Port Angeles, State of Washington, U.S.A.
The moment that Ingrid opened the front
door of her house, three-year-old Michael ran to her with his arms wide open while shouting in joy.
‘’MOMMY!’
Letting go her two suitcases and travel bag, Ingrid bent down to grab her young son, then straightened up before kissing the young boy repeatedly on his cheeks and forehead.
‘’My sweet Michael: I really missed you while in Paris.’
‘’I missed you too, Mommy.’
Ingrid kissed Michael once more, then looked at her daughter Nancy, who had been watching the scene from the entrance of the lounge.
‘’So, how did it go with Michael, Nancy? Did he behave or was he like a little devil?’
‘’A bit of both, Mother. You remember how I was at his age?’
‘’Oh yes! That was also the time when you started remembering your past incarnations. Has Michael started to remember his own past incarnations? When I left for Paris, he was starting to remember his past life as Michael Crawford, my defunct father by adoption. Does he remember more now?’
Ingrid became a bit alarmed when she saw that her question was apparently embarrassing Nancy.
‘’Well, I did help Michael remember his past incarnations, Ingrid. He now remembers them, all fifteen of them, back to his first ever incarnation on Earth.’
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‘’All of them? But he is only three years and three months-old, Nancy.’
‘’So? I was barely four years-old by the time I remembered all of my twenty past incarnations. Please remember that Michael, like me, is half-Celestial and half-Human.
As for superpowers, he has started using and practicing them and I helped him in that as well.’
‘’Oh God! I will now have Superboy in my home.’ half-joked Ingrid. She then looked back into her son’s gray eyes and grinned to him.
‘’Are you going to fly around the house all the time, my sweety?’’
‘’Only if you allow me to, Mommy.’ was the boy’s disarming response. Ingrid took a second to digest that, then put Michael down, so that she could grab back her three pieces of luggage. Seeing that, Michael ran to grab first her travel bag.
‘’Let me help you, Mommy.’
‘’But it will be too heavy for y...’
Ingrid didn’t have time to complete her sentence before her son lifted her bag with apparent ease, despite it weighing a good five kilos.
‘’Uh, okay! I do have Superboy living in my home. Just follow Mommy up to my bedroom.’
Her second surprise came when she saw that Michael did follow her up the stair to the upper floor...while flying silently with her travel bag. Her head now swimming a bit, she entered her room and put down her two suitcases next to her closet, with Michael also putting down his load next to her. Smiling down to him, Ingrid took him by one hand and started walking out of her bedroom.
‘’Come back down to the lounge with me, Michael. There, you will tell me about your past incarnations.’
‘’Won’t you tell me about your trip to Paris, Mommy?’
‘’Of course I will! Which would you like to do first?’
‘’I want to hear about your trip first, Mommy.’
‘’Then, that’s what we will do.’
Once down in the lounge, Ingrid sat on her favorite sofa and sat her son on her legs, facing her, while Nancy sat at the other end of the sofa.
‘’Alright, Michael. About my trip to Paris, I flew to there in a new model of aircraft I had designed for the Hiller Corporation. There, my plane had a great success and now we will be able to build and sell many more like it, so I will be continuing to work for Hiller
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for many more years. Well, I won’t bother you with the minute details, so it is now time to tell me about your past incarnations.’
‘’Can I use my chalkboard for that, Mommy?’
‘’If you wish so, yes!’ replied Ingrid, wanting to see how Michael had advanced with his writing abilities. Her happy son then jumped off her legs and ran to his small chalkboard resting on a kid’s size table in a corner of the lounge. There, he grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote in very distinct letters ‘Michael Crawford, 1912-1941’, even using major characters to start the first and last names. Ingrid swallowed hard, as her three-year-old had just demonstrated a writing ability more typical of a nine or ten-year-old, on top of proving as well that he could already count. Michael then smiled to her while speaking in his small voice.
‘’My most recent past incarnation was Michael Crawford, an American Army major who was a U.S. Army ordnance engineer. As you well know, he was the husband of your mother of adoption, Nancy Laplante, and he loved you very much. I also love you very much, Mommy.’
‘’Ooh, you’re so sweet, my little Michael. Come and kiss me.’
Michael ran at once to her and kissed her on the cheek before running back to the chalkboard and writing a second name and set of years on it.
‘’My next past incarnation was as a woman named Damira Bortek. She lived from 1792 to 1855 and was an ethnic Tatar woman who lived in the village of Balaklava, in Crimea. She was a poor peasant and had six children before dying of cholera. She was a tough, hard-working woman but she led a very common life for her time.’
‘’She is still well worth remembering, Michael. To be a king or a simple peasant is not what counts. It is rather how decent and kind a person you were.’
‘’I know and I agree, Mommy.’ said soberly little Michael before writing a third name on his chalkboard.
‘’The next one was a man named Wido Kalibarang. He lived from the late 17th Century to the early 18th Century in Java and was a guard for the local king. He was married, with three children, and was killed by Dutch merchants who refused to recognize the authority of his king. My next incarnation before Wido was a Somali Muslim woman who lived during the 16th Century in Kiswayo. Sorry about the
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imprecision concerning her time of birth and death but they didn’t exactly have accurate calendars in Somalia at that time. Her name was Aminah Elmi and she was a woman of great beauty. She married a well-to-do merchant and had four children before she was killed by bandits, along with her husband.’
‘’Well, you can’t possibly remember more about those past people than they did themselves. A number of my own past incarnations were also illiterate and lived in time periods when the Christian calendar, or any official calendar, did not exist yet. But go on, please.’
‘’Thanks, Mommy!’
Her son then wrote yet another name on his chalkboard.
‘’My next oldest incarnation was a man from the Wendat tribe, which existed in Canada. His name was Attikwanee and he was a chaman, healer and herbalist who lived near Lake Simcoe during the 15th Century. He was married and had two children. He was an expert in herbalist medicine and was also a great story teller. He was killed while defending his village from a band of Iroquois warriors. Next before him was a person of decidedly much higher status: Queen Jeanne II of Burgundy, who sat on the throne of France between 1316 and 1322. After the death of her husband, King Philip V, she remained Countess of Burgundy and ruling Countess of Artois. She had four daughters and one son before dying. If you want to learn about French royal disputes and court intrigues, then I would be happy to tell you all about them, Mommy.’
‘’Thanks, sweety! I have plenty of my own tales about past disputes of power, as the court of Chinese Emperor Wou-Ti was full of them. So, who’s next in your past incarnations?’
‘’A Chinese man of very low status who lived a most miserable life and died of overwork and malnutrition. He was a simple peasant who lived during the 12th Century and whose name was Tao Ling. He was married and had three children but his family was dirt-poor and he had to work as a simple day laborer for the local imperial representative in order to be able to feed his family. Before him was an
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African hunter-gatherer and warrior who lived in present-day South Africa during the 11th Century. Even that timing is uncertain to me, as that man didn’t know or follow any known calendar system, so I have to base myself on his timing between known time periods. His name was Matete and he had a wife and two children. He was tall, muscular and athletic and was a first-class hunter. He was killed in a dispute with another hunter over a prey.’
‘’And do you think that you inherited his hunting skills at the same time that you remembered his life, Michael?’
‘’I believe so, Mommy. I would just need to practice them a bit to regain full proficiency in them.’
‘’The same thing that happened with me about my ancient skills. I notice that, in all of those past lives you listed to date, none appear to have practiced music or played extensively any musical instrument, contrary to your sister Nancy.’
‘’I know, and it kind of disappointed her, Mommy.’ replied the boy, a malicious smile appearing on his lips. ‘’I bet that she was hoping for me to one day join her band, but I doubt that will happen.’
Glancing briefly at Nancy, Ingrid saw her sigh at these words and smiled to her.
