“What is that again?” Ibbot said, as he shuffled some papers on his desk. “Inter- something or other…”
“The Office of Intermediary Greenlandic Affairs,” Arnold said. “IGA for short.”
“It’s an office? Not a department?”
“Gentlemen,” Day said. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
Walcott took his cue and continued. “I’m primarily responsible for the relocation of the locals from the settlements and small villages to the larger towns and the capital.” He took a beat, before adding, “That’s Nuuk. It’s where we’re based.”
“So, IGA is administrative?”
“For the most part,” Walcott said, turning to Marsden. “I have a couple of teams visiting the settlements to instruct the residents to move. Helping them where necessary.”
“Forced relocation?”
“No, sir.” Walcott turned to Ibbot. “Not officially.”
“Walcott is being discreet,” Arnold said, lifting his hand to stave off a response from his subordinate. “IGA is facilitating the move to the towns and the city – there is only one.” Arnold paused as a ripple of laughter filtered through the speakers. “It’s really something that the Greenland government and the Danes were trying to push through, but they lacked determination and will. Walcott has both. That’s why he’s heading up the teams responsible for moving the natives.”
“Natives?” Day shook her head. “Did I hear you right, Hal?”
“You heard me.” Arnold shifted his gaze to the right, giving Walcott an idea of the position of Bernice Day’s image on the screen in Arnold’s office. “Does the terminology make you squeamish?”
“Not me, and not this administration,” she said. “But let’s keep the colonial crap between us, okay?”
Arnold gave her a flat smile before turning back to his camera. “Regardless, the Danes failed to get it done. We’re applying a more aggressive strategy with more incentives. Honestly, it’s a good deal. We just need to convince the… people, that it’s a good deal for them.”
“They need convincing?” Ibbot snorted. “The reports I’ve been reading…” Another snort. “These people shit in a bucket, for God’s sake. What the hell is that about?”
“Plumbing is an issue in the settlements,” Walcott said.
“It’s an issue?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Explain.”
“Pipes are built above ground.”
“Why?”
“It’s the permafrost, or the granite. Either way, it’s too expensive and impracticable to put drains and running water into the settlements. The smaller towns have water, but they’re mostly still shitting in buckets. They’re collected once a week. In the settlements, drinking water is stored in a tank. Although, I’ve heard a lot of people still collect ice to melt for drinking.”
“And,” Arnold said, “we’re moving them into modern accommodation with central heating, plumbing, running water – the whole nine yards.”
“But you’ve hit a speed bump,” Day said, turning her attention to Walcott. “Explain that if you will.”
“It’s more of a who,” Walcott said. “Constable…”
“David Maratse?” Marsden said, lifting a report from his desk. “I’ve been doing some reading. You hired him, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. I brought him in for a 360. His file was full of flags and markers…”
“Like a grad student’s textbook,” Day said. “We’ve all seen the file. Tell us about the man.”
“Well…” Walcott shuffled in his seat. “To be honest, he was almost perfect. He speaks three languages – four if you include the eastern dialect. He had a lot of references, but…”
“He has a history of recklessness,” Marsden said. “I told you. I’ve done my homework.”
Walcott took a breath. “Right. That’s true. His file is not exemplary, but he got the job done. He has a history of acting in the grey areas. But always for the benefit of the people – even the criminal element.”
“You respect him?” Day said. She tilted her head to one side, waiting for a response.
“I do.”
“Even now?”
Walcott nodded. “I think it would be a mistake not to.”
“He’s your speed bump,” Day said.
“Yes.”
She looked down, reading something beyond the camera’s view. “His first assignment was to a settlement called…”
“Kussannaq,” Walcott said. “It’s difficult to pronounce.”
Day lifted her head to stare at him before continuing. “You assigned him to a team of three IGA officers.”
“One administrative officer…”
“Isra El-Hashem.”
“Yes. Together with two security officers.” Walcott looked at Arnold. “Mitchell and Downs had some problems on a previous operation. Some cultural interference. I put Maratse on their team to prevent the same thing happening again.”
“But El-Hashem was concerned,” Day said.
Walcott nodded. “She thought Maratse had an attitude. She didn’t trust him. In fact, I think it’s fair to say none of the IGA trust the locals. I mean, why should they?”
“And yet, you’re using locals like Maratse to carry out IGA orders.”
“To translate IGA orders, ma’am.”
“None of your staff speak Greenlandic?”
“No,” Walcott said, adding, “It’s a tough language to grasp.”
“Forcing you to trust people like Maratse.”
“He’s a police constable.” Walcott shrugged. “I took a chance. There’s not really any alternative.”
“What about the Danes?” Marsden said. “No translators?”
“No,” Walcott said. He paused. “If I may speak freely?”
Day waved her hand. “Go ahead.”
Walcott glanced at the anonymous screen as he took a breath. “Once the details of the sale of Greenland and the handover were worked out, I think the Danes were happy to withdraw.”
“Happy?”
“Yeah, that might not be the most appropriate word, but they didn’t provide any assistance. Maybe that was our fault. We just assumed we could step in and work our magic.”
Ibbot snorted, almost masking the soft chuckle from Eagle.
“Walcott,” Day said. “Never let me hear you say that again. Understood?”
“Bernie,” Arnold said. “What Spenser means is…”
“Let me stop you right there, Hal. We’ve all read the reports, so let’s cut to the chase. Constable Maratse chose not to translate the IGA message. El-Hashem says as much in her report. She thinks he told them something else. Furthermore, Maratse’s first assignment put him in direct contact with a known dissident.” Day checked her notes. “Inniki Rasmussen – expelled from Greenland and currently living in Copenhagen. Given the content of her podcasts, it’s clear to me that she filled Maratse’s head with thoughts of rebellion. And then…” Day jabbed a finger
