Valhalla (29 page)

“By now, you know that the Ancient Way has a network of powerful believers all over the world,” he went on. “They believe Eriksson is a god. For you to sanctify him as the man who discovered our country would give them even greater power and influence.”

“You must be joking,” said Barnaby.

“To the contrary,” said Ira. “Just this morning, the secretary of Homeland Security expressed his strong concern that releasing this information would create a serious upheaval across the country.”

“Are we talking about Secretary Annunzio?” asked Barnaby.

“Yes, of course.”

“In other words, the president doesn't want to lose the Italian American vote in the next election.”

“That's an outrageous assertion,” said Dusenberry. “I hope you are prepared to apologize.”

“Another measure of courage along the Potomac,” added Macaulay from his hospital bed.

“Please thank the president for us,” said Lexy, leading him to the door.

“As soon as you're better, General Macaulay, we would like to schedule a visit for you to the Oval Office so the president can express his appreciation personally,” said Ira.

“In between the Rose Bowl queen and a Four-H prizewinning hog,” said Barnaby.

“Have a safe trip,” said Lexy, herding Ira through the door and closing it behind him.

“Well, that's that,” said Macaulay, sipping water through a straw.

“Instead of sharing the greatest archaeological discovery of the modern age, we are given a gag order,” said Barnaby.

“It won't last forever,” said Lexy.

Macaulay smiled up at Barnaby.

“In the meantime, you have your mentoring work,” he said.

“Yes, there is that,” agreed Barnaby. “Have you heard from your CIA friend Somervell since we got you back to Monhegan?”

Macaulay nodded.

“His cleanup team arrived before the storm fully abated,” said Macaulay. “Tommy said they covered all our tracks. Everything is as it was when we arrived there.”

“What about Chris?” asked Lexy.

“The cover story is that he was lost in the storm,” said Macaulay. “He'll be buried this week in a service at the island cemetery.”

“I'm going,” said Lexy.

“Me too,” said Macaulay.

“So the crypt is sealed again, over and under,” said Barnaby.

“Yes,” said Lexy.

“For another thousand years?” asked Macaulay.

“We'll see,” said Barnaby.

*   *   *

25 December
Camp Delta
Guantanamo Bay Detention Center
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba

After her arrival at Camp Delta in the Guantanamo Bay Detention Center on December 8, Freya was processed by a team of joint task force female personnel, issued her complement of prison clothing, and placed in a cell in the maximum security section. The small single room was visually monitored twenty-four hours a day.

Her initial interrogation began the next morning. It included two three-hour sessions divided by a thirty-minute break for lunch in her room. Two seasoned female interrogators conducted the interview. At no time during the first six hours did Freya utter a word.

In the days that followed, a range of interrogation techniques was employed in the interview sessions, all designed to engage and elicit either intellectual or emotional responses from the client. Freya still refused to speak.

The interrogation sessions were halted after ten days. A young male agent who had enjoyed success in establishing emotional and romantic relationships with several hardened Al Qaeda operatives was introduced to the client in an attempt to establish rapport with her. When his efforts proved unsuccessful, a female agent with proficiency in psychological intimidation was given several days to break through the shell of resistance.

Unlike other new detainees at the facility, whose emotions ranged from expressing hatred toward the United States to general belligerence and mental depression, the client Freya maintained a consistent refusal to display any emotion at all, regardless of the provocation.

In the third week of her incarceration, it was decided to employ additional interrogation techniques approved by the Department of Justice, including sleep derivation and the inclusion of small doses of midazolam, 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, and temazepam in her food and drink. This was followed with extra-loud rap music in her room, temperature manipulation, and twelve-hour uninterrupted interrogations.

None of the techniques made a difference. She continued to refuse to speak. According to the interrogators, her only visible emotions were variously described as “tranquil, composed, almost serene.”

At Langley, the agency began a comprehensive investigation to determine who she was and how she had come to assume the identity of a child killed in a Kansas tornado in 1982. Agents were able to trace the individuals who had assumed the roles of her parents when she was growing up in Merced, California. They had allegedly been killed in a boating accident while Freya was attending Cornell, but their bodies had never been found, and the agents suspected an elaborate ruse. The investigation was ongoing.

With no imminent threat to the nation's national security from the Order of the Ancient Way, it was decided that the client would not be subjected to enhanced interrogation techniques at the facility's Camp No, including waterboarding, hypothermia, and stress positions. She was not allowed to fraternize with other detainees and remained in solitary confinement.

On Christmas Eve, Tommy Somervell was sitting alone in his study in Leesburg, Virginia, when the call came through from the deputy director asking him to fly down to Guantanamo.

“We've run out of options at this point,” he said.

On Christmas morning, Somervell left Andrews Air Force Base, arriving at Guantanamo two and a half hours later. He asked to meet with the client Freya in a less-forbidding environment than her prison cell.

An hour later, they met for lunch in the Guantanamo officers' club. A sign in the foyer proclaimed that officers wearing academy rings would receive
A FREE SHOT OF
LEADERSHIP
. Freya was accompanied by two guards, who remained standing ten feet from their table. She wore a one-piece denim pantsuit that had been starched and pressed.

Through the large picture windows overlooking the sea, Tommy could see gentle waves caressing a white sandy beach. Directly beneath them, off-duty personnel were swimming in the club's Olympic-sized pool. A black waiter arrived at the damask-covered table, bearing a silver platter containing a broiled medley of fresh shrimp, tuna, and scallops.

“So, how are you enjoying your time here, dear girl?” Somervell asked.

The wide-set blue eyes were almost feverishly bright, her face reminding him of oil paintings by Pierre-Auguste Renoir he had once seen in Paris. She had lost a good deal of weight, as if all the sumptuous Georgetown dinners had melted off her frame, leaving her lean and sculpted.

She didn't respond to his question. He made several more attempts to initiate a conversation as they ate the meal together. Mostly she looked out at the sea. When she finished her last sip of coffee, the guards stepped forward to escort her back to her cell.

“Good-bye, dear girl,” said Somervell. “I'm so sorry.”

She smiled down at him after standing up to leave.

“Why?” she said.

Researching this book was a journey of discovery for me in learning about the indomitable Norsemen who explored the continent of North America hundreds of years before Columbus first sighted the Bahamas Archipelago in 1492.

It is highly unlikely that incontrovertible evidence will ever be found to prove the actual location of the temperate land Leif Eriksson chose to name Vinland after wintering there with his men as early as 1003, but one can make a good circumstantial case that it was west of Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

For anyone interested in exploring these theories further, as well as the even stronger evidence of Norse explorations as far west as Minnesota in the 1300s, I would recommend a book published in 1940 by Hjalmar R. Holand called
Westward from Vinland: An Account of Norse Explorations and Discoveries in America, 982–1362
. It provides many of the clues and data utilized in constructing the factual basis for this novel.

As always, I am grateful to my literary agent, David Halpern, for his sagacious advice on the story and characters. I also wish to thank my fine editor, Brent Howard, for his belief in the book. Finally, I would like to thank my longtime friend and mentor, Martin Andrews, to whom the book is dedicated, and who landed his own B-17 safely in Greenland on his way to join the 8
^th
Air Force in England in 1943.