Terminal Force by Trevor Scott

Author:Trevor Scott [Scott, Trevor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Calabria Publishing
Published: 2022-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

23

Iceland

Jake and Sirena had flown from Spain to Iceland, picked up a rental vehicle at the airport, and then drove northeast for nearly an hour in the darkness of late afternoon in January. Here their only friends were sheep that seemed to run across the roads everywhere with impunity.

Pulling into a road to the right, Jake drove to a precipice parking lot for an overlook of the valley below, but was now too dark to see much of anything. He parked with a view of the road below and the main road that led up to a nearby national park.

“What time is our meet?” Sirena asked.

“Ten minutes,” Jake said.

“When do the boys get in?”

“They should be here first thing in the morning.” He pulled out his phone and saw a recent text from the flight crew. “Make that three or four in the morning.”

“Do we go get them?” she asked.

“No. I have an all-wheel-drive SUV waiting for Karl to pick up. I’ll send him our GPS location once he lands. Here we go.”

The lights from a vehicle were visible below, coming from the direction of Reykjavik. The vehicle slowed and turned up their road, winding up the hill. As it came into view in the small parking lot, Jake could see that it was a panel van jacked up with beefy tires and enough clearance to allow the four-wheel-drive to work its way through heavy snow, mud or cross rivers.

Jake got out and stood next to the driver’s door.

The driver pulled up next to their vehicle, got out, and, without saying a word, handed the keys to Jake. In return, Jake handed his keys to the man.

Sirena had already gone around to the back of their vehicle and started pulling their bags out. Jake met her there and grabbed his own bag.

The driver got into their old vehicle and simply drove away.

“Nice guy,” Sirena said.

“He was ordered to say nothing and ask nothing.”

“He looked like he was scared shitless.”

Jake opened the back end of the van and found large military-grade boxes with combo locks securing them. He set his bag down and took Sirena’s from her, placing it among the other gear.

“Let’s go,” Jake said.

Once inside the van, Sirena asked, “How far to our destination?”

“You’ve been there before,” he said. He started the engine and backed up.

“Yeah, but if you recall, I flew there by helo to pick you up.”

He remembered. Sirena had probably saved him from eating his own gun after the murder of Alexandra and the near death of his infant daughter. Jake pulled out and headed back toward the main road.

“We’re about an hour away,” Jake said. “It’s not very far, but the road has probably not been maintained for a while.”

“It should be frozen over,” she said.

“Hopefully,” he said. “But there’s a warm spring about halfway down Hildur’s old driveway. Water flows across it year-round.”

Jake’s old friend Hildur Hilmarsdóttir, a former police officer in Iceland, had owned a cabin retreat in the outback of Iceland for years.

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