The Ice Star (Konstabel Fenna Brongaard Book 1)

by Christoffer Petersen

  Kula, Fenna realised, was gone, enveloped by the fog and the snow clouds that had rolled in behind it from the sea. Fenna's world turned grey and thunderous, as the visibility decreased only to be replaced by machine noise and the excited clamour of sledge dogs. She caught a whiff of something feral and watched the bear's flight turn into fight as it slid to a stop and turned to face Fenna and her team.

  “Fuck,” she said and drew the knife again. Fenna sawed through the gangline and released the dogs. Once free of the sledge, the team leaped towards the bear as the sledge ground to a stop. Fenna kicked off her skis and ran to the rear of the sledge. She tugged the sledge bag free of the uprights and thrust her arms through the loops. She ignored the dogs as they baited the bear with half-barks, bared teeth and feints. Fenna caught a last glimpse of Lucifer as the bear batted a giant paw at the lead dog, only to be attacked from behind by Betty and Ninja. Fenna ran across the ice in the direction she imagined Kula had driven his dogs, towards the open sea.

  The whine of Burwardsley's snowmobile increased in pitch, louder than the helicopter as it escaped the thunderous chop of the aircraft and followed Fenna into the fog and snow. As the air thickened, Fenna caught the static crackle of radio chatter between Burwardsley and the pilot as the Lieutenant ordered the helicopter to stay close. Fenna smiled at Burwardsley's frustration as the rotor noise diminished and the helicopter retreated from the fog. The dogs, she realised, had also disappeared. Fenna slowed as the fog enveloped her and her visibility decreased to a mere handful of metres. She stopped and turned a slow circle as she listened for the sound of the snowmobile, the dogs, anything.

  “Not good,” she whispered and raised the pistol in her right hand. She clutched the knife in her left.

  Fenna heard the distant whine of the snowmobile to her left. It increased in pitch but diminished as if Burwardsley was accelerating in the wrong direction. She held her breath and cocked her head towards the other sound, the soughing breath and the huff of something large padding across the ice towards her.

  Snow tickled Fenna's cheeks as the flakes thickened and swirled around her body. She placed the sough and huff off to her right, and caught a whiff of wet fur, not dissimilar to that of the dogs, only bigger, more powerful, faster. Fenna whirled at the first sight of the bear, its black snout pointed down towards the ice, its tiny ears alert and those great paws – Fenna could see the claws, black, thick as two fingers, sharp as pitons.

  “Go away,” she shouted and levelled the pistol at the bear. At one hundred metres Fenna had thought the bear to be huge, at ten it was mountainous. Fenna pointed the Webley at the ice, a metre in front of the bear and pulled the trigger. The bear reeled at the explosion, amplified as it was by the fog. The 11.6mm bullet punctured the ice in front of the bear, and it faltered. Fenna fired again, half a metre closer and the bear staggered back as a small crater cracked just a paw's length in front of its snout. The empty Webley wobbled in Fenna's grasp as the bear twitched in front of her, turned and loped back in the direction it had come.

  Fenna slumped onto the ice and let the Webley rest in her lap. The knife slipped out of her grip and Fenna tucked her hand beneath her armpit to stop it shaking.

  She sat there until the cold penetrated the seat of her windpants and forced her to stand up. She bent down to pick up the knife and slipped the Webley back into her waistband. Fenna turned to sniff the air and felt a fresh breeze with a subtle tang blow in from her right. She turned to face it and hoped she was walking east, towards the sea, to Kula.

  She stopped after five minutes to slip the Webley into the sledge bag. She looked at the knife and placed that inside the bag too. She remembered the satphone and pulled it out. The phone flickered into life with a power warning. Fenna dialled Daneborg and waited. The phone burred through the number; the dial tone sounded to Fenna like it was being bounced around the world.

  “Noa?” she said when a familiar voice answered her call.

  “No, this is Kommandør Kjersing. Who am I speaking to?”

  “This is…” Fenna started. She paused as a beam of light captured the fog in a brilliant white triangle and staggered in increments towards her. “This is...” Fenna tried again, but then the light caught her and she was at once blind and dumb as the familiar sound of metal biting into ice was magnified, far more than the metal edge of her skis when she braked, greater than the sound of runners on black ice. This was bigger than that, this was monstrous, a behemoth of industry and power.

