Chapter 7
WASHINGTON D.C., USA
The return flight the following day from Québec City left Kaitlin Garry with more questions than answers as she processed her whirlwind and impulsive trip to the wintry Canadian city, the last day of the German market – extended after the holidays to make the most of the season, the sugar and coffee taste of Etienne’s lips, and the curious conversation she had with his sister. Mariève was just as attractive as her older brother, but more grounded, giving Kaitlin the impression that she was the more sceptical of the two, something she hinted at when broaching the subject of her brother’s relationships.
“You won’t see him much. He’s one of those career types, working on his portfolio as he works his way up the chain. Honestly,” Mariève said during their second round of coffee, “you’ll be lucky to see him once every couple of months.”
“Are you warning me off?”
“What?” Mariève laughed. “God, no. Etienne needs someone in his life, I’m happy for it to be you, or any other girl who takes his fancy. I’m just saying don’t wait up for him, and don’t wait for his call.”
Don’t wait for his call. Kaitlin stopped herself checking her phone as she got out of the cab outside her Washington D.C. apartment. She forced herself to look ahead, shouldering her overnight bag, and turning her collar up against the damper, colder winter in America’s capital city. She didn’t notice the black SUV parked at the kerb, engine running, with a tall man in a black winter coat waiting by the passenger door.
“Miss Garry?”
Kaitlin didn’t hear him the first time. She fumbled for her keys as she climbed the steps to her apartment – part of her inheritance from a deceased uncle.
“Miss Garry?”
She turned on the top step, keys in hand, just a beat away from gripping the keys like a weapon. It was a nice neighbourhood, but the winter dark made her apprehensive.
“Yes?”
“Aaron Barnes would like a word,” the man said, with a nod to the SUV. “He’s waiting in the car. Can he come in?”
Kaitlin thought about refusing, only to realise it would get her nowhere; the man was relentless.
“Yeah, sure,” she said. She turned to open the door, then paused as the man climbed the steps to take the keys from her.
“I just need to check your apartment,” he said, opening the door and stepping past her.
Kaitlin leaned against the railing by the door and sighed, letting the Secret Service agent do his thing, while she pushed the last thoughts of Etienne from her mind, in anticipation of a grilling from Chief of Staff Aaron Barnes. Of course, she knew who he would be grilling her about, and that she would be forced to think about Etienne Gagnon again, and again, as Barnes tried to pressure her into sticking to their agreement. She almost laughed. While Mariève was right, she probably wouldn’t see much of Etienne, circumstances and certain politicians would make sure she couldn’t forget him.
“You can go up,” the agent said, dropping Kaitlin’s keys into her hand as he waved to the SUV.
“Thanks, I think,” Kaitlin said. She waited a second to see that it was Aaron Barnes getting out of the SUV, then climbed the stairs to her apartment, leaving him to find his own way.
Kaitlin wiped the last of the snow from her shoes on the mat before stepping into her apartment. She dumped her bag and hung her coat on the rack, slipping her phone into her back pocket as she walked into the kitchen, removing her boots as she went, dropping them like waypoints from the front door. She had the kettle going as Barnes entered her apartment, masking his steps with the crackle and crump of water heating up on the elements.
“You’ve been away,” Barnes said, as he entered the kitchen.
“Yes.” Kaitlin didn’t turn to greet him. His voice brought the image of his grey hair and pale skin into her mind, together with his sharp eyes and the tremble of his hands as he waged his own private war with Parkinson’s. “I was invited. Last minute.”
“By Etienne.”
“Yes.”
“Curious,” Barnes said. “Laurier invited Judith and I to spend Christmas Eve with them, only to cancel at the last minute.”
“I wasn’t there at Christmas,” Kaitlin said, turning to look at Barnes. His grey eyes narrowed, sharper than usual. “Afterwards.”
“I see.” Barnes pointed at the couch in the small living room to the left of the kitchen. “Mind if I sit?”
“Make yourself at home.”
