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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Here it comes, he thought. ‘Are you going to tell the Norwegians or am I?’ he asked.

‘We’ll do it,’ Angela said. ‘It won’t be an easy call, but it might be better coming from us. This is looking more and more like Moscow’s work. The Chief was planning to keep you up there for longer, to dig around a bit, but that doesn’t look like such a good idea now. We definitely don’t want you getting bogged down in a Norwegian police inquest.’

‘Fine by me. So you have an extraction plan, then?’

Angela hesitated. ‘Well, not as such, no. But we’ll work one up now. We’ve got your GPS coordinates from your phone. Keep it switched on and we’ll get someone to you as soon as. Are you able to keep warm till then?’

‘I’ll manage. I’ll see you on the other side, Angela.’

Luke ended the call and put away his phone. His eyes were drawn involuntarily to the ceiling above him and he found himself staring up at it. There, he knew, lying one floor above him, was Kristian’s corpse, stretched out on the floorboards exactly where he had found him. What had happened, he wondered, between the moment he’d called Luke’s name in fear and the moment of his death? What terrors had he faced in those few short awful seconds before his life had ended? And why, for God’s sake – why hadn’t he, Luke, been there in time to save him?

20

Battersea, London

Wednesday, 9 March, 0736hrs GMT

LUKE’S PHONE WENT off while he was still in the shower. Naked, dripping and yawning, he walked back into the bedroom as he towelled down, his bare feet making dark, damp impressions on the thick beige carpet. He was home, yet somehow he was still mentally in the Arctic.

The extraction from Svalbard had been remarkably swift and efficient. All the more surprising given the horrors he had just witnessed. Exactly twenty-seven minutes after his making the call from that grim house of horrors, he was looking out of the kitchen window at a Norwegian Air Force NH90 helicopter touching down in a swirl of snow outside. Several figures spilled out in chem-bio protective gear, carrying their specialist equipment, while the loadmaster frantically beckoned for him to get aboard. Luke was only too glad to be out of that place. Even as they lifted clear into the sub-zero night he could not stop thinking of Kristian Berge and the fact that his killer had got away. Was this a mission failure? Luke patted the documents he had stashed inside his jacket for reassurance. No, it wasn’t. But it had come at a hell of a price.