Arctic Wargame

Chapter Nine

The bronze statue of the Little Mermaid, sitting on top of a large rock pile, looked weary eyed at the Copenhagen harbor, as if wondering whether it was worth trading her soul for a pair of human legs. Valgerda stared at the statue for some time, thinking if the unexpected summons to Gunter Madsen, the Assistant Director of the Danish Defense Intelligence Service, would result in the same regretful exchange. Magnus, who had also been staring, likely had the same thought. Secrets for their souls.

The DDSI headquarters were situated at the Frederikshavn Citadel, better known as the Kastellet, a pentagram-shaped castle, a stone’s throw from the Little Mermaid. The castle, still functioning as a military base, stood in a man-made island, surrounded by wide, water-filled moats and accessible only through two bridges. Magnus parked next to a pier, and they walked to the Ved Norgesporten, the northern gate, where they presented their badges to the guards.

The evening air was cool, and a soft breeze toyed with their hair. Their boots cracked on the gray cobblestones of the narrow pathways. They glanced in silence at the red brick two- and three-story barracks and warehouses as they made their way to the DDSI offices.

“Welcome. My name is Yuliya Novikov. I’m the Director of Operations and a close associate of Mr. Madsen. I’ll accompany you to his office.”

As they exchanged their pleasantries in the vestibule filled with dark, antique furniture, Magnus noticed Yuliya had a slight trace of a foreign accent. Is that Polish? Russian? A small-statured woman, Yuliya was dressed in a charcoal suit and moved gracefully in her black stiletto shoes. She had no problem pushing the heavy bronze-colored door, which opened into a large oval office.

“Welcome, Ms. Hassing and Mr. Torbjorn.”

The man who spoke these words stood up from behind a black mahogany desk. Over six feet tall and of average build, the clean-shaven bald man was younger than what Magnus had expected, perhaps in his early forties. The large room seemed to amplify his loud, baritone voice. His face was as clean-shaved as his bald head. His small black eyes, seemed to search not only Magnus’s face, but also his heart.

“I’m glad you were able to come here at such short notice,” Madsen said. He shook their hands and returned to his seat.

Magnus and Valgerda sat across from him, on two armchairs in front of the desk. Yuliya made her way to the last empty armchair, the one closest to a tall bookshelf.

“We’ve been looking forward to this meeting, Mr. Madsen,” Magnus said.

“Gunter. Call me, Gunter. May I call you Magnus? And Valgerda?”

“Of course,” Magnus replied.

Valgerda nodded.

Gunter reached for a small wooden box on his table and offered it to Magnus.

“Care for a smoke?”

Smoking in public places had been outlawed in Denmark in 2007, but the ban had forgotten to knock on Gunter’s door.

Magnus and Valgerda declined his offer. Gunter shrugged his disappointment and helped himself to a fat cigar from a brown box on his desk. Toying with it for a few seconds, he rolled it between his fingers, feeling for soft spots. He brought the cigar to his face for a closer look.

“This is Isabella,” he said, when satisfied the cigar passed his inspection with success. “Private reserve, just outside Havana. They only make a thousand boxes each year. I can afford to buy only ten.”

Gunter reached over and picked up an item from his desk. The sharp blade of a cutter, a small gold-plated replica of the French guillotine, flashed, as Gunter beheaded the cigar. He brought it to his face again and took a deep sniff of the tobacco. He lit it, while rolling it and drawing on it, making sure the match’s flame did not touch the end of the cigar. No words were spoken until the Assistant Director had enjoyed the first few puffs.

“Yes, a genuine beauty.” Gunter described his smoking experience. “But I didn’t call you here to talk about cigars. We could have had this conversation over the phone, but one cannot be too careful. At times, spies have been able to breach even our most secure lines of communication.”

Magnus nodded.

“How’s the COP mission coming along?” Gunter asked, without specifying from whom he expected an answer.

Magnus exchanged a look with Valgerda. The anticipation was clear in her eyes and Magnus gave her the go-ahead with a head tilt.

“The Convicts Operation Project is going fairly well, sir.” Valgerda glanced briefly at the manila folder resting on her lap. “The first stage of recruitment is near completion, with the last men being added as we speak. Agents will soon begin the hands-on training of the cons, and, once the wargame’s ready, the unit will be ready for deployment.”

“Great. What’s our current number?” Gunter asked, dragging on his cigar.

“We have almost two hundred recruits.”

“What’s the risk one of these cons you’ve selected may threaten the secrecy of our mission?”

“They’re all convicted felons, doing time for crimes they’ve committed, and for which they were found guilty,” Magnus replied. “We’re fully aware we’re dealing with criminals, willing and able to backstab us and switch sides at a moment’s notice. The information we spoon-feed them is very, very limited, provided on a need to know basis only. None of the recruits are aware of the exact nature of their duties, the coordinates, and the time of landing, or even the name of the country that is their target. All they know is that someone in the Danish government is requiring their hit men services.”

“That’s good. Let’s continue to keep their knowledge about our operation to a minimum,” Gunter said. “Now, since information is power, let me inform you of a few changes to our initial plans. One of our Assistant Directors of Operations, who was going to lead this mission on the ground, has been held up in Karachi taking care of an urgent task. I have talked this matter over with your Director, Mr. Kjær, and he shares my views about the new Chief of Operations for the Arctic Wargame. Magnus, the job is yours.”

Magnus’s face was calm. He knew where Gunter was going as soon as the name of his supervisor came up in the conversation. Valgerda congratulated Magnus with a big smile and a light pat on his shoulders. But Magnus found his promotion unusual. The DDIS had no shortage of capable Directors or Assistant Directors. Why didn’t the director tell me about this before going on holidays? Something doesn’t feel right.

