In a Fix

by Linda Grimes

  Per be? My stomach sank.

  “Ahiga?” Nils said. Huh. So that was his name. “What are you doing here? We are not supposed to meet until later.”

  Ahiga didn’t answer. He kept walking until he was right next to us, pushed me as far away from Nils as he could, and waloped

  him upside the head with his bag.

  Chapter 21

  Nils crumpled, leaving me standing there staring at the black-haired Berserker.

  “What the hel did you do that for, you big oaf?” I slammed his chest with the heels of my hands, surprising him enough that he

  actualy fel back a step.

  I knelt beside Nils and ran my fingers over his face. I didn’t think his jaw was broken, but he was going to have a hel of a

  bruise.

  “Uh, Ciel?” the big guy—Ahiga, Nils had caled him—said.

  “What?” I said, testy and not much caring that he was twice my size and could break me in half with one hand. I felt the back of

  Nils’s head where it had hit the hard dirt. No bleeding, no indentation. Good.

  “Ciel, what are you doing?”

  “I’m checking to see—oh, my God!” I whirled my head around to get a better look. “Bily? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me, you twit. Didn’t you know I’d come for you?”

  “Wel, yeah, but I was expecting Mina. That’s how you answered the phone.”

  “Go up against Hulk Hogan there in Mina’s aura? Do I look like a complete idiot to you?”

  I scanned him from head to toe and raised one brow. “If the moccasin fits…”

  “Never mind. I answered as Mina because I heard the Mina ringtone. The phone I gave you had some of my auras listed in the

  contacts, with al the numbers forwarded to my phone—I figured you’d catch on when you saw them, and cal whichever me you

  needed most.”

  “I didn’t exactly have the opportunity to phone you myself,” I said wryly, looking at Nils for signs of consciousness.

  “Relax. He’s not dead. Now, come on. We have to get out of here. There are a few too many of my European brethren

  roaming the area for comfort. Mark is waiting for us on the boat.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Mark is here?”

  “Yeah. He’s the surprise I was teling you about back at the hotel. He flew over on a company plane and rented a sailboat. It’s

  at the marina—he thought it would be easier to get you and Trey off the island if we bypass public transportation. Less hassle, less

  explaining, no waiting for new documents.”

  My mind raced ahead. “But that’s great—we can take Nils, too.”

  “You’re not getting the picture here, cuz. Nils is one of them. The bad guys. He’s going to be rounded up with the rest of them

  once we’re sure Trey is safe. Then Trey wil testify against the bunch of them,” he said, his voice low and level.

  “Nils might not be alive to freaking testify against if we don’t take him with us,” I whispered back, exasperated. Why could

  Bily never see my side of things?

  “And how do you propose we do that? Ahiga is strong, but I can’t carry your buddy there al the way to the marina. Besides

  which, we don’t need the attention that would bring us,” he said, his voice not quite as soft.

  “Then we’l just have to wait until he wakes up, won’t we?” I said, taking my own voice up a notch.

  With noticeable effort, Bily brought his voice down. “Time, Ciel. We. Don’t. Have it.”

  “Don’t blame me—you’re the one who hit him,” I said, trying but failing to folow suit.

  “Damn it, I was saving you!” he shouted.

  “That’s beside the point!” I matched him decibel for decibel.

  “AHIGA!” a horribly familiar voice boomed out from the direction of the gate.

  We both stopped short and turned to look.

  Crap. It was Per.

  My head snapped back to Bily. “Just play along,” he said, suddenly calm. He positioned himself between me and the oncoming

  mini-horde, lifting one arm in greeting to Per and the men who were with him. Al were costumed similarly—the perfect Viking

  swarm.

  Per spoke heartily as they approached. “What is the yeling about, my friend? Have you found a nice Swedish girl to amuse

  yourself with until—” He stopped when he saw Nils.

  The men—fifteen or sixteen of them, it looked like—formed a loose circle around us. Per stepped toward the center and

  looked down. “What happened here?” he said to Bily.

