Forty-eight hours after the chaos on the bleak shores of northern Norway, a Gulfstream 650 business jet touched down two hundred miles west in Hammerfest—the northernmost town of any size in the world. The jet taxied to the executive terminal, and there a limousine, arranged by the Norwegian Intelligence Service as a courtesy to its American counterpart, collected three occupants.
A man, a woman, and a teenage girl were delivered directly to the regional hospital. At a side entrance they were met by an officious officer, also of the NIS, who led them to an isolated room on the third floor. The two women braced themselves, arm-in-arm, before following a nurse inside room 37. Burke heard a chorus of muted shrieks as the door closed. Not anything worrisome—more the exhalation of pent-up faith. Something none of them had ever relinquished.
The NIS man introduced Burke to a doctor, and they exchanged pleasantries.
“Has his condition changed?” Burke asked.
“He is stable,” said the doctor in effortless English—he was eyeing the NIS man, who’d receded into a shadow in a building that held few. “He was airlifted here from a clinic in the east two days ago. When he arrived, honestly, I didn’t think he would make it. He had a most irregular array of injuries. Recent trauma, as one might see from an automobile crash, but also multiple injuries that looked older. The sort of damage that one might classify as … intentionally inflicted by others.”
Burke nodded, yet offered no explanation.
“Can you enlighten me as to how he arrived here?” the doctor asked.
“I wish I could, but I’m under strict orders.”
The doctor frowned, but didn’t press—it was the answer he’d been getting all along. “Does he have a name?”
Burke smiled thinly. “We’re trying to work that out.”
The doctor looked at him skeptically.
“I can tell you he’s American,” Burke said, perhaps with a trace of pride.
“Well, whoever he is, he’s damned tough. That is a good thing—he faces a long path to recovery. His cranial and facial injuries are severe. Many surgeries will be required. His right arm has serious damage, both new and old. His right foot will never be the same.”
“You may be right, Doctor. But I can tell you his tenacity has surprised a lot of people, myself included.”
“I understand you wish to transport him home?”
“As soon as possible. Our aircraft is configured as a medical transport, all the necessary equipment and an in-flight nurse.”
The doctor sighed. “Very well. I think he should have one more night with us. Barring setbacks, however, and assuming he will have proper care enroute … I could release him tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor went about his rounds.
Burke decided it was time. He opened the door softly and stepped into the room. Bryce, Sarah, and Alyssa Ridgeway were knotted in each other’s arms. It looked for all the world like they would never let go.