‘’Well, not everybody is meant to become a musician or a singer, Nancy.’
‘’I know! I know! One had the right to dream, no?’
‘’Indeed! So, Michael, who’s next in your past incarnations?’
‘’Next is an Andean woman of the 10th Century named Namath. She was married to a fisherman and had two children before dying during her third labor. She lived on the coast of present-day Peru, near Chuquitanta. There is frankly little more to say about her, Mommy, as she lived a very ordinary, low status life.
Before her was a Saxon Christian monk who lived from the year 798 to 958. Since he was a monk, he was very well aware of the dates he lived in, so I had no problems with that. His name was Alfred of York and, as befitted a monk, he never married. He studied and lived in a monastery in the Northumbria, near the coast of the English Channel. He was well educated, could read and write in Saxon, Latin and Greek and could also count, plus of
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course could quote the Bible from memory. He was killed when Vikings raided his monastery and burned it to the ground.’
‘’Do you remember how to write in Latin, Michael?’ asked Ingrid, who wanted to see the extend of her son’s remembered skills, so that she could eventually decide where and when to start his formal education. She had encountered the same problem with Nancy when the time had come to enroll her in a primary school, which was an obligatory requirement in the United States. Nancy had ended starting school at a grade four levels higher than what her actual age would have placed her. Ingrid now strongly suspected that the same thing was going to happen with her son. While she was thinking over that, Michael quickly wrote a sentence in correct Latin on the chalkboard, then smiled proudly to her.
‘’Here you go, Mommy!’
Reviewing the sentence on the board, Ingrid was shocked to see that, apart from being in good Latin, it was also an exact quote from the Bible.
‘’Very good, Michael! Your remembered skills are truly impressive. ‘’So, who’s next in your list of past incarnations?’
‘’A Japanese woman called Neo, who lived during the 7th Century on the island of Okinawa. Mind you, most modern Japanese would not call her a ‘Japanese’, as they often look down on the people of Okinawa as being of a different race. Neo was the wife of a fisherman and was very pretty and graceful in body. She weaved baskets and made and repaired fishing nets to help support her family. She gave birth to five children before dying of a fever. Before her was a soldier from the 6th Century Byzantine Empire named Markus Longinus. He was born on a farm in Thracia and enlisted in the Byzantine Army at the age of seventeen. He then served mostly in a garrison fort located along the southern shore of the Danube River and fought Avar and Bulgar barbarians for many years. He rose to the rank of decurion before being killed in combat near Durostarum. Before Markus was a Scandinavian girl and farmer’s wife who live in the South of Sweden, along the East coast of the Kattegat. Her name was Hilda Svenstad and she lived mostly during the first half of the 5th Century. She cared for the animals of her farm, cultivated a garden and made clay potteries. She was
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illiterate. She gave birth to five children before dying from an infected wound.’
Little Michael then wrote another name on his chalkboard, along with a big question mark in place of dates.
‘’The incarnation before Hilda was a Siberian fisherman, hunter and trapper who lived and died along the shores of Lake Baïkal. I can’t give you any precise time period for his life, as he was illiterate and didn’t know any calendar. The best I can say is that Borscha must have lived during the second half of the 3rd Century. He may have been rough on the edges but he had a great heart. When he bought a Chinese slave girl named ‘Lu’ from a passing Mongol merchant, he genuinely fell in love with her and made her his wife, treating her well and with affection. He had three Children from Lu before dying while defending her from three marauders. He succeeded in killing two of the marauders and seriously wounded the third one before being mortally wounded but he did save his wife, who finished off the third marauder with the help of her eldest son. The one regret I have about Borscha is that I will never know if and how Lu and her children survived after that desperate fight. Unfortunately, no historical archives would exist about that, as that was pure wilderness in terms of area and time.’
Ingrid lowered her head, mentally contemplating the tragedy but also the love in that story.
‘’So many billion lives preceded us on this Earth, with most of them staying anonymous and never being mentioned by name in historical archives. Yet, without all those anonymous lives, the various kings, conquerors and emperors of times past wouldn’t have been able to accomplish anything of importance by themselves. Alright, Michael, you may continue.’
‘’I have only one past incarnation left to talk about, Mommy, that of a young Persian woman named Yasmina, who lived in the first half of the 2nd Century. She was born in a small town on the eastern shores of the Persian Gulf. She was a beautiful girl, with blond hair, green eyes and a graceful body.
She helped her family run a small popular hot food counter, what we would call today a
‘fast food joint’, which were very common during the Antiquity and the Middle Ages. She was a good cook and baker and eventually married a local baker, giving him three
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children. She sadly died during her fourth labor. Well, there you have it, Mommy. What do you think?’
‘’That you had mostly modest lives but also were good persons who did their best to live with decency and honesty. Those are the kind of lives which count for me, not those of power-hungry kings or blood-thirsty conquerors. You definitely already have a solid educational base thanks to those past lives, along with a wide range of useful skills, and you certainly should skip the first years of primary school, like Nancy successfully did. Do you know yet what would interest you in your present life, my son?’
Little Michael stayed silent for a moment, frozen in the kind of introspective stance that would be expected from an adult and not a toddler.
‘’I am not sure but I know what I don’t want to do or probably won’t do because of a lack of interest. I won’t become a soldier, as I don’t want to have to kill others. Please don’t take that as a criticism of you, Mother. You fought to defend others and to stop really bad people and you did it with honor. I won’t become a musician either, because of a lack of interest and of basic skills in it, contrary to Nancy. What I want is to be constructive and to contribute to our collective lives by either producing or operating things for peaceful purpose. I must say that watching you made me interested in planes in general, Mommy.’
Ingrid nodded her head at that, liking how her son thought.
‘’To encourage peaceful use of technology is certainly a worthy goal, my son. I will however not force you to follow me into the world of aviation. You are still very young and may develop on your own new interests as you grow up, so take your time before choosing your personal path.’
‘’Thank you for your comprehension, Mommy. Uh, could I ask a favor from you right now?’
‘’Shoot!’ replied Ingrid, curious to see what her little Michael would ask. Her son then grinned and spoke with hope in his voice.
‘’Could I have a dog, Mommy? Please!’
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CHAPTER 16 – THE SCOURGE OF TERRORISM
The Israeli embassy in Stockholm, seen from the Strandvägen Avenue.
07:39 (Sweden Time)
Wednesday, July 11, 2007 ‘C’
Corner of Ulrikagatan and Strandvägen Avenue
Ostermalm District, Stockholm, Sweden
Greta had left her apartment to go to work a bit later than usual, thus was walking at a brisk pace along Ulrikagatan, heading towards the intersection with Strandvägen Avenue, where she would be able to turn onto the Dag Hammarskjölds Väg, the street on which the main gate of the U.S. embassy was. She was wearing her customary khaki service uniform with short-sleeve shirt and wedge cap, plus had her small backpack and her black service purse. Thanks to finally having gotten a firearm permit, or rather permits, two weeks ago from the Swedish police, she was now able to keep her firearms at her apartment and to carry her handguns with her while going to her designated authorized shooting club, which was the basement shooting range used by the embassy marine guards. Still, that carrying permit was very limited in its scope and would have raised the ire of any American gun owner from the Southern States. For one, any gun she carried had to be unloaded during transport and could not be carried directly on her, so she carried her Smith & Wesson M&P 9 mm pistol in her purse, with her magazines kept out of her pistol. She found all this quite frustrating but it was the law in Sweden, so she had to follow the local rules.