  “Fenna? Is that you?” Kjersing said but Fenna was silent. She stared up at the massive metal bright red bow of a ship as it pressed down on the edge of the sea ice. Fenna was pinned to the spot with a searchlight from the deck of The Ice Star.

  Chapter 20

  The power warning on the satellite phone beeped and ended the call. Fenna lowered her hand and held the phone by her side as two men in full Arctic gear clumped down the accommodation ladder, zigzagging down the hull of the ship and stepped onto the ice. She watched as they walked towards her. The second the men stepped inside the cone of light from the deck, their shadows flanked Fenna on either side. Compared to the men, Fenna was underdressed. In the time it took them to unzip their fur-lined parka hoods, lift their goggles and tug their fleece balaclavas below their chin to speak, Fenna had made her decision – she would ask them to take her onboard the ship. Kula was gone, Burwardsley would realise his error and change course – he might have done so already, she realised – and the polar bear could return at any moment. With her survival instincts adapting and reacting to every new scenario, Fenna spent less and less time reviewing each new development since her escape onto the ice in the police Toyota. One step at a time, she reminded herself. Just stay ahead – always at least one step ahead, and adapt. And, she thought as she recognised the name of the ship, find Dina.

  “My name is Bose,” said the shorter of the two men in Indian-style English. “I am the ship's purser, and this is our head of security, Charlie Watts.”

  “We received a distress call for two hunters in trouble on the ice,” Watts said. “Are you in need of assistance?”

  “Yes,” Fenna said and nodded. “I need assistance.”

  “Where is your sledge?” Watts said.

  “Back there.” Fenna pointed over her shoulder. “But there's a bear,” she said and added, “A big one. I frightened it off, but I think it will be back.” Watts reached behind his back and drew a large Magnum pistol.

  “Mr Bose,” Watts said. “Time to get back on the ship.”

  “Yes,” Bose gestured for Fenna to follow him. “Do you have any belongings?”

  “No,” she said and fell into step beside the purser. He twisted at the waist to look at her, tugging at his hood with thick-gloved fingers.

  “It's a little odd to meet a woman, alone on the ice. We were told to expect two hunters.”

  “Life is full of surprises,” Fenna said and winced at her own cynicism. “I was with my grandfather,” she said.

  “You are Danish?”

  “Yes, but my grandfather is Greenlandic.” Fenna smiled at the thought of Kula and enjoyed the little white lie.

  “I see,” Bose said and stopped at the first step on the accommodation ladder. Watts joined them and nodded for Bose to go first. He lifted his foot onto the first step and stopped. “This is a private vessel. We will need to process you in security before you are allowed to venture further inside the ship.”

  “All right,” Fenna said. “But I don't have any form of identification on me.”

  “We'll figure something out,” said Watts. “Let's just get onboard before the bear comes back, shall we?”

  Fenna followed Bose up the ladder, to the right, left and right again as they worked their way to the lower deck on the port side of the ship. She turned as the searchlight flicked in sharp increments across the ice before being extinguished with a soft thump.

  “Where is your grandfather?” Bose asked as he guided Fenna to the security desk an
d a custom-sized baggage x-ray machine. Fenna paused to look at the security officer with a metal detector wand in his hand and a pistol holstered at his hip.

  Fenna hesitated for a moment. “He is on his way back to camp. I called him on the satphone,” she said and held up the phone in her hand.

  “He doesn't require assistance?”

  “No.”

  “But he didn't come back to get you?”

  “We were separated in the storm. I called him as soon as I saw your ship. I told him I was okay.” Fenna took a breath and continued, “The storm looked like it was going to get worse. I wanted him to get home.”

  Watts stepped inside the door and instructed the crew to raise the accommodation ladder. He holstered the magnum, pulled down his hood and removed his gloves. Fenna's pulse increased as Watts studied her. As head of security, she knew she was ultimately his responsibility, but his predator eyes were unsettling nonetheless. She slipped the sledge bag off her shoulders and handed it to the security officer standing beside the x-ray machine.

