The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3

by Filip Forsberg

  “Hey, Magnus,” she said, approaching him.

  Magnus nodded. “Hi, Mary. Good to see you.”

  Mary Tingel was an experienced helicopter pilot who had flown Magnus half a dozen times on various missions. There was always a bonus in these missions, so Mary gladly took them.

  In the east, the sky became even darker, and Magnus perceived a faint rumble.

  Mary’s eyes twinkled. “You always choose the best days to fly,” she joked.

  Magnus shrugged. “You know how rich we are; it makes sense that something should always go wrong.”

  Mary chuckled and looked up at the dark clouds moving in the northeast. Another low rumble rolled over them, and a few lonely drops landed here and there.

  A wrinkle formed across Mary’s forehead. “Are you sure you want to get up and fly today?” she asked, serious now. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Magnus pulled a hand over his face, and a drop of sweat slid down his back. “No, I understand, but this is an emergency. I have to be in Oslo soon, and my private plane isn’t available. And there are no commercial flights right now. So, you’re my last resort.”

  Mary snapped her fingers. “Gotcha.”

  Magnus could sense Mary’s hesitation. After all, she was a professional pilot with a spotless reputation.

  “Tell you what. If we get there on time, I’ll pay you triple rate.”

  Mary’s eyes lit up. “Triple?”

  “Triple.”

  Mary pretended to think about it but nodded a little too quickly. “Okay, deal.” She paused and said, “You’re wanting to leave right away, I guess?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Okay, give me two minutes, and I’ll—”

  She was interrupted when a car came speeding toward them. The vehicle passed the gates and drove up to them, then braked hard. Magnus groaned. He knew who it was the second he saw the car.

  Veronica, his mistress, jumped out. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a sweater, and a jacket. Even in normal, everyday clothes, she looked outstanding. Her long hair flowed as she slammed the door shut and ran toward Magnus.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded, her tone accusing.

  Magnus raised his hands. “Hold on. I was interrogated by the police for hours.”

  Mary broke in. “Interrogated by the police? Have you done something illegal?”

  “No, no. Listen. My apartment in Copenhagen was broken into, and I spent the last few hours talking to the police to help them in their investigation.”

  Veronica shifted impatiently. “And why didn’t you call? I’ve been worried.”

  Magnus’ shoulders dropped slightly. He knew he could’ve called and said something, but for some reason, he’d wanted to keep it to himself. Why he did not know. What he did know, however, was that Veronica would be his wife. There was something about her that made him open up. He lifted his palms.

  “You’re right,” he said. “Forgive me.”

  Veronica’s expression softened when she saw that he was sorry, or at least pretended to be. A few seconds passed before Veronica resolutely shrugged and said, “Okay, but if you’re going to fly, I’m coming with you.”

  Magnus shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t. This is too dangerous.”

  Veronica’s voice became overly soft. “But you’re going out and flying. Why shouldn’t I be able to come along?”

  Mary stood next to her, following the amusing exchange of words. It wasn’t often she saw someone like Magnus being put in his place. Perhaps this Veronica would be the one who finally managed to tame the infamous Magnus von Silverstråle.

  Veronica met Magnus’ gaze and didn’t turn away. Finally, Magnus shrugged resignedly.

  “All right, if you want to come along, I suppose it’s okay. But we’re leaving now.”

  A smile spread across Veronica’s face. “I’m ready,” she said.

  Magnus turned to Mary and rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  12

  Pain pounded through Raynard’s head every time he moved. He just wanted to lie down, but he couldn’t. That other damn yacht had followed them up onto the deck of this ship—whoever was in it, they were completely insane.

  He ran his hand down his cheek, and his fingers came away wet with blood. His surroundings spun, and he nearly vomited. Raynard found that he could not move his legs—they were stuck under something. He yanked with no effect; he yanked harder, grinding his teeth, and managed to pull them loose. Shards of glass crunched under his body as he rolled free.

