The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3

by Filip Forsberg

  “Everything okay?”

  Hugo nodded breathlessly. “Everything’s fine.”

  A white Mercedes Sprinter swung around the corner and pulled toward the curb across from where Hugo stood. He gave a parting nod to the officers, then headed to meet the van. It rolled to a stop with a slight squeal of the brakes, and the side door slid open.

  Mikko stuck out his head. “Your taxi’s here,” he said with a grin.

  Hugo climbed into the vehicle, pulling the door shut hard behind him. Mikko pounded him on the shoulder.

  “Good to see you, buddy! How was your holiday?”

  Hugo chuckled. “Just as it should be,” Hugo replied. “Perfect.”

  Sussie turned around to look at Hugo from the front passenger seat and said, “Everything okay with Lita and Elektra?”

  “Yeah, all’s well,” Hugo said. “They’re out in the harbor now. Lita will sail back to Malmö when it’s light out.”

  Mikko frowned. “Was she pissed that your vacation was interrupted?”

  “It was okay,” Hugo said. “She knows what kind of job I have by now.”

  Sussie surveyed Hugo but said nothing more. In the driver’s seat, Freya flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror and nodded toward the police.

  “How about summing up what happened here, then?”

  “Sure,” Hugo answered. He pulled an iPad out of his pack and woke it up. “So, Magnus von Silverstråle. Bigshot and industry leader for Gripen Defense. He’s got the best apartment up there. Huge place.”

  Mikko drummed his leg. “How nice was it?” he asked.

  “Nice,” said Hugo with a smirk. Then he went on, “Magnus wasn’t in his apartment last night, but three guards from his security detail were there. The bad guys came in with full force. They shot two of them dead and wounded the third one.”

  Freya and Sussie exchanged a look.

  “What were they after?” Sussie asked.

  “It’s not entirely clear. Magnus didn’t tell the police when they asked about it, but he pulled me aside and asked us to search for it. To be honest, it all feels a little sketchy, but Madeleine called earlier and said that Magnus was an old friend of hers. She wanted us to do everything in our power to help him. So I think that’s what we’re doing.”

  Mikko leaned his elbows on his thighs and asked, “And what are we supposed to be retrieving?”

  “A box,” Hugo said, sighing.

  “A box?”

  “Yep. A dark red box, about this size,” Hugo said, spreading his hands out in front of him. “He didn’t tell me what was in it. He just said that the contents were particularly important to him and that they could be used to blackmail him.”

  “Why would anyone want to do that?” Mikko asked.

  Hugo glanced out the side window. “Because this afternoon, the board of Gripen Defense is having a press conference in Oslo where they’re going to talk about a merger between Gripen and another company, Stillwater-TTEM. It’s big news in the financial world.”

  Sussie nodded. “It’s true, I’ve read about it,” she said. “It’s been on the news all week. They’re speculating that the companies are Gripen Defense and Stillwater, but that hasn’t been officially released. If the merger goes through, they’ll become one of Europe’s largest defense groups.”

  Hugo straightened up and said, “And as chairman of the board, Magnus has a decisive voice. I imagine that if someone wanted to sabotage the presser and influence the merger, Magnus would be the best way to do it.”

  The three of them sank into silence as they thought through what this meant. After a few seconds, Mikko cleared his throat.

  “So when’s the press conference?”

  “A little less than ten hours from now.”

  “Holy shit,” Sussie gasped. “It’s not enough time.”

  “No, it’s not,” Hugo agreed.

  “Okay, but we can’t stay here,” Freya snorted. “We need to start moving.” And with that, she drove off.

  Mikko pulled a knife out of the side of his boot, checked it, and put it back. “Any ideas where to start?” he asked the group.

  “Sussie, how about you—do you have anything?” Hugo asked.

  Sussie had begun working feverishly on her laptop; her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Perhaps,” she said. “I’ll show you. I’ll stream it to the iPad.”

  Hugo set the iPad between him and Mikko so they could both see it. On the screen, there was a live view of a car from a traffic camera. The camera’s angle focused on the intersection, but you could see the beautiful entrance to Magnus’ building behind it. Sussie pushed through the clip.