  “I have a gun and a knife,” she said. Watts stirred but Fenna tried a smile. “For protection. From bears.”

  “That's not a gun,” the x-ray officer said as he pulled the pistol out of Fenna’s bag. “It's a relic.”

  “Oh, I know someone who would like that,” Bose said as he leaned around Fenna's shoulder for a closer look at the Webley.

  “Is it loaded?” Watts said.

  “With empty shells,” Fenna said. “I used them all on the bear.”

  “Fair enough,” Watts said and nodded at the crewmen to close and lock the door. He stepped around Bose and lifted a handset from the wall. “Captain, this is Watts. We're good to go.” He replaced the telephone and returned to his position against the wall as his men ran Fenna's bag through the x-ray machine and checked her body with the wand.

  “What's this?” the baggage security officer asked as he turned the satellite component in his hands.

  “A bit of old radio,” Fenna said and shrugged. “It was in my grandfather's bag. He is always collecting junk from old machines. It's difficult to get parts in the Arctic,” she added. The officer slipped it back inside the bag along with the satphone.

  “We'll have to keep your weapons,” he said. “There is a safe in the hold the next deck down. We'll keep them there and you can have them again when you leave the ship.” He reached for a clipboard and pushed it across the desk to Fenna. “Sign here.” Fenna signed her name, conscious of Watt's scrutiny. “That should do it,” the officer said and returned the clipboard to a hook on the bulkhead behind him.

  “And this is your ID card,” Bose said and showed Fenna a plastic card with a V for visitor stencilled onto the front. He clipped it onto her sweater. “Keep it on you at all times.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, before we go any further, there are rules,” he said. Bose paused as a forty-something woman wearing a stone-coloured alpaca dress and brown Bedford coat stepped into the security lounge. She paused to look at Fenna before addressing Bose.

  “Who is our new guest, Kabir?” she said.

  “Mrs Marquez,” Bose said with a discreet dip of his head. “This is...”

  “Fenna Brongaard,” Fenna said and held out her hand.

  “Vienna,” said the woman. She held Fenna's hand and studied her fingers. “My dear,” she said. “Have you been in battle?”

  “Something like that,” Fenna said and smiled. The woman's touch was feather-light and yet firmer than Fenna had imagined. The woman reached for Fenna's left hand and held them both under the light. “Your skin deserves more, Fenna,” she said. Vienna looked up. “Did I pronounce your name correctly, dear?”

  “Yes,” Fenna said and caught her breath. The woman's eyes glittered like ice, as the corners twitched in a smile. Fenna restrained the impulse to flinch as Vienna let go of her hands, reached out and teased her hair into single strands.

  “Just what have you been doing?”

  “We found her on the ice, Ma'am,” said Watts.

  “Charlie,” Vienna said as she studied Fenna's face. “You know how I detest that title.”

  “Yes, Mrs Marquez.”

  “And that one is hardly any better,” she said and flicked her eyes at the head of security. “Mr Bose?” she said and turned away from Watts.

  “Yes?”

  “How long will Fenna be staying?”

  “Ah, that is as yet...”

  “Undecided? Good.” Vienna took a step back and nodded at Fenna. “My husband is away, and you shall be my guest.”

  “Your guest?”

  “Of course,” Vienna said and plucked the visitor card from Fenna's sweater. “G for guest,” she said and took Fenna by the arm. “Do you have any luggage?”

  “Just my sledge bag,” Fenna said.

  “Bose will bring it to my apartment, while I show you around.”

  “Mrs Marquez,” Watts said and took a step forwards. “With the greatest of respect, this woman has not been vetted. Neither has she been briefed on ship protocol, or even dress code. I really don't think...”

  “And I don't care, Mr Watts. You know what my husband does for a living.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Then you should know the types of guest I am familiar with. I think we can both agree that my current guest, despite her cosmetic needs, fits a rather different category than those I am accustomed to receiving in my home.”

  “I was just doing my job,” Watts said and sighed.

