Heated Rivalry: Greenland on Ice

I'm so sorry for this one please don't read, Dad

Tensions in Davos reached a boiling point Wednesday morning as President Trump announced to the World Economic Forum that he would “settle for nothing less” than ownership of Greenland.

Unbelievably, mere hours later, Trump announced his administration had reached a deal with NATO that would outline a framework of a deal that would give the United States sovereignty over military bases in Greenland, which would remain an autonomous territory of Denmark.

The Grudge Report has an exclusive account of the key Trump administration official’s negotiation with the NATO representative who brokered the deal.

Unfortunately, our source is a Canadian romance novelist.

Here is her report:

DAVOS, SWITZERLAND 11:15AM

Tate Collander shivered in his parka as he stepped off Marine One into the frigid Swiss air. The president had put impossibly high expectations on him: Take home Greenland, or he will be sorely disappointed. Tate knew it was almost impossible to win over his approval, especially pitted against Igor Roganoff, the top negotiator in NATO, but he was hoping for a miracle.

Tate arrived at the grand, Davos hotel and a phalanx of security guards, State Department officials, military generals, and aides surrounded him and ushered him through the lobby and into an elevator. “Remember, Collander,” one of them told him, “Greenland is the prize, and we’re winning.” He felt the familiar rush of anxiety before a high-stakes face-off like this, but by the time he reached the hotel room door, a sense of calm overtook him: “I can take him,” he thought. “No matter how hard or rough he plays it, I’ll come out on top.”

How wrong he would be.

He knocked once, and Igor Roganoff opened the door. He smiled with an impish grin, one tousled curl falling across his brow.

“You bring party?” Igor deadpanned in his thick Russian accent, looking over the American team with an expression that struck Tate as both bemused and hostile. “This more private conversation. No group. Just man to man.”

“But we are brokering a major international agreement,” Tate protested, his voice cracking in a way that made him instantly embarrassed.

Igor seemed to snort at this, his nostrils flaring in condescension. “You cannot handle me yourself, Collander?”

Tate felt his face flush hot, and with a flick of his wrist, he dismissed his team, and stepped into Igor’s suite, vulnerable, unprotected, but eager to get it done.

Igor’s room was surrounded by windows looking over the Swiss mountains. A large gas fireplace separated the living area from the king-sized bed, which Tate noticed, was unmade. Roganoff gestured toward the leather sofa on one side of the room. “Take seat. We start.” This didn’t seem like his usual geopolitical negotiation.

“Thank you, Roganoff. The American position on Greenland remains firm. We know it might hurt, but we’ll be taking the whole thing all at-”

“Relax, Washington,” Igor said, looking Tate up and down. Tate was dressed in his typical uniform, a navy suit and crisp white shirt, red tie and a red MAGA hat.

“I like your little hat,” Igor taunted, bending down to open the minibar against the wall. “Does your president let you take it off for sleep?”

Tate laughed, despite himself. “Shit,” he thought. His defenses were down. Never laugh first. Never sit first. Never accept a —

He was sipping a scotch on the rocks before he could reply.

“Collander,” Igor was looking out the window as he spoke.

“Why you need boring Greenland? It’s just ice. Some rocks. No fun.”

Tate knew he had to deflect, “Hey…” he stammered, “Russia isn’t a member of NATO so how are you representing their interests? Why are you here? Shouldn’t I be meeting with NATO Secretary Mark Rutte?”

Roganoff tilted his head to the side and grinned at Tate across the room, his green eyes flickering in the firelight. Wordlessly, he walked toward the quivering, closeted American. A jackal and his prey.

Tate’s breath quickened and he felt his chest tighten. His fists clenched. “Wha…what are you doing?”

Roganoff stood in front of Tate, still grinning. He knelt down before him and looked into Tate’s frantic eyes, the only sound in the room Tate’s ragged breaths and the crackling of the fire. The smile vanished from Roganoff’s face.

“I am here,” he said, “because NATO knows only I can top the Americans.” As he stood, he flicked the MAGA hat off Tate’s head and it tumbled off the couch and onto the hotel carpet.

“Hey,” Tate choked. “Pick that up!”

“No,” Roganoff said, “You get on the floor, get your knees, and you pick up your precious MAGA hat.”

Tate was furious. He was the top foreign negotiator for the world’s leading superpower and he was being treated like a dog. This was nothing like the negotiations he’d trained for at Liberty University and one year at a very good online law school before dropping out to intern at FOX News. And who was this guy? Some beautiful Russian siren who smelled like sandalwood and musk?

Tate tried to change the subject. “We should order lunch,” he said, his voice still an octave higher than he’d like it to be.

“You hungry, Collander?” Igor asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yes,” Tate stammered, giving in to a force more powerful than European tariffs.

“I think I have framework of something you might enjoy,” Igor laughed, pulling Tate toward him.

DAVOS, SWITZERLAND: 2:32PM