Arctic Wargame (Justin Hall # 1) (16 page)

“So, why are we bothered if this is only one man, albeit a strong man?”

The scorn burned him, but Justin brushed it away. “I’m not saying we’re facing a one-man team, but the size of the Danish attack may be considerably smaller than we anticipate. Something that will not draw attention to itself and will not look like a movement of troops ready for war. Something that looks legit. Canada’s Arctic territory is sparsely populated, and these areas are very isolated and very remote. A few hundred men, properly trained and equipped, can take over strategic positions in the blink of an eye.”

The commander shook his head. “That’s none of my concern, Justin. I’ve already done more than enough.” He began walking toward the door.

“You’re involved in this matter now, and you know as much as I do,” Justin said. “I need your help with this.”

“The doctor tells me you should be healthy enough to fly in a couple of days. My staff will make arrangements to take you and your associates south, first to Søndre Strømfjord, and from there to Ottawa. Your government or agency, whatever it is, can take over this crazy situation of yours.”

“Commander, you’re going to leave and do nothing with the information I gave you?”

The commander turned around. He stepped closer to Justin’s bed, raised his right hand, and pointed it at Justin’s face. A moment later, he shrugged and produced a big smile. “You know what?” he said with a grin. “You almost pulled me back into this useless argument. I’ve already lost a lot of precious time. Good bye, Justin.”

“In that case, I need to make a few phone calls. And I need to talk to Carrie and Anna.”

“What do you think this is, the Sheraton?” the commander replied without bothering to look back. Instead, he tapped on the glass door. A tall man in a military uniform appeared and stood at attention. “Sergeant Brown, make sure this patient doesn’t go anywhere without an escort.”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

The man’s strong voice, his broad frame, and vigilant eyes were clear hints to Justin about his chances of sliding through the glass door undetected.

* * *

Five minutes later, the same nurse the commander had thrown out of Justin’s room wheeled in the meal cart.

“You hungry?” she asked.

Justin nodded and the nurse gave him his dinner. Grilled chicken parmesan, vegetable broth, and canned nectarines. Everything was served in white plastic tableware. A set of utensils—spoon, fork, and knife—also white plastic, were wrapped in a red, white, and blue napkin.

Justin closed his eyes and frowned, as he chewed on the first bite of the cold chicken breast.
Great. Once I’m finished with the soup, I can use the spoon to dig myself a tunnel out of this place.

Chapter Fourteen

Thule, Greenland

April 13, 6:00 p.m.

Emily Moore was a young nurse who also served meals to patients recovering in the intensive care unit, since the air base hospital employed a small staff. She was a part of the Seventh Flight of the 821st Support Squadron, which was responsible for the medical care of the air base personnel. Emily’s pink lips, although adorable, were sealed tight. Justin tried to charm her into telling him the location of Carrie’s and Anna’s room or slipping him a cellphone for a quick phone call. She did reward him with bright smiles, hushed giggles, and a definite no.

Moving on to Plan B. Make a weapon out of anything you can find in the room.
He began to look around, while Emily copied in her notepad a bit of data from the cardiac monitor. In a matter of seconds, Justin was forced to scrap his idea. The door opened and two uniformed men, followed by Sergeant Brown, barged in. They exchanged a few whispers with Emily, and, after her nods, they proceeded to remove every piece of equipment that could be used to even remotely facilitate an escape. Emily detached Justin’s intravenous lines and cardiac monitor wires, and the officers wheeled out the machine, the liquid medicine dispenser, and the defibrillator. They emptied the metallic shelves of all sharp objects, glass bottles, and boxes of syringes. The commander had anticipated Justin’s armed rebellion and had decided to deal a strong pre-emptive strike.

After Emily was gone, Justin convinced Sergeant Brown to allow him to use the washroom. It was two doors down from his emergency room. This was the first time Justin had ventured out in the hospital hall.

The short reconnaissance mission produced a few useful results. Shuffling his feet as slowly as possible, he located the fire exit at the far end of the hall. He identified another possible escape route, the elevator next to the washrooms.

