The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3

by Filip Forsberg

  The elevator doors slid open, and once inside, Aino placed her card on another reader. She pressed the B button—the basement level.

  “Almost there,” she said, throwing a shaky grin to the others.

  On the bottommost level, they made their way to a steel door. A code reader was built into the wall, and Aino placed her hand against it. There was a brief flash of green light, and a metallic voice spoke.

  “Please enter code.”

  Aino tapped a series of numbers on the keypad below the reader, and the heavy metal door swung open.

  “Slicker than snot,” Mikko chuckled.

  Aino hurried into the lab. “It’s in the second room, in the safe.” She dropped to her knees when she reached the safe, working fast to enter the code. The lock clicked, and she pulled out a compact, clear yellow bag.

  “Here.” Aino carefully placed the bag on a table opened it. Inside, there were three syringes filled with a gold liquid; beside the syringes was an electronic scanner the size of a mobile phone.

  Aino looked at each person in turn. “This scanner looks for the unique signatures of nanobots,” she explained. “It’s effective up to twenty meters. And this,” she paused, picking up one of the syringes, “is an antidote to neutralize the injections.”

  Mikko and Freya nodded at each other.

  “Good. Well done,” said Freya.

  Before Aino could answer, the unmistakable rumbling of machine guns echoed in the distance.

  *

  Pain pulsated through Hugo’s shoulder as he threw himself into the wall. He cried out and dropped to his knees. This shit was getting old.

  He pushed the pain away from his mind. One of the Mercedes had followed the van, but the remaining one had stayed—and its passengers hadn’t let up in their indiscriminate shooting.

  A shard from the brick wall of the apartment building bit into his cheek, and he soon felt a trickle of blood running down his face. He had to do something—if he stayed there, he’d be dead for sure. The Mercedes made a U-turn, and the shooting temporarily stopped. Pushing himself back up, Hugo saw two men jump out of the car. One of them Hugo recognized instantly; with the dark hair that met his eyes and the narrow goatee, it was none other than the guy he’d fought this morning.

  The man aimed his weapon at the wooden gate in front of Hugo and cried out, “Come out! Come out now, and your friends will live!”

  Hugo checked his gun—three rounds left. He leaned forward and fired a shot through the slats, and instantly, the others dropped to their knees and began throwing lead in return.

  There was a break in the shooting, and the man bellowed again, “It’s over! Come on out, Hugo!”

  Wailing sirens were growing louder; it wouldn’t be long before the police were here. Hugo had to get out of there. Someone inside the Mercedes shouted something he didn’t perceive.

  The dark-haired man answered, “Wait. We have him.”

  Hugo glanced back at the door to the apartment building. It had been damaged from the shooting, barely hanging on with its only remaining hinge. He leaned forward again and fired another shot. His adversary screamed and dropped to his knees.

  The men began shouting in unison and opened fire. The hail of ammunition blazed around Hugo’s head. This wasn’t going to work. He whirled around, ignoring his shoulder, and threw himself against the broken door. It fell in with a bang, and he landed on top of it. Rolling quickly, he jumped to his feet and ran into the foyer they’d passed through before.

  The sirens were very close now. One of the men shouted, “We have to move!”

  “Go on,” came the dark-haired man’s voice. “Pull back and rendezvous with the others. I’m not going to let that bastard get away this time.”

  Hugo glanced over his shoulder. Ten meters away, the Asian man stood in the gate wearing a wicked smile. Blood was running down his face from a gash on his forehead. Hugo slunk backward until he reached a door labeled “basement.” He couldn’t fight at this point; he had to flee—he had only one round left.

  “You know it’s over, right?” the man called out. Hugo turned to look; his opponent stood at the apartment door, staring at him wildly.

  Hugo spat on the ground. “You’re the one who shot my brother.”

  Xi moved closer. “Oh, was that your brother? The man from this morning?”

  “If anyone here is going to die, it’s you,” Hugo said darkly.

  Xi laughed. “Well, you can try. I just need you to know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It made me immensely happy to kill your brother.”