  “Look, here they come.”

  On the screen, Hugo watched as the intersection cleared out. Then a newer-model black Renault van drove up to the apartment building and parked in front. A group of men jumped out and ran up to the entrance; some of them crouched down in front of the door. For a few seconds, the screen was illuminated by a sharp, bright light, and then it was gone.

  “Laser cutters,” Hugo murmured. “It’s the only thing that’s that fast and efficient.”

  Two of the men had turned around and were peering at something offscreen. Mikko tapped the iPad.

  “Someone’s coming,” he said. “They were interrupted.”

  But a moment later, they looked back toward the door, then pushed it open and disappeared. In the bottom right of the video feed, a garbage truck lumbered by.

  “Okay, Sussie, well done. Any chance you can get some faces or the license plate?”

  Sussie shook her head. “Afraid not. Too poor quality and too far away. There’s nothing we can use.”

  Hugo pulled his hand over his face. “All right, team,” he said. “We’ll see what happens.”

  The motionless van continued to fill the screen as they waited. Before long, the men in black reappeared through the door and climbed calmly back into the vehicle. The engine started, and the Renault drove through the intersection.

  The moment the front of the vehicle passed by, Sussie froze the screen. Hugo leaned forward.

  “A-B-thirty-two . . . and something . . .”

  Mikko chuckled. “You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes, you know that?”

  Hugo made a face. “Yep. That’s the way you get to be the boss.”

  Because that’s what he was—the manager, the leader, of their small but effective group. It had been a year since he’d taken over his brother Felix’s place in charge of Mikko, Sussie, and Freya. Hugo remembered it like it was yesterday; his brother had been shot when Novus had been violently attacked. Many people had died that day. Felix had been badly hurt, and Hugo had set off on a mission of revenge. That was a tough time. Felix had survived, but his right leg had been permanently paralyzed. Madeleine had asked Hugo if he wanted to take Felix’s place as head of the team, and he had accepted.

  “Hey,” Freya said, bringing Hugo back to the present, “which way should I go?”

  Sussie pointed north. “Same way they’re going. We can only hope we get a track.”

  ***

  It was the calm before the storm—that’s how Raynard felt. Everything was quiet. He knew something was going to happen, though. After so many years in this industry, he’d developed a sixth sense of danger; now, he could smell it. He pulled his radio to his mouth and held down the send button.

  “Come in, Jacky.”

  The radio crackled. “Jacky here.”

  “Do you see the cops outside?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are they doing?”

  There were a few seconds of silence, and then, “One of them just walked up to the door and tried it. It’s locked.” Jacky paused. “He’s talking on his comm radio.”

  Next to Raynard, Jules pulled out his weapon and checked it. His mechanical movements gave Raynard a sense of calm.

  The radio came to life again. “He’s going back to the cruiser now. Slowly.”

  A faint glimmer of hope ignited in Raynard’s mind.
Maybe the cop would settle for this and just leave. Perhaps. Jules put the weapon down again. The scent of engine oil reached Raynard’s nose, and he frowned. It was time to go; they’d stayed here long enough. If they were going to stay on schedule, they had to hurry. Raynard picked up the radio again and was about to press the button when Jacky’s voice buzzed through.

  “Hold on. The other cop’s getting out of the car!”

  Raynard held his breath. Goddammit.

  He nodded at Jules. “Tell the others to get ready. Get everyone in the van.”

  Jules nodded, spun around, and set off without saying a word.

  “Jacky,” Raynard said into the radio, “talk to me.”

  “They’re getting closer. Okay, they’re at the garage door now, examining it. What should I do?”

  Raynard hesitated. Maybe there was still a chance the police would give up. If only he and his people kept calm, then maybe. The seconds ticked by.

  “Raynard? What do you want me to do? I don’t think they’re giving up. One of them’s talking on his radio, and the other one has his weapon drawn. They’re about to go inside.”

  Raynard took a deep breath and replied, “Keep watching them. I’ll send help. Jules, can you hear me?”

