Krista paced the length of the ice-cold warehouse on the outskirts of Longyearbyen. Crates were stacked to the rafters. The place smelled of oil and coal. She wore a thick sweater to cover the bandages on her arm. A morphine haze clouded the edges of her thoughts. Other men were in worse shape. Two bodies on the warehouse floor were covered over by tarps.
Only eight men left.
She held the phone to her ear, waiting for instructions. She had dialed the number he had left. It rang and rang. Finally, the line was picked up. “I’ve been briefed,” the man said.
“Yes, sir.” Krista struggled to hear any indication of the man’s mood, but his words were calm and precise, unhurried.
“With the turn of events, we’re radically altering our objectives for this mission. With Karlsen now in Sigma’s hands, the decision is to abort all operations in Norway.”
“And what about in the UK?”
“We took a chance on co-opting those outside resources to assist us in finding the key. After the current turn of events, we no longer have that luxury. We must gather our chips and leave the table for now.”
“Sir?”
“The article stolen by Father Giovanni. Secure it.” “And the others?”
“Kill them all.”
“All have been deemed a liability, Ms. Magnussen. Make sure the same isn’t said about you.”
Krista’s throat tightened into a hard knot.
“You have your orders.”