  Anger shot through Hugo like a white-hot sword, but he held it back. Xi wanted him to make the mistake of rushing toward him. Hugo clenched his fists.

  “Oh yeah, you will die, but not yet. You have to live just a little while longer.”

  Xi’s smile faded at the tone of Hugo’s voice. His eyebrows joined together in the middle in a look of murderous anger, and he raised his weapon. Xi began shooting, and at the same second, Hugo threw himself against the basement door.

  *

  Horror flashed in Aino’s eyes.

  “Lord God, they’re here!”

  Mikko ran to the door and cracked it open, listening. Another long streak of gunfire shook the metal slab in his hand, and someone shouted. It had to be the men from the car, and if they were here, that could only mean Hugo was dead—or, at the least, seriously injured.

  He pulled the radio to his lips. “Hugo. Come in, Hugo.” No answer.

  Freya came up to him. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “He’s not responding.”

  Freya took a deep breath. If they stayed here, they would surely be overpowered—these guys were armed to the teeth. “We need the heavy weapons in the van.”

  Mikko nodded, then tried to contact Hugo again. “Hugo, come in.”

  Still nothing. Aino and Pekka stood nervously watching the exchange from a few feet away.

  “What’s going on?” Aino asked.

  “We’ve got a minor problem. We’re considering the next step.”

  If they stayed here, they would die, so they had to move. The van was lost, so they would have to make do with what they had.

  Freya spun around. “Aino, is there another way out?”

  Aino stared at her for a moment before regaining composure. “Oh! Yes, over there. There’s an emergency exit.” Mikko slammed the lab door closed, then dragged a desk in front of it to block the way.

  “Great,” he said to Aino. “Show us the way.”

  Pekka stammered, “But—but what about the car? You said you were going to take us to the police station.”

  Freya grabbed the yellow bag from the table. “Not an option anymore,” she said. “We’ll do what we can with what we have.”

  Pekka started to protest, but Mikko groaned. “Quiet! Right now, just focus on surviving. We’ll help you as much as we can. You can be thinking about where the closest police station is located.”

  Aino grabbed Pekka by the arm and spoke into his eyes, “We need to help. Pekka, listen to me. We have to do this together, okay? I can’t do it myself.”

  Pekka looked at his wife for a long thirty seconds before answering, “Okay.”

  The gunshots were coming closer, and the numbers above the elevator began to count down.

  “Time to run! Aino, lead the way.” Aino pulled Pekka behind her, and they headed to a door on the other side of the room. They came out in a narrow hallway; above them, there glowed a green sign: emergency exit.

  “This way.”

  They ran out the door, the gunshots behind them tearing the lab to pieces.

  21

  Shock waves of pain echoed through Hugo’s body as he toppled down the stairs. He landed with a bang on the concrete floor, and the air was knocked out of him.

  Get up!

  Using every ounce of determination he could muster, he pushed himself up on his feet and looked around. He stood in a corridor
that stretched both to the right and left. All he could do was guess; he chose right and started running as fast as he could.

  Xi shouted from the top of the stairs. “Hugo!”

  Hugo ignored him and the agony that echoed through his body with each step. Sharp fluorescent lamps along the ceiling bathed the hallway in a sterile radiance, and the damp air smelled faintly of mildew. As he ran, Hugo tried every doorknob he passed. Every one of them was locked. The corridor swerved to the right, and he followed it, pounding the concrete as fast as he could. He stumbled over his feet once, catching himself halfway to the ground.

  “Mikko!” Hugo yelled into his radio. “Come in, Mikko!”

  No answer.

  Dammit.

  Shots resounded behind him, and he jerked. Xi was shooting wildly from wherever he was in the corridor; Hugo tried to ignore it as he kept running and searching for a way out.

  Finally, he saw a sign.

  Parking.

  He pushed the door open and found himself in a large, underground garage. About twenty parked cars stood scattered in the semi-darkness. Hugo ran, going as far as he could before he sank to his knees and hid behind a Jeep. Seconds later, the door he’d just come through was kicked open again, and Xi rushed out, weapon raised.