  Jules’ voice popped in, “I’m here.”

  “Send two troops to the garage entrance with automatic weapons,” Raynard instructed, then let the radio fall to his side and kicked the wall.

  “Shit!”

  This wasn’t going as planned. His team was supposed to have been far away from here by now. But it was like the wise Mike Tyson had said: Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face. Raynard hightailed it toward the entrance to the garage, his footfalls echoing off the concrete floor and walls. Soon he saw two men in black running his way, long dark weapons in their hands. It was Laszlo and Subek, his hardened and deadly Hungarian mercenaries. Laszlo’s eyes were wide with anticipation.

  Raynard pointed at a spot twenty feet down the ramp from the garage door. “Down there, at the corner,” he said. “Be ready.”

  The mercs ran to the space and took up position on either side of the ramp, weapons aimed up at the door.

  Raynard climbed to the adjacent ramp ten meters away, then spoke into his radio, “Jacky? What are they doing?”

  “They’re still out there. Both of ‘em have their weapons out now. Looks like they’re getting ready to bust in.”

  The silence dragged on. Then, “They’re coming!”

  The second after she said it, a simple bang reverberated through the garage; one of the officers outside the door had fired at the lock. That was all it took. The door flew open, and a cop rushed in. He squatted inside the garage door, and a second later, the other entered.

  Raynard whispered into his radio, “Wait…”

  The policemen surveyed the garage ramp but saw no threats. Crouching low, they began to descend, one after the other. Raynard watched; it was a reasonably synchronized advance.

  He pressed the send button, waited, and then whispered, “Now.”

  The two cops were halfway down the ramp when Laszlo and Subek opened fire. In the cramped space, the automatic fire thundered, and for a moment, Raynard thought he’d gone deaf. One of the officers spun around and fell to his knees, hit on the shoulder. A fraction of a second later, ten rounds pummeled his back in rapid succession, and he landed on the concrete face-first, dead. The other officer took an array of bullets to the stomach, doubled over, was hit again, and fell. The cloud of smoke surrounding Laszlo and Subek grew larger, obscuring their view.

  “Cease-fire!” Raynard shouted over the radio.

  The weapons fell silent, and Laszlo and Subek rose and studied their work. Laszlo’s eyes twinkled as he turned and met Raynard’s gaze; Raynard replied with a thumbs-up. Smoke drifted through the garage and stung his eyes.

  He cleared his throat and picked up the radio. “Jules! Are we ready?”

  The radio crackled. “Ready!”

  “Good. We’re on our way. Start the engine!”

  Raynard, Laszlo, and Subek ran back to the van. The side door slid open, and Jules stuck his head out.

  “Did you fix our problem?”

  “It’s fixed,” Raynard said. “Get us out of here.”

  The three men scrambled into the black Renault—Raynard in front, Laszlo and Subek in the back. Raynard sank into his seat and squeezed his fingers into his eye sockets. Instinct, he thought bitterly. With all the experience he had, it was worth listening to his instinct. The driver, a Belgian mercenary named Sevrin, stepped on the accelerator. As they approached the ramp where the two policemen had been shot, Raynard froze. One body lay on the ground, not two.

  “How in the hell . . .? One of them’s still alive.”

  Jules stared at Raynard, stunned. “Seriously?”

  “How anyone could survive that, I don’t know—but he’s gone,” Raynard said.

  A thick trail of blood led down the ramp. The driver pointed.

  “There!”

  Raynard and Jules followed Sevrin’s stubby finger and saw a dark figure curled up against a wall further down the ramp.

  “Stop, open the door!” Raynard shouted.

  He leaped out of the van and approached the mortally wounded policeman. The cop was a young man, barely thirty. His face was like ash; there was no doubt he’d be dead soon. Raynard raised his weapon.

  “It was a good fight, my friend, but now it’s over.”

  The young officer lifted his arm and confidently held up a radio. “Doesn’t matter,” he croaked. “My partners are on the way. You won’t escape. I win.”

  White-hot anger simmered through Raynard’s chest, and he pulled the trigger.