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As she was getting close to the intersection with Strandvägen Avenue, she noticed a light truck parked ahead of her in a no-parking zone. She frowned a bit at that, as Swedish drivers were normally fairly respectful of road regulations. The type and aspect of the truck then made her redouble her attention towards it. It was an old Mercedes UNIMOG 4X4 light truck with a box van at the rear of its front cabin and its gray paint coating was quite shoddy, having been
applied directly over spots of rust. Large numbers of such UNIMOG light trucks sold as military surplus circulated all around Europe, them being popular for their robustness, good off-road capabilities and high ground clearance. However, the models with box vans were much rarer and would be mostly used for making deliveries, in which case they would bear some kind of commercial logos or paint schemes. This was a plain gray paint job. As she was eyeing the parked truck, her eyes caught on the three-story yellow brick building of the Israeli embassy, visible beyond the truck and situated on the far side of Strandvägen Avenue. Now downright suspicious and with all her senses on alert, she slowed a bit her pace and snapped open the flap of her service purse but kept her pistol in it as she approached the parked light truck as quietly as she could without it becoming conspicuous. Looking at the right-side mirror of the cab, she saw that a single man was sitting inside, behind the steering wheel. Blood accelerated in her veins when she could detail that man: he appeared to be of Middle-Eastern type and wore a long beard. Her souvenirs from Afghanistan then made her kick into high alert mode. The driver of the truck then saw and noticed her in his mirror as she was some ten paces behind his vehicle. An expression of pure hatred then came on his face, something that solidified her suspicions about that man and his truck. Still, she could not yet take out her pistol, load it and point it: even when you possessed a valid firearm permit, you could not carry a weapon for personal self-defense purposes in Sweden, on pain of being arrested and having your weapon confiscated. She was thus going to have to take some extra risks here if she wanted to check that truck out. As she was about to get level with the front cab of the truck, the driver started his engine and Greta heard him as well removing the hand brake. Nearly running to the right-side door, she then banged her right fist on the right-side door while shouting in Swedish at the driver through the rolled-up window.
‘’HEY! WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?’
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The man’s response was to raise a revolver he was holding in his right hand and to point it at Greta’s head. She barely had time to bend down while jumping back, avoiding a bullet by only a few centimeters. The gun’s detonation was strong and clear, denoting some serious caliber, and the bullet shattered the right-side window. With all of her doubts now erased, Greta pulled out both her pistol and the loaded magazine she was transporting in her purse and quickly loaded her gun. By the time she was ready to point her weapon, the truck had jumped forward and was accelerating towards the entrance gate of the Israeli embassy, which was presently open to let pass a big sedan. With adrenaline flowing in her veins and guessing what were the intentions of the driver, she aimed her pistol at the rear tires of the light truck and fired six shots, hitting both of them.
As the truck swerved for a couple of seconds due to its punctured tires, Greta fired two more shots, hitting and puncturing the front right-side tire. Still, the driver kept on, accelerating towards the embassy gate while wobbling on its three punctured tires. The two Israelis manning the gate, as well as the occupants of the sedan, were quick to understand what was happening and, with the sedan rushing inside the embassy grounds, the two guards quickly closed the iron grills of the gate and started taking out their own pistols. Knowing now that this was an all-or-nothing situation, Greta ran to the left side of the street she was on, in order to have a line-of-sight shot on the truck driver, and fired her last seven rounds, emptying her gun. She saw the driver slump forward on his steering wheel but, less than a second later, the truck exploded in a big fireball, with the blast wave sweeping Greta off her feet and projecting her backward by a good nine meters. Despite being severely shaken and with her ears ringing like crazy, she was able to keep her grip on her pistol. Feeling pain with each breath she was taking and with her head swimming, she concentrated on putting her pistol back in her purse and on securing its flap: with the truck disintegrated and its driver dead, she didn’t need it anymore. When she tried to get up, she felt her head spin, so she simply sat back and tried to assess what had happened to the Israeli embassy and, particularly, to the two gate guards. What she saw beyond the large crater dug by the truck’s explosion was the embassy’s iron grills gate, blown off its hinges, and the inert bodies of the two guards lying on the pavement of the access road to the embassy. All the windows of the embassy she could see, along with all the windows of the buildings around her, were shattered, blown in by the blast of the bomb that had to have been carried by the truck.
There were also a number of other people lying on the sidewalks or stumbling around, while two cars which had been caught in the bomb blast and had seen their windshields
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blown in had veered off the avenue, crashing against either a lamp post or a building wall. As a number of people were starting to run towards the explosion’s epicenter to help the wounded, Greta tried again to get up but fell back on her bum, still dizzy and deaf. Seeing her wedge cap lying some twenty meters from her, she forced herself to get to it by crawling on her hands and knees. She had reached it and was putting it back on her head when a civilian man came to her and tried to talk to her, obviously wanting to help her. She touched both of her ears with her hands, signaling to the man that she was temporarily deaf. The man, who wore a blue work coverall of the kind mechanics routinely used, understood her and grabbed both of her arms, helping her to get back on her feet and then steadying her while she tried to stop her wobbling. Even though she was deaf, Greta smiled to the man and spoke to him in Swedish.
‘’Thank you, sir.’
The man then said something in return. While she could not hear him, the movements of his lips told her that he was asking her what had happened, so she answered that.
‘’A suicide truck bomber... He tried to ram the gates of the Israeli embassy, over there, but I was able to shoot him and he exploded his vehicle before he could get to the embassy gates.’
Just saying that was painful to her. The man’s eyes opened wide then and, taking a handkerchief from one pocket, wiped delicately her chin and lips before showing it to Greta: there was blood on it!
‘’Shit! The blast hurt my lungs. I will need to see a doctor.’
The man nodded his head at that, then looked quickly around him. Seeing a police car arrive at full speed, he waved one hand high, flagging it. The driver of the police car screeched to a halt next to the man and Greta and looked at the former.
‘’What happened here? Is that woman hurt?’
‘’She is, Officer. She is temporarily deaf, is dizzy and has blood coming out of her mouth. I believe that the blast of that explosion hurt her lungs.’
‘’A number of ambulances are on their way right now. Could you make sure that she is collected by one of those ambulances? Unfortunately, I see many other victims lying around and I will have to go check on them. Do you know what happened here, mister?’
‘’I didn’t see it myself, but this American officer told me that a suicide bomber tried to crash through the gates of the nearby Israeli embassy but exploded before getting to it.’
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‘’SHIT! Not those damn Muslim terrorists again! This would be the second terrorist attack in Sweden in three years. Alright, I will have to go now. Stay with that woman until the arrival of the ambulances.’
‘’I will, Officer.’
The police patrol car then sped away for a short distance before stopping next to one of the two crashed cars, in order to check on its occupants.
Now alone with her rescuer, Greta had an idea and, searching in her purse, took out one of her embassy-produced calling cards and gave it to the man, then spoke to him.
‘’Please call my embassy to tell them where I am. If you don’t have a phone, you can use my own phone.’
The man shook his head, signifying that he didn’t need her phone, and took out a flip-phone from one pocket. Reading the telephone number of Greta’s calling card, he composed it and waited for an answer. It came after two rings, with a woman’s voice speaking first in English, then in Swedish.
‘’United States embassy: may I help you?’
‘’Miss, I am presently at the intersection of Ulrikagatan and of Strandvägen, where a big bomb just blew up next to the Israeli embassy. I have with me one of your officers, a Captain Greta Visby, who was caught in the blast and is wounded. I intend to stay with her until ambulances arrive.’
The tone of the embassy receptionist changed at once, becoming urgent.
‘’Hold the line, sir: an embassy guard will take your call. Can you speak English?’
‘’Sorry, I speak only Swedish and Danish, miss.’
‘’Alright, hold the line while I inform the guards about this.’
Less than half a minute later, the receptionist was back on the line.