A quick sweep of the three bathroom stalls yielded nothing useful.
Unless I attack Sergeant Brown with a roll of toilet paper, there’s not much to work with in here.
The door leading to the janitors’ closet, adjacent to the washroom, was locked. His three attempts at prying it open were unsuccessful. Disappointed, he stumbled back to his room, under the scolding glance of his escort.

Justin paced around his bed to stretch his legs and also to energize his thought process. The emergency room had no windows. The door was going to be his exit point
. I have to figure out how to get past the guard, but first I need to find out where they’re holding Carrie and Anna. I need to get out of this room, but this time for much longer. But with what excuse?

He stopped pacing and glanced at the bare walls. His gaze wandered from the floor to the ceiling and found his dinner leftovers on the plastic tray at the end of his bed. He walked over to the tray and dumped its contents in the garbage can. But he saved the unused plastic knife.
It’s not much, but maybe I can find a use for it.

When Emily returned for a routine checkup and to retrieve his meal tray, Justin complained of severe chest pain. Emily took a closer look at his eyes and his face for any signs of foul play, but his expression showed real signs of acute pain. She agreed to inform a doctor about his new condition, but not before completing a preliminary examination.

Justin coughed and winced while Emily listened to his chest and his back. Her conclusion was that there was nothing wrong with him. Insisting he might suffer from internal bleeding and complaining of a stabbing pain inside his chest, Justin scored a small victory. Emily agreed to arrange for an x-ray exam. Unfortunately for Justin, it was going to take some time.

* * *

Justin decided the best way to use that time was to fine-tune his escape plan, which was little more than an idea. He did not blame the commander for refusing to lift a finger and give them help. The case against the Danes, from the commander’s point of view, was pure speculation.
I wouldn’t help someone in my shoes either. First, I need to find Carrie and Anna. They shouldn’t be far away, since we all suffered frostbite, and Anna was in the worst condition. But how do I fake the need for further medical attention if I can’t find them this time? I don’t even have any frostbite marks on my hands or feet.

He stretched his legs, and his knee made a popping sound.

“Voila!” he exclaimed with a big smile and snapped his fingers.
A wheelchair! I’ll complain of leg pain, and Emily will have to get me a wheelchair. It will slow me down and give me extra time to look around. It will also give me a reason to ask for other tests.

“The doctor will see you now.” Emily walked in and interrupted his line of thought. Justin made no attempt to leave his bed.

“You didn’t hear me? I said we can go.”

“I can’t. My legs . . . my legs hurt so bad.”

Emily gave him a suspicious glance. Justin’s eyes were pleading for help, and his face was contorted in pain.

“I think I snapped my kneecap while stretching my legs. I might have pulled a muscle or something.”

“You can’t walk at all?” Emily asked with a deep frown, placing her hands on her hips.

“Barely. How far is the lab?”

“Two floors down . . . uh . . . about three hundred feet.”

“Yeah, too far. I don’t think I can do it.”

Emily shrugged, pursing her lips. “All right, since the doc’s waiting, I’ll get you a wheelchair.”

“Thanks. Can you arrange for someone to have a look at my knee?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Five minutes later, Emily rolled in an old wheelchair. A musty stench rose up from the black fabric of the seat, overpowering the chemical smell of the emergency room.

“Our troops don’t use them too often,” Emily said. “The men,
our men,
tend to suck up the pain.”

Justin ignored her sharp words and lowered himself into the wheelchair, feeling the cold aluminum of the armrests against his hands and his body. At first, he struggled with the manual wheels, then began to follow Emily.

“I’m taking him for x-rays,” she said to Sergeant Brown, who began to follow them, marching three steps behind the wheelchair. “This way, Justin.”

They turned left, passing by the other emergency rooms. Justin had suspected his room was the last one in the intensive care unit. His suspicions were confirmed.

