The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3

by Filip Forsberg

  Klaus’ shoulders slouched at the words. He knew it was pointless to argue with Heidi. A cold drop of sweat ran down his spine, and he repressed a sudden urge to shiver.

  *

  The plane shook as it passed through violent turbulence. Hugo peered out the window at the approaching city of London.

  Mikko patted him on his shoulder. “Not far now.”

  “It’ll be tight. The press conference will be starting soon, and we still need to get through London traffic.”

  “Good point.”

  “Was Madeleine able to call and get them to cancel the press conference?” Hugo asked hopefully.

  Mikko spun around. “Yeah, Sussie, did Madeleine catch them in London?”

  Sussie grimaced. “She got hold of them but couldn’t persuade them.”

  “No? Why not, for God’s sake?”

  “They said they wanted proof before canceling,” Sussie said. “Too many VIPs.”

  “What idiots,” Mikko spat, throwing his head back in his seat.

  “I agree, but if you look at it from their point of view, you can understand how it sounds farfetched. You know, that there’s someone programmed to attack them without even knowing it.”

  London’s glittering lights glided by outside, and Hugo tapped the window. “Yeah,” he said, “but given who Madeleine is, they should have taken her more seriously.”

  Sussie opened her laptop. “I think we have bigger problems than that right now, anyway. Check this out.”

  The others gathered around Sussie as she produced a map on the monitor. A hundred icons moved over it.

  “This shows all the aircraft in Northern Europe,” she said. “And here we are, the green dot. We’ve passed Scandinavia and are approaching London.”

  Hugo leaned forward. “And why are we looking at this?”

  “Because of this.” Sussie zoomed in on the Baltic Sea and scrolled down toward Finland. A red dot was heading away from Helsinki; Mikko pointed at it.

  “That?”

  “Yep. Madeleine just sent a message saying they received intelligence of a hijacked plane that had taken off from Helsinki half an hour ago.”

  Hugo instantly knew who it was. “Xi.”

  “You got it.”

  Hugo stood up and shook his head. “That guy doesn’t give up! He’s going to follow us no matter what.”

  Sussie raised her eyebrows. “He’s dedicated, I’ll give him that.”

  “Sure is.”

  Freya put her hands on her hips and said, “So what does this mean? Should we do something?”

  Sussie shook her head. “No, not now. Madeleine is communicating with the authorities, and they’re doing everything they can to intercept the plane.”

  Hugo turned and looked out the window again. Far out there in the dark void, he knew that Xi was on his way. He could feel it. They had to get to London fast, get to the press conference and find out—somehow—who it was that was programmed.

  “Okay,” he said, turning back to his team. “We can’t do anything about Xi now, so let’s focus on what we can do. Let’s take a look at Tupolev’s scanner.”

  Freya pulled the yellow bag from under her chair and opened it. The unusual machine lay on a bed of foam-cut rubber. She picked it up and weighed it in her hand.

  “It’s heavy,” she said. “So how does it work?”

  Hugo studied the device. It was rugged, with a carrying handle and rounded, reinforced corners. A monitor on the side shone green with the text: Scanning ready, press to activate.

  “I think you just point it at the person you want to scan and press the button,” he answered.

  “And then?”

  “I guess you get some kind of message on the screen.”

  Mikko tilted his head. “Didn’t Markov say it can also be used to deactivate any nanobots it senses?”

  “That’s right,” Freya said. “How you do make it do that?”

  Hugo shrugged. “No clue. You guys remember if Markov said anything about it?”

  Freya shook her head. “No. He just told us it had that function, not how to activate it.”

  Hugo, Freya, and Mikko continued to examine the scanner while Sussie sat a few seats away, absorbed in the work on her computer. Hugo flipped the scanner upside down and pointed to it’s underside. “Aha,” he said. “I think I have it.”

  He held up the scanner and pointed to two metal contacts on the bottom. “Here’s what I think: if the scanner shows positive for nanobots, you can deactivate them by sending a signal through these contacts. You hold it to the person’s skin, and it sends a signal through their body.”

  “Does it hurt them?” Mikko asked.

  Hugo chuckled. “How should I know? I didn’t build it. Hopefully not.”

  Sussie suddenly stood up from her seat and joined them. “Hey, gang. Hate to say it, but they’re having problems.”

  Hugo handed the scanner back to Freya, who replaced it in the yellow bag.

  “Who is?” he asked.

  “Eurocontrol. They’re having trouble making contact with the hijacked plane. They’re working on sending up a few planes to intercept it, but they’re short on time. Even with the Rafales in northern France that can take off in ten minutes, it’s going to be close.”

  “Can’t the British send someone to meet the plane?”

  “They could, but Eurocontrol is having trouble persuading them that the plane is on its way to London. For whatever reason, the British don’t agree with that assessment.”

  Hugo groaned. “Come on.”

  “I know. But at the moment, there isn’t much we can do.”

  The lights of London were even closer and clearer now, but Hugo couldn’t calm down. Not so far behind them, he knew, a madman was coming with death and annihilation marked for them.

  *

  Now, there was no going back. Xi stared out the side window and watched Stockholm slide by.

