Sander's Courage
Page 6
I turned and saw Marge and Sander in the car;
Marge was obviously doing her best to cheerlead the
moroseness out of Sander. He wasn't buying it, and who
could blame him? It was my fucking job that got us into
this mess, and if I had never allowed him to go along on
that first assignment, none of this would be happening. I
was sure of it.
"So what happens now, Signe?"
"Here's what I know. The fuckers that bombed the
duty free shops in Flensborg are from the Sands of Time,
an al Qaeda splinter group that works all over Europe."
"So what do you think happened?"
"It was no accident that you happened to be at the
bombing site. The SVR and the FSB have been trailing you
guys since a week after you left the hospital in Antwerp,"
she explained. "Their terrorist financing, well a lot of it
anyway, comes straight out of Eastern Europe. Name any
old Iron Curtain state, and chances are these sand jockeys
have their own personal ATM in the form of a Russian
that's working under direct orders from the Kremlin."
"So why does this have anything to do with us?
Surely you don't mean that they arranged a bombing just
to snatch a kid. If they've been watching us so closely, why
didn't they just take him on his way home from school or
something?"
"I don't know if they knew that the boy would be
the target," Signe said. "I think at the end of the day it was
opportunistic. It could've been any of you. The way things
shook out, the boy fell into the snare. Point is, they wanted
to cause you a world of hurt, and from what I gather,
they've succeeded."
"So you do have any actionable intel?" I asked,
hoping against hope that she did.
"More than that," she said. "There's someone on the
inside that told my guy all the details. He's scared shitless
and just wants it over so he can disappear back into his
hole. It is, how shall we say, a semi-sanctioned affair. I
mean, the Kremlin's boys upstairs know about it, but the
real driving force is a mid-level guy who ran the op that
you guys busted. And by all accounts, he's major pissed."
"Do you know where they're keeping him?"
"I do. And I'm ready to get him home. It won't be a
walk in the park, but I think we have more than a Vegas
chance to get the little guy back. I'm all in if you are," Signe
said. Like she had to ask.
WE REJOINED SANDER AND MARGE in the rental, and
pulled away from the truck plaza. A reflective silence filled
the car until we crossed into Finland.
"Where do we go?" Sander asked.
"To Murmansk," Signe answered without emotion.
"We know where your brother is, and we have a plan."
"Oh, thank you, thank you so much! Fuck, I'm
scared," Sander sobbed. "Will we..."
"Yes, Sander, no worries. It's in hand. The best
thing you can do is to be here, ready to hug your brother
when he's back with us. But you have to stay strong,
okay?" Marge said.
"Yes. I promise," Sander said, trying his best to curb
the tears. "I am always here for him. Johnnie will say, right,
Johnnie?"
"Of course, Pokey. Everybody knows. None of this
is your fault. It's nobody's fault but the criminals who did
this," I said, doing my best to reassure him.
"In the meantime, try and get some sleep, Sander.
You're gonna need to be rested when everything goes
down and we get the boy back," Signe explained. "We'll be
there in a few hours, and it'll be over sooner than you
know it."
MURMANSK IS A SHITTY, ICY TOWN that's penultimate
purpose is as the home port for Russia's submarine navy.
It's isolated, and this time of year it's nearly dark all the
time. Night lasts for eighteen hours, and the town sport is
called Drink the Vodka. Nobody is happy in Murmansk.
We drove in a little after sunrise and parked near
the wrecking wharf, a disgusting place that even rats
wouldn't be caught dead at, even if it wasn't below zero
most of the time. The rusted hulks of semi-dismantled
nuclear subs lay in a way that looked as if one day
everyone working on them just up and walked home,
never to return. The place smelled like petroleum, and
even the seabirds had no reason to do anything except
pass by on their way to somewhere else.
"Why here?" I asked Signe. She shot me a 'shut the
fuck up' glance in the rear view mirror, and turned to
Marge.
"We will leave you here, with the keys to the car,"
Signe said to Marge. "I need you both to stay right here
until four o'clock today. If we are not back by then, you
need to go to this address and call this phone number and
tell whoever answers what's happened." Signe scribbled
the info on the back of the road assistance pamphlet she
found in the seat pocket. Marge just listened, never
interrupting Sig once.
"Is there a specific contact I need to ask for?" Marge
added.
"No. Just tell them the whole story and wait there.
Someone will come for you. And we'll have to regroup
somehow, but that's only if things don't go our way," Signe
said. "But they're going to go our way!"
