Thor's Haven

by Richard S Young

  Rifat’s directions had been spot on as Daniel soon encountered the roadway of Highway 7 after scrambling the motorcycle over a few hundred metres of rough terrain. To his left lay Torkham and the border crossing and to his right lay the capital of Kabul via Jalalabad and the Torkham Forward Operating Base used by NATO and coalition forces.

  If Daniel was going to get any form of fair treatment during a police investigation and an opportunity to absolve himself completely of having any involvement in the murders of Jnyandeep Medhansh and his grand-daughter in India, he had to throw himself upon the mercy of military authorities that he knew he could trust.

  He knew the processes well enough from his own military service days and that detention by NATO military police seemed far more palatable than what the conventional Indian or Pakistani police services had to offer him. Within NATO, the member countries often make use of combined patrols by using personnel drawn from the military police organisations of the NATO member countries present in the area of operation, and if his memory served him correctly, the military policing that was being used in Afghanistan was drawn from the countries he knew to be currently on operations there such as Germany, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, the Netherlands, Great Britain and America. If he could now encounter some Danish troops, he would willingly surrender himself to them to arrest and then pass over to their own military police.

  Just as he was about to drive towards the direction of Kabul, something small and dark zipped past overhead and dipped out of sight behind an escarpment of rock a few hundred metres in front of him. He raised the visor of his helmet to get a better look when another dark object flew past him at speed and disappeared behind the same rock promontory. At first, Daniel thought it had been a large bird of prey but when the second object had flown overhead, he was positive he had heard the slight mechanical whir of rotor blades. Too small to be a helicopter or an unmanned aerial vehicle, he considered driving over to the rocky bluff to investigate further when he became conscious of a green laser sight dot on his chest. A second green dot appeared beside it while a third moved up and down his chest. A shape leapt up from the ground about 50 metres in front of him in a cloud of swirling dust, earth and debris. Daniel instantly recognised the profile of a Gevær M/10 automatic rifle pointing at him while its DABL A3 tactical laser sight painted a slow-moving target upon his chest. Two more shapes erupted upwards in clouds of dust from the landscape close by, and like the first one, both had their weapons and laser sights trained on Daniel’s chest.

  “Step away from the motorbike!” shouted the first shape as it advanced towards Daniel in a hunched crouch manner with its weapon fixed upon him.

  “Get down on your knees!” barked a second shape as it too advanced on Daniel.

  “Hands on top of the helmet” said the third shape, out of sight and now behind Daniel.

  Daniel followed the three instructions as directed while trying to maintain eye contact with the three shapes. The instructions had all been spoken in English but there was an accent to the speech. These three shapes were not American, Canadian or British troops but they were of NATO origin, at least he hoped they were. A fourth shape ghosted up beside him at the edge of his peripheral vision curtailed by the helmet.

  “Take off the helmet! Slowly now!” ordered the fourth shape in a calm manner.

  Daniel kept his left hand on the side of the helmet as he used his right hand to undo the chin strap. He then carefully stretched both his hands out in front of him before slowly raising them upwards to take off the helmet. Having removed the helmet, he placed it on the ground in front of him and then returned his hands to the top of his head. The fourth shape now stood just in front of him and Daniel could clearly make out that it was wearing the standard issue T/99 camouflage pattern favoured as the Danish Armed Forces desert combat operations uniform. He smiled as the shape in front of him turned the pointed weapon away from his direction, pulled back the visored frontage of the M1 combat helmet and exclaimed “Bugger me! Daniel Lauridsen! How the devil are you Sir?” and reached a hand forward to help Daniel up from the ground.

  Daniel blinked at the smiling face in front of him and tried to remember the name. Jørgen Petersen.

  “How the hell are you Jørgen? You’re just the type of person I’ve been looking for.” said Daniel as he shook his hand.

  For the next five minutes, Jørgen introduced Daniel to his three comrades and explained to them that Daniel had been his team leader when he first joined the Frømandskorpset. The three of them all shook Daniel’s hand and he could not help but notice that they seemed to be really glad to have met him. He turned to Jørgen and quietly asked him what the problem was. Jørgen grinned again.

  “What would be your reaction if you suddenly met a living legend of the Frømandskorpset out in the middle of the wilderness in Afghanistan? You’d be the same.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m a legend but at least I’m still alive.

  What are you doing here? What’s your mission? And what were those things that flew by me?

  “We’re doing a tactical survey of the border perimeter testing out some gizmos that have been borrowed from the University of Copenhagen. We’ve been out along the border perimeter doing this survey for the last two weeks now, along with a Jægerkorpset unit. The things you saw up in the air are multi-copter mini-drones. They have been fitted with special optics to record the ground and terrain they fly over, send a live stream of it by satellite to our base here and to the Special Operations Command at Aalborg Air Base back home for analysis. We’ve got two of these drones and the other two are with the Jægerkorpset team. Apparently what’s getting recorded is going to provide some sort of new digital defence map that’ll aid the on-going NATO mission out here. We have hand-held monitors to check what’s being recorded and we watched you arrive at the old brick factory and then find the gap in the perimeter fence. We’d just finished our survey tasks so we decided to check out whether you were a hostile or not. I’ve already called in transport to pick us, and you, up.”