  “Hugo!” Xi’s shouts echoed through the space. “You’re stuck! There’s no way out!”

  Hugo swallowed hard, trying feverishly to come up with a plan. Xi was barely fifteen meters away from where he hid. Lying on the ground next to Hugo was a small chunk of mortar; he picked it up, aimed, and tossed it toward a pair of parked cars on the other end of the garage. Xi spun at the sound and opened fire. The two vehicles were torn apart.

  Ears ringing from the machine gun’s blasts, Hugo waited and watched silently as Xi approached the decoys.

  “Hugo,” he yelled, “Are you there?” His face was twisted in an excited sneer as he reached the cars and began to search the area behind them. For a moment, all Hugo heard was the buzz of the ventilation system.

  Then, “You fooled me, Hugo!”

  Xi did an about-face and stalked back toward Hugo’s hiding place. His pulse throbbed in his ears, and he tasted metal in his mouth. Carefully, he pulled a knife from the holster on his chest. It wasn’t much against a machine gun, but he didn’t intend to die without a fight—especially not against the man who had almost killed his brother. Hugo bared his teeth. Every muscle in his body was ready to pounce.

  From somewhere nearby, a rumbling noise rose and quickly got louder. Xi turned in time to see the oncoming car headed straight for him. He opened fire, and the car’s windshield shattered and collapsed inward, and the vehicle veered into a steel and concrete column. Whoever had been inside was most certainly dead.

  Hugo had to do something. If he stayed there, he’d end up dead too. The world spun as Hugo got up on his feet, leaning forward to stay hidden. He shuffled further away from Xi, and when there were four cars between them, he stopped and noticed something on the ground a few feet away.

  It was an old, rusty screwdriver. Hugo glanced up at Xi—good, he was looking the other way. He grabbed it, and then scanned the garage for the oldest car there. His eyes fell on an old, beat-up Toyota. Staying light on his feet, Hugo rushed up to it and drove his left elbow into the box. He stretched inside, took hold of the handle, and opened the door. In a matter of seconds, he was inside; he drove the screwdriver into the ignition.

  Come on now.

  The engine began to cough. Further afield, Xi screamed, “Hugo! Are you there?”

  Fast steps approached on the concrete. Hugo held the screwdriver in a death grip as the engine continued to cough. Xi came closer, shooting as he ran. The rear window burst as three bullets met their mark. Hugo swore.

  “Come on!”

  As if in answer, the coughing stopped and the engine came to life. Hugo threw the truck in gear, released the emergency brake, and stepped on it. Xi moved around a couple of cars and stopped, took aim, and continued to shoot. The thundering sound echoed through the garage.

  Hugo swung around a concrete pillar and searched left and right for the exit. The gunman continued to pummel cars with bullets, screaming all the while.

  Finally, Hugo found the exit. He held his foot down with all his might and veered up the ramp. Xi—a raging, mad dragon of a man—roared from where he stood in the garage as he emptied his magazine in the direction of Hugo’s vanishing bumper.

  *

  The cold hit them as they pushed through the heavy door and ran outside. Freya led Aino. Pekka and Sussie came next. Mikko was last. Gunshots echoed from the stairs as Mikko slammed the door. Quickly surveying their surroundings, Mikko saw that they stood between two houses. The snow was a thick blanket on the lawns, and the snowstorm wasn’t letting up. The freezing wind howled through the narrow side street.

  “You guys see anything we can use to block the door?” he asked the group. They all hunted until Sussie shouted.

  “Got it!” She pointed behind a dumpster; two thick planks leaned against the garbage receptacle.

  “Perfect, Sus.”

  Together, Mikko and Sussie dragged a plank over to the door and wedged it underneath the handle. It was the best they could do—it would buy them some time, but not much. Sirens echoed off the walls of the houses, and flashing blue lights reflected in the surrounding windows. Aino looked wildly around as shots echoed from behind the closed door.

