Hákon didn’t care what anyone thought, nor what the consequences of his actions might be. All that mattered was the speed at which Byrne was approaching, and the timing of Hákon’s jump as he leaped forwards, crashing into Byrne.
The crash elicited little sound, just the thump of impact, and the grunt of pain both men discharged as they spun around Hákon’s walking stick, pulling it out of the snow, and sliding together into a wall of rock.
Byrne was the first to recover, grasping Hákon’s beard, pulling his great head to one side, as he slammed a fist into the Icelander’s ear. Hákon shrank under the blow, dipping his head, but only for a second, as he punched Byrne’s chest with the base of his palm.
The two men swapped blows until Byrne wriggled his knee between Hákon’s legs and jerked it upwards, once, twice, three times before the Icelander reacted, giving Byrne just a few centimetres within which to move, to shift position and strike.
Hákon staggered back, rolling onto his side, blocking a kick from Byrne with his arm. He spat snow from his lips, twisted further onto his side, then felt the end of his walking stick dig into his ribs. Hákon pulled it free, swinging the heavy end of the stick into Byrne’s shoulder – a lucky shot, that sent the British killer toppling into the snow. Hákon staggered to his feet, grasping the stick at both ends, before falling on top of Byrne, pressing the stick into the man’s neck as he dug his knuckles into the snow.
Byrne’s eyes bulged as Hákon pressed harder, forcing Byrne deeper into the snow – his saving grace. Had the snow been thinner, harder, packed like the trail, Byrne would already be dead. The look in his eyes suggested he knew this, but, also, that it was only a matter of time before he died.
“Do it,” he said, his words creasing over bloody lips.
Hákon pressed harder, staring into Byrne’s eyes. He saw the tiny blood vessels burst, was close enough to smell the copper on Byrne’s breath – the little breath that escaped his lungs.
Then Hákon pulled back, releasing the pressure, just enough to roll the stick off Byrne’s neck and onto his chest, pinning him to the ground. Byrne stared back at Hákon, a crease thickening on his brow as he mouthed the word, “Why?”
“Because you didn’t kill Íris,” he said.
“Your daughter?” Byrne held Hákon’s gaze, staring straight into his eyes. “I would have. You know that.”
“But you didn’t.”
Hákon pulled back. He dug the stick into the snow and used it to pull himself to his feet. Hákon extended his hand, and, when Byrne took it, he helped him up.
“We have to end this,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I killed your wife.”
“Yes.” Byrne took a breath. “You did.”
“And you can’t forgive me for that.”
“No,” Byrne said. “Never. But…” Another breath. “You’re not the only one who’s responsible.” He patted his chest pocket, brushing the snow from the flap before unzipping it to remove the USB. “You let me take this, and I will end this.”
“We’ll be even?”
“I don’t know about that, but I made a promise to do what I had to do, but then to come back, to live.” Byrne turned the USB in his fingers. “I think this will help.” Byrne leaned to one side, looking around Hákon as Etienne slid down the slope. “Help me, Byrne said, “and you’ll never see me again.”
“Hákon?” Etienne called out as he slid to a stop. “Is everything all right?”
Hákon turned, gesturing at Byrne, as he spoke, “You wanted me to bring him in alive.”
“Yes,” Etienne said. He lowered the MP5 as he approached, stopping within a few metres of Byrne. “Is that Mats Lindström’s USB?”
“I’m hoping it is. I took it from his pocket,” Byrne said. He looked back up the mountain. “Your girl…”
“Evelyn.”
Byrne nodded. “She said she’d shoot me if I didn’t give it back.” He pointed at his shoulder. “And she did.”
“She keeps her word,” Etienne said.
“And I respect that.” Byrne looked at Hákon. “How about it? Will you keep your word too?”
Hákon shifted position, curious that of all the things that should hurt, it was his foot that was still giving him the most pain. The shoulder wound was just stiff, as he imagined Byrne’s would be – the old one, and the new one Evelyn just gave him.
