Ben raised his right eyebrow questioningly. “You’re going to shower first?”
Mo nodded. “Yeah, call it spleen. It makes me feel better. Got it from an ex, she used to do it all the time. Well, sort of.”
“About?”
Mo fussed. “Yes. Because before the shower came sex.”
Ben laughed. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not going to help you there!”
Mo posed exaggeratedly and gave his voice a completely exaggerated, stereotypical accent. “Are you saying I’m gay or what? Watch it. I’ll fuck you hard, dude!” Then he laughed and disappeared into the bathroom.
When he returned after the refreshing shower in full workout gear including hoodie, Ben was sitting on the sofa engrossed in a book. Mo smiled. “Still Fool on the Hill?”
Ben smiled. “Always have it with me.” The book deals with the ancient battle of good versus evil.
“Have you identified with the Ragnarok character by now?”
Ben nodded. “I’ve had that from the beginning, ever since you told me about it and I read it.”
“Great. Then I’ll call you Ragnarok from now on.”
Ben screwed up his face. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Why? I do it all the time anyway. Because ever since I first read the book, I always thought of you as Ragnarok, whatever name you chose.”
Ben remained silent.
Mo smiled good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it, brother.” He patted Ben on the shoulder. “I’m off now. You get a nice sleep.” With that he disappeared out the door.
Ben looked at the closed door and then back at the open book. Ragnarok.
3
Sergey was sitting in his car, from which he had a view of both the front entrance and the back entrance of the bank. Fortunately for him, both entrances were each well lit by a streetlight, while no one would notice him sitting in the car.
It was the third night he’d spent like this, but the Administrator had given him clear instructions, believing that this Mohamed Aslan could show up here.
Sergey did not take orders from many people. For many years, the only exception had been his mother. Teachers and educators had never had anything worthwhile to say to him, unless his mother had told him to listen to her.
This was not because his mother had been particularly violent and had inflicted cruel punishments on him if he did not do what she said. He had heard of completely different experiences related by the other children, stories no one would ever believe. No, he listened to his mother because she was the only one he believed really loved him. Basically, she had always been a very fragile person, often sick because the heating kept breaking down. Nevertheless, she never complained, and also never said a bad word about her son.
His father had been different. He was a brutal man who ruled with iron force and on one occasion even beat his still young son to unconsciousness. But as Sergey later learned, what didn’t kill you really made you tougher. And so one day he struck back.
He might not agree with his father in anything, with the exception of the penchant for raw, brutal violence along with an unbridled strength he had inherited. Without batting an eye, he broke almost every bone in his father’s body. Only his father’s incredible strength allowed him to survive.
But at the veterans’ home, where he was slowly recovering from his injuries, no one expected that someone might have a reason to break in. So, the security conditions were understandably lax and it was easy for Sergey to break in. Again he broke every already healed bone of his father and then escaped again. He repeated this several times until the next time his father was waiting for him with a gun. He managed to put three shots into his son’s body, but that did not stop Sergey from snatching the pistol from him and using it to beat his father up so brutally that for the rest of his life he was just a drooling creature that could no longer move, and even worse, articulate. Sergey hoped his father’s mind had survived the attack, unable to draw attention to itself in any way and thus doomed to be trapped in his body.
After this final attack, Sergey allowed himself to be arrested without resistance and would have endured his execution without protest. But the state had other plans for him. They saw potential in him that should not be wasted. If one was capable of such unscrupulous deeds even at a young age, untrained, what would it look like when Sergey trained? And so the then still teenager was declared dead and put into a special commando unit, in which Sergey’s innate abilities were perfected and used for their own purposes.
Sergey was never the scalpel you took out when you wanted to work particularly finely. He was the sledgehammer that was supposed to send unmistakable messages. He always proceeded with extreme brutality and unstoppably, which earned him the nickname “Terminator”. However, no one had Arnold Schwarzenegger in mind, but rather Robert Patrick’s T-1000, which also corresponded more to Sergey’s stature and appearance – he had less oversized muscles, but rather an athletic figure.
For many years Sergey had served the Russian secret organization that carried out killing missions all over the world. He was always the one involved when it was supposed to look like a hit-and-run accident, a robbery, or burglary resulting in death. This was his specialty. Although he had truly been trained in all types of killing, people were very keen to avail of his rough, brutal style, which truly made every death look as if the victim had fallen to an overzealous petty criminal and not a professional killer.
Anyone who was that good would eventually attract the attention of the private sector. Since money was always a very good argument for persuasion, the conditions were quickly clarified. From time to time, he still worked for the military, which he did on the one hand out of patriotism and on the other hand because he owed them a lot. Nevertheless, he was of course paid very well for his services.
However, he carried out this order without being paid, since it was also convenient for him that the secrets did not become public.
When Sergey saw Mo’s Mercedes, he had to smile. The Administrator had been right. Sergey liked people who were professionals, who could think strategically and put themselves in the shoes of others. The Administrator was able to do this, so he hadn’t just let Sergey guard the branch on a whim, and he was right.
