Chapter 20

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Maratse had to admit that the Commissioner made an impressive entrance when he strode into the emergency room at Dronning Ingrid’s Infirmary, flanked as he was by Gaba and Miki in full SRU kit. After a cursory glance at Maratse and Petra, Lars Andersen asked the hospital staff to leave the room and pointed at Gaba.

“Status on Malik Uutaaq?” he said.

“Confused and confessing,” Gaba said, “but unhurt.”

“Confessing to what?”

“Sleeping with the First Minister’s daughter.”

“Any comment on the clothing, the jacket found on Tinka Winther?”

“None. He doesn’t know how it got there.”

“All right,” the Commissioner said, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He glanced at the door, and gestured for Miki to stand next to it. “Second,” he said, and pointed at Petra. “Status?”

“On the First Minister?” she asked.

“On you, Sergeant, and,” he said, with a nod at Maratse, “on our special Constable, here.”

“We’re fine.”

“Good to go?”

“Yes,” Petra said. She looked at Maratse, and he nodded.

The Commissioner gestured for Gaba to step closer, and lowered his voice. “Here’s what’s happened since Petra and Maratse arrived in the ambulance. Gaba, fill me in if I forget anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Commissioner took a breath, and began. “Since the debate and the apprehending of Malik Uutaaq, we believe that Daniel Tukku has abducted the First Minister. His motive, at this time is unknown, as are his whereabouts, or those of Nivi Winther. However, we believe them to be together. We strongly suspect that they are at sea, most likely in a fishing trawler. How am I doing, Gaba?”

“Just fine, sir,” Gaba said. He adjusted the Heckler & Koch MP5 slung around his chest. “I can add that a black Dodge RAM, belonging to Malik Uutaaq, was found on the quay down at the docks. Malik’s wife, Naala Uutaaq, confirmed that it was stolen from the parking area at the Katuaq Cultural Centre, sometime during the debate. The panel on the driver’s side shows signs of an impact that fits with the description of the collision Petra and Maratse were involved in. The occupants of the car have yet to be identified, but I think we can all agree that there is a high chance it was Tukku and the First Minister.”

Maratse longed for a cigarette, but put the thought from his mind, as he thought about what they knew was true, what they supposed was going to happen. It all depended, he realised, on where Tukku was taking the First Minister. An idea began to grow in Maratse’s mind, and it made sense if, as he believed, Daniel Tukku had shifted his focus from political power to something more perverse. Petra shot him a quizzical look, but he kept the thought to himself.

“Until we can confirm their location, we have two choices,” the Commissioner said, “and I don’t like either of them.”

“Go on, sir,” said Gaba.

“One,” he said. “We wait. We put as many eyes on the docks and airports as possible, but I don’t have to tell any of you, that it will take time and it will stretch our resources. If Nivi Winther is still in Nuuk, we can do a house-to-house search, and I am ready to do that, but as soon as word gets out that we are searching for her, we risk forcing Daniel to do something stupid. It could get ugly. Waiting, in the hope that this is a hostage situation, may be the smartest thing to do. It just doesn’t feel particularly proactive.”

“What’s the second option, sir?” Petra asked.

“We get a small team aboard the King Air, ready to fly and intercept Daniel, and bring the First Minister home safely.”

“My team is ready, sir.”

“I know, Gaba,” the Commissioner said. “We just don’t know where to send them. Unless anyone has any ideas?”

“I think Maratse does,” Petra said. “He has been the least distracted by the drama surrounding Malik Uutaaq. I think he might be able to point us in the right direction.”

Maratse looked at Petra for a moment, as she mouthed the word sorry, and then he turned to the Commissioner. “Inussuk,” he said. “He’s taking her back to the scene of the crime.”

“What crime?”

“The murder of Tinka Winther,” Maratse said.

The Commissioner drummed his fingers again as he processed Maratse’s hunch. He looked at Gaba. “What do you think?”

“If they sailed through the night?” he said, and shrugged. “Rain won’t stop them, and the weather up north is good at the moment. They could get as far as Ilulissat, still further tomorrow, if we let them.”

“If we let them?” the Commissioner said. “Explain.”