Kaitlin heard the sigh of the cushions as Barnes sat down, then filled a teapot with hot water, pausing over the choice of tea, before settling for something citrus and spicy, smirking as she hoped it might give him heartburn. Barnes draped his coat over the arm of the couch as Kaitlin entered the room, watching her as she set the tea and two mugs on the low table in front of the couch.
“Help yourself,” she said, as she settled into the armchair facing Barnes. Kaitlin slipped her phone from her pocket into the space between the cushion and side of the chair, and then curled her feet under her bottom. “What do you want?”
“Straight to it, eh? I like that.”
Kaitlin removed her glasses, wiping them with the cuff of her sleeve as she waited for Barnes to speak. He looked tired, she mused, more so than he had on previous occasions.
“Etienne,” he said.
Here we go.
“You’ve chosen sides.”
“I didn’t know there were any sides.”
“That’s cute,” Barnes said. He paused to pour them both a mug of tea, wrinkling his nose at the dark brew, and drawing a thin smile onto Kaitlin’s lips. “It doesn’t become you to act cute, Kaitlin, not when you are sharper than that. Someone writing at your level…”
“My level?”
“Yes.” Barnes leaned forward, handing her a mug. “The level below what you should be writing,” he said, holding onto the cup a little longer than necessary, letting go as he caught Kaitlin’s eye. He saw her glance at his hand and shrugged. “It comes and goes. And I’m trying new medicine.”
“What about my level?” Kaitlin brushed away any follow-up questions about the Chief of Staff’s health, too curious about what angle he would attempt to wrest her loyalties away from the acting commander of Polarpol. She smiled at the thought, already convinced that it would be a tough sell. “You’re going to revoke my White House Press privileges,” she said. “Again.”
“Actually,” Barnes said, leaning back on the couch, leaving his tea on the table. “It seems you need more carrot than stick. Of course, there is the matter about your brother’s parole.” The light in Barnes’ eyes flashed as Kaitlin leaned forwards. “Don’t worry, there’s little chance of him passing the parole board. But, yes, I’m here to offer you something, Kat. Something better than a press card. Because, as I once heard you say…”
“There will be other presidents, other administrations.”
“Exactly.”
“And I’m young enough…”
“To try again. Yes, that’s right. But how about if you were trying from a different office? Not a blog, but a real paper.”
“Politics & Latte has a growing readership.”
“But you’re stuck with the crumbs of petty partisan feuds. Nothing of real substance.”
“Are you trying to offer me a job with the Post or the Times? Because that sounds like nepotism. I’d rather get there on my own merits, rather than through a side door that you and your pals can open and close on a whim.”
“On your own merit?”
“Yes.” Kaitlin held Barnes’ gaze. “Because that’s what worries you the most, isn’t it?”
“Truthfully?”
Kaitlin scoffed. “As if you know how.”
“That hurts, Kat. It’s beneath you.”
Kaitlin rested her mug on the arm of her chair. She waited for Barnes to speak, then cut him off. “What’s beneath me is letting you in here on the pretence that I’m going to do any more investigating for you. Etienne G
agnon…” There, I said his name. “Is your headache, not mine. You used me to get to know him. Well, guess what? I did get to know him, and the more I learn about Etienne, the more I like. You screwed that up, already. There’s no going back. Senator Hayes supports Polarpol, and…”
“Senator Hayes will soon be preoccupied with other matters. Too occupied to think about or even care about Polarpol.”
“What will his daughter say about that, I wonder?”
“Captain Hayes has her own problems, including the refit and overhaul of the Logan’s systems. An untimely and inconvenient necessity, which leaves our mutual friend rather outgunned, and on his own.” Barnes leaned forward for his tea, wincing as he took a sip. “Damn, that’s bitter.”
Kaitlin refrained from commenting, dropping any petty enjoyment at Barnes response, noting that the tea was, in fact, bitter – too bitter even for her own taste. But there was more at stake. Even without her, Barnes had outmanoeuvred Senator Hayes, ensured that the Coast Guard cutter Logan was stuck in port, and leaving Polarpol and Etienne exposed with little if any backup to speak of.