Nodding in acknowledgement, Sergey took out his smartphone and called the number he knew, which he used very rarely but knew by heart.
“He’s here,” he shared only briefly.
The Administrator hesitated before answering in a distorted voice that always reminded Sergey of Batman. He liked the idea of Batman himself giving him orders to kill, even if this was to be the first time. “Regrettable. Do what you have to do. But not in the bank. That draws too much attention to it. Get me whatever he’s carrying.”
Sergey did not need any more instructions. He understood. Even though he had never met the Administrator personally, he trusted him blindly. And the Administrator also knew Sergey and his qualities and thus held back with further explanations.
Why the Administrator basically gave him a kill order for the first time, he didn’t care. This Mohamed Aslan, called Mo, posed a threat to their business relationship and had to be liquidated. Basically, the job was no different from his usual ones and would perhaps even be a lot easier.
Sergey got out of his car and continued to hide in the shadows. He would have liked to smoke a cigarette, but that would have been too conspicuous. He let his eyes wander over the houses, looking for suspicious movements. He wasn’t really expecting it, but he had been trained to always expect the unexpected and never to feel too safe.
As Mo opened the back door to the store, he took another look around. There was no one to be seen anywhere. In a village like this, it was no wonder, since the proverbial sidewalks were deserted very early here and everything lay there as if abandoned. Now and then, one could see a few young people who came in the evening or at night along the streets, mostly coming from a party. However, this was not the case today.
> When he entered the branch, he refrained from turning on the light. This was not because he was virtually breaking in here, but rather because neighbors could see the light if they happened to look outside and, in their righteousness, would call the police because someone might be stealing their money from their bank.
Since Mo knew the branch like the back of his hand, he had no trouble getting to Anna’s office without a light. If someone asked him why he had been at the bank at that time, he would simply claim insomnia. He had often remarked on this and it was also known from previous places of work that he often worked at night. When you belonged to a team that also did business worldwide, this was not surprising.
Mo was sweating. He knew he was doing the right thing, but even the right thing could feel very wrong. Actually, this shouldn’t be necessary here. He should have been able to ask Anna to find a solution together against Ahrend. But he couldn’t ask her. She was completely closed off. No wonder, since she surely saw no way out but to play along with the perfidious game and thereby humiliate herself God knows how.
Mo shook his head. There had to be something. Something. And basically, he already knew what.
Already a few weeks previously, he had come across a file that he did not know how to classify. It was only noted with the title Grimm and was located on a hard drive that was not supposed to belong to the computer. Everything was confused and when he asked Anna about it, hoping to have something on Ahrend, she nervously refused.
“That’s mine,” she had said. “Please don’t tell anyone. My computer’s broken, and it’s kind of easier to do my stuff here anyway.”
He believed her. At least he pretended to believe her, and then he programmed a loophole on the computer to have access to the files, even if she had resecured it. Now he would take a closer look at the files.
It took a while until he had seen everything so far. When it was all spread out before him in black and white, he no longer knew what to think. He quickly scribbled some notes on a sheet of paper. When he was done, he looked at them again and still couldn’t believe it.
No wonder Anna was afraid when Ahrend had to deal with something like that. But could that be the case? And how deep was Anna in this?
All of a sudden, Mo felt very queasy. This exceeded even his expectations, even if he could not yet make any sense of it. But he believed that he finally had enough pieces of the puzzle together for others to solve this. He would have liked to download the files or copy them to a stick, but this was refused. However, this did not matter. The notes he had made and the photos he took with his smartphone were enough. Now the only question was to whom he should hand over the information.
Hastily, he stood up and almost forgot to turn the computer off again. As he walked through the large room, he looked through the windows to see if he could spot anyone outside, but there was no one. But there was a feeling... Something wasn’t right, quite apart from the actual thing he was on the trail of here.
When he stepped out of the store, the feeling did not subside. The street he was so familiar with, even in the dark, suddenly seemed very threatening.
He would have loved to call Ben. But Ben could do nothing, and Mo wanted to have his hands free now so he could be ready for anything.
Sergey appeared as if from nowhere. Fast, brutal, unstoppable. But Mo was prepared. Since childhood, his father had taught him to be able to defend himself, and Mo had continued to hone his skills. So he was not the helpless victim that the attacker – a rather skinny guy in whom Mo directly recognized a Russian ancestry – expected. Nevertheless, the man was still very fast and skillful.
Sergey reached for Mo, sure to hit him hard with his other hand. But Mo dodged, grabbed the hand that held him and twisted it. Mo heard a hiss that came from Sergey drawing air in between his teeth. Instinctively, Mo let his fist crash on the arm twisted in this way, and then turned and, still turning, punched at the attacker’s face. But Sergey ducked under the blow, turned and struck Mo’s right ribs with his free hand, forcing him to let go of Sergey’s hand.
Sergey smiled, opened and closed his hand. “Not bad!” he declared in the broadest Russian accent, then casually stood up.