"Pokey, just stay with Marge and be ready to go
home, okay?" I said. He leaned over and hugged me
tightly and whispered how much he loved me. The girls
heard his every word.
Chapter 10
f we indeed truly 'won' the cold war, I am
thoroughly convinced that much of the reason for
I that is due to Signe Haraldsdóttir. It's cliché but true: Signe has forgotten more about the Russians than the
Russians themselves ever knew about themselves.
"Okay, handsome, here's what we're gonna do,"
Signe said. "One of my elves left some togs for us behind
that state liquor store over there." With a quick nod she
indicated the pinkish, decrepit building. Spies never point.
"We'll change at the park next to the entrance to the port,
and I'll school you on the back-story when we're ready to
rock." Hey, I was just the passenger on this bus. Anything
she said would be the gospel that I would staunchly
follow.
"Where is he exactly?" I asked.
"In a distillery they shut down. They used to make
some pretty good hooch in there, but everybody buys their
high octane spirits from the west when they can, so there
wasn't any reason to keep it going. Lately the FSB's been
using it as kind of a wannabe black site," she explained.
"Is it far?"
"Maybe five minutes. But the good thing is, once
we're out, the way back to the car is through a couple of
alleyways that should keep us covered until we're ready to
cross the road back to the car. We'll be coming out right
there," she said, indicating a small portal that workers in
another time once spent great pride and care to build. It
used to be an access lane to their comrades' apartments.
/> What remained now was a crumbling wall, guarding piles
of garbage and a single discarded shoe.
"Time's-a-wastin'..." I said. Without a word, she led
the way.
The clothes and the props were waiting for us as
promised. We would be area electrical workers
investigating a dangerous power surge in the block of
buildings. Signe spoke perfect Russian. I would be her
silent lackey. To make the story play even better, we
stopped at about five buildings across the street, clearly
acting the part of government utility workers. This was so
the security camera that we knew was logging our every
move would reveal that we just hadn't made a beeline for
the goal. No, we were just a couple of workaday schlubs
doing our best to get through the day with the least energy
expended.
We spent a good twenty minutes at each location,
examining the electrical boxes, inquiring whether anyone
had noticed any odd dimming or power flicks. "Well, now
that you mention it..." was the usual reply. Nothing like
official suggestion to make the mark think like you wish
him to think.
With a pleasant spasiba to our helpful office
manager, we'd move on to the next building. Until finally
we arrived at the distillery. Before we got to the door, a
curious man came around the corner of the building,
smiling as he approached.
"Good morning!" Signe began. "Are you employed
here?"
"Yes. What seems to be the trouble?"
"There has been a serious electrical problem
discovered that could cause a fire, or worse. So we're
checking every electrical box on each property to isolate
the issue. We just need a few minutes at your box and we'll
be on our way," she said so coolly and off-handed that I
felt like we could really be who she said we were.
"Yes, yes... The box is right inside," Mr. Helpful
said, directing us through the door. He led the way to the
electrical box, and the second he turned around to show
us, Signe got him with her Taser. A second later I had him
in zip ties, and gagged. He was trussed like a pig. Signe
followed it up with a nosefull of chloroform. Then it was
hide and seek until we found where they were keeping
Jannik.
The chatter of Arabic assholes wafted from a room
that had once been the employee break area, and they
were easily subdued with a small gas grenade that put the
fuckers to sleep. Guaranteed at least four hours, promised
the nerds in the field equipment department. We shared a
smile when she quickly shut the door and mouthed night
night to the tumbling terrorists.
The next step was to determine the holding place,
take a breath and consider the options, and decide when to
go. We didn't have that much time because somebody
somewhere would likely head to the break room in search
of their missing idiots, so we had to make every second
count.
We left the central hallway and turned a corner that
led us to the main floor. There we saw three large
masheries and the primary water line from the mash
kettles to the still. Behind that was the only area other than
the break room that was lighted. From its position in the
room, it looked like it could have been a storage area for
the finished bottles. It would have had secure doors to
discourage worker theft, and so it would make an excellent
place to hold someone captive. A gray-haired man
wearing a typically ill-fitting Russian suit sat in an
adjoining office, his head down. He was either reading
something or taking a catnap.
Signe indicated that I follow her lead. In
milliseconds she transformed herself from sneaky spy to
confident government electrical worker and walked
straight toward him, with me doing my best to keep up. I
just walked and stared at my clipboard. She banged on the
side of a vat and offered a cheery hello. He wasn't just
startled; I think he shit his pants.
