‘Miller?’ he said. ‘It’s Vytautas. The plane’s turned up. We need to meet.’
REYKJAVÍK
FRIDAY 29 JANUARY, 1945 GMT
Kristín ran blindly towards the coast road at Aegisída, then veered west, her instincts keeping her as far as possible to the dark gardens. Her only thought was to flee; she never once looked back.
A succession of terrible images flashed through her mind. She saw the light going out in Runólfur’s eyes as the bullet entered his forehead, heard the whine of a second bullet and saw it thud into the door. Her ear hurt; it was bleeding. Her thoughts darted to her brother on the glacier: they had said he was dead. She remembered his last words: armed soldiers, a plane. A few minutes later two men had forced their way into her flat and tried to kill her. They had mentioned a name – Ratoff – and a conspiracy involving the Reykjavík police, the foreign ministry and the ministry of justice. It had seemed preposterous at first but any illusion had been dispelled as Runólfur crumpled to the floor in front of her.
The cold soon began to make her bones ache. She psyched herself up to look over her shoulder as she ran but could see no sign of the two men. Dropping her pace, she took a better look around and finally slowed to a standstill. She was surrounded by apartment blocks. Noticing that the door to the basement of one building was ajar, she slipped inside, pulling the door to behind her. It was pitch black inside and she was met by a stench of refuse. She made her way to the back and crouched down in the dark like an animal.
She lost track of time. Eventually, hearing no sound of movement, she crept forwards, cautiously pushed at the door and peered out through the crack, surveying her surroundings. There was nobody about; they had not followed her. Not far off was a small estate of terraced houses, their lights shining cosily through the icy darkness. What should she do? Knock at one of the doors and tell them everything? About the men and the body in her flat
‘We’re on schedule, sir,’ Ratoff announced.
‘No trouble locating it?’
‘It was buried but the coordinates were correct. We’ve already uncovered half the fuselage. I estimate that we’ll have it in Keflavík in three to four days at the outside.’
‘No hitches?’
‘Nothing significant. There’s a rescue team from Reykjavík conducting a training exercise on the glacier. It’s located some distance away but two of its members managed to stray into our area.’
Carr tensed: ‘And?’
‘They lost their lives in an accident about thirty-five miles from here. Drove their snowmobiles into a deep crevasse. We’ll ensure they’re found quickly so the team doesn’t wander into our area looking for them.’
‘Were they young?’
‘Young? I don’t understand the relevance, sir. They were old enough to see us and the plane.’
‘So everything’s in hand then?’ Carr concluded
‘One of them had a sister in Reykjavík.’
Carr’s disappointment was impossible to conceal.
‘He made contact with her by phone after he entered the area. We know who she is but she gave us the slip. We’re tracing her now.’
‘Who’s we ?’
‘Ripley and Bateman. The best available option in the circumstances.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Ratoff, try to control yourself. The Icelanders are our allies.’
Carr put down the receiver, picked it up again immediately and started dialling. It was time to put phase two of the operation in motion. The defense secretary had been concerned about Ratoff’s involvement and now even Carr was beginning to have his doubts about his choice of mission director. Carr knew the alarming details of his army career better than anyone. Ratoff undeniably delivered results but he tended to be over-zealous.
He had to wait a good while for his call to be answered, and spent the time mapping out his next moves. He would have to fly to Iceland. But first he would honour an old promise.
‘Miller?’ he said. ‘It’s Vytautas. The plane’s turned up. We need to meet.’
REYKJAVÍK
FRIDAY 29 JANUARY, 1945 GMT
Kristín ran blindly towards the coast road at Aegisída, then veered west, her instincts keeping her as far as possible to the dark gardens. Her only thought was to flee; she never once looked back.
A succession of terrible images flashed through her mind. She saw the light going out in Runólfur’s eyes as the bullet entered his forehead, heard the whine of a second bullet and saw it thud into the door. Her ear hurt; it was bleeding. Her thoughts darted to her brother on the glacier: they had said he was dead. She remembered his last words: armed soldiers, a plane. A few minutes later two men had forced their way into her flat and tried to kill her. They had mentioned a name – Ratoff – and a conspiracy involving the Reykjavík police, the foreign ministry and the ministry of justice. It had seemed preposterous at first but any illusion had been dispelled as Runólfur crumpled to the floor in front of her.
The cold soon began to make her bones ache. She psyched herself up to look over her shoulder as she ran but could see no sign of the two men. Dropping her pace, she took a better look around and finally slowed to a standstill. She was surrounded by apartment blocks. Noticing that the door to the basement of one building was ajar, she slipped inside, pulling the door to behind her. It was pitch black inside and she was met by a stench of refuse. She made her way to the back and crouched down in the dark like an animal.
She lost track of time. Eventually, hearing no sound of movement, she crept forwards, cautiously pushed at the door and peered out through the crack, surveying her surroundings. There was nobody about; they had not followed her. Not far off was a small estate of terraced houses, their lights shining cosily through the icy darkness. What should she do? Knock at one of the doors and tell them everything? About the men and the body in her flat
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