The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3

by Filip Forsberg

  As if on command, the phone on the coffee table rang. Balthazar reached for it.

  “Vimpel here.” He listened for a second and then said, “Wait, wait, wait—Laura’s here with me. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  Balthazar activated the speaker, and Argento’s German accent crackled into the air.

  “Hello, Laura.”

  “Hi, Reinhard.”

  “I have news.”

  Balthazar held his breath, waiting for Argento to go on. When he didn’t, Balthazar prompted, “Good news, I hope?”

  “No,” Argento replied after another moment’s hesitation, “I am afraid not. The Spaniard just hit the house where we kept the backups of our secret research facilities and research results.”

  A cold lump formed in Balthazar’s stomach. “What?”

  ”Yes, and if what I have heard about Adnan Kosh is true, he will never stop until all his targets are dead.”

  “But what does any of that have to do with us? Nobody knows about this facility we’re in, right? That’s what you said, that it was safe.”

  “It is safe, yes. But given that Adnan now has a copy of most of our research results, he is likely going to use it to access this place. It is a guess only, but right now, we cannot take anything for granted. And given that there are more dead now, this is serious.”

  Laura gasped. “What? Who’s dead?”

  “There are at least four people dead at the scene according to the preliminary police report,” Argento told them.

  Balthazar put his head in his hands and groaned.

  3

  They say if you make your bed, you’ve got to lie in it. Pedro Sánchez lit a new cigarette and took a puff. He sat down in front of Hugo and frowned.

  “Let’s go over this one more time.”

  Hugo stretched his head from side to side to remove the stiffness in his neck. They’d been through everything over the last half hour, but obviously, Sánchez needed to do it again. Hugo figured the inspector was looking for some misstatement Hugo might make in his explanation of what had happened.

  “For the fifth time,” Hugo sighed, “I was out walking with my wife and daughter to get her to fall asleep. I heard muted shots, and I asked my wife to take our child home and call the police. I went onto the property to see what was going on, and then I met the man who called himself the Spaniard.”

  Sánchez let the smoke slide slowly out through his nostrils. “You know you have a record, right? Burglary and a handful of other crimes. Whether you murdered people or not, you’re not exactly clean.”

  Hugo stared at Sánchez. His patience was draining away. “Listen. Call my wife, or call Madeleine Singh. Madeleine is the manager at Novus in Malmoe. She can tell you who I am. If you want to prosecute me because I wanted to help, fine. While you’re wasting time here, the Spaniard is getting farther and farther away.”

  Sánchez rubbed his fleshy cheek and said, “We’ll see.” He leaned back, frowning.

  Hugo took a deep breath and let his eyes glide over his surroundings. The two of them were in a small room, barely three meters square, unfurnished except for a cheap table and two plastic chairs (one of which sagged perilously under Sánchez’s bulk). There were no windows—unless you counted a two-way mirror along one wall. It was a classic interrogation room. It smelled faintly of mildew.

  There was a knock on the door. Sánchez sighed, pushed back his chair, and left the room. As he sat alone, Hugo rolled his shoulders to keep his blood circulation going; his hands were still locked in cuffs behind his back. The minutes ticked by. Hugo thought through the fight with the Spaniard for the tenth time.

  He’d never seen anyone move like that man had. He’d twisted in the air, caught the knife Hugo had thrown at him, and hurled it back, all while he was still airborne. Hugo had been in plenty of knife fights, but this was the first time he’d seen anything like this.

  Another ten minutes passed, but the door finally opened, and Sánchez came back into the room. Frowning and puffing on a cigarette, he walked up to Hugo. “You have friends in high places, Hugo Xavier.”

  Inspector Sánchez leaned over and removed the handcuffs. Hugo massaged his wrists.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Sánchez shrugged and chuckled. “Come on, don’t be mad. I was perfectly entitled to be suspicious of you. But enough about it now. You were right. I’ve spoken to my boss and to Madeleine Singh, and I’m satisfied with their explanations. You’re free to go.”

  Hugo his chair away from the table and stood up. “And the Spaniard?” he asked.

  Sánchez wrinkled his forehead. “What about him?”

  “Are you going to take up the hunt for him?”

  Sánchez stared at Hugo. “You’re going home to your wife, Xavier. What the police do about this case in the future, you don’t have to worry about. Is that clear?”

  “You’re saying you’re not going to do anything? You’re going to just sit here and think about the next step while the murderer gets away?”

  Sánchez pulled back his lips and exposed his nicotine-stained teeth. “Last warning, Hugo,” he snarled. “Go home to your wife.”

  Hugo didn’t answer. He stared at Inspector Sánchez for a few seconds, then stormed out of the room, leaving the staring Sánchez behind.

  The young officer who had told Hugo to lie down on the ground was waiting outside the interrogation room with Hugo’s belongings.

  “Thank you,” Hugo said, taking his things. He walked out into the dark morning. The air was already beginning to warm up. Turning on his phone, Hugo set a course for the village. He scrolled through his contacts and tapped a name.

  “Hugo!” The relief was evident in her voice.

  “Hey, babe. How are you? How’s Elektra?”