But as a skilled fighter, Mo immediately recognized that he had someone in front of him who certainly had some higher combat experience. “What do you want?” he hissed back at him. “I don’t have any money.”
Sergey raised his eyebrows in amazement. “You go into a bank at this hour and come out with no money?”
The pause gave Mo time to think. “And you, of all people, are lurking here at this hour?”
Sergey shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I was lucky.”
Mo shook his head. “You were expecting me.”
Sergey smiled. But it was not an evil smile, but one full of appreciation. “You’re a smart guy. Then you know what I want, too. Be smart and give it to me.”
Mo’s mind was working at full speed. Who was this Ahrend cooperating with?
Sergey nodded. “I guess that means no.”
Again the assault resumed. Mo could still fend off the first blows, but the force of Sergey’s punches and the hardness of his fists and arms were incredible. Already Mo thought he was hitting steel again and again and he had to grit his teeth.
Then Sergey’s blows came through as well. They hit Mo’s body like heavy iron balls and drove the air out of his lungs, while Mo already thought he could hear his bones cracking.
Nevertheless, his many hours of training came to his aid. He had never taken such blows there, and even the guys he usually had to deal with didn’t come close to Sergey’s skills, but Mo managed to land hits himself, which, however, had less effect than he hoped.
Sergey seemed to be able to take a lot of punishment. He received two direct hits to his head, which had no effect.
Mo, on the other hand, had the impression that his fist had hit a concrete wall.
This time, however, he did not wait and immediately went on the attack. He tried to get through Sergey’s defenses to land more blows. He would only be able to fight this opponent with stamina. He would have to wear him down blow by blow and not let up. He had already learned this from his father: someone who had decided to attack you had already crossed the greatest possible line for him and would not let up. On the contrary. Resistance would increase his brutality and determination. You had to eliminate someone like that and make sure that he could no longer be a danger to you.
Mo hit and hit, using all his skills. He had already been involved in many a brawl as a youth, was a hothead and even aggressively sought out fights. That it had been Ben, of all people, who finally got him away from that had something very ironic about it. But that was the way life played out.
Mo punched and kicked, used his elbows, as well as his knees. Again and again he managed to break through his opponent’s guard and land hard hits.
But Sergey also fought back and his blows were paying off, wearing down his opponent.
Mo had never felt such pain in a fight. He could take it, but Sergey’s blows were of a kind as if he were beating Mo with an iron bar.
Mo heard his bones crack, probably even one or two ribs were broken. He gritted his teeth, remembered his anger and drew strength from it. Now he brutally beat Sergey. Blow by blow he drove him back. Blocked his attacks. Broke through his guard. And let his fist crash into his face again and again.
Finally, Sergey sank down, covered in blood, propping himself up on his hands, while Mo stood over him, breathing heavily and with his fists raised, waiting for his opponent to make even one wrong move.
Sergey squatted on his lower legs and laughed at Mo. “You have spirit!”
Before Mo realized it, Sergey was already hurling a knife at him. The blade penetrated deep into his leg. Before he could scream, Sergey was already on him, punching him again and again with full force. He didn’t know what was keeping him on his feet. When Mo struck at Sergey with more desperation than coordination, Sergey hardly made
an effort to dodge. Instead, he suddenly held another knife in his hand and rammed it twice into Mo’s body.
“You fought well, but now it’s over,” Sergey only said, sounding as if he was talking to a friend whose lost battle he regretted.
Almost carefully, he supported Mo as he slumped to the ground. Mo watched helplessly as Sergey put the knife away and searched Mo’s pockets, finally taking out his wallet, smartphone and the piece of paper with the list. Sergey took a closer look at the list and frowned.
“What is this gibberish? A code?”
Mo smiled, showing his bloody teeth.
Sergey nodded appreciatively. “You’re full of surprises.” With that, he squatted down next to Mo and held the list in front of his face. “What does it say?”
Mo coughed. “The rating for your mother on Whore Portal.”
Sergey’s eyes flashed. It was only a brief moment, but Mo had noticed it after
all. “I’ll give you...”
Sergey did not get any further.
Mo pulled the knife out of his leg and rammed it into Sergey’s body. Sergey had seen the movement, but could not react quickly enough.
Sergey rolled to the side and Mo mobilized all his strength to push himself to his feet. With brute force of will, he kicked Sergey’s head and hit him on the forehead, sending his head flying to the side.
Mo quickly grabbed his smartphone and the list and stumbled back. The pain in his body was hellish, but he couldn’t give up now.
No retreat. No giving up.
Stumbling more than anything else, Mo tried to reach his car as fast as he could. His leg wanted to give way, his head just fainted, his heart could barely do its job, but Mo fought it.
Mo had always grumbled about the new electronics in the cars. “Who needs that? They really teach you to be lazy,” he had always said. But here and now, he was glad that he didn’t have to do anything but approach his car and touch the door handle. Immediately, the door opened. The car’s electronics recognized the key, which was still in Mo’s pocket.
Ultimate Rage - Ragnarok (Thriller) Page 4