“You need a hospital,” he said.
“We all do.” Byrne shrugged, followed by a wince, creasing his face with shadows of pain, not dissimilar to the way Hákon reacted. “But before that. I need to know if we have a deal?”
“What are we talking about here?” Etienne asked. “Are you negotiating?”
“Trying to,” Byrne said. “It’s all up to him.”
“Hákon,” Etienne said. “The data on that USB should prove who was responsible for the hit in Iceland. This team that tried to kill us, they were after the data.”
“I know,” Hákon said. “I flew here with them.”
“We need what’s on that drive. We can’t let him take it.”
“Then,” Byrne said, with a nod to the gun in Etienne’s hands. “You’ll have to shoot me.” He turned to Hákon. “That’s the only way this ends, unless…”
Hákon leaned a little harder on his stick, pressing it deeper into the snow. “How long?”
“What?”
“How long do you need?”
“I don’t understand.”
Hákon pointed at the USB. “If you take that, to tie up your loose ends, how long will you need to get that done?”
“Two months.”
“That’s enough time to disappear?”
“Yes.”
Hákon nodded, then turned to Etienne. “You have a journalist friend?”
“Kaitlin Garry.” Etienne nodded. “Where are you going with this?”
“He gets two months. We get a copy. When he’s gone, you give the USB to…”
“Kaitlin,” Etienne said.
“And she writes her next Polarpol article.”
“You’ll go public?” Byrne shook his head. “That’s not part of the plan.”
“Not your plan,” Hákon said. He took a step closer to Etienne, tugged the MP5 from his grasp, and flicked the safety off. “Your friend,” he said to Byrne. “The one who wants you to do the right thing…”
“And live,” Byrne said.
“She’s smart?”
“She got me this far. I couldn’t have done it without her. So, yeah, she’s smart.”
“Then live for her,” Hákon said, as he plucked the USB from Byrne’s fingers. He pressed the barrel of the MP5 into Byrne’s chest a second later, his finger twitching on the trigger as Byrne moved forward.
“Constable,” Etienne said.
“It’s okay,” Byrne said, taking a small step backwards. “I guess I’m going to have to trust you.”
“That’s the only way this ends,” Hákon said. “Trust.”
Byrne nodded, then raised his right hand, slowly, pointing at his pocket. “I have a radio. Mobiles are no good out here.” He pulled the radio out of his pocket and tossed it to Etienne. “There’s a man called Ivarsson on the other end.”
“Ivarsson?”
“He was my contact. Ex-SÄPO according to Evelyn. Although, I’m not so sure. I think you could have an interesting chat with him, now that this is all over.” Byrne turned to his right. “I’d like to take one of those snowmobiles, and ride back into town. You won’t see me again, but you will hear from me.” He held out his hand for the USB. “Trust goes both ways, Constable.”
Hákon waited for a nod from Etienne, then placed the USB in Byrne’s palm.
“Thank you.”
“We’ll need a copy.”
“You’ll get it.” Byrne turned to Etienne. “Kaitlin Garry?”
“That’s right. She writes for a political blog…”
“Not for much longer,” Byrne said, as he pinched the USB betwee
n his finger and thumb. “Something like this can open a lot of doors. I’ll make sure she gets it.” He slipped the USB back into his chest pocket, secured it, then pointed at the snowmobile. “I’m going to go now. All right?”
Hákon lowered the MP5, then slung it over his shoulder. “Go ahead.”
Etienne took a step closer to Hákon. “I’m going to let you tell Evelyn what just happened.”
“Me?”
“You’re my second in command. I’m delegating.”
Hákon laughed. “I understand.”
Both men fell quiet at the sound of Byrne starting the snowmobile. They watched him pull away, turning to follow the lights along the trail, until the snowmobile dipped out of sight, taking Byrne with it. It seemed to Hákon that the man left in the same fashion as he arrived, abruptly and without warning, and yet he struggled to think he would ever forget him. Whatever the future might hold for Polarpol, Byrne Cantrell, for better or worse, would always be a part of its past.
