Arnaldur Indriðason: Operation Napoleon

On arrival they were greeted by the admiral, a casual acquaintance from various official receptions. He introduced them in turn to the general, a short, pugnacious-looking man whose name, the Icelanders learnt, was Immanuel Wesson; he was pudgy, red-faced and buck-toothed, and walked with a slight limp due to the fact that one of his legs was shorter than the other. The prime minister eyed him sceptically, wondering whether he had ever been on active duty or had enjoyed a lifetime’s service behind a desk and in the officers’ mess.

It was about nine in the evening, the streets were quiet and there were few guests in evidence at the hotel. The suite had been the foreign minister’s idea; he often held meetings there with overseas guests on unofficial visits who wished to keep their names out of the press. As a setting it had that bland yet expensive anonymity characteristic of hotel rooms: white leather furniture, tasteful paintings by Icelandic artists on the walls, thick white carpets on the floors and a full-size bar. The Americans surveyed the opulent surroundings and nodded to the Icelanders as if in approval of the venue. There was an atmosphere of quiet expectation.

Formalities concluded, they took their seats on the room’s ostentatious three-piece suite and the prime minister addressed the Americans:

‘Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell us what’s going on?’ he suggested, loosening the knot of his tie.

‘We would like to begin by thanking you, gentlemen, for agreeing to this emergency meeting,’ the admiral commenced, regarding each of them in turn, ‘and by apologising for the short notice. Once we’ve explained the matter, you will understand why it was unavoidable. It is absolutely vital, and I cannot emphasise this enough, that nothing said in this meeting leaves these four walls.’

The ministers nodded and waited. The general now cleared his throat.

‘As you are naturally aware, according to the terms of the defence treaty between our nations, we monitor everything that happens within and around Iceland’s borders for military purposes, using a combination of submarines, reconnaissance planes and satellites. In particular, we have in recent years been closely monitoring a section of the Vatnajökull glacier.’

‘I’m sorry, did you say Vatnajökull?’ the foreign minister interrupted, looking disconcerted.

‘Allow me to explain, gentlemen,’ the general said. ‘We can answer any questions afterwards. In the past we operated surveillance flights over this area of the glacier but since we acquired satellite capabilities the process of monitoring has become much easier. Our interest in the glacier is historical but at the same time presents something of an embarrassment for us. In the closing stages of World War II one of our aircraft crashed on the glacier and was lost in the ice. We know more or less exactly where it went down but adverse weather conditions prevented us from reaching it until too late. By the time a search party from our Defense Force in Reykjavík finally made it to the glacier, there was no trace of the plane. As I said, the glacier had swallowed it up.’

The general paused and the prime minister seized the opening this offered.

‘What’s so special about this plane?’

‘Recently, the aircraft turned up on satellite images of the glacier taken by military intelligence,’ the general continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘Having confirmed our original suspicions with the help of these images and others of the same area taken subsequently, we decided to send an expedition to the glacier to excavate the plane and transfer it to the base prior to repatriating it to the States. This will inevitably necessitate the movement of considerable numbers of military personnel and equipment through Icelandic territory.’

‘And you require the Icelandic government’s permission for this operation,’ the foreign minister concluded.

‘It has never been our wish to act against your will,’ the admiral interjected.

‘Naturally we will travel through the country as inconspicuously as possible,’ the general resumed, ‘taking the utmost care not to cause any alarm. We have drawn up plans which we will review with you in greater detail later. We know how the army is viewed by many Icelanders and we are aware that military manoeuvres on Icelandic soil are frowned on by the public, but this is an emergency and if the expedition is to be successful, we must proceed in absolute secrecy. But, needless to say, we wouldn’t want to act without your full cooperation. I’d like to make that absolutely clear from the outset and stress that this is above all a scientific expedition. The military personnel will be accompanied by some of our most senior scientists.’

‘What’s so special about this plane?’ the prime minister asked again.

‘I think we had better leave it at that for the moment. We wanted to inform you in case anything went wrong – and of course in a spirit of mutual cooperation.’

‘Went wrong?’ the foreign minister echoed him. ‘How do you mean?’

‘In the event that news of the operation leaks out,’ the admiral replied, ‘we would like you to be ready with an explanation about the troop movements and our presence on the glacier.’

‘And what, General, do you suggest?’ the prime minister enquired.

‘Small-scale winter exercises. It would probably be best to describe deployments of small Belgian and Dutch NATO forces in collaboration with the US Defense Force. That should take off most of the heat.’

‘Is that all you’re prepared to tell us?’ the foreign minister asked.

‘We regard this as the best way.’

‘Best way? Why all the secrecy? Why can’t we simply announce that you’re mounting an expedition to the glacier to recover a plane? Just what exactly is going on here?’

‘It’s a sensitive issue, that’s all I can tell you at the present time,’ the general replied. ‘I hope to be able to provide you with a fuller explanation in due course.’

‘General, the issue is extremely sensitive for us too,’ the prime minister pointed out. ‘I advise you to be straight with us, otherwise I fail to see how this can work. What is this plane and why does it pose a problem?’

‘With all due respect, it’s not your concern,’ the general answered, abruptly abandoning any attempt at politeness.

‘And with all due respect to you, we’re not accustomed to such lack of courtesy in our dealings with the Defense Force. You have not requested permission to carry out the operation, merely told us what you are planning to do. Does that mean you’ve already set an operation in motion? May I remind you that such an act would represent a serious violation of the defence treaty, something the Icelandic media would be very dismayed to learn. Hitherto we have been prepared to accommodate American interests in any way we can and while we’re grateful that you’ve seen fit to inform us of this operation, I’m afraid the feeble excuses you are proposing will prove inadequate if we are compelled to account for our actions.’

‘Please excuse us if we come across as disrespectful,’ the admiral intervened in a placatory tone. ‘Of course we value your contribution to the West’s efforts for peace and international stability but in this case I think the general is right. This matter is best resolved without any external involvement, and then forgotten.’

‘I’m afraid that won’t do,’ the foreign minister replied. ‘A plane from the Second World War? How do we know that’s true? For all we know, it could have crashed yesterday. Who’s to say it even exists? Frankly, I find the whole thing extremely far-fetched.’

‘We could have passed it off as a routine exercise,’ the admiral replied, ‘but the matter is so serious that we can’t afford to be disingenuous. You will simply have to trust us. If questions are asked, it’s important that the answers given by all sides are consistent. It’s imperative that we keep the existence of the plane secret.’