“Stopping a trawler at night, at sea, will be dangerous. Better to get them on land, or in a more controlled environment.”

“Such as?”

“If Maratse is right,” Gaba said, “then it just might be that he intends to do something drastic in a place that is important to him. If he did kill the girl then it is likely that Inussuk and Uummannaq fjord is exactly where he will be headed. With good weather, good seas, and enough fuel, he can easily get there by the end of tomorrow.”

“So,” the Commissioner said, “you’re saying that Tukku can be in Inussuk by Monday evening.”

“Late afternoon at the earliest,” Gaba said.

The Commissioner walked to the bed Petra was sitting on, and gestured for her to give him some room. He sat down as she moved and looked at Maratse.

“You think he will take her to Inussuk?”

“Iiji,” Maratse said. He thought about it for a second, and then nodded.

“Gaba? Can you control that environment?”

“If we get there in good time, put a few boats in the water…” He shrugged. “Our biggest advantage would be surprise. But, sir, if he is going to do something to the First Minister, he could do it at any time. Worst case? We don’t even find her body.”

The Commissioner looked at Maratse again, gauging what he knew of his past, and wondering at his intuition. Maratse returned the Commissioner’s look and rested his hands in his lap. The Commissioner gave Maratse a thin smile and then glanced at the door.

“Miki,” he said, “come over here for a minute.”

Miki adjusted his MP5 and walked over to stand beside Gaba. The heavy tread of his boots squeaked on the linoleum floor.

“Sir,” he said, and waited for the Commissioner to speak.

“Here’s the plan,” the Commissioner said. “Gaba, split your team in two. I’ll keep one half in Nuuk, ready to assist in the house-to-house.” Gaba nodded, as the Commissioner continued. “The four of you will fly to Qaarsut.” The Commissioner lifted his hand as Gaba started to protest. “I am reinstating Constable Maratse for this one particular operation.” He looked at Maratse, and said, “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up as soon as we’re done here, if, that is, you’re willing to go with the team?”

Maratse nodded.

“Good,” the Commissioner said. He unbuckled his utility belt and gave it to Maratse. “You can take my gun.”

“Sir,” Gaba said.

“You’ve got operational command, Gaba. Don’t worry about that. But coordinate with the Uummannaq police, and see if they have a boat available. Have them meet you at the airport in Qaarsut. I’ll have the hospital send two medics on the flight, so you have a team of six. Can you work with that?”

“Yes, sir,” Gaba said. He turned to Miki and told him to bring the car to the door. When he was gone, Gaba looked at the Commissioner. “I think it is a mistake to bring Maratse in on this.”

“It’s my decision, Gaba.”

“Yes, sir, but,” he said with a glance at Maratse, “he is still recovering from whatever it is that happened to him. I need to know I can rely on every member of my team.”

“Come on, Gaba,” Petra said.

“It’s okay,” Maratse said. He gritted his teeth and slid off the side of the bed. Maratse picked up the Commissioner’s utility belt, and buckled it around his waist. “Gaba is right. I am still recovering, but,” he said, and flashed a toothy grin as he patted the belt at his waist, “now I am whole again.”

“And ready to go?” the Commissioner said.

“Iiji,” Maratse said. He nodded at the door, and said, “After you, Gaba.”

Maratse bit back a gasp at the sudden flare of pain in his legs, and did his best to match the pace of the SRU leader to the police car. Gaba climbed into the passenger seat, as Petra and Maratse got into the back. Miki shifted the Toyota into first gear and waved at the ambulance to follow. He turned on the emergency lights and the siren and accelerated away from the hospital, cutting through traffic all the way to the airport.

Gaba gave radio commands to the remainder of his team in Nuuk, pausing once or twice to make a note of one detail or another.

Maratse pointed at the number of blue lights flashing at the entrance to the housing areas of Nuuk as the police began their search from one house to the next. The police department, Maratse realised, would be stretched to the limit. The blue lights faded from view as Miki turned onto the road leading to the airport, and accelerated out of the curve in the road at the end of the runway. Petra pointed at the Beechcraft King Air outside the hangar, navigation lights flashing. The gates were open, and Miki drove straight up to the aircraft, with the ambulance a second behind him. The team grabbed their gear from the vehicles, and boarded the plane. Four minutes later and they were in the air and flying north to Qaarsut, the gravel landing strip on the Uummannaq peninsula, just south of the settlement of Inussuk.