  “OK. Suits me absolutely perfectly. You’re out here doing this survey with a Jægerkorpset team? What’s that all about?”

  Jørgen rolled his eyes and tutted.

  “Some faceless suit in the military intelligence came up with the brilliant idea of merging the Jægerkorpset, the army’s Hunter units, with the navy’s Frømandskorpset, frogmen squads, under the one operational umbrella that’s now called the Special Operations Command (Specialoperationskommandoen). By sharing the one headquarters at the Aalborg Air Base, Denmark’s elite Special Forces units from the army, navy and airforce are all lumped together, going by the abbreviation nickname of SOKOM. It’s all to do with some politically correct policy of being able to collaborate with our national and international partners by offering a special strength alternative to the conventional military solutions while also providing a designated headquarters element that supports special operations on foreign soil. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really complaining about it and I can understand what the concept is supposed to do, but I was a Royal Danish Navy man when I joined the Frømandskorpset and I am compulsorily retired from the unit at the age of 35. I’m now 35 and this was my last deployment overseas on a three-month tour of duty before retiring. Today is technically my last day in the field as a tier one specialist frogman operative but I don’t have many options left open to me now since we merged with the pongoes, the Jægerkorpset, into this combined services specialist group. I’ll be struggling to wangle a desk job with the Royal Danish Naval Academy at Holmen in Copenhagen now, because we were unified into a new structure, I haven’t really had the time to prepare myself for life in Civvy Street. Once we get back to base, we’ll be packing up our kit, doing an intelligence briefing with our replacement units, having a few beers and saying our cheerios tonight before catching a scheduled NATO flight tomorrow to the Allied Land Command at the Şirinyer Base over at �
�zmir in Turkey. When we get there, there’s to be a full de-brief on this survey that we’ve just done, remove all the military equipment and attachments from these mini-drones and then return them back to some history professor working for the World Archaeological Congress at a place of antiquity called Pergamon. Once we’ve done that, me and the lads are homeward bound on the 14th and I suppose I’ll be clearing my lockers out at Aalborg and retiring at the end of the month.”

  Daniel listened intently to every single word Jørgen had just said and when he had mentioned Pergamon, a possible plan began to formulate in his mind. If he could now get to surrender himself to Danish Military Police, Daniel knew from past experience, they would make enquiries about his situation, and because he was still classified as being ‘active’ on the Danish military reservist lists, the MPs would have him transported on this flight to Allied Land Command (LANDCOM), the headquarters for all NATO land forces in Europe, for them to consider what course of action to take with him.

  Those centralised headquarters are located at Şirinyer (Buca), İzmir in Turkey and not too far from the ancient city of Pergamon.

  “So Jørgen, today’s your last day in the field and then it’s back home to Denmark? I need a favour from you then as I am in a bit of trouble, and if you can help me out just now, I will reciprocate by helping you out with a job when you retire.”

  “How are you in trouble? I know we are duty bound to take you in for interrogation because we have intercepted you after illegally crossing over the border from Pakistan into Afghanistan, but you’ll have legitimate reasons for doing so and your own service record will quell any possible doubts that intelligence may have about you.” replied Jørgen.

  “I need you to ‘capture’ me and hand me over to the Danish Military Police as soon as we get back to your base. My future freedom depends on you doing that for me. If you can do that, I promise to set you up with a decent job working for me after you’ve retired.” Daniel opened up his wallet and passed Jørgen one of his business cards.

  “Call me or send me an e-mail next month and we can meet up and get you sorted out. The business ventures I’m involved in can always use an extra pair of hands, especially someone with your specific skill-sets, and to be honest, I could do with some help.”

  Jørgen pocketed the business card and thanked him for the job offer.

  “So why do you want me to ‘capture’ you and pass you over to the MPs?”

  “An Interpol Red Notice has been issued for my arrest because I am wanted for a double murder in India and probably another one in Pakistan once they find the bodies.”

  As the armoured transport appeared to uplift the drones and take the Frømandskorpset squad back to their base, Jørgen cable-tied Daniel’s hands behind him and covered his head with a cloth bag.

  “I hope to Christ you really know what you are doing Daniel.” whispered Jørgen as he led Daniel over to the vehicles.

  “So do I Jørgen, so do I.” came the reply from inside the hood as Jørgen unceremoniously bundled Daniel into the back of one of the waiting armoured vehicles.

  10.03am – 11th April, present day.

  Srinagar Police Headquarters, Airport Road, Peer Bagh, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir, India

  With a population of just over a million people and thousands of tourists entering the city of Srinagar every single day, the Jammu and Kashmir Police Department is divided up into various wings and branches to deal with the varying everyday needs. The various specialist units such as the Armed Police, Traffic Police, Technical Wing, Civil Defence and Home Guard and the Railway Police all operate out of individually allocated police stations, however, the Crime Branch, has its main centre of operations based within the Police Headquarters located on the Airport Road.