‘’Alright, mister. First off, thank you for helping our officer. Two of our marine embassy guards will soon come to your location and will then take charge of Captain Visby. You will then be able to leave her. Again, thank you for giving assistance to our officer. May I have your name and telephone number, please. Our ambassador may want to thank you later on.’
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The man agreed readily to that and gave the information asked by the receptionist, who then told him he could now close the line. Pocketing back his phone, he gave a smile of encouragement to Greta.
‘’Your embassy guards are on their way to help you, miss. I will stay until they are here, then I will have to continue my way to work.’
‘’I understand. Thank you very much, mister: you are a most kind man.’
‘’My pleasure, miss. Now, you better sit back down: you are still wobbly.’
This time, she started hearing parts of his words through the ringing in her ears. That reassured her: at least her deafness was not going to be permanent. She thus obeyed him and cautiously sat down on the sidewalk and waited.
A couple of minutes later, an American embassy car stopped next to Greta and the man, with Sergeant John Steele and Private Antonio Tomassini jumping out of it and running to the duo. Both marines wore a gun belt around the waist of their dress blues Summer uniforms. Tomassini, who spoke some Swedish, patted the shoulder of the man in blue coverall.
‘’Thank you for helping our officer, mister. We will now take over from you.’
The Swede nodded once, then shook hands with Greta.
‘’Good luck, miss: you are a brave woman indeed.’
As the man walked away, Steele bent down to speak to Greta, concern on his face.
‘’How do you feel, maam?’
In response, Greta, who could now increasingly hear the noise and voices around her, wiggled her left hand to signify that she was only ‘so-so’.
‘’I was hit hard by the blast wave of the explosion and my lungs may have been damaged. I am also still mostly deaf and feel dizzy.’
‘’Alright, maam: we will help you get in our car, then we will drive you to a hospital.’
‘’Then, go to the Ersta Diakonisällskap, on Stadsgardleden, in the Södermalm District: it is the closest hospital to here.’
‘’I know it, maam. We will get you there right away.’
Greta, helped by both Steele and Tomassini, got up and went to sit on the rear bench seat of the embassy car, with Tomassini then driving away as fast as he could in the now chaotic traffic of this part of the district of Ostermalm. As she was driven West, then
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South across the bridge linking the Ostermalm and Södermalm Districts, Greta took out her pistol and handed it to Sergeant Steele.
‘’Take my pistol and secure it at the embassy, Sergeant. I fired it in order to stop that suicide bomber but I am afraid that some rule-bound idiotic Swedish cop could claim that I fired a firearm illegally and then confiscate my pistol.’
‘’You really think that they would be stupid enough to do that, maam?’
‘’As one said, never underestimate the predictability of stupidity, Sergeant.’
Steele nodded once, then put her pistol in the gloves compartment of the car, then locked it before helping Tomassini by indicating to him the way to the hospital. As they were rolling, Greta took the time to describe in detail what had happened, with Steele taking notes on that information. Some eight minutes later, and after crossing the Centralbron Bridge over the Riddarfjärden
waterway, they arrived at the old, four-story brown brick Ersta Diakonisällskap Hospital.
Stopping first at the main entrance of the
hospital, Tomassini let Greta and Sergeant
Steele climb out of the car, then went to park his diplomatic car in a visitor’s spot while Steele helped steady Greta as they walked in the reception lobby. Once inside, Steele shouted in English at one of the nurses on duty at the reception desk.
‘’I NEED A WHEELCHAIR FOR MY OFFICER!’
Thankfully, a female medic reacted quickly and pushed a wheelchair to next to Greta, who then cautiously sat in it. One nurse who could speak English then came to her and Steele, asking a question to the latter.
‘’What is the problem, sir?’
‘’A suicide truck bomber just blew up next to the Israeli embassy, on Strandvagen, causing many casualties. My officer was thrown by the blast wave and she is partially deaf. She is also dizzy and wobbly and she had blood come out of her mouth: her lungs may have been damaged as well.’
‘’You are both diplomatic personnel, sir?’
‘’Yes! We work at the American embassy, which is near the Israeli embassy.
Can a doctor examine her right away?’’
‘’Of course, sir! We will admit her at once. Could I see her passport, so that we could register her in?’
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In response, Steele looked down at Greta and pointed at her purse.
‘’Could I have your passport, Captain?’
While her ears were still ringing strongly, she understood him and fished her diplomatic passport out of her purse. However, she handed both her passport and her purse to Steele.
‘’Keep and safeguard my purse, Sergeant: it has the keys of my office and secure cabinets in it.’
‘’Will do, maam!’ replied the NCO before handing her passport to the nurse while shouldering the purse’s carrying strap. Taking the passport, the nurse quickly went back to the reception desk and had the passport information noted down by another nurse, then nodded to Steele while handing back to him Greta’s passport.
‘’Here you are, sir. Your officer will now be wheeled to our emergency department. In view of her state, we will most probably provide her with a room after she has been examined.’
‘’Then, I would like to be able to guard her room once she will be in it: she was the victim of a terrorist attack and may be a target. Also, expect more casualties to come soon: I saw dozens of people who were either wounded or immobile on the ground.’
The Swedish nurse’s face sobered up on hearing that.
‘’I will alert our chief medical doctor about this. We will advise you when your officer will be put in a room and in what room she will be.’
‘’Thank you, miss.’
Steele then watched as Greta was wheeled to an elevator cabin, to go up to the emergency department. The doors of that cabin were sliding closed when Private Tomassini joined up with Steele near the reception desk.
‘’So, what’s up, Sargeant?’
‘’Captain Visby is now on her way to the emergency department, where she will be examined and treated before being given a room. I was told that we will be allowed to stand guard at the door of her room. I am going to phone this information in to Colonel Merrick.’
Tomassini nodded once, then looked down at the purse Steele was now carrying from his left shoulder.
‘’Hey, Sarge: you really look good with a purse.’
‘’Fuck off, Antonio!’
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10:11 (Sweden Time)
Room # 203, Patients’ Department
Ersta Diakonisällskap Hospital, Södermalm District When Ambassador James Scott and Lieutenant Colonel Stanley Merrick entered the private room given to Greta, they found her lying on a gurney, half covered with a blanket and wearing a blue patient’s gown. She was connected to a diagnostic machine and to an intravenous syringe connected to a bag full of clear liquid. Both Scott and Merrick looked at her with concern before approaching her to speak with her, with Scott smiling to her.
‘’So, how do you feel, Captain Visby?’
‘’Shitty, Mister Ambassador: I always hated hospital beds. My ears are still ringing a bit, but much less than right after the explosion and I can hear you clearly enough. My doctor told me that I should regain full auditory acuity within a couple of days. What he is more worried about is me suffering from a possible commotion and about my lungs, which were damaged by the bomb blast. I am due to have more tests and scans done on me today, after which they will have a more definitive diagnostic of my case. Do you know how the Israelis at their embassy fared, sir? I saw the two gate guards lying on the ground after the explosion.’
‘’Israeli Ambassador Eli Jacobsson called me just before I left the embassy to come here, to thank me for your actions, which saved many lives in his embassy. He informed me that one of his gate guards succumbed to his wounds, while the other is in critical but stable condition. His embassy staff also suffered a number of wounded from blown windows. Sergeant Steele did inform us of what you told him about the incident but I would like you to resume what you saw for me and Colonel Merrick.’
‘’Very well, sir! I was walking to the embassy when, at about seven thirty, I saw an illegally parked used Mercedes UNIMOG shelter van light truck sitting on Ulrikavagan, just short of the intersection with Strandvägen. It looked like an old surplus army truck and was painted gray, with no commercial logo or paint scheme on it. I then noticed the Israeli Embassy just beyond that truck, sitting on the far side of the avenue.
