The Fever in the Water: A Constable Petra Jensen Novella (Greenland Missing Persons Book 4)

by Christoffer Petersen

  Contents

  The Fever in the Water

  Author's Note

  Map: Greenland

  The Fever in the Water

  Part 1

  Part 2

  Part 3

  Part 4

  Part 5

  Part 6

  Part 7

  Part 8

  Part 9

  Part 10

  Part 11

  Part 12

  Part 13

  Part 14

  Part 15

  Part 16

  Part 17

  Part 18

  Part 19

  Part 20

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  About the Author

  By the same Author

  The Fever in the Water

  The Fever in the Water

  Greenland Missing Persons #4

  featuring Constable Petra “Piitalaat” Jensen

  Discover more about the

  Greenland Missing Persons series

  Author’s Note

  The settlement of Ingnerssuit does not exist, and neither does the Greenlandic police force use shaman’s to help solve cases. But, if you want to know more about Constable Petra Jensen’s early career, then this novella will add more background to her story and the characters with whom she interacts, including some who may be familiar if you have read any of my other stories set in Greenland.

  Chris

  August 2020

  Denmark

  The Fever in the Water

  Greenland Missing Persons #4

  Part 1

  Sergeant Gaba Alatak raised his voice above the crash of waves against the bow of the red-hulled police cutter Sisak III as he addressed his team. Atii and I stood just behind them, fiddling with our gear on the rear deck. I struggled with the Velcro straps of my ballistic vest, trying to get a proper fit, until Atii turned her back on Gaba’s Special Response Unit to help me.

  “The strap was bent back on itself,” she said, shifting her feet as the cutter rolled slightly to port. “It’s tight now.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Are you okay, P? You look a little green. Is it the boat?”

  I paused to work some saliva into my mouth to unglue my tongue, and said, “I’m not used to this.”

  “To what? Working with SRU? Neither of us are.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “Duneq said there were women and children in the house. He said Gaba needed female officers. I guess we were available.”

  “I guess,” I said, wondering in part how Atii could be so cool when I wasn’t.

  I let my mind wander to earlier that morning. Sergeant Duneq had pulled Atii and I off our regular activity for the day and driven us to the airport where Gaba and his team were waiting.

  “I told them you weren’t ready,” he said, looking at me in the rear-view mirror, before flashing through a roundabout, braking into the curve and accelerating out of it. He could have been talking to both us, both newly trained, both equally green, but it was the look that confirmed it.

  He was talking to me.

  “Paamiut police have officers on the scene, at the dock in Ingnerssuit, but they’re waiting for SRU before going in.” Duneq paused as he braked at the next roundabout. He stopped the patrol car for a cyclist, adjusted the fold of his belly pressing against the steering wheel, then accelerated. “Eqqitsiaq Kuannia is sixty-nine years old. Residents in Ingnerssuit say he’s gone nuts, and he has a gun, and he won’t let his wife or daughter out of the house. The daughter has three children. They are also in the house.” Duneq slowed into the long curve of the road at the end of the runway. “That’s all I know. Gaba will tell you the rest.”

  I felt the first flutter of nerves in my stomach as Duneq parked outside the main entrance to Nuuk airport. This wasn’t the usual assignment he gave me, the kind I often felt he used to punish me. This was different, and I wondered, just a for a second, if he was trying to protect me. Sergeant Duneq – or Jowls as I called him – was my supervisor. He often threw obstacles in my way, pretending they were vital to my training, now that it was over, so that I might get as much experience as possible in as short a time as possible. Which could easily be translated to more work and fewer days off. But this was different. He looked concerned, and I think that was what worried me the most.

  The final straw was when he told me to be careful, just before Atii and I got out of the car.

  “Did you hear that?” I said, as Atii tugged me through the main door of the airport and into the waiting area. “He said we should be careful.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Atii said. “Don’t think about it.”

  Of course, not thinking about it, was like not breathing. I had to think about it, teasing apart all the different emotions associated with Duneq’s uncharacteristic concern, right up until the airport gate, where Gaba and his team were waiting.

  “You won’t be going in,” he said, bustling us out of the door and into the Air Greenland King Air light aircraft waiting to fly us to Paamiut. “But I need you close, and I need you focused. Understand?”

  I remembered nodding, but little else. It was Atii who guided me into a seat on the tiny plane, telling me to buckle up as Gaba dumped bulletproof vests and helmets into our laps. I remember clutching them from take off to landing, before dressing on the boat.

  “Hey.” Atii tugged at my vest, jolting me back into the present. “You with me, P?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” she said. Atii laughed and squeezed my arm. “Is this the same Petra who chased a polar bear with her pistol in Qaanaaq?”

  “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “It just was,” I said. “This is more real, somehow.”

  I reached out to clutch the cool railing as Sisak III ploughed through another wave. Atii did little more than shift her feet to find her balance. The wind played with her long fringe and I waited for her to say something, more reassuring words, but we were out of time. Atii pointed over my shoulder, towards the bow of the boat, and said, “We’ll be there soon.”