  “I don’t know,” Bily said. “I just got here myself. This lady says she found him like this, and was checking to see if he was hurt

  or just passed out drunk. She got a little overexcited when I told her to leave and let me handle it.” He turned to me and said,

  “You can go now, miss. We’l take care of him.”

  I pushed myself up off the ground, careful not to look directly at Per. “Uh, sure. Hope your friend is okay. See ya.” I hurried

  toward a space between two of the barbarians.

  “Wait,” Per said, taking hold of my arm and turning me to face him. “You’re not Swedish.”

  I cringed at his touch.

  “I know you,” he said slowly, staring hard, processing my face.

  The Vikings behind me closed ranks. I saw Bily’s fists clench, and wiled him not to do anything stupid. He relaxed his stance

  —somewhat—when Per dropped my arm.

  I smiled, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “I don’t think so. I’m sure I would remember if we had met. You’re, um,

  striking.” Especialy with that huge purple bruise spreading down your forehead, and the double shiners. But I decided not to

  mention that. Didn’t seem like something he’d take kindly to being reminded of.

  “No, I do know who you are. You’re the Haligan woman, the one working for Mina Worthington.”

  “Who?” I said.

  “Don’t play dumb. I don’t have time for it. Tel me what you did to Nils—did you drug him? Or sneak up on him and hit his

  head with a rock, perhaps?” He paused, a sneer on his face, a threat in his too-quiet voice. I got the idea he didn’t like women

  much. Probably had mommy issues.

  I was about to address the subject with him when I caught a warning look from Bily, who was now situated to the left of and

  slightly behind Per. I kept my mouth shut.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Per said. “No matter. Nils has always been weak-headed when it comes to women.” He looked down

  and kicked his coleague’s leg lightly. A smal groan came from the prone Viking, which seemed to satisfy Per. “It could be you

  have taught him a valuable lesson.” He turned back to me. “So, Miss Haligan, it seems we have happened upon you at an

  opportune time. Tel me, where is Mina?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, seeing no point in denying who I was. Then, just because his fearless leader charade got on my nerves,

  I added, “And I wouldn’t tel you if I knew.” (Yeah. Bluster. Like I said, it’s a reflex.)

  Bily winced, but of course couldn’t say anything. Fortunately, Per was too busy staring at me like I was dog shit on his shoe to

  notice anything odd about his faithful Indian companion.

  “Oh, I think you wil tel me anything I want to know, Miss Haligan. I realy do.”

  I swalowed hard. Note to self: learn to keep your mouth shut.

  He turned to two of the men and said, “Karl, Lennart—see to Nils. Take him back to the house. Get a doctor if you must, but

  use someone we know.”

  They each got a shoulder under Nils’s arms and hauled him to his feet. His head flopped to one side, but his eyelids were

  starting to flutter and he was making an effort to get his legs to suppor
t him.

  “I’l take the woman,” Bily volunteered. He wouldn’t want to be around when Nils woke up. “She’l talk for me.”

  “No, Ahiga. I’l take care of our little friend. I need you to go to our booth in the town center and see that the samples are

  ready to be distributed after our package is sent. Tel the men to prepare for delivery.”

  “But—” Bily started, then heard Nils groan and thought better of it. “Right. Don’t worry. I’l take care of it,” he said to Per

  while looking straight at me. My mouth dried at the thought of him leaving, but I managed a minuscule nod. He’d be back for me

  somehow.

  Watching him march off without me left me so scared I wanted to vomit. I drew in slow, deep breaths until I could control it,

  then chanced a glance at Per. He was watching me intently, sucking down my fear like it was blood and he was a tick. The

  fucking misogynistic asshole. I narrowed my eyes and stuck out my chin, refusing to feed him what he wanted.