  ***

  The light turned green and they continued on. Sussie worked fast, entering the registration number into a program on her laptop.

  “What else did you say, A-B-thirty-two?” she asked, turning to Hugo.

  Hugo squinted. “Hold on. I’ll see if I can get a clearer picture.”

  If they’d been at Novus headquarters, they would have had access to top-of-the-line, sophisticated software; as it was, the team would have to make do with what they had. Hugo ran the program, and his software sharpened the image of the van.

  “A-B-thirty-two-thirty-four . . . and the last digit’s still unreadable.”

  Sussie nodded. “Okay, that should be enough, anyway.”

  She pressed the enter key. “Now,” she said, “we wait.”

  “Wait for what?” Mikko asked.

  Sussie nodded at the computer. “For it to do its job. I connected to the Copenhagen traffic control center, and now the program is searching their cameras for a hit. The moment a camera registers our plate number, we’ll be able to see where they are.”

  “Not bad,” Mikko said. He leaned back and smiled. “We can just take it easy until we get a hit.”

  Hugo stared out the window as they drove under another pair of traffic lights. The sun was rising, casting long shadows over the asphalt. When the Sprinter hit a pothole, his heart jumped. Jeez, I’m on edge, Hugo thought and tried to force himself to relax.

  “Do we have any coffee?” he asked Mikko.

  Mikko’s face unfolded in a smile, and he laughed. “You’re in luck, boss. It’s not for nothing that we’re an elite team.”

  Hugo chuckled as Mikko pulled out a silver thermos, unscrewed the lid, and poured him a cup.

  “You’re a good man, Mikko. Let no one say otherwise.”

  Sussie turned around. “You have any more coffee, Mikko?”

  “Absolutely,” he winked. “Just a sec.” Mikko poured another cup and handed it to Sussie.

  “Thanks.”

  “What about you, Freya? You want one too?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  Hugo sipped from his cup and inhaled deeply. The smelled blissfully like a coffee shop. It was a good team he had. They took care of each other. They had met the edge of death together, a
nd they’d developed a bond that—he knew—was one not many people got to experience. It was something special to face death with someone else. Something about that kind of experience strengthened the bond the way nothing else could.

  Suddenly, the laptop in Sussie’s lap let out a beep.

  “We have them!” she cried.

  Everyone’s eyes turned toward the computer screen.

  “Where are they?”

  Sussie tapped the screen. “There. On Strandvejen.”

  Hugo leaned in for a closer look. The video feed showed a dark van that passed through a major intersection and disappeared.

  “Is this real-time?”

  Sussie shook her head and said, “No. There’s a delay.”

  “Of how much?”

  “Hard to say,” she replied. “At least ten minutes; maybe as much as half an hour.”

  Hugo sat back down, his eyebrows pushed together in thought. “Okay. Freya, take us to the intersection,” he instructed. “We’ll see if we get any more clues when we get closer.”

  “Buckle up,” Freya said and pressed the accelerator.

  Hugo glanced at his watch. Half-past five. “Shouldn’t be too much traffic yet,” he said, “but that could change. It’ll be harder to find them then.”

  They continued through a dozen more intersections as they drew closer to the one in the video feed.

  “Sussie, keep searching through the system for them.”

  “On it.”

  Hugo picked up his iPad again and continued reading about Magnus von Silverstråle.

  Magnus von Silverstråle.

  Son of Leopold von Silverstråle. 42 years old. Hails from one of the wealthiest families in the Nordic countries. Has a lineage of nobility. Owns large landholdings and has significant influence in European society. Took over his father’s position as chairman when Leopold and Magnus’ older brother, Henri, died at sea fifteen years ago. The accident occurred under mysterious circumstances. Magnus was the only survivor, and all the family fortune went to him. He has run Gripen Defense with a stern hand ever since. Unmarried, no children. Has been seen with several different women in recent years but is currently dating one Veronica Boussh. Gripen Defense is one of the largest European defense groups, with branches all over Europe. Many major powers are customers, and the company collaborates with other influential defense groups around the world. However, stubborn rumors over the past year claim that Gripen Defense is on the verge of bankruptcy.