As I approached the truck, I saw a single man sitting inside at the wheel: he looked like a Middle-Eastern man and wore a long beard. That man threw me a hateful look when he saw me in his mirror. Now suspicious, I approached the truck and banged on its right-
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side door, asking what he was doing there. His response was to point a revolver at me and shoot. I managed to dodge his bullet, then took my pistol and a loaded magazine out of my purse as the truck sped towards the main gate of the Israeli embassy, which was opened at the time to let in a big black sedan car. I first shot six times, aiming at and hitting the truck’s rear tires, then shot two more times, puncturing the front right tire.
As it wobbled while still speeding towards the Israeli embassy’s main gate, I ran to the left side of Ulrikagatan Street in order to have a shot at the driver and emptied my pistol.
The driver then slumped forward over his steering wheel just before his truck exploded.
I was thankfully not hit by shrapnel but I was thrown back by the force of the blast and ended up sprawled on the sidewalk for a moment before a civilian man ran to help me.
About that man, sir, I believe that he would deserve to be thanked and commended for his actions.’
‘’I agree with you on that, Captain. We have his name and phone number and I firmly intend to call him later on to pass our thanks to him. Did you encounter any Swedish police officer before our two guards arrived on the scene?’
‘’One police patrol car did briefly stop to speak with my rescuer but the cop inside it didn’t speak directly to me and left quickly to go check on the other victims of the bomb, sir. Will I be in shit for using my pistol, sir?’
‘’Well, that’s a possibility, in view of the inflexibility of Swedish rules and regulations concerning the use of firearms in public, but you can be certain that I would strongly protest any harassing action against you by the Swedish police. As for the Israeli ambassador, I am certain that he would strenuously defend your actions if some Swedish prosecutor goes after you.’
Greta sighed at that and shook his head.
‘’I don’t know what it is about me and suicide bombers, sir. I was previously blown back by another suicide bomb truck while in Somalia, then had to fight hand-to-hand with a suicide bomber on foot to prevent him from triggering his explosive vest.’
‘’And how did that fight go, Captain?’ asked Scott, raising an eyebrow in interest.
‘’Since he was very close to me at the time, I rolled one hand around his right hand, to prevent him from pushing his bomb trigger with his thumb, then kneed him in the groin and bit his nose hard. He then fell backward in the dirt of the Khyber Pass road, following which I managed to take out my pistol and shoot him dead. I got the Bronze Star for that, along with another nickname: The Lioness of the Khyber Pass.’
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‘’I love it! It is certainly a good way to describe you, Captain Visby. Well, I can now only hope that you will be able to fully recuperate from that morning’s experience.
Two of your marine guards will be stationed at your door until you can walk out of this hospital, just in case whoever sent that suicide bomber tries to seek revenge on you. I will...’
The noise of an altercation in the hallway outside of the room then interrupted Scott.
Merrick then hurried to the door and opened it, to find his two guards tense and ready to act as a man wearing a tired suit and with a police badge suspended by a chain from his neck was arguing in an increasingly hot tone with a graying man closely accompanied by two big men.
‘’Hey, we have a patient inside who needs to rest. What the hell is happening here?’ he said in a harsh tone, using English. The man in the tired suit then brandished his badge to him.
‘’I’m Inspector Gustav Olafsson, of the Stockholm Police Department. I came to question your officer about her actions near the Israeli embassy.’
‘’And I am the Israeli ambassador and I came here to thank Captain Visby for saving many of my staff’s lives by her action, you thick-skulled cop!’ replied the graying man before facing Merrick and presenting his right hand for a shake.
‘’Ambassador Eli Jacobssen, at your service, Colonel. How is Captain Visby?’’
‘’Shaken and half-deaf but very much alive, Mister Ambassador. Lieutenant Colonel Stanley Merrick, U.S. Defense Attaché in Stockholm. Thank you for coming and paying a visit to her.’
‘’That will have to wait until I am finished interrogating her.’ cut in Olafsson. His use of the word ‘interrogating’ pricked Merrick hard and he resolutely faced the Swedish police inspector.
‘’In case that you have either forgotten or have decided to ignore it, Captain Visby has diplomatic status here in Sweden and has immunity from prosecution, Inspector. You may ask her questions, politely, but don’t start trying to accuse her of any impropriety or you will end up with a diplomatic protest on your superintendent’s desk.’
‘’You can add my own diplomatic protest to that if you persist in treating this brave woman like a suspect, Inspector Olafsson.’
‘’But I need to know why she shot at that truck.’ protested Olafsson, attracting a mean look from both Merrick and Jacobssen. Merrick too on him to reply to that.
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‘’Why she shot at that truck? Because, after finding it suspicious and after knocking on its passenger door, she was then shot at by the driver before the latter started accelerating towards the main gate of the Israeli embassy. Thankfully, she was able to dodge that bullet and then took out and loaded the pistol she legally owns, shooting up the tires of that truck and preventing it from reaching the gate of the Israeli embassy. Now that you know those details, you can now leave and let my officer rest, Inspector Olafsson.’
Seeing that he wouldn’t win that dispute, Olafsson stomped away, leaving Merrick alone with Ambassador Jacobsson and his two bodyguards. Merrick shook his hand before inviting him in Greta’s room.
‘’Ambassador Scott is presently at Captain Visby’s side, Mister Ambassador.
You are welcome to go in and speak with both of them.’
‘’Thank you, Colonel.’
With Merrick holding the door open for him, Jacobssen entered the room and eyed Greta on her gurney, smiling to her.
‘’So, this is the famous Viking Shield Maiden. I have to say that you look the part, Captain Visby. I am Eli Jacobssen, Israeli ambassador to Sweden and I came to thank you for your courageous intervention this morning.’
‘’Me, famous, Mister Ambassador? But I am no superhero: I am simply a soldier serving the United States.’
‘’Aah, a modest superhero: I like that.’ replied Jacobssen, making both Scott and Merrick chuckle. Greta rolled her eyes at that but then looked soberly at the Israeli diplomat.
‘’Mister Ambassador, I acted to protect other people from that religious fanatic, that’s all. Talking of others, how is your wounded guard doing?’
‘’He is in this hospital, in critical but stable condition and he should live.
However, he will unfortunately end up with lifelong medical sequels. He will be repatriated to Israel as soon as it is deemed safe for him to be transported by air.
Unfortunately, a total of up to five Swedish citizens have been killed and another 26
others wounded in that terrorist attack. However, without you, it could have been a lot worse.’
Greta lowered her head for a moment, saddened by the news about the casualties from the bomb truck, before looking back up at Jacobssen.
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‘’Do we know something about that truck bomber and who could have sent him, Mister Ambassador?’
‘’Thankfully, our security cameras at the embassy’s main gate were able to capture pictures of the registration plate of that truck bomb, Captain Visby. My security officer was then able to ascertain that this truck was reported stolen five days ago from a construction site near Stockholm, along with a sizeable quantity of dynamite stored at that site. Preliminary examinations of the bomb site showed that there were also a number of large propane cylinders inside that truck, along with the stolen dynamite. The Swedish police is presently investigating that link but it may take days before we know more about that suicide bomber and his sponsors. Swedish authorities have now posted significant numbers of police officers in order to reinforce the security of my embassy, so we should be able to breathe easier...for the moment. And what about you, Captain Visby?’
‘’I am not sure, Mister Ambassador. My doctor wants to run some more tests and scans on me and he also wants to keep me in this hospital for at least another two days, in order to make sure that I don’t suffer from a commotion. I must say that this is no new experience for me, Mister Ambassador: I was blown back by a car bomb in Somalia after shooting dead its driver as he was speeding towards my unit’s checkpoint.
I also survived that attack with a mild commotion and was back on duty two days later.’
Jacobssen nodded his head in appreciation at those words.
