Their luck improved, however, and they had good weather and reasonable conditions for their drive south through the East Fjords, finally reaching Höfn on the fourth day. Miller headed directly to the foot of the glacier to find the two brothers who had been the last to sight the plane; they were eager to help. They told him about the glacier and warned him against high expectations. Miller was surprised to find how easy it was to approach the ice cap from their farm, despite the heavy snowfall over the last few days. Pointing him and his men in the direction they believed the plane had taken, the brothers accompanied him to the glacier, lent him horses and assisted in any way they could. They ended up becoming friends.
But it was all in vain. Miller had seen it in the brothers’ faces the first time he explained his mission. Saw the glances they exchanged. The soldiers carried out a painstaking search, dividing the glacier systematically into sections and combing the ice in long lines, inserting slender three-metre-long poles into the snow. But without success. All they found was the plane’s nose wheel. Every other fragment and trace had been consumed by the glacier.
The day Miller gave orders to abandon the hunt, he walked out further on to the ice sheet than before, far beyond the outer limit of their earlier searches, scanning the surroundings for hours on end before finally heading back, defeated, to his company. The weather had turned fine and the storm now seemed a distant memory. The sun shone high in a clear blue sky and there was not a cloud to be seen in the perfect stillness. The glacier stretched out, a pristine white expanse, as far as the eye could see. Miller could not help but be struck by its magnificent desolation, and would later think of this moment of solitude, cold and calm when recalling Iceland.
But beneath this awareness of the beauty of his surroundings ran the churning, appalling feeling that somewhere below his feet, in the ice, at this very moment, his brother was trapped inside the plane, dying of cold and hunger.
Chapter 40
C-17 TRANSPORT PLANE, ATLANTIC AIR SPACE,
SUNDAY 31 JANUARY, 0600 GMT
Kristín studied the brothers, now reunited after all these years, one so young, the other stamped by conflict and old age.
‘So you were looking for your brother as much as Napoleon,’ she said eventually, trying to feel her way, to encourage Miller to continue his story. Every utterance was now calculated to lead him to believe that she knew more than he had suspected. Miller raised his eyes from his brother to Kristín’s face and stared at her. At last, he seemed to come to a decision.
‘Napoleon wasn’t on board the plane,’ he said in the same quiet voice. Kristín could not hide her excitement.
‘Where was he then?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Miller said, his eyes returning to his brother. ‘And I don’t know where he is now. I’m not sure anyone does any longer.’
He fell silent and Kristín waited.
‘You have to understand that only a tightly controlled number of people within the army knew about Operation Napoleon,’ Miller continued at last. ‘Even I never knew exactly what it entailed, what the documents contained. I only knew the contents by hearsay. I was nothing but a pawn, an errand boy, assigned to solve a specific problem. My brother too.’
He trailed off again.
‘I believe it was conceived and planned by a handful of generals based in Europe – American generals, that is. I don’t know where the idea came from or who took the initiative, but however it came about, talks were entered into with the Germans. Ever since it had become clear that the Germans were going to lose the war there had been discussions about how Europe would be split into Allied- and Russian-occupied territories. By the time the end was approaching and the Russians were pouring into Eastern Europe, people were beginning to talk in earnest about whether we should invade Russia and finish off what the Germans had failed to do; arrange an armistice with the Germans, prior to tackling the Red Army. The only person to float the idea openly was General Patton but no one took him seriously. People were tired of war. They wanted peace. Understandably.’
‘But what’s the point of all this?’ Kristín asked impatiently. ‘This is all common knowledge. Even I’ve heard of it. There was an article in the British papers recently saying that Churchill had drawn up plans to invade Russia as soon as Germany had surrendered.’
‘Operation Unthinkable was its name,’ Miller replied.
‘Exactly. That can hardly be the secret your people are prepared to torture and kill for. It’s old news.’
‘As a matter of fact, it’s quite a big question, in the light of history,’ Miller said. ‘The division of Europe. The Cold War. The nuclear threat. The Vietnam War. Could we have avoided all that? We defeated the Japanese and today they’re an economic superpower. Might the same have happened in Russia?’
Now he’s just wasting time, Kristín thought. Can’t he see that we have no time? I have to have answers now.
Vytautas Carr was sitting in the flight cabin. Since he could no longer hear Ratoff’s screams above the noise of the engines, he concluded that he must have given in. They all did in the end, even the Ratoffs of this world. It was merely a question of when. He did not know what they had done to him, did not want to know; the sordid details were irrelevant. They were short of time and Ratoff had been shown no mercy. It was futile to withstand the pincer movement of drugs and physical horrors; and no one understood that better than Ratoff himself.
Carr looked out into the night. He would retire when all this was over. It was his last assignment and he felt as if he had spent his whole life waiting to be able to close this chapter. To be able to draw a line under this little footnote left over from the war years, one which the world had forgotten and no one cared about any more.
One of Carr’s men materialised beside him and bent to his ear.
‘We have it, sir.’
‘Is he still alive?’ Carr asked.
‘Just about, sir,’ the man answered.
‘Have you made arrangements to retrieve the documents?’
‘It won’t be a problem, sir. They’re on their way to the base at Keflavík. We’ve arranged to have the convoy intercepted and the documents destroyed. As you asked.’
‘Right.’
‘What should we do with Ratoff, sir?’
‘We have no further need of him. Just do whatever’s necessary. And don’t tell me about it.’
‘Understood. There’s nothing further, sir.’
‘One thing – the bags. Have you checked the body-bags since we took off?’
‘No, sir.’
‘It’s probably unnecessary. The temperature back there should be low enough to preserve the bodies. Not that it matters. Except perhaps to Miller.’
Carr paused.
‘Where is Miller?’ he asked.
‘No idea, sir. I thought he was with you.’
‘He was here not long ago. Find him and bring him back.’
‘Yes, sir. By the way, I checked on the bags when the two halves of the plane were loaded and all seven were present.’