  Instead, I watched Nils. He was almost back to the land of the living. One of his human crutches spoke encouragingly to him in

  Swedish, and he mumbled something back. At least he was alive. I took some comfort from that. As much as I hated to see him

  go, I hoped Karl and Lennart got him away from here before he started questioning why Ahiga had clobbered him. Bily needed

  time to ditch that aura.

  “Walk with me, Miss Haligan,” Per said, sounding as pleasant as I’d ever heard him, which made the fine hairs on the back of

  my neck stand at attention.

  Not seeing a ready alternative, I fel into step beside him. The others trailed a few feet behind us. Rocks in various hues of pink,

  gray, and black dotted the expanse between us and the sea, where the Baltic lapped against a strip of white sand. If I hadn’t been

  stroling with a monster, I might’ve enjoyed the view.

  “Ciel, isn’t it? Such an unusual name. It means ‘sky’ in French, doesn’t it?” He got a faraway look in his eye, as if something

  had just occurred to him. “May I cal you Ciel?” he continued conversationaly as we walked along the strand.

  I shrugged, not trusting that any words coming out of my mouth wouldn’t get me into even deeper trouble.

  “Ciel, then. Are you quite sure you can’t be more helpful about Mina? She is a client, not a friend, ja?”

  “I don’t betray clients,” I said, aiming my tone for neutral but hitting cold instead.

  “But this situation isn’t in your job description, is it? Whatever it is you ‘facilitate’ for Mina doesn’t include you getting hurt,

  does it?”

  “What it doesn’t include is her getting hurt.”

  “Mina wil come to no harm in the long run, if she cooperates. She has access to something we need. That is al.”

  Yeah, I thought wryly. Trey. And I already knew the harm Per was wiling to do Mina. It wouldn’t help me to let on, though, so

  I kept my eyes forward and said nothing.

  My silence sparked speculation. “If it is a matter of money, whatever she is paying you, we can offer more.”

  “I don’t need your dirty money.” I would have spit, but that’s a bit melodramatic even for me.

  “I see. You are an idealist, one who must always take the moral high ground. In my own way, I, too, am an idealist. What I

  have learned, though, Ciel, is that sometimes the high ground is a dead end. Sometimes one must step around a lesser ideal in

  order to obtain a greater one. Do you understand?”

  Step around? Try stomp al over. He sounded as benign as a philosophy professor giving a lecture to a slow student, but I

  knew better. “It seems to me, if you easily cast aside the so-caled lesser ideals, then your loyalty to any greater one would always

  be in question,” I said, matching his lofty tone.

  His mouth tightened. “There we must disagree.”

  I shrugged again, and we walked in silence until we came to a huge wooden structure, weathered gray from the elements. A

  long, thick-timbered arm was positioned on an axle between two A-frame supports, with a massive counterweight at the bottom

  holding it in an upright position.

  Sheesh. Talk about your phalic symbols.

  At least fifty Vikings mingled near it. They weren’t exactly standing guard, but they had the effect of keeping the tourists a fair

  distance from it. My curiosity got the better of my reluctance to speak to Per. “What’s that?”

  “That,” he said, pride evident in his voice and stance, “is the Visby trebuchet. It is a replica of a medieval war engine designed

  to launch artilery from a great distance. This one has a range of almost two hundred meters with a limestone projectile. Less for

  something heavier, but stil impressive.”

  “Oh. Wel, not that I don’t appreciate the sightseeing tour, but why are we stopping here?” His almost human behavior was

  starting to make me antsy.

  “Shortly we wil send a package into town via this attention-getting delivery system.”

  I stared at the machine, which suddenly took on a more sinister aspect. “That’s how you’re going to bomb the city?” I said,

  appaled.

  “You know about that?”

  Oops. Probably shouldn’t have let that slip. “I’m just guessing.”

  He didn’t seem to mind my knowing. That wasn’t good—it meant he didn’t think I’d be talking to anyone about it in the near

  future.

  “It seemed appropriate, given the medieval theme of the festival,” he said.

