Justin sighed and bit his tongue. He could not tell the commander how Alisha had backstabbed them. It would raise more questions and doubts on the commander’s already skeptical mind. “I don’t have the radio any longer, Commander.”
“So, let me clarify this: All you have is a far-fetched story about a disappearing military radio, on which you base a mountain of crazy accusations. You know what I have? I have three uninvited and unwanted guests, who require extensive and expensive medical attention, lengthy reports and explanations to my superiors and to the Canadian authorities about my search and rescue, and this nonsense about an invasion from Denmark, of all places.”
Justin decided to reveal another piece of information, in an attempt to persuade the commander. “We’ve found a lot of weapons. Danish machine guns, Let Støttevåbens. They’re planning an attack against Canada. I’m absolutely sure about this.”
“Now the plot is getting thicker. Let me guess the answer to my own question, you don’t have any of these guns, do you?”
Justin heaved a sigh of defeat. “They… hmm… I know where they are.”
“Did you find these machine guns in the depot?”
“No, but witnesses have confirmed the origin of the weapons, which is Denmark, the Royal Danish Army.”
“Are these witnesses available for questioning, and will they corroborate your story?”
“No,” Justin said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid they’re not.”
“No? Why not? Have you lost them too?” The scorn was very clear in the commander’s voice.
“The witnesses are gone. They’re dead.”
“You know, Justin, you would make a great storyteller. You’re just making up this entire story to distract me from whatever you and your associates were cooking up in Ellesmere, aren’t you?”
“No, no, of course not. You’ve got to believe me. This is real. It’s all true. The Danish are not stupid. They wouldn’t start an all-out war. Difficult to keep that a secret. The probability of being detected by the Canadians or the Americans is reduced to a minimum if the Danish Army is planning a single and isolated attack.”
“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, whose lab coat nametag read “Moore”, 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
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. At the same time, she was a sergeant with 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 scrape 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, as well as 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 ventured out in the hospital hall.
The short reconnaissance mission produced a few useful results. Shuffling his feet as slow 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.