‘’You are a tough woman, on top of being a brave one, Captain Visby. It also appears that you are an expert pistol shooter, if I can believe my security officer. Our security cameras captured you as you shot at that truck from a distance of at least forty meters, yet managed to hit three of its tires, on top of killing the driver.’
‘’Well, I do have a pistol marksman’s badge to prove that, Mister Ambassador, along with a rifle sharpshooter’s badge.’
Jacobssen lightly smiled as he replied to her.
‘’Decidedly, you could be a perfect model for our own female soldiers, Captain.’
‘’They really want to have legs the size of tree trunks, sir?’ joked Greta, making the three men in the room laugh briefly. The Israeli ambassador then grinned to her.
‘’Maybe they wouldn’t need to be a weightlifter like you are, Captain, but them having your courage and military skills would be plenty to make our generals content.’
‘’Stop it, Mister Ambassador! Your praise will kill me.’
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‘’Better that than being killed by a bomb, I guess. Well, it was an honor to meet you, Captain Visby. I wish you a prompt recovery. Again, you have the eternal thanks of Israel for your actions of this morning.’
‘’Thank you, Mister Ambassador.’
Jacobssen approached her and shook her hand, then left the room. Now alone with Ambassador Scott and Lieutenant Colonel Merrick, she looked at her military superior.
‘’What’s next for me, sir? I do have important work to do and I would like to return to my duties soon.’
‘’Not before your doctor certifies you as good for the service and not before you take at least a week of rest to recuperate, Greta: commotions can be nasty and treacherous business. Also, your lungs took a hit with that blast wave and they will need time to fully heal. In fact, consider yourself on medical leave until Monday, July 23, in twelve days.’
‘’Twelve days, sir? What am I going to do during all that time?’
‘’I don’t know, Captain. Maybe lifting more weights...a lot more weights.’ quipped Merrick.
At around three o’clock in the afternoon, she got a visit from the Swedish doctor who had treated her to date. The smile he was harboring when he entered her room did a lot to reassure her about any long-term possible sequels.
‘’So, what do the scans say about me, Doctor Lindquist?’
‘’That you should be as good as new within a few weeks at the most, miss. The brain scans showed no signs of inflammation, swelling or other signs of a long-term commotion. As for your lungs, they are on their way to full healing. You can thus be reassured about your continued future in the American military.’
Greta pushed a long sigh of relief on hearing that diagnostic.
‘’Thank God! I was really afraid about possibly being medically discharged from the Marines because of this. When do you think that I could leave this hospital, Doctor?’
‘’If no other problems emerge in the next few hours, I should be able to release you from this hospital by tomorrow afternoon. You however should take it easy for at least another week, in order to give a chance to your body to fully recuperate from that bomb blast.’
‘’If it can reassure you, Doctor, I am already on official medical leave from the embassy until the 23rd of this month. Uh, would it be possible to get a copy of my
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medical record and diagnostic from your hospital, Doctor? I will need to have those added to my U.S. Marine Corps medical file.’
‘’You will get those before you leave, miss. May I say to you that it was an honor to treat such a brave woman as you.’
‘’Please, Doctor: I only did my duty to protect innocents. Any other marine would have done the same.’
Lindquist nodded his head once in appreciation while eyeing her with respect.
‘’You are indeed a remarkable woman in many respect, Captain Visby, including your modesty and sense of duty. Uh, do you feel up to receiving a trio of visitors, miss?
They are waiting outside, in the hallway.’
While intrigued, Greta nodded her head at her doctor.
‘’I can indeed receive visitors, Doctor: it will help break the boredom of having to stay in bed for this long.’
Lindquist nodded again before turning around and walking to the door of her room, opening it wide while speaking to someone in the hallway.
‘’Captain Visby is ready to receive you, Your Majesty.’
Blood rushed to Greta’s head on hearing those two last words. A graying man in his early sixties, accompanied by a woman of about the same age and by a younger woman in her late twenties or early thirties, then entered her room. While the three of them wore common civilian clothes, a top-quality suit in the case of the man, Greta had no difficulty in recognizing them: it was King Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden, his wife, Queen Silvia of Sweden, and his eldest daughter, Crown Princess Victoria, Duchess of Vastergotland. She was starting to sit in bed and to swing her legs out, so that she could greet the royal trio, but King Gustaf promptly waved to her to stay in her bed.
‘’Please, Captain Visby, stay in your bed: no need to exert yourself on the account of our visit.’
‘’But, Your Majesty, it would be more respectful for me to be at least sitting instead of lying down. Besides, I need to move a bit: I have been lying in bed for far too long already.’
‘’Very well, Captain, but please don’t risk your health during our visit. I came to this hospital with my wife and daughter in order to lend my moral support to the victims
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of this morning’s bomb who are being treated here. It was only fitting that we also paid a visit to the brave woman who prevented more deaths by her heroic actions.’
‘’I just did my duty and intervened to stop a fanatic from killing and wounding innocents. I had to deal with many such despicable, hateful men before, both in Somalia and in Afghanistan, and I am pained to see that they chose to strike here in Sweden, my country of birth.’
‘’Captain Visby, you may now be a citizen of the United States and a member of the U.S. Marine Corps, but you wear a proud Swedish name and certainly brought honor to it during your years of military service. Know that I was made aware of your actions in Somalia, when your unit fought with Somali pirates and bandits who were holding for ransom a number of innocent people, including some Swedish citizens, one of which was an ex-member of the royal family of Sweden. You also fought with your unit to protect an international humanitarian hospital in which many Swedish citizens worked.
You later distinguished yourself again in Afghanistan, where you firmed up your nickname of ‘Viking Shield Maiden’ in the eyes of Swedish citizens. Your name of
‘Visby’ certainly honors one of our oldest cities in Sweden but, name apart, what especially distinguishes you is your bravery and skills as a soldier, things that are admired by both me and by the Swedish people. Know that I intend to thank you and honor you by inviting you to a formal dinner with me and the royal family at my palace on Stadsholmen, this coming Saturday. I do hope that you will be able to attend that dinner, Captain Visby.’
‘’Doctor Lindquist just told me that I should be able to leave this hospital by tomorrow afternoon, Your Majesty.’
‘’Excellent! Then, I will be expecting you for five o’clock on this coming Saturday, at my royal palace.’
‘’I will be there, Your Majesty.’ promised at once Greta, making King Gustaf smile and nod.
‘’It will be a pleasure to host you, Captain Visby. I wish you a prompt and complete recovery from your wounds and will now go visit a few more people being treated in this hospital. Have a good day, Captain Visby.’
‘’It was an honor to meet you and your family, Your Majesty.’
The King, Queen and Crown Princess then exchanged handshakes and, in the case of the Queen and Crown Princess, hugs and kisses on the cheeks, with Greta before leaving her room. A bit overwhelmed, Greta looked at Doctor Lindquist.
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‘’Damn! I better go review the Marine Corps regulations about ceremonial uniforms once out of this hospital.’
16:31 (Sweden Time)
Saturday, July 14, 2007 ‘C’
Main entrance to # 46 Lovisag
Ostermalm District, Stockholm
Greta, waiting at the entrance of her apartment building for the arrival of the palace car she had been informed would come to bring her to the Royal Palace, was attracting quite a few stares from the passersby, as she was wearing her U.S. Marine Corps female ceremonial evening dress uniform, complete with miniature military medals and decorations. While she normally disliked wearing a skirt because of her huge, muscular legs, which detracted with short and medium-length skirts, the ankle-length long skirt of her evening dress uniform did a good job of completely covering them. The palace
car, a big Volvo 960 four-door sedan, then showed up, stopping in front of her. Greta grinned with joy when none other than Captain Alexander Akerman, wearing a ceremonial uniform of the Swedish Life Guards, stepped out of the vehicle to then salute her while opening the rear right door for her.