"Good morning, sir! Your assistant let us in. We're
with the power board and we're checking to see if..."
"Fuck! You're that fucking..." Oops, guess he
recognized me! But he didn't actually manage to say so,
because by that time he was on the ground, frothing at the
mouth from the sting of the Taser. Well, we did tell him to
beware of an electrical problem, right?
Again with the zip ties and the gag. Again with a
nice big huff of chloroform. Then it was just a matter of
moments before we found Jannik huddled in a darkened
corner of that horrible room. He was so shocked that he
just stared at us. It's all he could do. Then he truly believed
what he was seeing and his winsome face changed to one
of complete relief and joy.
"Johnnie! Johnnie! Take me wit you home now! I
shall not be here no more..."
"Jan! We're here to get you. We have to leave now.
Are you okay to walk?" I asked him as he gripped me in a
bear hug. I had to lift him up or we couldn't have moved
anywhere. While I was attending to Jannik, Signe was
calling someone in to collect the kidnappers, and by the
time we left the building they were already there in an
unmarked van, backing in to the loading dock just outside
the old storage room where they had kept Jannik. It wasn't
going to go very well for the bastards; at least I hoped not.
One thing I've noticed with my job is that no matter
how intense things get when you're in the thick of it, once
it's over, it's over. We had Jannik back in our safe
possession. We walked out into the morning as cars were
passing by, people on their way to work. Shops were
opening. There was a group of school kids huddled
together, some on their phones, many with earbuds
probably checking out tunes or obnoxious videos on
YouTube. That's if YouTube is even allowed in this poor
excuse for a country.
And there we were, now hidden, well within the
labyrinth of alleyways, a mere three hundred or so yards
from the car and Sander's waiting arms. In minutes we'd
be heading for Finland where Marge arranged a jet
helicopter to ferry us home.
There's the car. I can see Marge in the back seat.
And then I saw Pokey's face in the side mirror. His eyes
brightened when he saw us walking across the road, and
he bounded out of the car and ran to us. He cried tears of
relief as I passed Jannik to him. They both went into
hundred-mile-an-hour Danish, and their happiness was
really something to see.
"You're okay, mister! We're heading home right
now! We're gonna ride on a helicopter and everything!"
Sander said, laughing.
"What the hell took you so long?" Jannik play-
scolded. "That place was a real dump!"
"Soon as we go we'll call Mama! Get in the car,
Cracker Jack! We've got places to go!"
"Yeah, just so it's the fuck away from here
!" Jannik
laughed. "Hello, Marge. I'm here!"
"Isn't it fantastic?! We've missed you!" And Jannik
climbed into the car and hugged her around the neck.
Soon Signe joined them in the back seat, and Sander and I
took the front and beat cheeks the hell out of Murmansk.
Murmansk could kiss our collective asses!
Chapter 11
e crossed the border into Finland later in the
afternoon and drove to a football pitch that was
W about twenty kilometers in. The chopper was
waiting for us. We had already dropped Signe back at the
truck plaza where we'd left her car, and Marge was going
to drive the rental car down to Malmö and leave it with
Hertz. She said she'd drive by the church before she did
that to make sure she still had a car waiting for her.
The highlight of the post-rescue drive was when
Sander dialed the phone and passed it back to Jannik.
"Hello, Sander?!"
"No, Mama. It's Jannik."
"Niels! They have him! It's baby!"
"Hi, Pop. We're gonna fly on a big helicopter and
Pokey says they will land it tonight at Beldringe. Will you
and Mama come and say hello? And can you bring Grini,
too, maybe?"
And so went the call. It was on speaker and we all
shared in the simple beauty of our family's love for one
another, and the intoxicating relief that our little fallen bird
was back in the nest.
On the drive down from Murmansk, Signe
described how she'd put the whole mission together.
Marge and I were both amazed at the speed in which she'd
accomplished it, and how on target her intel was. Marge
told me later that Signe's reach was so wide that she could
give Putin a colonoscopy and he'd never know she was
there. After today I had no doubt.
THE S-61 HELICOPTER WAS luxurious, and the sight of it
began to return Jannik to his boyhood. While Sander and I
knew that the trauma he had undergone would be a
long time healing, the anticipation of riding in such a
stately aircraft at least took his mind off of it for the
immediate future.
Marge sent us packing with hugs and kisses, and
we three took a row of seats with Jannik safely ensconced
between Sander and me. In a jiffy we were flying as the
crow flies over the darkening northern day bound for
Odense's little airport. In a little over four hours we'd be
home.