  “André, readjust the course. What, you don’t think I can tell that you’re trying to change course on me?”

  Pilot André Liss swallowed hard. “Changing course.”

  Xi raised his gun to André’s temple. “Do it again and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

  A drop of sweat ran down André’s forehead. He wiped it away and stammered, “Understood. It won’t happen again.”

  They continued on, leaving Stockholm behind and passing Sweden altogether. The sky burned in a kaleidoscope of blues, oranges, and reds.

  “Just keep heading straight for London. Got it?”

  André nodded. Xi laid the gun on his knee and put his face in his hands. How had it come to this? How had he gotten here? Xi, who had for so long been one of the world’s most formidable mercenaries, had come so low as to be a simple aircraft hijacker. He wallowed in self-pity until the plane’s radio crackled. He jerked his head up.

  “Unidentified flight. Come in.”

  André picked up the radio, took a breath, and said, “This is S-R Two-Two.”

  “This is Control, S-R Two-Two. You do not have permission to proceed on your current course. You are ordered to land.”

  A shock of panic jolted André’s eyes open wide. “Roger that, Control, but I cannot comply. As I explained earlier, this plane is on an alternative course.”

  The voice on the other end became sharper. “S-R Two-Two, if you continue, we will deploy fighter jets to intercept you.”

  Xi pulled his hand over his face, and André tensed.

  The pilot licked his lips and brought the radio to his mouth again. “Acknowledged. Over and out.” He laid the radio back down again and stared straight ahead.

  Xi peered out the window. “Are they really going to send fighter jets after us?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  Xi flexed his jaws and whispered, “Come on, you bastards.”

  The plane shook, and Xi grabbed his weapon. He aimed it at André. “What are you doing?”

  André glared at Xi. “I c
an do a lot, but I can’t control whether there’s turbulence, you know.”

  The plane shook again. “Stop that. Stabilize the plane.”

  “It isn’t me, I swear. It’s turbulence—it will pass soon.”

  “You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know what you’re doing? This is a trick.”

  “No, no, believe me. I’ll change altitude and see if that helps.”

  Xi stared out. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. “How can there be turbulence when there aren’t any clouds?”

  André twisted toward Xi and glowered. “It’s called clear-air turbulence. Would you like me to change the altitude?”

  “Yes. Take us lower and slow down.”

  “Okay.”

  André adjusted the altitude, and the plane dropped a few hundred meters. The turbulence eased.

  “Well done.”

  Before André could reply, the aircraft shook again, this time even more forcefully. Xi stumbled, panicked, and grabbed his gun. In his fumbling hand, he pulled the trigger and the shot thundered through the tiny cockpit.

  André threw himself aside and screamed, “No!”

  Xi stared as André sank down and grabbed at his shoulder.

  “I— I didn’t mean to!”

  André sat up, moaning in pain. “You shot me, you idiot!”

  Xi’s hands shook and he hurriedly set the gun back down. He looked at the pilot and cried, “It was your fault! You’re the one who made the plane shake.”

  “It’s turbulence! There’s nothing I can do about turbulence!” He pulled his hand away from his shoulder and gawked at the blood. “You shot me.”

  Xi leaned in toward André and examined the wound. “It just grazed you. You’ll live. Just get us to London.

  Tears streamed down André’s pale face as he again took command of the aircraft. “Don’t shoot me again,” he said in a small, but decisive, voice. “If I’m going to get there, you have to put that gun away. Okay?”

  Xi tightened his lips into something resembling a smile. “You have my word.”

  *

  He got permission. Bernard Poche lit the afterburner for both of the Snecma M88’s engines. The air was squeezed out of his lungs as pure aviation fuel was injected into the afterburner chambers and ignited.

  The violent force pushed the slender Dassault Rafale fighter plane as if a giant had picked it up and thrown it. The engines produced an incredible amount of thrust. Bernard tightened his stomach as the plane accelerated along the runway.

  Eight seconds later, its wheels eased into the air, and he flipped the switch to retract them. With a shriek, the sleek figher headed for the sky.

  “Flight tango-tango-foxtrot continues to target.”

  “Roger, tango-tango-foxtrot. You are cleared to continue at the highest available speed toward the goal.”

  Bernard’s wing mate came up next to him, his black helmet shining.

  “Let’s speed up.”

  “Roger.”

  Both fighters had been given permission to accelerate toward the unidentified aircraft as quickly as possible. Eurocontrol had sent a lightning-fast request for help in intercepting the small plane that had left Finland without permission and set course southwest.

  Bernard accelerated. It was time to hunt.

  *

  He saw the end. Xi squinted at the sparkling lights lined up along the horizon.

  “London.”

  “Yes, but now what? We’ll never be allowed to land.”

  Xi took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of that.”

  André shook his head. “You know we’ll never get permission, right?”

  “Why do you think we took this plane?” Xi asked him.

  André’s face turned even more gray.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Sure, I can.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Xi scanned the horizon. It wouldn’t be long now. He pointed out the windscreen and said, “Keep heading straight to the center, toward Hyde Park.”

  André stared directly ahead. “Somehow, I knew it would come to this, but I was also hoping you had planned something else.”