  “We’re fine—she’s still asleep. How are you? What happened?”

  Hugo quickly told her what had happened, leaving out the bloodiest details. “And they just now let me go,” he finished.

  Lita let out a sigh of relief. “God, I’m glad you’re out of there. I talked to Madeleine earlier, and she said she would fix it.”

  “Yeah, and she did. Thanks.”

  “Are you coming home now?”

  “Yes, I’m on my way. Are you making coffee?”

  Lita chuckled. “Of course. Hurry home.”

  “I love you.”

  Lita hesitated, then replied, “Love you too.”

  He hung up and picked up his pace. Thoughts swirled through his head as he passed through another intersection. He had to do something. He couldn’t just walk away from everything that had happened over the last few hours. But if he were going to do something, he’d need to get help from Novus and his team. The Spaniard was a formidable opponent; if Hugo was going to chase after him, he’d need every bit of support possible. But first, he had to talk to Lita. She wouldn’t be happy about this, but hopefully, he could help her understand.

  For the past year, she’d begun to accept him as he was. He wasn’t the type of man who had a regular nine-to-five office job. That life just wasn’t for him. He was a tiger, a man who lived in the twilight land between law and crime, between chaos and order—a world many people never saw. But Hugo knew it existed because he’d lived there all his life.

  ***

  Madeleine Singh stood from her chair and flexed her muscles to get the blood going. It was a little past four in the morning, but she’d already been at the office for an hour. Outside, the sun slowly rose, coloring the morning sky golden over Malmoe.

  She walked to the window and looked down at the parking lot, still abandoned at this hour. Only she and Adem were there. Clasping her hands behind her back, Madeleine thought about the next step. She’d just finished talking to both the Swedish ambassador to Spain and Spain’s police chief. It had taken a lot of persuasion, but she’d succeeded—they’d released Hugo. It was always encouraging to know she still held such a powerful influence.

  She went back to her desk. Hugo was the next person
she had to get hold of. Madeleine needed to understand what had happened, if it was what Pedro Sánchez had told her. If Hugo had gone onto the property, he must have had a good reason.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come on in,” she called.

  The door opened, and Adem entered. He’d only worked at Novus a year, but he had already become an indispensable part of the team. He smiled and gestured at the carafe he held in his hand.

  “Coffee?”

  Madeleine smacked her lips. “You’re an angel.”

  Adem poured a cup and gave it to her. She sipped on it while she finished reading the preliminary police report, and Adem sat in the other chair facing the desk.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Madeleine put down the iPad. “Hugo was arrested last night,” she said.

  Adem frowned. “Arrested?”

  “I just got off the phone with a couple of big shots in the Spanish police. I convinced them to let him go.”

  Adem took a sip of coffee. “What did he do?”

  “Well, they arrested him for murder—”

  Adem gasped, “What? No way—that has to be a mistake.”

  “Of course. That’s what I told the chief. He said Hugo told the police that he and Lita were out walking with Elektra. They passed a house, and Hugo heard shooting. So he sent Lita home with the baby and climbed onto the property.”

  Adem leaned forward and said, “Well, yeah, that sounds like Hugo. What happened next?”

  Madeleine recounted what Sánchez had said. As Adem listened, his face drained of color.

  “Oh my God, that can’t be true.”

  Madeleine nodded. “It’s messy,” she said, ”but the important thing now is that I get hold of Hugo. I need to hear from him what happened.”

  “He didn’t call you?”

  “No. Inspector Sánchez said all of Hugo’s things had been confiscated when he was arrested, including his phone. Hopefully, he’ll turn his phone back on now that they released him.”

  Adem downed the last of his coffee. “What are we going to do until then?” he asked. “Should I call his team in?”

  Madeleine leaned back, thinking. “I’m not sure. I don’t know yet if this is a situation Hugo is going to need his team for. It could just be something local that he can handle himself. Let’s wait and find out.”

  Adem grimaced. “I don’t know—it might be better to be on the safe side. If the chief of police said the people in the house were dead, then it’s pretty serious for someone. We’ll find out in the next few hours if Hugo’s going to get involved or not, but it might be good to activate his team. Just in case.”

  Madeleine looked down at her desk and tapped her fingers as she pondered this. Three members of Hugo’s team could be activated. It might be unnecessary, seeing as how she hadn’t even spoken to Hugo yet, but Adem raised a good point—safety first. If it turned out that Hugo needed his team, it would be good if they were ready to go. And if it turned out to be a false alarm, there was no harm done if they called the team in.

  She returned her gaze to Adem. “I think you’re right. Call them in.”

  Adem nodded, grabbed the carafe, and got up. Once he’d left the room and closed the door behind him, Madeleine sat back and stared at her mahogany bookcase. It covered the entire far side of the office and was divided into several square compartments. In two of the compartments were ancient Greek combat helmets, glowing in the illumination of the built-in spotlight.

  She let her thoughts wander. Novus was her company, her creation. It worked in the dark space between law and crime, where the modern corporate world often found itself. The global business world had become a harsh and merciless place where companies fought over the latest findings and discoveries that formed tomorrow’s sources of income.

