Mads Peder Nordbo [Nordbo - Cold Fear

A thrilling new novel from the author of The Girl Without Skin.

When Danish Journalist Matthew Cave's half-sister Arnaq disappears, leaving behind only a trail of blood, he realises they are both pawns in a game of life and death.

As a young US soldier stationed in Greenland, their father took part in a secret experiment with deadly consequences. Accused of murder, he was forced into hiding.

Desperate to discover the link between these two disappearances, Matthew is joined by Tupaarnaq, a young Inuit woman, who returns to Nuuk to help her only friendand to settle a few scores of her own.

But, as things begin to unravel, Matthew begins to wonder: Is the father he has been searching for his entire life actually a cold-blooded murderer? And is Tupaarnaq really who he thinks she is?

CONTENTS

TASIILAQ, EAST GREENLAND, 14 OCTOBER 2014

Tupaarnaq looked down the cliff to the outskirts of the town. Scattered clusters of red, green, blue and yellow wooden houses glowed orange in the afternoon sunshine. The sea between the small town of Tasiilaq and the mountains on the far side of the fjord was filled with floating growlers of glacier ice. Some had foundered on the shore; others moved slowly with the tide. Long tongues of snow had settled down the mountainsides, several reaching as far as the sea. Soon everything would be buried in white.

She sat there every day, close to a game track flattened over several decades by animals and hunters. From this spot she could see practically every single house in Tasiilaq, a place she hated more than anywhere else on earth. She could see where the cars went when they left the heliport and, through the telescopic sight on her rifle, she could watch the people going in and out of the houses.

Two Greenlandic men were standing not far away. A few minutes earlier they had left the track and deliberately walked around her. She saw one of them point at her while the other one nodded.

Both men had rifles slung over their shoulders but were otherwise empty-handed. No prey hung from their belts and their backpacks flapped limply. Even so, she knew that they werent discussing an unsuccessful hunting trip. They were talking about her. No one liked a woman with a rifle. Especially not one who just sat by the game track, day in, day out.

Tupaarnaq was sure that most people in Tasiilaq knew who she was, but no one greeted her and no one spoke to her.

She closed her eyes and ran her hand across her naked scalp. The skin felt cold. Smooth. If she could feel the cold, shed probably have been freezing by nowshed been sitting still for a long time without moving, and the temperature had plummeted. It might already be below zero. She inhaled deep into her lungs. The air felt cleansing.

In Tasiilaq people turned a blind eye to everything, although everyone knew what was going on.

She tensed her muscles under her black clothes: first her arms, then her chest, stomach and legs. She clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth.

The wind blew icily across her scalp. She exhaled and opened her eyes. The two men were still there. What are you looking at? she whispered to herself. Her breath condensed in the air in front of her lips as she reached for her rifle. The cold wood and steel felt smooth. Clean. She held the weapon in front of her and loaded a cartridge into the breech. Very calmly she positioned the butt up against her shoulder and aimed the rifle at the two men.

One of them quickly grabbed his own rifle, but he didnt have time to aim before she had fired hers. The men jumped as the echo from the gunshot rolled up the steep mountain behind them.

What the hell do you think youre doing, you crazy bitch? one of them shouted as he threw up his hands in exasperation. Go back to where you came from!

She lowered the rifle. The other man was shouting something at her too, but she wasnt listening. Her gaze rested on a crippled dwarf willow not far from them.

Hey!

She looked up and into the mens eyes as she started walking towards them. She had slung her rifle over her shoulder.

We dont want you here, one of them said. Piss off home.

Ive never had a home, she said.

No, thats what happens when you kill your own family, he went on. His voice was trembling now.

Tupaarnaq stopped about five metres away from them. The man who had spoken was still holding his rifle, his fingers tight around the stock.

I only killed one of them, Tupaarnaq said. The muscles quivered under her skin. And he wasnt a human being.

The man raised his rifle, ready to fire. You fucking whore

Stop, the other man said, putting a hand on his friends shoulder. You cant just shoot her.

Why not? No one gives a damn about that murderer, the man behind the rifle sneered. He glared at her along the barrel, around the telescopic sight.

Shes not worth it, the other man went on.

Tupaarnaq snorted and sized up the angry man. Youre just as rotten as your brother.

He was your father, the man said angrily.

He was a pig, Tupaarnaq said. I never had a father.

The man let out a roar and aimed his rifle at a rock not far from Tupaarnaq. He emptied the magazine, the shots reverberating in the air. Tupaarnaqs ears were ringing. Small clouds of dust and powdered snow rose in the air where the projectiles landed.

She shook her head. Youre just like your brother.

The other man grabbed hold of the shooters jacket, glaring at Tupaarnaq over his friends shoulder. You shouldnt be here, he said quietly. You make people feel unsafe and angry.

Ill go back to Nuuk when Im done, she said and resumed walking towards them. She bent down and pulled a dead hare out of the low Arctic scrub. Blood stained its white winter fur. She held the hare up to her face and tilted her head, examining it. Then she shrugged, tossed the dead animal at the feet of the two men, stepped around them and made her way down towards the town.

She had been waiting for almost two months now. One day he would turn up, she was sure of it. One day he would come walking up that track, and she would stop him as she had stopped her father twelve years ago, when she had come home and found him sitting near the dead bodies of her mother and little sisters. His rifle in his hand. His screams as she had cut open his stomach and slashed his throat. Blood. Her father was dead and had rotted away long ago; now it was Abelsens turn.

USAF THULE BASE, NORTH GREENLAND, 13 FEBRUARY 1990

Darkness enveloped the figures of the five silent men sitting in the snow. The last reading they had carried out showed minus thirteen degrees Celsius, and the wind, which swept the top layers off the snow and whirled it around them, worsened the biting chill.

Tom looked down at his body. Snow had gathered in several places in the folds of his white cotton underwear. At the beginning his body heat had melted the snow, but now the skin under the thin cotton was so cold that the snow stayed put. The fabric felt stiff, frozen to his skin. He looked at the othershis three friends from the base and Sakkak, a young Greenlander from the nearby village of Moriusaq. They all wore only their army-issued undergarments, the thin white trousers and long-sleeved shirts covering their bodies down to the blue trainers on their feet. The snow had stuck to their eyebrows and crew cuts like beads of ice on fur. Their skin was pale, the blood having retreated from the outer blood vessels.

Sakkak was panting and shaking all over, his hands clenching and unclenching every second. Pumping.