Maratse sat next to Petra and dozed as they flew north, waking briefly as Gaba confirmed that a trawler from Nuuk had been seen in Ilulissat a short time ago. Maratse looked out of the window, and realised he had slept for longer than he thought, as the sky brightened with a polar glow of pink and blue. They landed shortly after. Simonsen met them at the airport and drove them down to the hotel boat moored at the jetty, at one end of the beach in Qaarsut.

“You’re back,” Simonsen said to Maratse, as he gave him a hand onto the boat. “And with a gun?”

“Reinstated,” Maratse said. “Temporarily.”

“Is there a problem?” Gaba asked.

Simonsen paused for a moment, and then shook his head. He found a seat at the rear of the boat beside the driver.

As soon as everyone was onboard, Miki released the ropes and they pulled away from the jetty. Gaba waited until they were seated, before he started his briefing.

“We’re expecting a boat from Ilulissat – large enough to manage a journey like that, so you don’t have to worry about spotting anything that looks like a dinghy. It’s probably white. As far as we know there are two people onboard, and yes, one of them is likely to be the First Minister.”

“So, it’s true then?” Simonsen said. “She has been abducted.”

“That’s what we think, yes.” Gaba steadied himself with a hand on a seat as the driver increased power to move away from the wash of an iceberg rolling close to shore. “However, if we get a confirmed sighting somewhere else, then the objective is to get back to the airport as fast as possible.” He paused to look at each member of the team, staring at Maratse for a moment, before looking away.

“What if we do see the boat?” asked one of the paramedics.

“We close the distance, as fast as possible,” Gaba said, and glanced at the driver of the boat. The man nodded, and Gaba continued. “We’ll hail the boat, and we will board it as efficiently as possible. That’s Miki and me, if anyone is in doubt. Sergeant Jensen has command on this boat.”

Petra identified herself with a wave of her hand. She slapped Maratse lightly on the thigh. “I’m in charge,” she whispered.

“On the boat,” he said.

“Sure, as soon as he is gone.”

“You’re going to push him overboard?”

“I might,” she said, and grinned.

“When you’re done, Sergeant,” Gaba said. He looked at Miki, asked if he had forgotten anything, and then looked at his watch. “With the weather conditions as good as they are, we can expect them anytime from early afternoon. So, have some coffee, have a snack, but stay alert.” He walked down the centre of the boat between the seats, and stopped beside the driver, describing what he thought would be a good course to sail, sweeping the mouth of the fjord to Inussuk and back again.

Petra stood up to get a coffee. Maratse worked his way to the bow of the boat, and stepped outside onto the small deck. He stood to one side and stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. The weight of the USP Compact pistol on his hip was familiar, as was the taste of the cigarette he rolled into the gap between his teeth. Petra opened the door and joined him on the deck, pressing a coffee into his hand. They scanned the water as they sipped coffee. Maratse finished his cigarette and flicked the butt into the sea.

“I can see why you like it here,” Petra said. “It’s beautiful. Peaceful.”

“You could visit, when this is over,” Maratse said.

“I’d like that.”

An iceberg bigger than a shopping mall blocked their view of the mouth of the fjord. Gaba directed the driver around it. The cold air peeled off the iceberg in thick, heavy layers, and the spotters on the deck and the roof shivered in the breath of ice. Petra’s hair turned white at the tips, and Maratse felt the familiar tickle in his nose, as the temperature dropped.

From the first dusting of snow at Tinka Winther’s funeral, winter had crept down the mountain, from the white peaks of the summit, to the granite walls just above the settlement. The descent of winter could be measured in metres and degrees, but for all its beauty and brightness the winter would be dark, bleak, and cold. Some might call it unforgiving.

Petra was the first to spot the motorboat as it sailed around the tip of the Uummannaq peninsula, unaware that it was the same moment that Nivi had leaped straight into the dark mouth of winter, and was begging for her life.