‘’ALEX! They designated you as my escort to the Royal Palace?’
‘’Let’s say that I volunteered for the job, Greta. However, nobody knows that we have been dating, so you can rest reassured about possible gossips and rumors concerning us. By the way, you look absolutely resplendent in this uniform.’
‘’It is indeed a nice outfit, albeit a costly one for a junior officer like me. But I better get in this car now: I don’t want to be late for an invitation from the King.’
‘’You certainly don’t want to, Greta.’ approved Alex, who closed the door once she was sitting inside. Then sitting back himself in the big sedan and closing his door, he looked at the driver, a civilian palace driver.
‘’We can return to the palace now, Olaf.’
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The driver simply nodded at that and pulled out of his parking spot, to then roll at a moderate speed towards the Royal Palace, which was situated on a nearby island to the Southwest of the Ostermalm District.
As they were rolling through the streets of Downtown Stockholm, Greta had a question for Alexander.
‘’Alex, do you know what kind of dinner this will be at the Royal Palace? Will it be a large state dinner, with dozens of guests and media types present, or will it be a more intimate setting?’
‘’It will be an intimate setting, with mostly members of the Royal family attending.
As far as I know, the press was not told about this dinner and was not invited to it. Do you fear the presence of the medias for that dinner, Greta?’
‘’Fear is a big word, Alex, but I dislike publicity about me. I am a soldier first and foremost and don’t want public reporting on me that could distract me from my duties or could fuel controversies about me.’
‘’Controversies? What could be controversial about you accepting an invitation by the King to have dinner with him?’
‘’For one, possible allegations of favoritism from American military or political leaders. For another, possible accusations that my loyalty to the United States has become second to that towards Sweden. Don’t laugh about that second case: some at my embassy have already alluded to that.’
Alex couldn’t help frown on hearing that.
‘’Those people who made those allusions are either idiots or are men jealous about your accomplishments. Ignore them, Greta.’
‘’I wish I could, Alex. Those ‘idiots’ are actually above me in the hierarchy of the American embassy and there is little I can do to shut them up.’
‘’They’re still idiots!’ replied Alex, angry, before calming down and speaking in a reassuring tone to her.
‘’Look, Greta. Tonight you will be with people who respect and admire you, so enjoy your evening freely and forget about those assholes at your embassy.’
‘’Thanks for your encouragements, Alex. It is truly nice to have you as a friend.’
Alex was tempted to shoot back with something like ‘only as a friend?’ but held his tongue, as they were not alone in the car.
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The palace car finally arrived at the Royal Palace and entered its courtyard, which was enclosed within two curved
buildings
shaped
like
halves
of
a
horseshoe. In turn, that horseshoe and
courtyard
connected
with
the
big
rectangular building which was the royal
residence and palace proper. The big
sedan rolled to the main entrance of the
palace, where it stopped to let Alex and Greta get out before rolling away. Escorted by Alex, Greta saluted back in passing the two Swedish royal guards posted at the main entrance, who were presenting arms to her. Once inside the palace, the duo found a majordomo in classic coat-tail suit waiting for them.
‘’Welcome to the Royal Palace, Captain Visby. I will now take over from Captain Akerman and will guide you to the royal apartments, where the King is waiting for you.’
‘’Thank you, sir! Please lead on.’
Before walking away from Alex, Greta discretely pressed his hand for a brief moment.
While the majordomo saw that, he didn’t react to it: one of his main attributes as a palace majordomo was to be discreet about what he did get to hear or see.
Going up to the second floor of the building via a monumental staircase, Greta was soon introduced into a richly furnished lounge displaying many old paintings and art objects and where King Gustaf was waiting with his wife the Queen, his eldest daughter and a mature man wearing a top-quality suit. Having read about royal etiquette in the prior days, Greta did a curtsy to the King and Queen, attracting a benevolent smile from King Gustaf.
‘’I see that you read about royalty mores, Captain Visby. That is most attentionate and commendable of you.’
‘’And inviting me here for dinner was a great honor for me, Your Majesty.’
The King nodded his head once, then pointed at the man in a suit standing to his left.
‘’May I present to you Herr Gunnar Borgman, the mayor of the city of Visby? I invited him as well to attend our dinner.’
Holding in the question that immediately came to her mind, Greta took two steps forward and shook hands with the mayor while smiling to him.
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‘’My father once told me that my family name originated in your city, Herr Borgman. Was he right?’
‘’He certainly was, Captain Visby.’’ answered the man in a jovial tone. ‘’I actually brought with me something that proves the link between your family and my city.’
Borgman then made a sign to a royal valet who was holding a large, framed document in his hands. When the valet approached them, Greta was able to see that the framed document was actually an exquisitely decorated and drawn document which furiously looked to her like a genealogical tree chart. Her heart jumped in her chest when she saw the title in bold, stylized letters at the top of the document.
‘’The Visby Family...’
Borgman grinned as he took the framed document from the valet and then presented it to her.
‘’This document was compiled and produced at the request of His Majesty the King, so that it could be presented to you today. The royal archivists used all the documents available on this subject and went as far back as was possible using still existing historical records. The name ‘Visby’ comes from the Old Norse word ‘Vi’, which means ‘pagan’, and the word ‘By’, which means ‘village’. The earliest history of Visby is still uncertain but it was known as a center of commerce as early as in 900 A.D.
However, there are traces of occupation on its site dating from the Stone Age. By the 13th Century, the city was part of the famed Hanseatic League and, during the 1400s, the city was known under the name of ‘Wisbuy’, where a set of maritime laws that had broad influence in the Baltic and beyond, the ‘Laws of Wisbuy’, were probably promulgated. The oldest origin of the family name ‘Visby’ that we could trace back dates back from 1286 A.D., when the first person named ‘Wisbuy’ was recorded on official documents. From there, your family tree grew quite a lot. Unfortunately, many members of the Wisbuy family died or disappeared on or around 1361, when the King of Denmark invaded the island of Gotland and killed over 1,800 of the locals. Some of the survivors of your family stayed then, while others fled to mainland Sweden, where they resettled. Your branch of the Visby family is part of those who resettled on the mainland.
Fortunately, there were enough still existing church archives between the 14th Century and now to allow us to complete this genealogical tree up to today. You are thus one of the descendants from a successful family of maritime merchants who prospered in Visby as early as the 13th Century. In turn, those merchants most probably descended from the early Norse inhabitants of the city, who settled on Gotland Island in the 900s. Your
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nickname of ‘The Viking Shield Maiden’ may thus well be grounded in historical reality, Captain Visby.’
Overjoyed, Greta carefully took the framed document from the hands of the mayor and examined it for a few seconds before grinning to him and the King.
‘’This is the most precious gift I could have dreamed of. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Herr Borgman, and thank you as well to you, Your Majesty, for sponsoring this incredible gift.’
‘’You are welcome, Captain Visby.’ replied the King. ‘’However, Herr Borgman still has more for you, as I do. Herr Borgman?’
The mayor of Visby made a sign to another royal valet, who then stepped forward while holding a much smaller framed document than the first one, along with two large envelopes, which Borgman took from him before smiling again to Greta.
‘’This is a gift from my city to you and to your father, Captain Visby. This framed certificate is declaring you as an honorary citizen of the City of Visby. Those two envelopes in turn contain smaller format certificates of honorary citizenship, one in your name and one in the name of your father. Know that you will always be most welcome in my city, Captain.’
A happy Greta took the framed document and two envelopes from Borgman, then shook his hand with enthusiasm.
‘’This is a great honor for me, Herr Borgman. I can’t wait to tell my father about all this.’