  “Jules,” Raynard called out. “Noah?”

  There was no answer. Everything in the cabin was scattered around the floor. Smoke drifted around the closed-in space, but Raynard couldn’t see any flames—not yet, anyway. He tried again.

  “Sammy?”

  A moan came from across the cabin.

  “Ugh. Good Lord.”

  Raynard turned and saw Jules crawling out from under a table that was pressed against the wall. He dragged himself along slowly, but he didn’t look like he’d broken anything.

  “Jules! Are you hurt?”

  Jules squinted. “I don’t think so, but I mean, honestly! We just crashed onto the deck of a ship with another yacht!”

  Raynard chuckled. After all this, his friend still had his humor. He continued looking around the cabin for the others.

  “Noah? Sammy?”

  Jules shook his head. “They’re dead,” he said solemnly.

  Raynard’s courage sank. “Both of them?”

  Jules nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Noah’s over there. And Sammy’s behind me.”

  Raynard swore. Far away, he heard approaching voices. He and Jules had to get out of here as fast as possible if they were to have a chance of survival. Raynard twisted around, about to crawl out, when something caught his eye. The box! The dark red box was lying on the floor a meter away. He stretched out, grabbed its handle, and pulled. The box slid haltingly over the broken glass.

  “All right, Jules,” Raynard said once he had the box in his hands. “Come on.”

  Jules crawled, pushing the box in front of him, while Raynard pulled the last bit. Raynard came out into the open and pulled the box out all the way. Jules crawled out after him and got to his feet. He was unsteady, but he remained standing. The voices and steps were getting closer.

  Raynard was just about to say something to Jules when he heard other voices—these ones much closer than the others. He froze. It had to be the people in the boat that had followed them up here. They couldn’t be more than a dozen meters away. Raynard turned to Jules and held his finger in front of his mouth. He pointed to the box, and Jules nodded and picked it up.

  Raynard removed his handgun from its holster and nodded to Jules to get away from the wreckage. They had to put distance between themselves and the others. Carefully, Jules walked over the deck, making sure to avoid anything loose to make as little noise as possible. But when one of his legs got stuck on a sharp edge, the fabric of his pants ripped, and the sound seemed to clamor endlessly. Raynard swore but gestured to Jules to continue. Together, they approached some steel containers that effectively blocked any way forward.

  Jules followed the edge of the row of containers, and they met at the corner. Jules peeked around the corner; the coast was clear. The deck in front of them was empty except for more containers lined up in rows. He turned to Raynard, who pulled back and aimed his gun in the direction they’d come from. They had escaped—for now.

  “Which way?” Jules whispered.

  Raynard took a quick look ahead. He pointed. “There. Go past those two big crates, and then go right. Let’s get as far forward as possible.”

  Jules set the box down and asked, “What’s the plan, exactly?”

  Raynard tensed his jaw as his brain raced at full speed. If they could get hold of their reinforcements, they could get help killing the damned idiots following them. And in the worst case, if that didn’t work, the guys from Sweden coul
d help them escape. There was still hope.

  “The plan is that we go as far as we can. I’ll see if I can get hold of the other team so they can help us, too.”

  Jules nodded, clenched and unclenched his fists, and picked up the box again. “Okay,” he said, “that sounds as good as anything.”

  The two of them continued on, passing the two large containers. It seemed the voices they had heard before were coming from farther and farther away. But it wouldn’t be long; the ship didn’t go on forever, and at some point, they would arrive at the bow. Jules was about to turn around and say something to Raynard when he slammed into the edge of the crate, slipped, and dropped the box.

  The box fell on his foot, and he screamed like he had been stabbed. Raynard rushed to him and clamped a hand over his mouth.

  “Quiet, damn you!”

  Jules’s eyes widened as he tried with all his might to be stronger than the pain radiating from his foot. Raynard removed his hand and pulled the box away, and Jules jerked. Raynard held onto him tightly.

  “Can you get up?”