“You won, then,” she said.
“How’s that?”
“You’ve got Etienne where you want him.”
“Etienne?” Barnes shook his head. “It was never about Etienne. It was about misappropriation of funds and materiel. Polarpol should never have come to pass. It was Hayes’ brainchild, once some committee or another got him onboard. No, this isn’t personal, Kat. And besides, Etienne isn’t out of a job. He might be shorthanded at the moment, but Polarpol has a year to prove its worth. Iceland was a fiasco, on several levels.” Barnes paused, as if trying to remember how much information about events in Iceland had been released to the public, and how much had been buried in secrecy. Kaitlin studied his face and he switched tack. “Etienne needs a few wins to prove the concept. Now, he’s a capable young man. But he is young, too young for this command.”
“Acting,” Kaitlin said. “He hasn’t been given command yet.”
“True,” Barnes said. “But his youth is against him. He rushed into things. Take Sweden, for example. He’s in Sweden to recruit a Swedish officer for Polarpol. But that same officer went missing at the end of November – suicide, actually. So it should have ended there. But Etienne is too curious to let that go. It could mean the end of his career.” Barnes smiled as Kaitlin fidgeted in her seat. “Of course, getting Etienne to understand that is… well, it’s a challenge. Oh, the stubbornness of youth. But if someone who he trusted could explain that to him, if they could help him understand. Then, maybe, they could save him from making another professional blunder. They could save his career.”
Barnes took another sip of tea, commenting again on the bitter taste, letting his words hang in the air between them. He cupped the mug in his hands, holding it close to his lap as he watched and waited, letting Kaitlin chew it all over, giving her time to think it all through.
“You’re incredible,” she said, after several minutes of silence. “And it’s not a compliment.” Kaitlin sneered as if there was something more unpleasant in her mouth than bitter, dark-brewed tea. “You wanted me to dig up the dirt on Etienne, to help you discredit him. You gave me a White House press card – one of your so-called carrots. Well, that didn’t work, and now you’re back, trying a different approach, different carrots. You say Etienne is stubborn, but you’re the one who can’t let go. You’ve tried every trick in your book, distracting Hayes, confining the Logan to port. It’s probably you who got the Russian recalled.”
“That’s not public information.”
“No? How about making this public, letting the public know that you are trying to derail an international initiative to increase polar cooperation, something that might even help stabilise the Arctic, making it safer.”
“You’re a strategic expert now, are you, Kat?”
“Strategy is what this is all about, Aaron. And yet, for all your machinations, even deprived of resources, Etienne is out there, trying to make it work. And you’re upset you were uninvited to the Gagnon family Christmas?” Kaitlin laughed. “God, you’re pathetic.”
“And you, young lady, are in way over your head. Do you know how much the Logan cost? How much it costs to maintain? Can you think of better uses for a Coast Guard cutter than taxicab for nine police officers?” Barnes slapped his mug onto the table and stood up. “Damn it, Kat. This has to stop. You have to make him see sense.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why is it so important to you? I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have to,” Barnes said. He grabbed his coat from the couch and walked towards the door.
“You said Etienne was young,” Kaitlin said, standing up and stopping Barnes in his tracks.
“Young and stubborn.” Barnes nodded. “That’s what I said.”
“That makes two of us,” Kaitlin said. “Good luck, Aaron. You can let yourself out.”
Kaitlin held her breath until she heard Barnes close her apartment door. She had half expected him to slam it on his way out and couldn’t decide if she was disappointed. The curious thing about the meeting, the thing that made Kaitlin forget all about Etienne, was the realisation that the President’s Chief of Staff was under significant pressure.
Chapter 8
GÄLLIVARE, SWEDEN
“First,” Gina said, with a look at Filippa, waiting for her to nod so that she could continue, “you have to know who Mats Lindström was.”
“Is,” Filippa said, lifting her chin, determined. “Who my brother is.”