King Gustaf, along with Queen Silvia and Crown Princess Victoria, smiled on at that scene before the King spoke to Greta.
‘’This leaves only one small matter to deal with before we go have dinner, Captain. MAJOR HANSEN!’
A senior officer of the Royal Guards who had obviously been waiting in an adjacent room to be called then entered the lounge and walked to King Gustaf, stopping in front of him and saluting him before handing him a small blue box. Greta’s heart skipped a beat on recognizing that box as the kind which usually contained medals.
‘’Captain Visby, I know that the American military has some rigid rules about its members accepting foreign medals. I thus am giving you this medal in private, so that you could then ask your superiors for the permission to wear it with your other medals, and this without attracting public controversy in the United States. Captain Visby, apart from making the whole of Sweden proud about your military exploits as a U.S. Marine
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Corps member, your heroic actions of last Wednesday probably minimized greatly the loss of lives from the despicable act of terrorism the good city of Stockholm has suffered then. For special merit earned by your actions, I thus am happy and honored to give you the H.M. King’s Medal in eight size and gold.’
Helped by the major, King Gustaf pinned the blue ribbon and gold medal decoration on Greta’s dress blues evening dress jacket. Once finished, he then took one step back and saluted her militarily, to which Greta responded with her own salute to him.
‘’Captain Visby, you truly brought honor to your Swedish origins, on top of saving many lives. I hope that your military superiors will allow you to wear this medal with your other medals.’
‘’I will certainly pass that request to Lieutenant Colonel Merrick when I will return to my embassy duties, Your Majesty, so that he could forward it to the Marine Corps and the Pentagon.’
‘’Good! Well, let’s move to my private dining room, Captain. I don’t know about you but I am getting quite hungry by now.’
14: 25, Thursday, July 26, 2007 ‘C’
Office of Ambassador James Scott, U.S. embassy in Stockholm The moment that the Regional Security Officer for the U.S. embassy, Charles Doherty, entered the office of his ambassador, he saw at once that Scott appeared angry at him.
‘’You wanted to see me, Mister Ambassador?’
‘’I certainly do, Mister Doherty. Close the door behind you.’
Now bracing himself for the probable storm to come, Doherty closed the door of the office, then stepped closer to the desk of the ambassador. However, Scott didn’t offer him a chair, while he stayed sitting while speaking to Doherty, a clear sign of diplomatic disapproval.
‘’Mister Doherty, I already warned you about treating with respect Captain Visby, a decorated combat veteran, and about dealing with her in a polite and balanced manner. This last Monday afternoon, my head of communications brought me a draft message composed by you and addressed to the headquarters of the Diplomatic
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Security Service in Washington. Mister Harvey noted to me that this draft message was not approved in advance by me and, worse, appeared to try to circumvent my attention to it. In this draft message, which was never sent to Washington by the way, you listed a number of reasons, which I would qualify as petty and spurious, reasons meant to justify the revoking of the security clearance of Captain Visby, for supposed ‘doubtful loyalty to the State Department and the United States’, and her removal from her post as our ODC
officer. Well, I have news for you about this, Mister Doherty. First off, I am the one who will decide if one of my embassy staff members is a security threat to my embassy and thus should be removed, not you. Second, the fact that you tried to short-circuit me in this manner constitutes to me a clear case of insubordination, done in order to backstab a valuable member of my staff whom I respect and admire. I may also remind you that the debacle concerning Major Jenkins basically was on you, my RSO, as you never caught on to his treacherous conduct before the Swedish counter-intelligence services unmasked him. Know that I have fired out my own message to Washington on Tuesday, addressed to the Secretary of State, signaling your conduct and insubordination. The President himself was then informed of this by Secretary Rice. Your assertions against Captain Visby were then categorically rejected by her and by President Bush as being without basis in facts. By order of Secretary Rice, I am now relieving you of your post as the embassy RSO and am sending you back to Washington, where a State Department special committee will review your conduct and performance here. A temporary RSO
will also be sent from Washington to act in your place until a more permanent replacement could be named. I thus expect you to leave Stockholm for Washington no later than this Sunday. Now leave and go start packing!’
A pale, shocked Doherty did not even attempt to protest this decision, seeing the futility of such a move, and walked out of the ambassador’s office like an automaton.
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CHAPTER 17 – BORDER WAR
23:46 (Texas Time)
Tuesday, October 23, 2007 ‘C’
U.S. Customs Laredo-Juarez/Lincoln Border port of entry Laredo, Texas (on the Rio Grande)
Officer Juanita Mendoza, of the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, or CBP, frowned on seeing what vehicle would be next at her control gate of the Laredo-Juarez/Lincoln Border Station: it was a battered Ford pickup truck towing an equally battered camper trailer and bearing Mexican registration plates. That combination too often spelled ‘drugs trafficking’ for experienced CBP officers like her. Flagging the driver of that pickup truck to stop at the level of her gate booth, Juanita spoke in Spanish to the old, brown-skinned man with a moustache who was sitting alone in the vehicle.
‘’Good evening, sir. May I have your papers?’
She had to repeat herself twice, as the man seemed to have a poor sense of hearing...or was faking it. The man finally gave her his passport and driver’s permit. Juanita studied those for a few seconds before looking back at the truck driver.
‘’Where are you going and what is the purpose of your trip, mister?’
‘’I am going to Laredo to bring this camper trailer to my cousin, who lives there.’
Juanita gave a skeptical look at the old man before pointing to one of the vehicle inspection spots past her gate, near the main building of the border station.
‘’Please go to Spot Number Four, to your left. An officer will be waiting for you there. Here are your papers.’
‘’Thank you, miss.’
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As the pickup truck and its trailer started rolling away, Juanita grabbed her portable radio and spoke in it.
‘’Bob, this is Juanita. I am sending to Spot Four an old brown pickup truck towing a camper trailer that feels suspect to me. Take a couple more guys and give it a good look-over.’
‘’On it, Juanita!’
Juanita then followed visually the pickup truck, to make sure that it didn’t simply skip the inspection and tried to drive away. Seeing that the old Mexican man was following her instructions, she then concentrated on the next vehicle waiting at her gate, a small four-door sedan with two persons on board.
At Inspection Spot Number Four, Agent Bob Rico and two other CBP officers watched the old pickup approach and mentally agreed about Juanita having become suspicious of it: the pickup and its trailer would have plenty of space and locations to hide a cargo of illicit drugs. Also, well used vehicles like this one were often used by the drug cartels because they were basically expendable, while their drivers were often left unaware about what could be in their vehicles. Bob approached the pickup truck as soon as it stopped in the inspection spot, then spoke in Spanish to the old driver.
‘’Are you transporting any drugs, sums of money above ten thousand dollars, food or weapons of any kind, mister?
‘’I just have a few pieces of used furniture and appliances in my trailer, plus bottled water with me in the cab, señor. I am bringing my old camper to my cousin in Laredo, so that he could travel on vacation for a while with his family.’
‘’Very well! Please step out of the truck and go wait behind that table behind me while we search our truck and trailer.’
‘’Si, señor!’
As the old man went to sit behind the inspection table, Bob opened the driver’s door of the pickup truck, while one of his colleagues opened the opposite door, with the third agent going to search the trailer.
It took only a few minutes of searching before Riko found something suspicious behind the truck’s radio. Pulling it out of the dashboard, he showed to Suzan Roundtree a pair of small black boxes taped together and attached to the truck’s electrical system by a pair of thin wires.
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‘’Bingo! A GPS locator connected to a radio transmitter. Those who sent this truck here probably know that we stopped this vehicle and are now searching it. An old trick indeed in their books.’
‘’Uh, what’s that third box taped to the bottom of the other two boxes, Bob? I see an antenna wire hanging from it.’
‘’A third box?’