  Jules shook his head. “No way, I don’t think so.”

  Raynard ground his teeth and said in a whisper, “Come on now, Jules, if you don’t get on your feet, we’re as good as dead.”

  Jules squeezed his eyes closed and tried to get to his feet but sank down to the deck again.

  “Shit!” Raynard muttered. If he didn’t get Jules up, that would be it. He took out his phone.

  ***

  Devastation. Death. Chaos. Hugo’s eyes watered as smoke from the wreck drifted toward him. He quenched a cough. Thick, twisted pieces of metal lay scattered over the deck, and he proceeded carefully over them. Two meters behind him, he heard Mikko doing the same thing. As they got closer to the bow of the other boat, Hugo strained his ears but didn’t perceive any sounds other than those he and Mikko made.

  They reached the edge of the boat, and still no sound. However, the smoke was even thicker here, and it nearly blinded him when he stuck his head in through a broken window. Inside the cabin, there was utter chaos. Hugo pulled a flashlight from his belt and turned it on. Sharp fragments of glass formed a mosaic on the floor, and everything that had been on the shelves had been knocked down. There were holes ripped in almost every surface. Mikko came up behind him and bent down to look for himself. He pointed to a figure slumped deep inside the cabin.

  “Look.”

  Hugo nodded and illuminated the figure with his flashlight. “He’s dead.”

  The man dangled in a grotesque position with his arms hanging down to the floor. One of his legs seemed to be stuck in something, and the other hung down behind his body. It looked as if most of the bones in the man’s body had been crushed. He was now nothing more than a rag doll suspended upside down.

  “Poor bastard,” Mikko said.

  Hugo nodded. He said nothing but let the flashlight sweep across the rest of the room. Nothing moved. He pulled himself up and back, ignoring the throbbing in his wounded leg. He raised his weapon.

  “They’re not here. They left, and they have the box with them.”

  Mikko pointed. “Looks like they went this way,” he said, climbing carefully over some sharp metal edges that stretched up like stalagmites.

  Hugo followed the same path Mikko took, pushing past the thorny columns. Mikko pointed to a piece of cloth stuck on a sharp edge.

  “Look at this.”

  Cautiously, Hugo walked over to it. He squatted down to examine the piece of cloth and saw that it was made of black Kevlar-reinforced nylon. He looked up at Mikko.

  “This material isn’t cheap. These guys are professionals.”

  Mikko shrugged. “Okay, but we already knew that.”

  “True.”

  Hugo studied their immediate surroundings. Distorted metal scraps and destroyed wood lay scattered everywhere, but he saw nothing. He stood up and looked toward Mikko, and that’s when he saw it—a dark spot on the ground. Hugo bent down to get a closer look. As he’d guessed, it was blood. There, too. He discovered three more spots; someone had been dripping blood as they’d tried to get away from the wreck. Hugo motioned for Mikko to come over. When he got there, Hugo silently gestured for Mikko to follow him.

  Hugo cautiously raised his weapon. Far away, he heard men shouting, and he could only hope that Sussie and Freya would be able to hold the ship’s crew long enough to explain what was happening. Sometimes, you just had to have a little faith that the higher powers would lend a hand.

  He began to step carefully away from the wreck of the other yacht and behind a container. The hulking gray metal monster was as sturdy as a wall, and its ribbed surface glimmered after all the rain. Hugo stuck his head quickly around the corner; when he heard no shots, he stuck it out again, this time a little further, to take in the surroundings.

  A dozen crates were lined up on the deck, and between some of them were small passages where one could easily hide. Hugo spat. This wouldn’t be easy—he and Mikko were just two people. Still, the other boat probably didn’t have many more survivors. Two, maybe three. Mikko came up next to Hugo.

  “We’ll have to take a gamble,” Hugo said, leaning in close to Mikko.

  Mikko nodded. “I knew you’d say that.”

