Callsign: Rook - Book 1 (A Stan Tremblay - Chess Team Novella)

by Robinson, Jeremy

  Rook grinned. “First time I’ve ever been accused of stealing chickens. So what exactly do you want me to do?”

  Peder said, “Simple. Find whatever is doing the killing.”

  “And when I find it?”

  Peder gestured toward the Desert Eagle in Rook’s waistband. “Kill it, Stanislav. Whatever it is, kill it.”

  “That I can do. On a different subject, any restaurants in town where I could round up some food? I don’t want to eat you out of house and barn.”

  “Restaurants? Not really, none that will serve outsiders.”

  “What kind of restaurant doesn’t serve outsiders?”

  “Stanislav, I told you, we like to keep to ourselves. That’s why we have no outside communication. The road you came in on ends in town. The only other way to get here is a forty mile hike through rough hills covered in ice ten months a year.”

  “So how many outsiders do you get?”

  “Not many.”

  “How many so far this year?”

  “Including you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “One.”

  Rook stood up at this and glanced out the window at the few trees in the yard blowing in the gusting wind. Then he turned back to Peder. “That’s just strange—you know that, right?”

  “No stranger than drinking too much vodka as a national sport like they do in your country.”

  Rook was confused for a second before remembering he was supposed to be Russian. “All right, all right, I see your point. My point is still that I need food, and I want to get a look at this town of yours. Do you at least have any kind of store with food? One that an outsider like me won’t have to shoot my way into?”

  Peder sighed. “The moment I saw you in my barn, I knew you would wind up disrupting everything. Maybe we need a little of that about now. Word will spread anyway, so I might as well introduce you to a few folks. Don’t expect a big welcome hug.”

  “As long as I get some food, I don’t give a damn what they do. You got a car or is that something else you guys can do without?”

  “Of course we have cars. Mine’s parked behind the barn.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Peder Bjork drove like a maniac.

  The first thirty seconds, Rook enjoyed the rush, but soon it became clear that for Peder, the goal of staying on the road was entirely secondary to going as fast as possible. Rook would never have admitted it, but he felt a small bit of fear. He was at home with dangerous parachute jumps and dangerous firefights against long odds, but in this case, he had no control over the situation.

  The three-mile trip descended over a thousand feet, twisting and turning the whole time, and Peder never let their speed drop below fifty miles an hour. Rook tried to focus on the clear blue water that stretched past the town to the head of the fjord, a sight that ranked among the most gorgeous he’d ever witnessed.

  Peder’s car was a two series Volvo, at least thirty years old, but the designers back in Sweden had never envisioned equipping it with an engine like this one. The roar coming out of the turns indicated something far different from the original four-cylinder, or even the turbo-charged fives of recent years. Rook had asked if the engine had eight cylinders, and Peder pointed his right finger in the air twice to indicate a higher number. Rook didn’t want the old man to take the hand off the wheel again, so he just nodded. He could almost hear the level in the gas tank dropping.

  On the surface, the town seemed a bit like a small seaside New England village, maybe one far up the coast of Maine where fewer tourists have the motivation to venture. Unlike in a New England village, not a single sign or mailbox graced the buildings. To Rook, it seemed off somehow, like waiting for Stephen King to expose a horror that lay beneath the surface. He shook off the feeling. “So where are we headed?”

  As an answer, Peder mashed on the brakes, forcing Rook’s seatbelt to engage as his body jerked forward. “We are here.”

  “I can see that now. Thanks.”

  They headed to a building with weathered shingles on the outside, and Peder knocked on the door. When it opened, a woman in her forties with blonde hair scowled at Peder. “What is this?”

  “Anni, this is Stanislav. He has agreed to help me with the problem with my animals.”

  Anni opened her mouth, then closed it and moved her head once to each side. Rook couldn’t tell if she was expressing disapproval, checking if someone was watching them, or both. Finally, she said, “Come on, then.”