  My breath caught in my throat as Gaba strode across the deck, stopping beside Atii and me.

  “Your hair,” he said, pointing at my ponytail. “Make the knot lower so it fits under your helmet.” I fiddled with the elastic in my hair as he studied my vest, tugging at the same straps Atii had helped me with. “You seem nervous, Constable.”

  “She’s fine,” Atii said.

  “Okay,” he said, slowly, before spinning me around to check the back of my vest. “Let’s see.”

  I felt the rough brush of his strong hands, curious that my previous thoughts about Sergeant Gaba Alatak, the less than professional kind, were quashed by the threat of impending action. Atii seemed far more confident and made a show of enjoying Gaba’s inspection of her gear once he was finished with me.

  “Duneq said I could trust both of you to do exactly what I say, when I say it,” Gaba said, after a final inspection of my helmet. “My boys will do the hard stuff.” He pointed at the three men, now identical in black tactical gear, with masks pulled up to their goggles. “But you’ll be close – closer than the local police. I want you ready to move in fast when I give the word.” He reached out to unclip the radio on my shoulder, adjusting it so that it sat snugly on top of my vest.

  I caught Atii’s eye, followed by a flash of s
omething that I hadn’t seen before, as if she thought Gaba had paid me a little more attention than he should have. It might have been inappropriate, but it was enough to distract me from worrying about what was about to happen. But no matter what that look might have meant, it was neither the time nor the place to do anything about it. A shout from the wheelhouse confirmed it.

  “He’s running, Gaba,” the skipper said, as he leaned out of the wheelhouse door to point at a small fibreglass dinghy punching through shallow waves away from the settlement.

  “Still armed,” said one of Gaba’s men, as he lifted his goggles and pressed a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

  “Skipper,” Gaba shouted, clicking his fingers, and pointing to the shore. “Get the local police to come alongside in their boat. Atii,” he said, snapping his head to one side to look at her. “As soon as they’re here, you climb on-board and go back to Ingnerssuit. I want you to check on the women and children. Give your report to the skipper. Petra,” he said, turning to me.

  “Yes?”

  “Grab one of the spare MP5s and put two extra magazines in the pouches on your vest.”

  “You’re taking Petra with you?” Atii said, with another flash of jealousy in her eyes.

  “Constable Napa,” Gaba said, snapping his fingers as a small speedboat approached the cutter. “Your boat has arrived.”

  I tried to find something to say, but my tongue was dry again. And then it was too late, as Atii climbed over the railings and dropped down into the small rigid inflatable boat bumping against the side of the police cutter’s hull.

  “Ready, Constable?” Gaba said, tapping the front of my helmet with his knuckle.

  I nodded, then lurched into Gaba’s chest as the skipper pulled away from the smaller boat, opening up with the cutter’s engine.

  Part 2

  I caught little more than a glimpse of Atii in the small dinghy sailing back to the settlement, before Gaba sent me to the wheelhouse with a curt nod of his shaved and oiled head. I stumbled over the lip of the door, grasped a handle to steady myself, and then found a spare MP5 submachine gun on a table beside the stairs leading below deck. I was familiar with the weapon, having trained with it at the Police Academy, but it felt cold and alien to my touch. I took another breath, focused on the submachine gun, the safety, the spare magazines. I opened the pouches at the front of my vest and tucked the magazines inside as Gaba spoke to the skipper.

  “He’s headed for Ivittuut,” the skipper said. “Which is a problem.”

  “The abandoned mining town,” Gaba said. “Why’s that a problem?”

  “Out of season, it’s not. It’s deserted. But if you look over there.” The skipper took one hand off the wheel to point. “See the smokestack just above that berg?”

  “I see it.”

  “That’s the MS Wisting. A Norwegian adventure cruise ship. Eight decks. 280 Berths. About 400 passengers, plus crew.”

  “And they’re visiting Ivittuut?”

  “It’s on the schedule.” The skipper gripped the wheel and bent his knees in anticipation of a particularly large wave. “If we’re lucky,” he said, as I bumped into Gaba, recovering once Sisak had settled. “There’s only one cruise ship. Otherwise…”

  Gaba swore, then looked around the wheelhouse. He brushed past me and called down to the crew in the galley below deck.

  “Do we have a rifle on board?”

  “Like a hunting rifle?”

  “Aap,” Gaba said.

  “Just a minute.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, as Gaba reached down the stairs to grab the barrel of an old bolt-action rifle, the kind the Sirius Sledge Patrol use to protect themselves from polar bears. Gaba ignored me as he worked the bolt and then reached down for a small magazine. “You’re going to shoot him before he gets there, aren’t you?”

  Gaba said a curt thanks to the officer in the galley, and then strode across the wheelhouse to the door. He stuck his head into the wind, looked back at the rear deck and whistled.

  “Taatsiaq,” he said, thrusting the rifle into the arms of the first man to reach the wheelhouse. “You’re the best shot with a rifle. Get up in the bow and prepare to take a shot.”

