Hunter Killer - Alex King Series 12 (2021), A BATEMAN [urban books to read TXT] 📗

known, of course, but nobody had reported the missing submarine as they continued to find the best way to announce it. And now King was here to blow the vessel to the deepest part of the ocean and shroud the story in mystery forever. He realised he had shown no emotion at her comment, partly because he knew the outcome to be unlikely, but mainly because he felt responsible for the disappearance and the loss of lives onboard. He forced himself to say, “I hope they can finally rest in peace…”

Chapter Seven

 

The hotel foyer was basic but warm and King was shown to an equally basic and warm room. He wasn’t a connoisseur of hotel rooms, settling for just either cool or warm – depending upon the local climate – and a comfy bed. Shower and toilet, naturally and tea and coffee making facilities were something he had come to expect in the Western world. But he had endured hardships in his career and had spent much of his life curled up and shivering at night in a freezing wadi or snatching sleep in the back of a vehicle when he could. If he was lucky, at the end of a mission there would be an airport hotel to revel in its comforts and order a good meal on room service while he awaited his return flight. During his time with the SIS and now with the Security Service, expense accounts didn’t run to luxury suites and Michelin star restaurants.

King showered and enjoyed some time under the hot spray before towelling off and changing clothes for dinner. As was the way in Scandinavian countries, and in particular the Arctic, clothing was generally informal and outer layers would be required if going outside to nearby bars, so he was certain a pair of chinos and a shirt and sweater would allow him to blend right in.

King ordered a Borg pilsner beer at the bar and looked around the bar and restaurant. He perched on a barstool at the end of the counter, his back against the wall. To his left, waiting staff ferried out plates of reindeer meatballs, thick peppered reindeer steaks with fries, and slabs of Arctic cod with mashed potatoes and butter sauce. As he glanced at the menu, he could see it was both basic and small, but the food being whisked past him looked hearty and well-prepared. He watched as a pretty, young blonde entered and looked around. Disappointedly, she headed for the bar, then saw King and waved. King was trying to recall her name, got it by the time she reached him.

“Hello, Madeleine,” he said. “Settling in?”

She frowned, mentally breaking down the language barrier, then replied, “Yes, the hotel is nice, thank you. How about you?”

“It’s certainly warmer than outside…” He paused. “But I suppose you’re used to this climate, being from Norway.”

“Sweden,” she corrected him. “Yes, sometimes we get cold winters, not as cold as here, but thankfully the summers can be warm.”

King smiled. He hadn’t made a mistake, but was simply in the habit of testing the people he met. It was in his nature to spot anomalies in a person’s story. You couldn’t be too careful. “Sorry, my mistake,” he said. “So, you were saying back at Oslo airport that you’re a marine biologist?”

“Yes. I’m hoping to get work with Aurora, the organisation behind the green energy projects. I’m here for a two-month work placement.”

“That sucks,” he replied. “An organisation getting labour from the bright, keen and eternally hopeful.”

She looked unsettled, innocent. “No, it will look great on my CV if I don’t get the job,” she said defensively, but shrugged. “But I live in hope…”

King nodded. This was why he didn’t get invited to cocktail parties. He usually said what he was thinking and had never learned the art of subtlety. “Sorry,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Here, let me get you a drink.” He nodded to the barman and gestured to her. Madeleine asked for a peach schnapps with ice and the barman walked to the other end of the bar to use the optic.

“So, you’re a marine engineer?” she asked.

King tensed. He’d read about what marine engineers did in his hotel room in Oslo and decided it would be better all-round if he skirted the subject. “Yes,” he replied, then added, “Diving is my skillset.” It was always better to use the truth in a cover story, and he had dived at many great locations around the world.

“Me too!” she said, the revelation meaning she had forgotten their previous conversation at Oslo airport. “Last year, I dived with Great Whites off Mexico in the Pacific, which was fantastic! We even got out of the dive cages, tentatively of course. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to see the elusive Greenland shark while I am here. It isn’t just native to Greenland, but cold Northern waters like these. They live in Norwegian fjords as well, but it’s not yet known if they migrate to Greenland. There is no funding for research in Greenland sharks, not at the moment at least.”

“Right…” King remarked, his small talk not improving with practice. He didn’t even know Greenland had a species of shark, and if it lived in Norway as well, then the name was probably somewhat redundant. He pushed himself out of his pedantic trait and said, “Well, I hope you get to dive before long.”

 “I have brought my equipment, but I suspect the chances of a dive will be slim. It’s quite a specialist thing in these temperatures, and the former oil rigs that Aurora are using are anchored in deep water. Hey, I could always dive with you!” she said excitedly.

“Sure…” King paused as she was given her drink, then chinked her glass with his own. “Cheers,” he said.

“What are we drinking to?”

“To thirst,” King replied.