  Inside, a single large room was clearly a small store, but with few labels and no prices. Rook didn’t recognize most of the packaged items, but he figured he’d find plenty that he could stomach. Peder said, “Stanislav, please pick what you want.”

  “What about money?” Rook reached into his pocket, but Peder stopped him with a touch to his arm.

  “We do not do money here, at least not the way you are used to.”

  “No money? You’re kidding. We didn’t even go that far in Russia when the Communists were in charge.”

  “As I said, it is different. Now please pick what you want.”

  The sound of the door opening made Rook turn, and he saw a man in the doorway. Solid, at well over six feet, with dark hair, cut short, the man presented an imposing figure. When his brown eyes met Rook’s gaze, Rook could tell the man was accustomed to dominating those around him.

  The man spoke. “So, Peder, who is this?”

  Peder’s voice sounded just as calm as it had all along, but Rook could sense a sort of tension. “This is Stanislav. I found him sleeping in my barn this morning, and he has agreed to help me with the problem with my animals.”

  “Losing a few chickens is hardly cause for concern, Peder.”

  “Eirek, you know it has gone beyond that. Your wolves might protect the town, but they have not stopped the beast from destroying most of what I have left.”

  Rook said, “Whoa there guys, let’s slow down.” He held out his hand to the newcomer. “I’m Stanislav. And you are?”

  The man accepted his hand, but didn’t bother to force a smile. “My name is Eirek Fossen. I oversee things in Fenris.”

  “Oversee things? Are you the mayor?”

  “In a manner of speaking. As I am sure Peder has told you, we like to take care of our own problems here. Perhaps I can help you move on to wherever it is you are headed.”

  Images of his fellow teammates popped into Rook’s head, and he smiled. “Well, there is one thing. Peder here says you have no outside communications, but I could use a phone call or two. You wouldn’t happen to have any way for me to do that, would you?”

  Fossen shook his head. “Alas, no. But I would be happy to arrange for someone to drive you anywhere in Norway you want to go.”

  “To be honest, I kind of like it here. Clean air, a chance to unwind a bit. Really a great place. But what’s this about a beast? Peder tells me of a large shadowy figure that’s been gobbling up his livestock.”

  Behind him, he heard Anni inhale sharply. Fossen’s eyebrows narrowed, and Rook could tell the disapproval was directed at her. Rook turned and saw that her hand was over her mouth and her eyes were wide with what could only have been fear.

  She said, “I had no idea. Is it…Ulverja?”

  Fossen’s deep laugh didn’t lighten the mood. “No, no, it is something else. The wolves have kept it at bay.”

  Rook returned his gaze to Fossen. “You mean that pack of wolves with the huge black leader? What do they have to do with it?”

  Peder answered him. “Eirek here arranged for those wolves to protect us. At first, the beast had just roared, but after we found the second villager with his throat torn out, we had to do something, and the wolves were it. Eirek has…connections for that sort of thing.”

  “Enough, Peder!” Fossen’s voice echoed in the room. “Stanislav, it is true that we had a problem with some sort of animal. It has not approached the town since the wolves arrived. I am still not convinced that this creature i
s killing Peder’s stock.”

  Peder’s eyes remained focused at a spot on the floor, so Rook responded. “Did the wolves kill the creature?”

  He watched Fossen’s eyes as the man answered, and sensed that without such direct scrutiny, the man would have lied. “I don’t think so, no.”

  “So it could be the one killing Peder’s animals, right?”

  “That is not your concern. Please reconsider my offer to drive you out of town. Things in Fenris can be…uncomfortable for an outsider.”

  “Uncomfortable is my middle name.”

  “I have no doubt of that. Nevertheless, I do not think you understand what I mean. It would be best if you left.”

  “Is that some sort of threat?”

  “Take it however you like, Stanislav. Do not concern yourself in our affairs. There is a reason we have remained and will continue to remain isolated.”