“You have a very good knowledge of the background and most of the details of this operation,” Gunter said. “Yuliya will brief you on those few technicalities withheld from you because of jurisdictional divides. She’ll work closely with you in finalizing the remaining elements of the wargame.”

Yuliya tilted her head and smiled at Magnus and Valgerda.

“Do they suspect anything about our true intentions?” Magnus asked.

“They had no clue we even existed until a few days ago,” Gunter replied.

Magnus leaned forward. “What happened?”

“Nothing to lose sleep over. Three days ago, someone at the CSE detected our two icebreakers delivering military supplies to our provisional depots on Ellesmere Island. The DND and the CIS have dispatched a recon team to the Arctic.”

“That’s very serious,” Magnus said. His eyes narrowed and his voice grew deep.

“It did have the potential to turn into a serious problem,” Gunter said. “But we have an ace in the hole. One of the DND employees, with strong connections to the CSE, was able to manipulate the satellite images, blurring them into useless blotches. The same person is a crucial part of this recon team. This person will do everything, I repeat everything, to stop the Canadians from knowing what we’re brewing up in the High Arctic.”

The revelation took Magnus and Valgerda by surprise. They exchanged a skeptical glance, while Gunter savored his triumphant moment behind a thick veil of smoke. Valgerda withheld a cough, but the smoke in the room was causing her breathing difficulties.

“The chances of the Canadians finding any evidence incriminating our Siriuspatruljen are so improbable one has a better luck surviving naked in the Arctic,” Gunter said. “But our mission is too important to leave anything to chance.”

Magnus nodded.

Gunter placed his elbows over the black folders scattered over his desk. He said, “The Canadians have much less sovereignty over the Arctic’s barren lands than us. We even discovered and first explored some of those islands. And now Canada claims them as theirs simply because they forced some people to go and live up there? The Arctic belongs to us.”

He drew on his cigar, which had begun to die out. A couple of deep puffs and the sparkles of the burning tobacco were alive once again. “Once climate change has melted half the Arctic ice over the next few years, our patrol vessels will escort the merchant ships through the Northwest Passage. That passage will end up being more lucrative than even the Panama Canal, raking in billions of dollars each year. And all of that will belong to us.”

Gunter stopped long enough to take in another whiff of his cigar and blow a large cloud of gray smoke. “Once our advance troops, led by you,” he pointed at Magnus, “succeed in completing this mission, then our Greenland Command will establish a permanent presence along the Northwest Passage.” He gestured with his left hand to Yuliya to take over.

“Our teams are made up of mainly hardcore criminals, from suspected Al-Qaida cell members and former Taliban fighters to gang members and bank robbers,” she said. “They’ll get the job done for the sake of their freedom. And we’re going to be right there as well, to monitor every step of their progress and to make sure things end up the right way.”

“So, I take it you’re going with us and the advance troops?” Valgerda asked Yuliya.

“Yes, I am.”

“I want to review the report on the final preparations by Saturday morning. Then, our assault should begin on Monday morning,” Gunter ordered. “That’s when we’ve told the Canadians our ‘wargame’ is taking place. They think we’re just passing through international waters, showcasing our rescue mission skills. The fools won’t even know what hit them until it’s too late.”

“We’ll have it ready, sir,” Magnus replied.

Gunter smiled. “Great. I’m not wishing you luck in this mission because Vikings don’t need luck.”

“Excellent performance,” Yuliya said, looking out the window. She followed Magnus and Valgerda as they rounded the corner. “It seemed very convincing.”

“I’d like to talk to my wife now,” Gunter asked in a quiet, tired voice.

“That’s not possible. One phone call a day. And you called her this morning.”

“Bullshit. I need to talk to her.” Gunter slammed his fist on the desk.

“You know the rules.” Yuliya turned around to face him. “I don’t make them. I’m here simply to enforce them.”

“It’s been a month. An entire month that you have taken my wife and I—”

“Your wife is safe, and she’ll continue to be safe, as long as you continue to cooperate with us. You understand?”

Gunter opened his mouth then shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

“You understand that?” Yuliya asked.

“Yes,” came the weak reply.

“Good. Now that we’ve settled who gives orders around here, let’s talk about Magnus. Do you think he suspects anything?”

“I tried my best to convince him everything’s in order. That we, the Danes, are the only one planning and carrying out this crazy operation.”

“That’s what the Canadians and everyone else has to believe. But first Magnus and Valgerda need to believe it too. And Magnus seemed unsure. He looked like he knew you weren’t telling him the entire truth.”

“Don’t know what else I can do to convince him.”

“I have to keep a close eye on him. You know he wasn’t my choice to lead this operation.”

“I’m sure you can make your objections known to your FSB boss,” Gunter said with a smirk, referring to the Federal Security Service of Russia, the real Yuliya’s employer.

Yuliya walked over to his desk. “The FSB in general and my boss in particular do not like objections.” Her Russian accent became much more pronounced as she spoke with a certain unease. “They see them as threats.”

Gunter shrugged. “It had to be an outside man. My close associates know me. They know it’s not my character to manipulate the system and unleash a bunch of thugs into a friendly nation so they can ravage it. They know I wouldn’t betray my country and my duty to protect it.”

Yuliya leaned over very close to Gunter’s face. “But that’s exactly what you’re doing, aren’t you? You’re throwing your country into a war. And all because of your love of a woman. What is her name? Hilda? Helga?”

Gunter took in a deep breath and looked away. He put his clenched fists down, away from Yuliya’s face. Punching the smirk off her face would not bring him back his wife Helma. “Fucking Russians,” Gunter mumbled through his teeth.