Gina pulled another set of papers out of the folder, drawing a look from Evelyn. “Yes,” she said. “This is the file I sent to you. The current file. There are others.” The plastic bag crinkled as Gina pulled another thin folder out of it. “These are SÄPO’s files. I can’t tell you what it took to get them, but we have them now.” She opened the folder and sighed, tracing her finger along the blacked-out lines redacting sections of text on each page. “For what they’re worth.”
Etienne leaned over the table for a better look. “You said that Mats Lindström was a police officer.”
“He was. But he showed real talent, an aptitude for computers. Not unusual for young men and women these days, but Mats understood more than just coding…”
“He saw applications,” Filippa said. “I don’t mean apps, like software. I mean that he saw how if you put a few things together you could build things, useful things.”
“So he was writing code?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes, but not like a hacker. Mats has always been fair. He stuck to rules.” Filippa smiled. “It drove me crazy as a kid. He was always pointing out the rules mum and dad gave us. I tried to tell him how unfair they were. But he never agreed.”
“Until he went to college,” Gina said. “I’ve known Mats and Filippa all their lives. I used to come over all the time before their parents divorced. So, I saw some changes, thought they were interesting, and then, when Mats said he was going to the police academy in Solna, just outside Stockholm, I supported him. I also vouched for him when the academy contacted me. It turns out that Mats decided that some things were unfair when he was at college. The college never proved it, but they said…”
“They said my brother hacked into the database and changed some results.”
“Did he?” Etienne asked.
Filippa bit her bottom lip, then nodded. “Yes. He did it for me. I had a maths teacher who got a little too friendly.”
“He was inappropriate,” Gina said. “Filippa wasn’t the first student he fancied.”
“So, when I complained, the teacher gave me a bad grade, one grade lower than what I needed for university. Mats didn’t think that was fair, so he fixed it.”
“He gave you a better grade?”
“Yes.”
“And the teacher?”
“Suspended,” Gina said. “He left Gällivare.”
“After Gina talked to him�
�”
Gina cast a quick look at Filippa, and they both fell silent for a moment. Evelyn swapped a look with Etienne, before breaking the silence by reaching for Mats’ SÄPO file.
“He’s good with computers?” she asked, scanning the black lines covering the text.
“The academy thought so. They fast-tracked him into a special unit in Stockholm. But then Márjá’s parents got sick, and Mats came back to Gällivare. Berglund,” Gina said, with a nod to the front door, “brought Mats back into the fold, setting him up as a consultant, working from home.”
“On special projects,” Filippa said. “He never talked about it.”
“So Berglund was Mats’ supervisor?” Etienne said.
Gina pushed back her chair and stood up. She pressed her hand to the small of her back, saying something about a falling off a sled, before she answered. “Berglund came up once a month. I know because he has a friend at the station. So he would drop by each time he came up for a visit. That friend is my supervisor, Klas Hult. At last year’s Christmas party, Klas and Berglund got a little drunk. He dropped his guard, telling me that he thought Berglund was acting strange.”
“Strange?” Etienne frowned. “In what way, strange?”
“Maybe the word is stressed, as if Berglund was working on something and it was getting to him.”
“And Mats?”
“Right in the middle of it,” Gina said.
“And stressed,” Filippa added.
“Klas said he had seen a file on Berglund’s computer – I think he walked into his office and Berglund was a little slow to close his laptop. That’s how Klas describes it. Anyway, the file was an email. Berglund suffers from poor eyesight – hereditary, so the text was magnified. Klas said he saw the name: himlavalv.”
“Sky Vault,” Filippa said.
“Like a cloud, on a server?” Evelyn asked.
“A bit more than a regular cloud,” Gina said. “There were some articles in the paper in November and December last year about a company called Swedish Sky Solutions. Sky is Danish for cloud. One of the founding members was a Dane. Hence the name.”
Mountain Ghost: A Polar Task Force Thriller, Book #2 (PolarPol) Page 6