  “Look, pal, I agreed to help Peder find what’s killing his cows and chickens. Since you don’t seem to have any answers for him, I don’t see what the problem is. Worst thing that happens is I’m here for a little while and everyone gets to point and whisper.”

  Fossen stepped closer, so his face was only a foot from Rook’s. Rook didn’t often face someone who could look down on him, but the town’s leader did by just a little bit. “Stanislav, that is not anywhere near the worst thing that could happen. Consider my advice. Consider it seriously.”

  With this, Fossen looked at Anni. “Give him what he wants.” Then he turned and left, ducking his head slightly in the doorway.

  Rook looked at the other two. Peder looked fine, but Anni’s face had gone even paler than the color that naturally accompanied her light hair and blue eyes. He shook his head. “That guy was a laugh a minute. Who voted for him, anyway?”

  Anni’s voice contained no inflection. “Everyone.”

  Peder cleared his throat. “Look Stanislav, we will talk more about him later. Just get your food and let’s go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they returned to the Volvo carrying three burlap bags. On the way out, Peder had apologized to Anni for their coming by. As Peder started the car, Rook looked at him.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Eirek is in charge. He has been for a long time. Before that, it was his father. He gets things done here, but he also has to have them done his own way.”

  “That sucks.”

  “It is the way in this town, Stanislav.”

  Rook inhaled through his nose. It figured that he’d wind up in the most remote town in Europe in the middle of more dysfunction than a daytime talk show. “Fine. What about the beast you were talking about?”

  “Yes, the beast. Despite what Eirek says, I am certain it is the same thing that killed the two people in town. I have heard the roar.”

  “And the wolves supposedly keep it away from town?”

  “Supposedly. Whatever they are doing, it is not working up at my place.”

  “So what do you think it is?”

  “If I told you, you would say I was crazy.”

  “Trust me, if you knew the shit I’ve seen the past year, you wouldn’t worry.”

  “All right. It was dark, but I did get a pretty good look at the back of it from about thirty feet away. It was nine feet tall and it was running on two legs.”

  “Wait a minute, it was a man?”

  Peder shook his head and put the car in gear. Rook tried to look natural putting one hand on the dashboard to brace himself for the ride home.

  “No Stanislav, it was not a man. Not that tall, and not with such long arms. I could not say exactly, but there are legends about this sort of creature. In Asia, they call it the yeti. But the most frequent sightings are in North America.

  “In America, they call it Bigfoot.”

  4

  Bigfoot.

  Rook hadn’t known whether to laugh or give Peder a whack on the head to knock some sense into him. Bigfoot, or the yeti, weren’t any more insane than giant stone golems coming to life, but Rook hadn’t believed those either, until he’d seen them with his own eyes. Of course, he had seen something similar in the mountains of Vietnam. Red and the old mothers could have easily passed for yeti. The Neanderthal descendants were a little shorter than the legend, but they still packed a punch, and Rook had the scars to prove it. He wondered if this was something similar, but decided that it was more likely some kind of rabid animal was on the loose here, and people were seeing monsters in their imagination.

  Except that people were acting damn strange. Peder, he could write off as a man old enough not to care if he lost a marble or three, but what about Anni and Eirek? The woman was terrified of something, and the town’s leader had tried far too hard to get rid of Rook. Something was rotten in Norway.

  When they got back to the house, Peder allowed Rook to use the kitchen to cook himself a meal. As he boiled rice over the propane stove, he chuckled to think of the ribbing he’d take from his teammates if they knew. Back home, Rook avoided the kitchen whenever he could, and Queen in particular would have taken great delight in questioning his manhood if she could have seen him now.

  At the thought of Queen, his mood grew heavier. Sooner or later, he’d have to deal with the tension between them—tension that might be good if their jobs involved something other than fighting long odds to save the world. First, though, he had to contact his team, something that wasn’t going to happen as long as he stayed here.

