Free Ice War by Brian Falkner Page B

continued. “Then we will return you to your unit. For now you can go back to your hotel, if you wish, but make sure the radio is routed to your phone.”
    “I’d like to go to Kansas,” Wilton said. “If that’s okay.”
    “Kansas?” Bilal asked.
    “Fort Leavenworth,” Wilton said. “I want to visit Holly Brogan. Do you think you could arrange that?”
    “Can I ask why?” Bilal asked.
    “She was a Bzadian mole,” Wilton said. “If there are more like her, she might know about them.”
    Bilal stared at him. Wilton again had the extremely uncomfortable feeling that his thoughts were like an open book to this man.
    “You think one of the operators on Little Diomede is a traitor?” Bilal said.
    “Both of them, for all I know,” Wilton said. “But I don’t really know anything. I’m just hoping that Brogan might be able to throw some light.”
    “She has steadfastly refused to speak to anyone,” Bilal said. “What makes you think she’ll speak to you?”
    “She might,” Wilton said. “We served together. It’s worth a try.”
    “She’s in maximum security,” Bilal said. “I’ll have to arrange clearance. When do you want to go?”
    “Today,” Wilton said. “I’ll route the radio through to my phone like you said. One more thing.”
    “Yes?” Bilal asked.
    “I want to show her photos of the staff on Little Diomede Island,” Wilton said.
    “I’ll arrange access to their personnel files,” Bilal said.
    It was later, on the plane, that Wilton realised something odd. Bilal had asked him directly about each member of the Angel team. Except one. Hayden Wall.

IVRULIK
    The ceiling was made of rough wood and caulked with something black and sticky, possibly tar. It was supported by crossbeams that were rough-hewn logs.
    Propping up the crossbeams were huge bones, so large that they must have come from dinosaurs.
    Whales. That was the thought that came to him. They were whale bones.
    It was cold. Very cold. He was shivering uncontrollably.
    Someone brought a ladle to his lips and a warm broth trickled into his mouth. It tasted of oil and fish, but he swallowed it greedily, for the warmth if nothing else.
    Another ladle and again he sucked it down eagerly.
    He felt warm skin against his own.
    Then he slept.

BROGAN
    [MISSION DAY 1, FEBRUARY 16, 2033. 2100 HOURS LOCAL TIME]
    [UNITED STATES DISCIPLINARY BARRACKS, FORT LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS]
    From the air, the United States Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth is an odd collection of geometric shapes. It looks like a child’s puzzle waiting to be assembled. It is lined on two sides by dense forest and ringed by two separate security fences that even extend across the rooftop of the entrance building. At night, those fences are lit up like Christmas tree lights.
    Wilton approached the main entrance with more than a little nervousness.
    Getting in meant getting a high-level security clearance and doing that without setting off alarm bells meant going right to the top.
    Fortunately, Bilal’s friends were connected in very high places. The guards even saluted. Wilton returned the salute lazily, as if he was a little bored by the whole thing, when in fact his heart was pounding as much as it had sliding down a rock in the Australian desert, or racing T-boards around the Brisbane River. Nobody questioned why a seventeen-year-old kid would have top-security access.
    The visitors’ centre was part of the entrance building, with separate doors for visitors and inmates.
    He was escorted by two guards and left to wait at a plain wooden table for over twenty minutes before a door on the other side of the room opened and the prisoner was shown in.
    There were no bars. There were no armed guards inside the room. But nor did there need to be. He was separated from Brogan by a thick piece of bulletproof glass. It was not particularly clean and when he caught the light at the right angle, he could see palm prints, fingertips, even the imprint of lips.
    He