  Taatsiaq, a mini version of Gaba with thick black hair, lurched to one side as Sisak crested another wave. He gripped the rifle in one hand and the railing in the other as the cutter descended into the wave trough. “It’s pretty rough, boss,” he said.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Gaba turned back to the skipper. “How long before we reach Ivittuut?”

  “Before we do, or before he does?”

  “Us,” Gaba said.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Okay, and him?”

  “Six.”

  I watched Gaba as he sucked at his teeth, thinking. He glanced at the bow, watched Taatsiaq and another SRU team member use the railings to brace themselves against the motion of the boat. I saw Gaba nod to himself, as if the decision was made, which is when I made mine.

  “You can’t do it, Gaba,” I said, stepping forward.

  “That’s not your decision, Constable.”

  “No? Then why did you bring me along?” I unclipped my helmet and held it under my arm, jerking the thumb of my free hand over my shoulder towards Ingnerssuit. “The women and children are back there.”

  “And there will be plenty more on that cruise ship,” Gaba said. “I’m not going to let some old man with a gun put them in danger.”

  “His name is Eqqitsiaq Kuuania,” I said. “He’s a father, and a grandfather.”

  The skipper turned his head and I caught the look in his eye, warning me that I was treading dangerous waters. Sergeant Gaba Alatak was well known for his command decisions, his commitment to training, and his firm belief that in tactical situations, even when the commissioner was present, no one questioned his actions. Certainly not a lowly police constable fresh out of the academy.

  “Petra,” he said. “This…”

  “Isn’t the time?” I almost laughed, as the butterflies in my stomach stopped flapping and I slapped the helmet down onto the table. “Atii says the nicest things about you,” I said.

  “You’re out of line, Constable.”

  Gaba clenched his jaw and I saw his brown eyes darken as he narrowed his gaze, focusing on me, as if daring me to say one more thing. Which of course, I did, now that training was over. I’m sure that Sergeant Duneq would have put me in my place, perhaps even faster than Gaba was about to, but I wasn’t going to stand by and let Taatsiaq, or anyone else, take pot shots at an old man fleeing from the police.

  “She also says that she trusts you more than any other police officer, because you always make the right decision. Even when time is an issue.”

  “Time is an issue, Constable. I need to stop Kuuania before he puts people’s lives at risk.”

  “He won’t.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.”

  “I know just as much as you,” I said, surprising myself at the note of conviction in my voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was being influenced. How could I possibly know what Eqqitsiaq Kuuania, a man I had never met, would or wouldn’t do? But something or someone was telling me to get involved, to risk everything, and, potentially, to risk the lives of 400 people from the cruise ship, should Eqqitsiaq run amok in Ivittuut. That was what Gaba wanted me to think of, and I did, as his words hung between us.

  “You don’t have the experience, Constable,” he said, following up. “Don’t make the mistake of pretending you know how this will end, because I guarantee you will be disappointed.”

  “And Eqqitsiaq will be dead. Is that it?”

  “I didn’t bring you onboard to…”

  “What?” I said, stepping forward, closing the gap between us. “Tell me, Sergeant, why am I here?”

  Gaba snorted. “I’m not playing that game.”

  “Then why I don’t I tell you,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Atii’s t
he confident one. She’s also better with a gun – any gun. She’s the obvious choice. Except you brought me here to show off, and to piss her off. To make her jealous, that you picked me over her.”

  “You’re out of line, Constable,” Gaba said, leaning close.

  “Am I? Then why are you whispering?”

  The butterflies were back, and their crazy flight pattern sent a feathery burst of adrenaline through my body as I stared into Gaba’s face, holding my ground, making a point, and, judging by the tic in his jaw, pissing him off entirely.

  “How long, skipper?” he said, raising his voice while looking at me.

  “He had to double back around some ice. We’ve closed the gap. He’ll make land in maybe a minute or so. We’re right behind him.” The skipper coughed, waited for Gaba to turn, and then pointed at Taatsiaq in the bow. “Your boys are waiting for orders.”

  “Wave them in,” Gaba said, turning back to me. “I want them here when I brief our new negotiator.”

  Part 3

  As soon as we landed, no more than five minutes after Gaba’s no-nonsense authoritarian brief on what he did and did not expect me to do or say, I felt the SRU leader’s firm grip on my shoulder.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” he said, his voice low, his pitch measured, and his meaning one hundred percent clear. “If I tell you to drop…”

  “I drop,” I said, knowing that I would.

  “Then we have an understanding?”

  “Yes.”

  “And,” he said, with a nod to the police cutter moored next to Eqqitsiaq’s dinghy at the dock behind us. “What you said, back on the boat, about Atii...”

  At any other time, I might have found it irritating, or at least curious, that Gaba, or any man for that matter, might suddenly feel self-conscious about his actions. Instead, faced with talking a confused fugitive into giving himself up without a fight, Gaba’s reaction to be called out served a different purpose, one I chose not to credit him with. In that moment, I forgot about Eqqitsiaq, for about two seconds, as I considered what to do with Sergeant Gaba Alatak.