  How could he be so cavalier about it? “But why? Why do you want to kil al those innocent people? What have they ever

  done to you?”

  He looked puzzled. “Kil them? Who said anything about kiling them?”

  “You did. You just said you were going to bomb them, for God’s sake!”

  “Yes. With advertisements. Why would we kil our potential customers?”

  “Customers?” Then the connection came to me. The shampoo. The body wash. “Is this how you finance your group? You’re

  trying to ram some sort of new masculine agenda down Sweden’s colective throat by seling men’s toiletries?”

  His smile gave me the creeps. “You are wel-informed, aren’t you? Yes, restoring the true masculine ideal to Sweden is our

  goal. Getting our products into the hands of the men is one way we’re going about it.”

  I was unable to suppress a derisive snort. “Shampoo and body wash wil make men more manly? Helo? I think you must have

  some wires crossed somewhere. Ever hear the term ‘metrosexual’? Your target demographic probably isn’t the most macho

  group out there.”

  “Not at first, no. But they wil be after they use our soap and lotions for long enough,” he said. I must have looked blank,

  because he continued. “Steroids, Miss Haligan. Surely you’ve heard of them.”

  “Steroids,” I echoed, shocked. “You’re lacing your toiletries with steroids?”

  He didn’t deny it; he only stood staring at the huge catapult with smug satisfaction, the arrogant bastard.

  “Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” I asked, biting back the “you idiot” I desperately wanted to add. See? I can learn.

  “Even in a controled situation the side effects can be horrendous. With no monitoring, no dosage warnings…” What he was

  proposing was tantamount to poisoning a large segment of the population.

  “There may be a few bad reactions, yes, but on the whole it wil make men’s lives better. They wil be stronger. More wiling to

  listen to what we have to say. In the long run, more likely to vote for someone who supports our platform.”

  “Good God. You sound like a freaking politician.” It was so r
idiculous I almost laughed, but the glint of fanaticism in his eyes

  kiled the mirth in my throat.

  “Politics is the only true path to power. To do the country any lasting good, one must eventualy pursue that course, yes.”

  “Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, it should be a man’s own decision whether or not to shrink his testicles down to the

  size of raisins?” Contempt colored my voice as I shot a quick glance at his crotch.

  His laugh was an ugly sound. “If these so-caled men had any bals to begin with, they wouldn’t be in need of our help. And, no,

  Miss Haligan, I don’t find it necessary to use our products. Would you care to see for yourself?”

  “I’l pass on that,” I said with as much scorn as I could summon. “I prefer men who aren’t clinicaly insane.”

  He stepped closer, looming over me, and whispered, “And do you know what I prefer, you little bitch? I prefer that you tel me

  immediately where I can find Mina. You have one more chance.”

  “Or what? You’re going to slap me around in front of al these people? You get off on that, don’t you? Hurting women?” I

  taunted. Stupid, I know, but I was too pissed off to care.

  His face darkened. He opened his mouth to speak, but a middle-aged, long-bearded buffalo of a man interrupted our little tête-

  à-tête.

  “It’s time to turn the engine to face the wal. The men are ready,” the man said in surprisingly good English.

  Per’s face relaxed. His whole demeanor changed to that of someone who’d just received an unexpected gift.

  “A moment, Sam.” Per looked at me, speculation glittering in his eyes. “Can you swim, Miss Haligan?”

  Huh?

  He didn’t wait for an answer.

  “Sam, tel the men to winch up the arm, and bring me some leather straps.” And then, more softly so the people beyond the

  Viking human shield wouldn’t hear, “We have a volunteer for a test flight.”

  Holy shit. He couldn’t mean that, could he? “Sam, wait!” I caled after the retreating man.

  The buffalo started to turn back to me, but continued on his way when Per gave him an abrupt hand signal.

  “You’l get no help from Sam just because he is a felow countryman of yours. He is my brother-in-law, and quite loyal to our