  Xi smiled. “This is the end station for me, André. I’ve reached the end of the road. Just take us to Hyde Park and slow down as we approach.”

  Xi pulled out his phone and scrolled through the list of contacts. When he found the one he was looking for, he pressed the icon.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, cousin. It’s Xi.”

  “Xi?” The voice hesitated. “Why are you calling?”

  Hurriedly, Xi explained the situation. “And that’s how it is. Do you understand?”

  “Ah— Yes, of course. We’ll help you. For the family.”

  “For the family.”

  Xi hung up and fixed his gaze on London. Next to him, André pushed the pain away from his pounding shoulder and prepared for his worst nightmare.

  *

  “The target is in sight,” Bernard reported. “Flying closer.”

  “Roger, tango-tango-foxtrot. Hurry—you’re approaching the British Airspace border.” The two Rafale planes screamed across the sky, approaching the goal of six hundred meters per second. The slender planes soared like attacking eagles toward their target.

  The radio crackled.

  “Unknown aircraft, this is tango-tango-foxtrot. Requesting a reply.”

  No answer. Bernard repeated his attempt a few times but received no response from the plane that slowly, but steadily, was approaching London.

  “We’re getting closer.”

  “Roger.”

  Bernard’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. Seven kilometers. He tried again. “Unknown aircraft. This is tango-tango-foxtrot. Requesting a reply.”

  Still no answer.

  “We’ll fly up alongside and see if we can get in touch with the pilot.”

  Ten seconds passed as the fighter pilots turned off their afterburners and their speed decreased. They needed to match the speed of the civilian plane; otherwise, they would fly right over it. Bernard was pressed forward into his seat belt as he decelerated. The Rafales came up on either side of the SR22. Bernard glanced to his right and saw that there were two figures inside. The one in the pilot’s seat waved.

  “Unknown aircraft, this is the tango-tango-foxtrot. Reply now!”

  To Bernard’s surprise, the radio crackled.

  “We cannot turn around now.”

  “This is no game. You are not permitted to continue your current course. Land immediately and surrender to the authorities at once.”

  “Roger.”

  A second later, Bernard gasped as the little plane’s nose dipped down and dove straight for London.

  *

  So close, yet so far away. Xi kept his eyes fixed on the large green area that was Hyde Park. He glared at André.

  “Stay on course. Don’t force me to shoot you again.”

  André gritted his teeth. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m going to spend the rest of the year in jail.”

  Xi grinned. “No, you can blame me. After all, I forced you into this.”

  “No kidding.”

  As they approached, Xi made a quick calculation. “Slow down in twenty seconds.”

  “Roger.”

  London’s famous landmarks lay scattered. Butterflies filled Xi’s stomach; it was time. His fate was approaching. Ten seconds. His heart pounded in his chest, and a wave of dizziness swept through him.

  “There. Get in as steep as possible. Slow down . . . now!”

  André groaned and pulled back on the speed controls as much as he dared. The plane dropped, and Xi pressed forward. He counted down.

  Three, two, one. Now!

  He reached up, grabbed the red lever on the ceiling, and pulled hard. A fraction of a second later, the nose lifted, and the increased wind resistance caused the velocity to fall even further. A hatch on the plane slid to one side and a parachute fell out. Andr
é screamed, but Xi ignored him as he approached his destiny.

  26

  The water was warm and comfortable. Mustafa Boon washed his hands, dried them, and spun around. The door opened and Ben came in.

  “How you doing? All good?”

  “I’m good—some jitters. This is going to be big. We put in a lot of work.”

  “You can say that again,” Ben replied. “There’s a hell of a lot at stake.”

  Mustafa adjusted his tie. His stomach gurgled audibly, and he wished he hadn’t eaten so much bacon. Ben chuckled.

  “Too much breakfast?”

  Mustafa grimaced and patted his stomach. “Yes, but you know, bacon is an essential part of the good life.”

  “So true, so true.”

  “See you in the prep room later so we can go through the presentation, okay?”

  Ben gave a thumbs-up. “Sounds good.”

  Mustafa left the bathroom, and Ben entered a vacant stall. As he sat there, he took a series of deep breaths until his heart rate had dropped. He was nervous, too—there would be a lot on the line over the next few hours. The information they’d be sharing with the world about QuantumCorp’s damage to the environment was mind-blowing.

  Lost in thought, Ben didn’t notice the miniature insect that slid in through the ventilation grille in the ceiling and set a course straight toward him. It flew down without a sound and landed on his neck, where it performed its mission.

  When it was finished, it lifted off and disappeared through the vent again. Ben left the bathroom and made his way to the prep room—a conference room Mustafa and Tanya had secured to go through the presentation one more time. He entered just as Tanya was motioning toward the big screen.

  “And as you can see here, in Chile and Peru, we have documented hundreds of different violations, like pollution, as seen here,” the film showed large pools of dirty water, “where they use cyanide to extract gold. It’s a process that has been used for many years, but there are also rigorous safety regulations that must be observed. QuantumCorp has not followed these standards. In more than seven gold mines, QuantumCorp uses insufficient security systems to prevent dangerous contamination.”