  The Crime Branch specialises on investigating the many differing aspects of criminal activity occurring in and around the city and co-ordinates with its sister units to provide effective policing for the community. Their Crime Investigation Department (CID), otherwise known simply as the Investigation Branch, comprises of specially trained officers working in plain clothes and is the major investigation and intelligence wing of the State Police forces in India. This branch of the police is tasked with investigating all of the serious crimes committed including murder, riots, forgery, counterfeiting and cases entrusted to the CID by the individual state governments or by the High Court, such as counter-terrorism.

  Billy Pirzada had walked to the Police Headquarters from his sister’s house and now paced back and forward on the pavement outside as he mentally wrestled with himself on how he was going to approach the problem he had. The television news had reports of a double murder of a local man and his grand-daughter, and although the police were following certain lines of enquiry, there had been an appeal for members of the public to come forward if they had any information to provide that could help the ongoing investigation. Billy’s conscience had tugged at him since the day before as the vivid and distressing images of what he had been made to witness continuously replayed themselves over and over in his mind.

  He hadn’t been able to sleep during the night and ended up getting dressed and working on his driver documentation and assigning the ownership of his taxi over into his sister’s name. He had also taken the time to write a letter of authority mandating the transfer of the title deeds of his modest home into his sister’s name, Safina, and after having had breakfast, he had driven to his bank, emptied his three accounts and placed a sizeable sum of money within a large brown envelope. The envelope already contained his driving documents and the property certification for his house, and after parking his taxi outside Safina’s house, he had placed the car-keys to the taxi within the envelope, added a letter of instruction for her to follow, sealed it, written her name on the front and put it through her letter box. It was only a short distance for him to walk from her house to the police station.

  Whether it was guilt or shock, or both, the events of the day before had affected him. Witnessing two brutal murders side by side had changed Billy. He was just an ordinary man making an honest living as a taxi driver in and around a bustling city. A passenger had once asked him if he fancied earning some extra cash in hand by doing a bit of surveillance for him every so often and keeping a watchful eye on individuals as and when required. Billy had been reluctant at first to get involved, but he changed his mind when two large wads of banknotes were thrust into his hands as a signing-on fee. The initial sum given to him was the equivalent of two months of taxi fares and after agreeing to get involved, at the end of every month, he would receive an envelope containing similar amounts rewarding him for carrying out some ad-hoc duties. This arrangement had been in place for the last 14 months, and the passenger, whom he only knew as Henrique, referred to him as his ‘watcher’. Billy had simply followed people around, taken some notes and photographs, watched the comings and goings of others and occasionally checked out the names of the various guests in hotel registers and dinner bookings at fancy restaurants, the details of which he would then text to this Henrique to consider. Billy’s commissions always happened the same way when he would receive a text, follow the instructions and then report back to Henrique with whatever he had observed or learned. But yesterday’s murders were not something he had ever considered being a part of his duties, let alone watching them unfold. His duties as a ‘watcher’ were not that.

  He walked up the short flight of stairs, pushed open the glass door leading into the foyer of the police station and spoke to the young police officer at the reception desk.

  “I’d like to speak to a senior police officer please. I witnessed those two people being murdered yesterday afternoon and I want to talk to someone about it.”

  Billy had been escorted into an interview room and had recounted his story to two police officers. At first the two officers were skeptical of Billy’s eye-witness statement but little details began to emerge that match
ed the evidence that had been gathered so far from the crime scene. However incredulous Billy’s story would appear to a listener, crucial facts like the business card in the fingers of the dead woman satisfied the two officers that they had someone who had actually witnessed the despicable crimes being committed. Billy explained in detail the final moments leading up to the horrific death of Jnyandeep Medhansh and his grand-daughter. Details that had never been disclosed and were definitely not in the public domain. His descriptions of the three men he had followed were further backed up when he showed the police officers the various photographs that he had been able to store on his mobile telephone. Billy, although now sobbing and an emotional wreck, wished to help the police bring justice for an old man and his grand-daughter who he had the misfortune of watching being brutally killed the day before.

  The police officers had swiftly taken possession of Billy’s mobile telephone as evidence for the on-going investigations and officers from the Technical Wing had swiftly printed off all the text traffic and images that it contained. The retrieved data confirmed large elements of Billy’s story and by now, he had become a person of real interest to the police authorities. Another two plain-clothes officers had quietly entered the interview room and introduced themselves as Javid Koul and Aftab Jalla, CID officers with the Crime Branch. As they sat down, Aftab Jalla opened a folder and passed a sizeable piece of paper across the table to Billy. A large banner across the top of the page said ‘INTERPOL’ with a black and white photograph beneath it of the European man he had followed the day before. Further writing was below the image but it was in a language that Billy didn’t recognise or understand but he repeatedly stabbed the forefinger of his right hand at the picture before him.