  “Now what? What do we do?” she cried.

  Freya, Mikko, and Sussie shared a concerned look and gave each other a nod. Time to move.

  “Where’s the nearest police station?” Mikko asked

  Now it was Aino and Pekka who looked at each other.

  “Just around the corner, I think,” Pekka said uncertainly.

  “Can we just get out of here?” Before anyone could answer, a long machine-gun blast echoed, answered with a series of single shots.

  “I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that the police are busy here. I don’t think we should run straight into a firefight between the police and the villains.”

  Aino’s shoulders dropped, but then she perked up again. She pointed and said, “I remember now. The police station is about ten minutes in that direction.”

  “Okay,” Sussie said, “Then let’s get there ASAP.”

  Together, they began to trudge through the deep snow. The going went slowly, and before they’d walked twenty meters, they were gasping for breath. A barrage of shots behind them forced them to bite the bullet and plod on.

  They turned a corner and came out onto a wider street, where a massive snowplow was clearing the way for cars.

  At that moment, the radio crackled. “Mikko? Come in, Mikko.”

  Mikko’s eyes shot open wide and he grabbed the radio from his belt. “Hugo? You’re alive!”

  “I am indeed. Had a couple close calls, but I’ve managed to survive so far. Where are you?”

  “We had to flee out into the open. We’re on foot, headed to the police station where we can leave Aino and Pekka in safety. We’re two blocks north of the lab.”

  “Did you get the antidote?”

  “Yep. And the scanner too.”

  “Superb, Mikko. Good work. I’m on my way.”

  Mikko shook his head. “Wait, what?”

  “I’m driving, heading your way.”

  “Where did you get a car from?” Mikko asked, but Hugo didn’t answer. Seven seconds later, a Toyota approached, honking its horn. It skidded to a full stop, and Hugo threw open the passenger door.

  “Get in!”

  Freya and Sussie helped Aino and Pekka climb into the back seat. Mikko jumped into the passenger seat and chuckled as Hugo pushed the accelerator to the floor and the old truck began to pick up speed.

  “You’re one tough mofo, my friend.”

  Hugo grinned. “Just imagine what I’m capable of when paying off debt.”

  *

  Xi heard the drawn-out gunfire and the following
singles and cursed. This had gone awry so fast that he didn’t know how to react. He lifted his radio.

  “Miguel? Can you hear me?”

  The radio came to life with the sound of yet another long blast.

  “Xi? Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m on the north side. Where are you?”

  “We’re stuck with the police. I don’t think we’re going to get out of here.” As if to prove the point, there was another long series of shots.

  “Okay. Do your best. If you can’t get away, then surrender. We’ll come to get you later,” he lied.

  “Got it, Xi. Just make sure you nail that bastard.”

  “I will, Miguel. Good luck.”

  The connection was broken, and Xi shook with anger. He couldn’t believe it—his team was out of play, and that damn Hugo had escaped yet again. He nearly pulled the trigger out of frustration but caught himself; he couldn’t reveal his position. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He was alone in this now, but he could do it. He was a survivor.

  Ever since he was little, he’d been a survivor. This trait had taken him a long way, all the way to becoming a top-trained assassin with missions worldwide. He reminded himself of these things and hopped on the balls of his feet a few times to pump himself up. Then he headed out into the snow.

  As he pushed himself along, following the tracks of the truck Hugo had stolen, he thought of his brother Hai, who had died long ago. He thought of all the sacrifices Hai had made over the years, and the more he dwelled on the memories, the more fiercely the white-hot wrath burned within him.

  He was going to have to inform Klaus about matters—and Klaus was going to go crazy. It was fully understandable and couldn’t be helped. Xi sighed and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

  “Yes?”

  “Klaus, it’s Xi.”

  “Yes?” the voice repeated impatiently.

  “We have some problems. We almost got hold of them, but the police showed up and our team split.”

  “What’s the status?”

  Xi mumbled, trying to find the words.