“In fact,” Etienne said, when the roar of the snowmobile had faded. “Now that you’re back at work, we have some things that need to be worked out.”
“Such as?”
“Apart from getting off the mountain, we need to consider the future of Polarpol. This is the second time we’ve been involved in a shootout.”
“We’re consistent,” Hákon said.
“Okay,” Etienne said, pausing as if he expected Hákon to laugh again, continuing when he didn’t. “But we were never meant to be an Arctic SWAT team.”
“You said I would be active.”
“Investigating cases, maybe even pursuing fugitives across the Arctic.”
Hákon frowned. “Didn’t we just do that?”
“Yes, okay. We did just do that.” Etienne sighed. “I think you know what I mean.” He waved the radio in his hand. “I’m going to call for help, and then go back up to the cabin. You’ll stay here?”
“I will.” Hákon lifted his stick and pointed to the remaining snowmobiles. “I’ll take one of them back down the trail. You can pick me up later.”
“Good.” Etienne turned away, keying the transmit button on the radio as he walked back to the slope.
Hákon looked up as a single firework fizzed into the night sky. He turned and called out for Etienne to stop, pointing at the firework as he said, “Happy New Year.”
By all accounts it was a strange way to start a new year, and Hákon couldn’t remember its like. Even in the years he had worked New Year’s Eve, the drama had been limited to drunks being disorderly, far removed from the blood and bullets on the Swedish mountain.
Hákon remembered Ansel and turned to call out to Etienne one more time, only to realise he was too far away, and that it didn’t really matter. Ansel had used Hákon to find Cantrell. He had been successful.
Mission accomplished.
Whether or not the mission would be considered a win for Polarpol, only time would tell.
“In two months,” Hákon thought, as he made his way to the snowmobiles. “Two months and a lot of trust.”
Chapter 29
The helicopter flared on the side of the mountain, swirling drifts of snow inside the cabin in the wash of its rotors, before settling on the open ground between the cabin and the mountain spur. Etienne covered his face with his hand as the pilots kept the rotors spinning, peppering Etienne with snow as he waved the paramedics out of the helicopter and into the cabin. A young woman jumped out of the helicopter, running alongside the paramedics with Gina Lång following close behind her.
“Márjá, wait,” Gina shouted, as Márjá Lindström reached the cabin door.
Etienne caught her in his arms, holding her firmly, gently, as Evelyn talked the paramedics through Mats’ wounds.
“Mats,” Márjá said, twisting within Etienne’s grip. “He’s alive.”
“He’s going to be okay, bu they need to get him to hospital,” Evelyn said, as she followed the paramedics carrying Mats to the door. Márjá peeled out of Etienne’s arms, grasping Mats’ hand in hers as she walked alongside the stretcher back to the hospital.
“Go.” Etienne nodded, as Evelyn watched Márjá crumple into the snow beside the helicopter.
“You’re sure?”
“You need to get your head looked at anyway,” Etienne said. “Gina and I can finish up here. Hákon and I will meet you at the hospital.”
Evelyn nodded once, and then pointed at Gina. “Remember what we talked about.”
“I will.” Etienne gave Evelyn a gentle shove towards the helicopter. “Good work, Trooper,” he called out, as Evelyn clapped her hand to her head and ran to the door. She stooped to help Márjá into the helicopter, found a seat beside her, and then waved, just as the crew prepared for takeoff. The helicopter lifted into the air, swirling another bout of snow into the cabin and across the line of bodies Etienne and Evelyn had arranged outside the cabin.
“I like her,” Gina said, as soon as it was quiet enough to talk.
“Evelyn? Yes, she’s a good officer.”
Gina inspected the bodies, the pile of weapons and equipment, and the traces of blood now partly hidden by a fresh covering of snow.