  “We’ll search through those corridors from left to right and try to push them toward the bow. If we can isolate them there, at least then we’ll know where we have them. And we can hope Sussie and Freya can persuade the captain of this ship that we’re the good guys.”

  Mikko’s dirty face burst into a toothy smile. “Show the way, boss. I guess we’re running the same tactics as before?”

  Hugo nodded and said, “You got it.” He raised his gun and set off for the first aisle. The rough metal walls that the containers created gave the place a surreal, maze-like look. When waves rocked the boat, the light bounced off the walls in a kind of rhythmic dance, and it was easy to lose orientation when trying to get through it. Hugo stuck his head around a corner, pulled it back, and then moved forward when no one shot at him.

  Walking down the corridor felt like going through a funhouse at the fair. Shadows danced around Hugo’s legs, and once, he nearly turned straight into the wall. The aisle was empty, and he swung around the corner and went to the next. Behind him, he heard Mikko’s steady breathing.

  “One clear.”

  Hugo nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  In the next aisle, it was the same thing. Shadows danced, but nothing more. Hugo and Mikko covered three more passages. When they came out into the open again, they heard the upset voices of men and the somewhat less upset voices of two women.

  Mikko grinned and said, “That’s Sussie and Freya.”

  Hugo nodded. “Yes, they’ll manage.”

  One of the men raised his voice, and a second later, Freya raised hers too.

  “Listen to what I’m saying, you moron! We work with the police. We’re trying to catch criminals who fled onto your ship!”

  Hugo didn’t hear the men’s answers, but there was no time to stand there and listen. He signaled to Mikko that they continue on. They made their way through a couple more aisles, and when they came out again in the open, Hugo noticed that it was raining again.

  “We need to speed up,” he told Mikko. “It’ll be easier for them to hide in the rain.”

  Mikko nodded and said, “Let’s go.”

  Hugo stuck his head out around the next corner. This time, a shot fired, and Hugo reflexively jerked his head back. The sound echoed in his ears, and he stumbled to his knees. Mikko stepped forward, aimed his automatic rifle around the corner, and returned fire. All around them, once again, sounds of death and annihilation echoed in a doomsday roar.

  ***

  Hugo shook his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. Pulling himself back up to his feet, he lifted his gun once more. He nodded at Mikko, who knelt as Hugo took a tiger leap toward the edge and jumped forward, aiming his weapon in the direction of their attackers.
Holding the trigger, he fired fully automatically as he sailed through the air.

  It felt like infinity but was only a few seconds. Hugo landed hard on the deck, rolled, and got to his feet. No one returned fire. He stared intently at the narrow aisle nearest him and signaled for Mikko to follow. Mikko moved forward softly and came up behind Hugo.

  “Do you see anyone?”

  Hugo searched but saw no movement. “No. Seems they’ve withdrawn.”

  Mikko looked back and said, “We’re almost at the bow. Just twenty meters more.”

  “Good,” Hugo replied. “We’ll keep driving them in front of us until we have them cornered.”

  “How many do you think are there?” Mikko asked.

  “I’m guessing two, maybe three. There was at least one dead body inside the boat, so there can’t be that many left.”

  “Right.”

  A wave hit the hull and made the ship roll. The color temporarily left Mikko’s face, and Hugo could tell that Mikko was close to the edge. He put his hand on Mikko’s shoulder and gave it a little shake.

  “Just a little more, buddy.”

  Mikko set his jaw and nodded. “Got it. I’m good.”

  Hugo crouched down and advanced with Mikko close behind him. They went ten meters as the ship continued to roll. The rain was holding off, but the wind was still strong; it howled around the corner as Hugo reached it and peeked quickly around.

  He ducked back behind the corner and told Mikko, “I see them. One of them is injured.”

  Hugo slunk around the corner with his weapon raised, and Mikko followed right behind. Hugo pointed to a bloodstain on the deck that glittered red in the starlight.

  “Looks like one of them has been pretty badly injured.”

  “Finally,” Mikko chuckled.