He moved slowly, peering through every glass door. The first two rooms were empty, but the blinds of the third one were pulled shut. A dim light glimmered inside that room, and Justin wondered if that was the one. The fourth room was also occupied. Its blinds were drawn only halfway down. Someone was lying on a bed. Justin could not make out the patient’s features, since the lights were off.

“You OK?” Emily asked him, as she turned her head. The wheelchair’s squeaking noise had ceased.

“Yes, I’m fine. One of the wheels got stuck for a second.”

“Let’s move it,” Sergeant Brown growled.

Justin pushed on the wheels. The last emergency room was empty and the door left open. They turned the corner by the fire exit and approached the second elevator of the floor.

So it’s either door number 4 or 5,
Justin thought.
Unless they moved Carrie and Anna to another unit somewhere else in the hospital.

* * *

They went past the Immunizations Laboratory and the Pharmacy, before arriving at the Radiology Unit, at the other end on the first floor. Emily left Justin under the watchful eye of Sergeant Brown, and they lingered in the waiting room. Justin wheeled back and forth, trying to peek out of the small windows.

A thick darkness had veiled the entire landscape, but for the air base grounds, which were well lit. The contours of six, maybe seven “golf balls”—huge protective covers for satellite dishes—were visible in the distance. The tarmac of an airstrip reflected a blurry moonlight. There were two large hangars to the right, about three hundred yards away from the hospital.

What’s that noise?

Justin felt the vibration of the waiting room walls. The entire wooden structure trembled under the violent wind bursts.

“Chill out,” Sergeant Brown said, looking at Justin’s confused face. “It’s just a storm delta.”

“Huh?”

“An extremely strong blizzard. Wind blowing, snow drifting, and all that white crap. Cuts down your visibility to almost non-existent, even in daylight.”

“I guess that means no flying?”

“No flying, no driving, no working.” Sergeant Brown pulled out a folded newspaper from one of his jacket pockets and spread it over his lap. “Last April, it happened twice. When it’s early morning, the command tells us to stay in,” he added, flipping one of the newspaper’s pages.

Justin moved closer to the window for a better look. Two men seemed to be moving in and out of the furthest hangar, the one with the smallest entrance.

“Somebody’s working late on their planes.” Justin motioned with his hand for Sergeant Brown to come to the window.

The officer shrugged, his only gesture. “That’s the Maxwell brothers, working on the medevac chopper.”

“Medevac?” Justin tried to hide the sudden burst of interest in his voice.

“Yes. The Bell chopper of Greenland Air.”

“What’s their chopper doing on US soil?”

“US base. The land’s not ours, we’re just using it. Anyway, we have this agreement with Greenland, with their government, to give medical care to their folks living around here. And sometime even stupid Canadian geologists who end up lost and wash up almost dead.”

“I see,” Justin said, thinking about how to change the conversation.

“Well, you may have been out cold, but that chopper saved your ass, when you and your crew were as frosty as a polar bear’s balls.”

A small man appeared out of the Radiology Unit. His presence cut short the sarcastic lashing Justin was enduring.

* * *

Of course, the x-rays would reveal nothing unusual about Justin’s abdomen. But the trip to the Radiology Unit had enabled him to decide on one of the crucial elements of his getaway plan.

Now, if I can only find out where they’re holding Carrie and Anna, we can be on our way out of this place,
Justin thought, as the small man led him back to the waiting room.

Sergeant Brown wasted no time in demanding their prompt return to the Intensive Care Unit. Nobody was walking down the halls, but Justin felt he had enough to set his plan in motion.

* * *

Sergeant Brown allowed Justin to close the blinds in his room. At almost 8:00 p.m., the sergeant felt he could afford a single act of kindness. His babysitting chores would be over in an hour.

Once sheltered behind the blinds and away from the vigilant eyes of the guard, Justin had no difficulties dismantling the wheelchair, despite the near darkness in his room. It took longer than he had planned, but by using the tip of his plastic knife—which he had safely hidden inside his pillowcase—Justin was able to loosen the flat tip screws. Once the wheels came off, he disassembled the armrests, the cross braces of the frame, and its backrest rails. He set the rails aside to use as batons.