Behind her words, the rhythmic thud of heavy boots sounded from the tree line. A small patrol, four soldiers in full gear, rifles at low ready, passed along the perimeter, eyes scanning in all directions.
Cao glanced over, then returned his gaze to Klara. “You were right,” he said under his breath. “We’re being watched.”
Klara didn’t break stride. “Good. Maybe they’ll think I’m actually here for the digesters.”
They’d reached their final stop for this tour. What was supposed to be a dormant limestone pit repurposed for solar research was now less than a kilometer from Charlie Company’s new motor pool and RBS-70 SHORAD platforms.
As Klara delivered a rehearsed briefing on photovoltaic soil integration and regional output modeling, she noticed several of the visitors drifting too close to the western ridge. The Spanish and Japanese delegates remained near the marked display area, nodding along politely, while the Singaporeans took photos of the demo plots and panels. But it was the Chinese delegation who were again testing the boundaries.
She moved swiftly. “Please remain near the installation markers,” she said with forced cheer. “That ridge is unstable and marked for erosion monitoring.”
Cao quickly translated.
Still, one of the Chinese officials, a tall man with gray temples and leather gloves, continued up the incline.
From the ridge, he would see at least a half dozen Leopard tanks parked under camo netting, visible through breaks in the sparse trees.
Klara reached him just before the crest. “Sir, for your safety, I must insist — this is an off-limits zone.”
The man turned slowly, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded once and stepped back, rejoining the others below.
A Singaporean investor tilted her head toward Klara. “Are these solar arrays active already or just in testing?”
“Still in pilot phase,” Klara replied smoothly. “We’ve logged six months of seasonal data and are preparing a transition report to submit to Region Gotland’s energy board. If funded, full deployment will follow within two years.”
One of the Japanese delegates asked, “Have you had issues with ground stability from the old quarry base?”
Klara nodded. “Some. Drainage improvements were done last autumn, and we’ve layered erosion controls over the eastern edge. The rest of the ridge, as you’ve seen, is not meant for foot traffic.”
Cao approached quietly. “They are getting impatient,” he murmured. “They want details you have not provided.”
“They’ll get what they get,” Klara muttered. “Unless they want to risk the entire operation.”
She gave a tight smile as she returned to the group.
“To the untrained eye,” she said, pitching her voice for the onlookers possibly monitoring their conversation, “this may seem like an ordinary solar soil integration platform — but it’s one of the most efficient in Scandinavia. It’s been field-tested to survive Gotland’s harshest winters.”
Cao translated dutifully. The officials nodded, but their eyes lingered westward.
Klara’s hands remained still, but her mind raced. Back home, the red go bag in her closet was ready. Inside was a forged Estonian passport, euro cash, SIM chips, and a ferry ticket to Riga hidden in a birding field guide.
If this tour went sideways — if just one patrol got curious — her window to vanish would slam shut.
She exhaled, then gestured toward the vans. “We’ll finish at the café just ahead. Excellent saffron bread and no patrols.”
They followed without protest. No one spoke. The only sound was the sea wind — and the faint clatter of tank tracks shifting positions in the forest.
The bell above the café door chimed softly as Klara stepped inside. The warmth and the scent of strong coffee, cardamom buns, and clean wood floors enveloped her like a blanket. She pulled down her scarf, glad to be out of the wind.
Annika stood behind the counter, pouring espresso into a demitasse with the precision of a surgeon. Her sharp eyes flicked up. “Look who finally returns to civilization. I was beginning to think you’d defected to Stockholm.”
Klara offered a tired smile. “Only for a few hours. Green energy waits for no one.”
Annika raised a brow. “Green energy, or government guests? Someone saw your convoy down by Tofta. You looked very… official.”
Klara winced internally. Of course someone had noticed. “Part of the Baltic Resilience & Renewables Initiative,” she said casually, sliding onto a stool. “There are some NGOs and investors from Japan, Singapore, Spain, and China. Mostly technical experts from their clean energy board. They wanted a tour of our infrastructure — wind, solar, and biogas — to see the latest tech our Swedish industry has come up with. I think it’s going to lead to some new business for a few of our local companies.”
“Ah, that’s great. That explains the large convoy of guests. Your tour looked like a foreign minister’s motorcade,” Annika pressed.