“You’re not meant to disturb the crime scene,” she said, fixing Etienne with a scowl.
“Crime scene?” Etienne laughed. “Gina, this was a battle. Still, point taken. It’s going to take some time to figure it all out.”
“Not as long as you might think.” She started walking away from the cabin, beckoning for Etienne to follow her, as she led him away from the spur, and into another gentler slope leading down the mountain.
“We’re not waiting for the helicopter?”
Gina shook her head. “We have to find my team. Besides, the next chopper will be full of security service officers, and I don’t like them.”
Etienne walked beside Gina, slowing when she pointed out patches of ice hidden beneath the surface snow.
“What did you mean when you said it won’t take long?” he asked.
“They’ve got Berglund. Ivarsson brought him in. Although, both of them require treatment in hospital.”
“But he’s talking?”
“They both are. There’s a lot of bad blood between those two. But with what Mats found in the cloud…”
“About that,” Etienne said. “We had to make some snap decisions in the field. It may impact the case.”
“You don’t have the USB?”
“Not at the moment. But we will,” Etienne said, surprising himself at how confident he sounded. “In a couple of months.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not the only one. But maybe Berglund will be enough.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Gina stopped to take Etienne’s hand. “Slippery bit,” she said. “You lower me down, then I’ll catch you.”
They stopped three more times on the way down, taking it in turns to lower and catch each other, until the slope flattened, and Etienne thought he recognised the area.
“These bushes…”
“Yes?”
“I was trailing the ice anchor behind the sled. It caught in bushes like these. Threw me off the sled.”
Gina laughed. “I’ll bet it did. But, lucky for you…” Gina pointed at a line of dark shapes in the snow on the trail ahead.
They took their time with the dogs, checking paws for ice between the pads, running their hands up and down legs, behind the ears, picking at crusts of dirt and grease, looking for blood, finding none. Etienne listened as Gina explained the virtues of running with dogs, then, in a brief pause, he changed the subject.
“You know why we came here?”
“To look for Mats Lindström,” Gina said. “I know.”
“But he never applied to Polarpol. It was a ruse, a fake application to draw us here.”
Gina curled her fingers around the lead dog’s ear, nodding as Etienne talked, before adding, “Someone really has it in for Polarpol, eh?”
&nb
sp; “It might seem that way, at times,” Etienne said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that we still need candidates from the different Arctic countries.” Etienne crouched in the snow next to the dog behind the lead pair, slipping his arm around its neck as it pressed its body against him. “Evelyn and I were thinking…”
“No,” Gina said.
“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Don’t have to.” Gina finished her fussing of the lead dog and stood up. “Look at me, Etienne. I’m in my fifties, and I have the belly to match. I drink too much coffee, eat too much fast food, and I spend all my free time with my dogs. I don’t have the time or the physique to join some gung-ho police force on a mad dash around the Arctic from one flashpoint to the next.”
“Gina,” Etienne said. “Is that what you think Polarpol is?”
Gina raised her eyebrows and then pointed back up the mountain. “Am I wrong?”
“No.” Etienne slipped onto his knees as the dog snuggled in closer. “But that was never the idea. Polarpol is supposed to be multi-disciplined, bringing together the best police officers each country can offer.”
“Or misfits,” Gina said.
“That’s another way of looking at it. But regardless, we could use someone of your calibre and maturity. You could help steer the others through investigations.”
“What kind of investigations?”
“All kinds.” Etienne shrugged. “We haven’t got off the ground yet. It will take some time. But if you’ll consider it.”
“I don’t know.”
“You might, once Evelyn bends your ear.”
“I’ll think about it,” Gina said. She reached out a hand and pulled Etienne to his feet. “If you’ll drive?”
“What?”
“You’re a Mountie, Inspector. Let’s take this team home.”
Mountain Ghost: A Polar Task Force Thriller, Book #2 (PolarPol) Page 21