  Novus helped companies when they were subjected to crime, corruption, and industrial espionage. A little more than a year ago, however, one of their customers had turned against them and staged a direct attack that had killed more than half of Novus’ employees. It had been a bloodbath.

  In that chaos, Hugo’s brother, who had been the leader of one of Novus’ three response teams, had been severely injured. Felix had survived but had suffered permanent injuries, and Hugo had taken his place as the team leader.

  Hiring Hugo was a choice Madeleine had no regrets about. He reminded her of what she imagined a soldier in ancient Greece would’ve been like. Hugo was fierce, merciless, and possessed a brutality that few men could match. His reputation from his time in the Swedish special forces was solid, and she thanked her lucky stars that he stepped into the open position.

  A bird banged into the window behind her, and Madeleine was jolted from her thoughts. She shook her head and stood, then grabbed the phone and tried Hugo’s number again. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Come on, Hugo. Answer me.”

  To dispel her thoughts, Madeleine picked up the remote control and turned on the TV on the wall. As it always was, the channel was set to twenty-four-hour news.

  ***

  Trust yourself. It was a maxim that Adnan Kosh had followed all his life. And it had proved right time after time. He’d carried out mission after mission alone, and a dozen people had been put to death by his hand when he’d stormed through them like a tornado. But when he had met Florence, it was like the time before her had ceased to exist. She had turned his whole world upside down, and he’d had to accept what was happening. It had been a tumultuous time for him, but she–she had been worth it. Every single second.

  Even now. Even now that both she and their daughter were gone and all he had left was the memory of them, it was worth it. But the grief inside him didn’t subside. It still cut him as painfully now as it had all those months ago. Every day when he woke up and realized where he was, it was like he was dying yet again.

  Adnan ground his teeth and tried once more. He pressed the keys on the keyboard, and the screen in front of him flashed. A human shape appeared on the screen.

  “Hello?”

  Adnan swallowed hard. “It’s me,” he said gruffly. “Is he there now?”

  The shape didn’t move. The voice that spoke was clear, but the image on the screen was nothing more than a silhouette.

  “No, I’m afraid he’s not here yet.”

  Adnan exploded and banged the desk so hard that the keyboard jumped. “This is unacceptable! I’ve been trying to catch him now for almost an hour, and you say the same thing every time! Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  The voice that replied was ice-cold. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kosh, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it. Mr. Richter is a busy man.”

  “I don’t care how busy he is! I just eliminated five people to get what you asked me to. The least you can do is tell me where the two goddamn doctors are!”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kosh—what . . .?”

  Someone was talking to the silhouette off the screen, and Adnan fell silent. The shape said something he didn’t perceive, and then it disappeared. Adnan leaned forward.

  “Hello?”

  Suddenly, a different shape appeared on the screen. It was still silhouetted, but this voice was different, more confident.

  “Mr. Kosh. So nice to hear from you.”

  “At last. Is that you, Richter?”

  The shape adjusted slightly. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Good. Then maybe you can explain to me why we need these encrypted videos while we’re using our actual names.”

  The shape chuckled. “Our names mean nothing in this context,” Richter said. “What matters is our identities. In our age, it’s all about pictures. You know that.”

  Adnan sighed. He hated working with amateurs. There was always a lot of spy stuff you had to do to make them feel safe.

  “Okay, that may be the case. But look, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for an hour now. I’ve kept my part of our agreement. I stole the information that was in the house, just
as you said.”

  “Excellent! Well done! Did you run into trouble?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Five people dead.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Never mind that. I’ve done my part. And now you’re going to keep yours. I want the information about the doctors’ hiding place.”

  The shape chuckled. “Not so fast, my dear Adnan. You must hand over the information to us before you can receive what you want.”

  Adnan bit his lip. He’d been afraid of this. “How do you want to do this, then?”

  “A trade. You hand over the data, and I will give you information about where the two men responsible for the deaths of your wife and child are hiding.”

  “Okay, where and when can the exchange happen?” Adnan asked impatiently.

  There were a few seconds of hesitation, and then, “I’m thinking an hour from now. About thirty kilometers from you, there’s an abandoned restaurant. It’s out of the way. Our men can be there in sixty minutes—if you get in your car now, you’ll get there on time.”

  Adnan checked the clock. “Why this restaurant? Why so far away?” he asked.

  “Because I say so. Yes or no?”

  “Yes, fine. Sixty minutes. Text me the coordinates.”

  “Just sent them. See you in an hour.”

  ***

  Never surrender. That was the saying by which LaCroix Richter lived his life, and it had served him well. He stood and reached over his head, and his middle back creased. He wasn’t young anymore, fifty-five years old now, but he was in surprisingly good condition. His former pitch-black hair had grayed at the temples, and with each year that passed, he saw more and more wrinkles around his eyes.

  But LaCroix wasn’t a man who gave up without a fight. As head of the Dufner Group, a global medical firm headquartered in Berlin, he had access to innovative scientific knowledge. And although it was highly unconventional, there had been more than a few rejuvenation procedures credited to his account.

  He grimaced as a young man approached him.

  “Did you do well, Mr. Richter?”