  He shook off the self-analysis. It didn’t do any good to beat himself up or give in to his uncertainty. He was here now, and he had a mythical creature to defeat. Or maybe just a rabid bear; he didn’t care as long as he was on the delivery side of some ass-kicking. Eirek Fossen could use a well-delivered smackdown as well. Maybe teach him not to be such an asshole.

  As they sat down at an ancient, crack-filled table constructed from teak, Rook asked Peder a question that had occurred to him on the slightly less precarious drive back up the hill.

  “That woman, Anni, mentioned a word, Ulverja. What does that mean?”

  Peder’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. He returned it to the bowl and raised his eyes. “Stanislav, there are some secrets in this town that it is best you stay ignorant of. But I will tell you what Ulverja means in our mythology. Have you heard of the Dire Wolves?”

  Rook nodded. You couldn’t get his kind of extensive training in the Norwegian language without coming across that. “Sure. Huge beasts that served the Norse Gods, right? I seem to recall that some think that they were intended as symbols of human suffering, but mostly I remember them being vicious killers.”

  “That’s right. Ulverja was an outcast wolf, too nasty even for the others of his kind. And that is all I’m going to tell you.”

  Rook didn’t get any sense that the old man was willing to give in. “That’ll do, at least for now. But some weird shit is going on in this town. Maybe it’s just the isolation, but I think there’s more to it. You know I won’t stop poking around.”

  “You will if they kill you first.”

  “Right. What are they gonna do, come after me with pitchforks and torches while I’m asleep in the barn?”

  “No, they prefer a quiet throat slitting around three in the morning.”

  Rook looked for a sign that Peder was joking and found none. “So they’re going to try to sneak up on me and cut my throat? A perfect stranger who hasn’t done anything to them?”

  Peder’s eyes seemed dead when they met Rook’s. “They have done it before.”

  That night, Rook put Plan A into effect. Peder had waited in different spots on different evenings, keeping an eye on his animals and anyone who might approach them. Rook couldn’t stand to be that passive, so he had talked Peder into doing something different.

  First, they placed cows or goats at the furthest corners of the property. This should increase the temptation for the creature to strike. Second, they both retired to the house a couple hours after darkness set in. Rook
crept out another hour later, exiting through a cellar door that provided darkness so complete he could not see his hand in front of his face.

  Rook thought of the equipment Chess Team had available, the suits constructed using stealth technology that would have made him nearly invisible. Tonight, he was going old school, wearing a black jacket and pants, with some of Peder’s thick axle grease smeared on his face and the backs of his hands. He knew that most animals would sense him by smell instead of sight anyway, but he’d take any small advantage he could get.

  Earlier in the day, Peder and Rook had walked for miles through the land surrounding the property. They had found no sign of any of the bodies of Peder’s lost chickens, goats or cows. This seemed odd, as most predators do not travel far with their captured prey unless they need to feed offspring. The risks of trouble are too great, so most predators opt to eat their meal as soon as they can do so safely. Plus, even for a bear, carrying a dead cow just didn’t seem likely.

  So he might be facing something with the intelligence to plan ahead. Rook had questioned Peder about whether any of the townspeople might be behind it, but Peder denied any possibility of that, saying that Fossen would never have stood for such a disruptive situation. That left…well, it didn’t leave much, and Rook wasn’t about to accept the yeti theory at face value.

  He prepared himself for the unknown, something his time with Chess Team had exposed him to on a regular basis. In truth, he relished it. He might be in a tiny town in Norway with only a KA-BAR and a fifty caliber pistol, and the stakes might only be some livestock, but it didn’t matter. Tonight, he would hunt again.

  He began walking in loops, leaving and entering Peder’s property numerous times. He tried never to stray too far from the corners where the goats and cows were strategically placed. Peder would be in the barn by now, hidden in the loft with a shotgun trained on the unlatched door. Rook knew that they could lose one of the outdoor animals if the attacker were smart and followed Rook’s movements, but he was banking on the change of strategy to increase the likelihood of catching it—whatever it was—in an exposed position.