Bahamian Rhapsody

Valgrind – Arctic Circle

Valgrind – Arctic CircleAwakening from their drugged sleep the girls of the Huldra Twelve found themselves in almost permanent darkness well inside the Arctic Circle. They were in fact ensconced in a purpose built compound deep in the countryside and impossible to detect from any but the most determined spotter planes. Even the local Sami, the indigenous natives of the area knew next to nothing of the compound. All were frightened; all were still kept separately and totally disorientated. One girl, a pretty twenty one year old brunette called Soraya did everything she could to find a way out. Her continual banging on her door reached such a crescendo that she was given extra sedation. She came from a small town called Ljung in the centre of southern Sweden and like all the girls was missing her family dreadfully but she was a fighter. Soraya noticed there was sunlight outside for little more than four hours a day and realized that they were in the far north. She had seen the mountains and blue glaciers from her window as they passed Tromso and had a fair idea where they were.

For the umpteenth time she ate the plain pasta dish that had been pushed under her door and hammered on the door with the empty plate to attract attention. She gave up as usual after bruising her hands and lay on the bed staring angrily at the ceiling. Surprisingly this time her door opened and steaming hot soup was brought in by the larger of the two familiar matrons. “It is time,” said Magda glowering at her. “Time for what,” asked Soraya in Swedish. Her father was from Morocco and had settled in Sweden bestowing on her the unusual Arabic name. “Speak in English,” replied Magda coldly, “or German.”

“Where are we?” asked Soraya in halting English. “You will be told at the appropriate time so get yourself ready.” A red dress was thrown in as the door slammed shut. “Damn you,” grated Soraya. She was bored out of her mind and felt dirty after having spent the entire last two days clad in nothing but a nightdress and dressing gown. She knew she had been drugged and that someone had been through her clothes as she lay asleep. All her personal items, diary, mobile phone and cash had gone. She struggled into the red dress staring disconsolately around the small room, her prison. It was about ten feet across and had little in it except a few books, a mirror and small window. She took a couple of spoonfuls of the soup and immediately began to feel drowsy again, it was drugged!

She awoke to find herself alone in a larger room and lay on a table like a piece of meat. She slid off the table and stood up, frowning heavily, then walked unsteadily to a small window. All around were mountains and snow, a complete white out. It was minus twenty degrees Celsius according to the thermostat on the wall and she shivered involuntarily. They were in the Arctic Circle; she tried the door, it was locked. She heard someone approaching and steeled herself as the door swung open; on instinct she pushed past the entrant and ran. Darting to her right she ran into another room and breathlessly bolted the door. She looked around; it was empty except for a large window into the room beyond. There a long haired blonde man was talking animatedly with the two German matrons. She listened hard and inadvertently gasped as the man swung around and glared at her with icy cold eyes. At that very moment her eyes caught the ethereal green lights from the window and she wondered whether she was dreaming. The window was tinged with green as lights flashed above them and the man stared out into the wilderness a strange look on his face. Soraya was transfixed and did not sense danger until she turned as a hand clasped her mouth.

Oleson didn’t use his first name often, those that knew him well and there were very few, were allowed to call him Stig, otherwise it was Oleson. He was tall and weather beaten with piercing ice blue eyes. He had the look of a man who had spent his life at sea battling the elements. A permanent frown on his face looked as though it could have been chiselled there. He lived a playboy lifestyle having recently separated from his second wife. Women only interested him as playthings, and in his lighter moments, he called himself the intelligent man's Hugh Heffner. He exuded power and his tall posture and rigid bearing said very clearly that he was the boss. He was answerable to no-one, the largest private owner of cruise liners in the world. Not just any old cruise liners, but specialist niche liners sailing under the Oleson brand name and synonymous with health and rejuvenation for the older clientele. Those who knew him wondered where all his money came from. No one ever asked. His retreat was called Valgrind because of Norse mythology, the name meaning the gate before Valhalla the hall of the dead soldiers. Oleson always liked to think about the Gods of the Norse lands. Half the slain went to Valhalla and the other half to Folkvangr, literally a field of the goddess Freyja. Valgrind was chosen as it was the selecting house for his empire.

He stared dispassionately out across the main hall putting down his blackberry and smiling at the thought of the latest recruits, the Huldra Twelve. The world’s media had moved on to the next big story, as he knew it would, allowing him time to move forward. He smiled coldly and signalled to his butler an older looking man in his late fifties called Benson who had spent decades serving the upper classes. Oleson liked the formality of the service, the British made the best butlers. “Time for the entertainment, bring them in one at a time,” he said as the sky outside was lit up.

This was one of his favourite treats and no different to him than inspecting the latest race horses in his stables. He would see the twelve girls in their red dresses as the Huldra legend determined and make his final decisions against the spectacular backdrop of the Northern Lights, even the heavens obliged him. He liked the girls to be dressed in red dresses as the green lights reached their crescendo. The northern lights, the Aurora Borealis were unnatural ethereal green in colour. They were one of the reasons he situated the camp here in the Arctic Circle, his own private world where the lights of the sky shone especially for him, a magical world of his own making where he set the rules. He knew the Northern Lights were caused by particles of light dispatched from the sun that hit the magnetic north pole over one hundred kilometres above the earth and yet he never lost his sense of wonder at the display they gave and tonight was no exception as Benson ushered in the first of the girls. They would all have a role in his empire, some more prominent than others his means of ensuring that there was always a good supply of new females. He already had a couple in his mind that was showing more spirit than the others particularly the brunette at the window.