  “And you do it admirably,” Vienna said. “And I trust you will continue to do so. If I require more assistance, and if my guest,” she said and paused to squeeze Fenna's arm, “should prove to be troublesome, I trust you to do your job, Charlie, as per your contract.”

  “To the very letter, Mrs Marquez,” Watts said and pressed his hands inside his belt. Fenna caught the look he shot at Bose as she was whisked out of security and into the reception lounge.

  “Such bores,” Vienna said as she pointed out the grand piano, waving to the pianist as he experimented with Rachmaninoff Concerto No. 2. “The pianist, however,” Vienna said and pulled Fenna close, “is far more interesting. He only plays Rachmaninoff for me – it's my signature tune.”

  Vienna guided Fenna through the lobby and into a corridor lined with a few select shops. They paused in front of a window and Fenna marvelled at the jewellery on display.

  “There's no price tag,” she said.

  “If you have to ask the price, my dear, then you simply can't afford it,” Vienna said and gently pulled Fenna along the corridor past the delicatessen and the ship's general store. It reminded Fenna of the Meyer's Deli in Copenhagen. “People are starting to stare,” Vienna whispered as they passed two couples coming out of the store. “It must be your authentic rustic look,” she said and giggled. “I couldn't care less, but chins will wag if we don't do something about it. We'll take the lift to my deck and you can relax while I find you something to wear.”

  “I don't want to trouble you,” Fenna said as she tried to gently prise her arm free of Vienna's.

  “Nonsense,” Vienna said. “It's my pleasure. Besides, as long as you join me for dinner, then you will have repaid me a thousand times more than I can expect.”

  “Dinner?” said Fenna.

  “Yes,” Vienna said and sighed. “I have been summoned to dine with the ultimate of bores, his partner and their wives.” Vienna stopped at the lift to press the button set in an elegant brass panel. “It seems that Richard thinks a woman is incapable of eating alone. It's the same thing every time Alejandro is away on business, I am summoned.”

  “By who exactly?” Fenna said as the door to the elevator slid open.

  “By that bastard, Humble,” Vienna said and stepped inside the elevator. Fenna's boots stuck to the floor, like sledge runners caught in a patch of meltwater freezing on the ice. “Well, come on, my dear. We can't keep the bastard waiting. And,” she added, “I fear it will take more tha
n a quick shower to rinse away the grime of battle.” Vienna laughed and held out her hand. “Don't worry,” she said as Fenna took her hand and let herself be pulled inside the elevator. “I won't let the bastard bite.”

  Fenna watched as the door closed and her reflection slid into view. She studied her face beside Vienna's and willed her cheek muscles into a smile. Humble is here. The thought crowded her mind as the elevator purred upwards through the decks.

  Chapter 21

  The elevator whispered open and Fenna paused before stepping out of the mirrored interior and into the plush-carpeted passageway. Everything about The Ice Star was plush, she realised. Plush and functional. It was also over-designed, sailing in a class of its own, the brainchild of a group of rich Norwegians looking to combine five star comfort with an insatiable lust for adventure. Few ships of its size could cope with the ice, fewer could afford to. Don't let yourself get sucked in, thought Fenna as she followed Vienna to her cabin door. Stay sharp.

  “Did you hear me, dear?” Vienna said as she slipped her keycard from her jacket pocket.

  “No,” Fenna said and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to take it all in.”

  “All what? Oh,” Vienna said with a nod to the passageway. She smiled. “My dear, you really have been in the wilds far too long if a bit of brass, a couple of oil paintings, and a thick carpet throws you for six.” The door unlocked with a beep and Vienna closed her fingers around the handle. “Do you have a problem with dogs?” she said and waited for Fenna to answer.

  “Dogs?” she said and peered through the gap in the door as Vienna opened it. “I’m fine with dogs,” Fenna said and suppressed a laugh.

  “Good for you,” Vienna said and opened the door. The shrill bark of a small dog cut through the hum of the warm air conditioning as they stepped inside the cabin. “Personally,” she said as she closed the door, “I can't stand them. The dulcet tones you can hear are from Alejandro's beast. I keep the little mongrel in the bathroom. Over there,” she said and shut the cabin door. Fenna glanced behind her as the door locked with a beep.