The Gotland Deception

Chapter Nine: Loose Lips

The scent of grilled lamb and vegetables lingered in the kitchen, competing with the pine tang of the wood-burning stove. Klara leaned back on the worn linen sofa, wineglass in hand, legs folded beneath her. She looked perfectly at ease, her features soft in the amber glow of the lamp by the bookshelf. Across from her, Lars moved with a practiced ease, stacking plates in the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms speckled with sawdust from the morning’s shift at the GEAB substation, where he had reworked some safety mechanisms for the electrical line from mainland Sweden.

“You know,” she said, swirling her glass just enough to keep his eyes on her, “for a man who works twelve-hour days and drills on the weekend, you make a mean dinner.”

Lars chuckled, tossing a dish towel onto the counter. “I make a point of feeding people I like. Occupational hazard of growing up with two older sisters.”

Klara tilted her head. “Mmm, lucky me.”

She rose and crossed to the counter, lightly brushing against him as she set her glass down. Her fingers traced the edge of a laminated training schedule pinned to the fridge, subtly scanning it — dates, unit numbers, logistics.

“Your next Home Guard drill… that’s the joint readiness thing, right?” she asked casually, as if recalling something he’d mentioned weeks ago.

“Yeah, big one.” Lars nodded, drying his hands. “We’re supporting P18 with inland security sweeps. Moving supply caches, establishing fallback zones outside Slite and Klintehamn. Kind of a distributed logistics test.”

She gave a soft whistle, feigning mild surprise. “That’s serious. Do they expect… something?”

Lars shrugged, eyes narrowing just slightly — half cautious, half flattered by her interest. “There’s chatter. Nothing formal. But the regional command wants every unit’s readiness above seventy percent in case we get mobilized. Even our little battalion’s getting new kits and ammo inspections. It’s kind of crazy, there’s been a lot of movement lately, far more than normal. Heck, they’re rotating four units from the mainland to Gotland for familiarization training on the island.”

Klara leaned in, her body language playful, intimate, giving him attention without pressing.

“Wow, that sounds… big, but what do I know? I’m a simple girl with simple needs.” She winked playfully at him. “Will you be at the airfield again? It’s close, we might be able to meet up for lunch,” she suggested, tone warm, an eyebrow raised with practiced curiosity.

He smiled. “Mmm… not this time. That’s B Company’s turf. We’re doing grid security along the coastal relay lines — GEAB’s worried someone might tamper with the fiber link or the backup diesel feeds.”

She kissed his cheek, letting it linger. “My handsome protector of all things fragile.”

He turned, hand resting lightly on her waist. “You know, it’d be easier to protect you if you lived here.”

She laughed genuinely, then sobered just a hair. “Lars…”

“No pressure,” he added quickly, reading the shift in her posture. “I just… we already spend most nights together.”

She traced a finger along the edge of his shirt collar, gently grounding the moment.

“I love being with you. You know that,” she said softly. “But I also love waking up alone sometimes, making my tea in silence, walking through my own door. It’s not about you — it’s just how I stay balanced, how I separate my work from my personal life.”

Lars looked away, nodding slowly.

She stepped closer. “And with the Baltic Wings Festival only a few months out, I’m drowning in logistics. Environmental permits, press kits, volunteer assignments. Once that’s behind me… I’d really like to revisit this conversation.”

He gave a half smile. “So, you’re saying there’s hope.”

“Hmm, I’d say there is a little more than hope,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. “But not just yet.”

As she kissed him again, longer, deeper — her mind quietly filed the intel away: southern fallback sites, GEAB grid focus, B Company at the airfield. The map of the security situation on Gotland was beginning to take shape.

Snow flurries swirled along the cobbled lane outside as Klara ducked into her favorite café, the warmth of cinnamon and cardamom greeting her like an old friend. The bell over the door chimed once — soft, familiar.

Annika Bragefeldt looked up from behind the counter, eyes twinkling behind her oversized readers. “Ah, Klara, my favorite bird whisperer returns.”

“Only for tea,” Klara replied with a smile, brushing snow from her sleeves. “And maybe a bit of gossip, if you’ve got any steeping.”

Annika chuckled, setting down a tray of saffron buns. “I always have something brewing. The usual?”

“Please.”

Moments later, Klara settled into her favorite corner seat, a warm St. Hans Blend between her hands and a Saffranspannkaka already halfway to her mouth. Annika leaned across the counter like a cat preparing to pounce.

“So?” Annika began, voice lowered. “Did you hear the PM’s comments about that Chinese ship the Navy intercepted?”

Klara raised her eyebrows. “Bits and pieces. They said it was a freighter, right? I heard something about it burning for days just off the shore near Smöjen, at least that’s what Lars said.”

“Oh, it was a bit more than that, Klara,” Annika said with a wave of her hand. “I have a cousin whose son is in the Home Guard near Slite. He says there were gunshots… even a helicopter crash.”

Klara widened her eyes, letting the shock register just enough. “Seriously? Lars didn’t tell me anything about that. I thought we were still in the realm of peacetime.”

Annika leaned in further. “Apparently, the ship was too close to the undersea cables. The ones that keep us connected. Some think it was trying to… cut them, like what’s been happening between Estonia and Finland.”

Klara let the silence stretch for a breath, then said carefully, “Wow. That would explain the uptick in patrols lately. Lars did say something about how his Home Guard unit’s been repositioning gear — mentioned something about fiber links and relay nodes being critical. He didn’t go into details, but… he’s been a bit tense lately.”

“Mm-hmm.” Annika nodded sagely. “And have you noticed all the new antenna rigs on the ridge south of town? Not cell towers. Something else.”

Klara made a mental note — someone else was observing the buildup. It was time to tighten her recon routes. But she simply said, “It’s almost like we’re preparing for something we’re not allowed to say out loud.”

“Exactly,” Annika replied, pleased. “It’s almost like saying Voldemort.” She laughed at her own joke before continuing. “And here’s the worst part, Klara: no one’s saying anything officially. Just rumors, whispers from busybodies like me. But if those cables go down — poof — no banking, no internet, not even landlines. We’d be blind and deaf overnight, cut off from the outside world.”

Klara sipped her tea, warm and sharp on her tongue. “I had no idea. It sounds like we would be very vulnerable if that happened,” she murmured, then added, “Ugh, I can’t even imagine the confusion something like that would cause, especially with all the extra visitors coming this spring for the Baltic Wings Festival I’ve been organizing. Makes me wonder if the government is doing enough to keep the peace. We’re a small country, we just want to be left alone.”

Annika gave her a look — part question, part concern. “Well, I don’t know about the government. I’m just a simple shopkeeper. But did I hear that right, you’re still going through with that birding festival?”

“Of course,” Klara said lightly. “If we cancel every time someone sneezes in Moscow or Beijing, we’ll never get anything done. Besides, it might be good for morale. People need something to focus on… something that feels normal.”

Annika nodded. “True, you’re not wrong. Just… keep your eyes open, dear.”

Klara smiled. “Always.”

As Annika moved off to help another customer, Klara leaned back, letting the tea and tension settle. The cable attack had nearly succeeded — barely stopped in time. But the narrative was already morphing into local myth: rumors, half-truths, and strategic uncertainty.

Exactly as planned, she thought.

Now, all she had to do was find ways to keep stoking the right fires at the right times. As she sipped her tea, her mind began to plot ideas, scenarios working themselves over in her head.