“I think you might have misunderstood,” Inniki said. She looked at Petra, adding, “It’s not Lauritz’ help I need. It’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“You were a police officer.”
“I was a constable. Not for long. I met Lauritz…”
“In Denmark, on a course.” Inniki smiled. “I remember you telling me, how he swept you off your feet.”
Petra laughed. “It was Jujitsu, and it was that one time.”
“Enough for you to move to Denmark,” Inniki said.
“Yes.”
“Enough to marry him. To start a family. To give up your career.”
“This is my life now,” Petra said. She held her mug in her hand, extending a finger as she gestured at the kitchen, the house, the girls, “Denmark,” she said.
“I understand.” Inniki sipped her coffee. “But Greenland is your home.”
“It’s where I was born. This is my home.”
“And your people?”
Petra lowered her mug to the table. She shook her head. “That’s not fair.”
“But is it true? Are the Danes your people?”
“Inniki…”
“Are they?”
“They can be.”
“They can be. I see.”
A shriek from the living room broke the tension. Petra excused herself, then left the kitchen. Inniki listened as she talked to her girls, told them to play nicely, only to return to the kitchen with Jatsi in her arms when it was clear that, for the time being at least, they either couldn’t or wouldn’t. Petra sat down. She pressed her lips to Jatsi’s ear, blowing the curls on the side of her face, nibbling her ear, making her laugh, before she caught Inniki’s eye.
“They can be,” she said, picking up where they left off. “But mostly, they are not. They are Lauritz’ friends. His colleagues. I’m the girl he fell in love with, the mother of his children. I’m not really much more than that.” Petra swallowed. “There. I said it.” She looked at Inniki. “Is that what you wanted to hear me say?”
“I thought you might, when you were ready to say it.”
Inniki turned back to her coffee as Jatsi said she was hungry. The conversation dipped into a trough between troublesome waves, as Petra fixed Jatsi a sandwich, then another for her sister. She sent the two girls back into the living room, agreeing that yes, just this once they could eat in front of the television. She fixed two more sandwiches and brought them back to the table, sliding one on a plate towards Inniki.
“No more talk until you’ve finished it.”
“Petra…”
“Nope,” she said, before taking a bite.
They ate in silence, swapping quick looks, raised eyebrows, and a smile when Inniki realised what she was eating.
“Where did you get gravad laks?”
“At the market.”
“But this is Greenlandic salmon… with just the right amount of dill.”
Petra raised her eyebrows – the silent Greenlandic yes.
They said nothing more until Inniki had finished her sandwich.
“So,” Petra said. “Now that I finally got you to eat something. What kind of help do you want from me?”
“You’ll help?”
“I’ll listen. Then I’ll think about it.” Petra leaned back in her seat and looked into the living room. The girls giggled between bites of sandwich and slurps of milk. Petra turned back to Inniki and waited.
“It’s not really now that I need help, but I’m worried about the future.”
Petra’s brow furrowed. “Are you sick?”
“Naamik,” Inniki laughed. “It’s not like that. It’s just, lately…”
“What?”
“I’ve been followed,” she said, and then, “It’s okay. Not today.” She tugged at Petra’s hand as she twisted to look out of the window. “It’s quite casual. But noticeable. At least, to someone like me. Someone with my background.” Inniki let go of Petra’s hand and brushed the crumbs from the table into her palm. She dropped them onto her plate, and said, “I haven’t always been old, and I wasn’t always an exile. I used to work for the Americans, you know. And now…”
“Yes?”
Inniki shrugged, as if it really wasn’t that big of a deal. “I know their methods, Petra. Which is why I know I am being watched. And that’s what I need to talk to you about.”
Greenland
Part 4
________________________________
Walcott tucked his hands into the armholes of his tactical vest and watched as IGA administrative officer Isra El-Hashem coordinated the evacuation of Kussannaq. The briny sea air tickled his nostrils, while the chatter of confused Greenlanders, and the crunch of rigid hulled inflatables landing on the beach, drifted on the wind in gusts and snatches. If he smoked, Walcott would have lit a cigarette by now. There was nothing else for him to do. The captain of the USCG cutter Logan put her officers in charge of filling the inflatable boats and shuttling the residents from the settlement to the ship, the helicopter crew provided additional security, while IGA muscle Casey Mitchell and Brantley Downs lent a firm hand to those families struggling with the basic orders of leave and now. The only fly in the ointment that Walcott could see was loitering just off the Logan’s starboard side. The Greenlandic police cutter Sisak III and its crew was the unknown element. Walcott wasn’t concerned about them intervening or preventing the relocation of Kussannaq’s residents, rather it was the signal they sent if they didn’t endorse the move. The red and white hulled cutter was all too visible against the backdrop of the dark blue sea, the green- and straw-coloured grasses, and the stark browns, greys, and blacks of the mountains.
“What are they thinking?” Walcott asked Isra as she joined him. He pointed at the police cutter.
“Them?” Isra shrugged, then tugged her notebook from the front sleeve of her tactical vest. “As long as they don’t interfere, what does it matter?”
Walcott turned his attention to the families boarding the Coast Guard boats, noting each outstretched hand pointing at the police cutter, a wave, and a raised fist.
“The hull is painted like the flag,” he said. “Red and white.”
“So?”
“So,” Walcott said. “I think, next time, we send the police somewhere else. I don’t like the way they just sit there. It’s like a quiet resistance.”
“Danielsen is on that boat,” Isra said.
