by C. C. Monö
“But…I can’t just stop posting things on the net. My friends will get suspicious!”
“You’ll stop posting, but Axel Hallman won’t.”
Axel stared at the small man. It struck him that despite the smiles and tiny bows there was a hint of sarcasm bubbling behind Mr Milton’s polished surface.
“What I mean, sir,” the concierge manager continued, “is that our communication’s officer will post small messages in your name. Nothing much, just enough to keep people thinking you’re online. The same goes for your private e-mail account.”
“You can’t read my e-mails,” Axel objected. “That’s private!”
Mr Milton raised a brow.
“You agreed to it when you applied, sir.”
Damn it! Axel looked away in shame and exasperation, wishing he’d read those stupid application documents with a little more care.
“Mr Hallman,” Mr Milton said with a silver-tongued voice. “You are aware of the fact that as an E.K.A. leader you won’t have much of a personal life to speak of, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER 14
On a hillside, a few hours north of the Norwegian capital, stood a simple cabin, half buried in snow and well out of sight from the winding road below. White smoke puffed from its brick chimney, rising slowly at first before gathering speed as it climbed towards the darkening sky. Warm light poured out of the small windows, giving life to shadows that lurked around the massive snowdrifts.
The young man turned away from the window and considered his company. This was the very core of the network; the instigators of the grand plan. It was rare to see them all gathered like this. It was just too complicated, time-consuming, and dangerous to congregate on a regular basis. But now, with phase two initiated, the little group needed to meet. They all had roles to play and information to share. Some had teams to manoeuvre or members to protect. These were things that required a face-to-face discussion.
He gazed at the crackling fire, watching the flames flicker peacefully around the dry wood. A faint smell of smoke hovered around the room, mingling with the more enjoyable scents of coffee, whiskey, and cinnamon.
“It’s time, sir.” Thor’s husky voice cut through the silence, snapping everyone out of their thoughts. “We’ve got to go. It’s started to snow again.”
He stood in faint light by the door, like a statue peering out through the small window. Waiting. How can he stand like that for hours on end, the young man wondered, his eyes falling on the gun at the back of Thor’s waistband. My feet would kill me.
At the round table in the centre of the room, an elderly gentleman, the one they all called Smooth, emptied his whiskey glass and nodded. “All right.” The wooden chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back and got to his feet. “Duty calls.”
“May I ask something?” the young man inquired in a hushed voice. “I need to know; do you think we can pull this off? Will we succeed?”
Smooth gave him a little smile.
“But of course! We wouldn’t do this if we thought we’d fail, would we?”
The young man had his doubts. So did his father. The old man caressed his grey beard with pensive strokes and let out a heavy sigh.
“It’s a dangerous game we’re playing,” he said. “There are too many things that can go wrong.”
“I agree,” Smooth replied, “but who said starting a revolution was easy?”
“Come on, you guys.” Smooth’s daughter, a young copper-blonde woman in her mid-twenties, picked up her coffee cup. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. Let’s just stay positive. We’re prepared, and the odds are in our favour. After all, we got Mr Hallman into the Academy, didn’t we?”
In an old armchair at the other end of the room, a wiry young man with intelligent eyes and a head shaved like a Buddhist monk turned his gaze from the fire. “It all comes down to Hallman,” he said with a silky voice. “He’s our tool. If he fails, we fail.”
“I know,” said the young man. “And I know we’ve talked about this a hundred times but part of me still believes we should have told him something; at least enough to let him know what we expect of him.”
“And then send him into the Academy?” The Box agent coordinator, Pixie Young, shook her head. “They’d read him like an open book. At this point in time, Mr Hallman’s not skilled enough to handle such emotional pressure. Hell, he might not be able to handle it six months from now.”
Over by the door, Thor was pulling on his suit jacket, still without taking his eyes from the window. “Sir. We have to leave.”
“Yes, yes. I’m coming.” The wooden planks creaked under Smooth’s steps as he made his way over to Thor. “We’ve been over this before, and the others are right. Let’s stick to the plan and ensure that Mr Hallman plays his part well. If not, we’ll have to intervene. For now, Mr Hallman is on his own. It’s essential that he settle in, but when the time is right we’ll make our move.” He let Thor help him on with his coat, and then wrapped a black scarf around his thick neck. “There are no certainties in life, young man; only hope, dreams, and determination. But one thing is undeniable, we can’t change anything without trying.” There was a murmur of agreement among the others. “Now, I must go.” Smooth walked over to his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll call you.”
Cat nodded.
“Be careful.”
“Always, my dear. Always.”
He patted her cheek with affection and left. Cat gave the young man a little smile, and he returned it with a playful wink. Then he turned back to his window. Staring into the darkness, he thought about the future, about all it promised and everything that could go wrong.
Then he thought about Axel Hallman.
CHAPTER 15
The afternoon rain smattered against the bedroom windows. Once in a while, thunder roared. Leaning against a mountain of cushions, Axel sat on his new soft bed, flipping the prime minister’s business card between his fingers. He was in the process of emptying his old phone case, moving everything to his new black leather wallet.
Staring out into the room, his mind reeled back to that wretched day when it all began.
“You have so much potential,” his father had bellowed, his face red from anger. “How can you throw it all away?”
“Wait a minute!” Axel had yelled back. “You were the one who made me study economics to begin with, remember? I hate it!”
“Bah! You keep saying that you want to make a difference in the world. Well, you can’t do it without money and leadership. You need those two components. Without them, you can’t change anything.”
“There are other ways to make a difference,” Axel had said, doing his best to remain calm, “by exposing injustice or misuse of power, for example.” His father had waved his hands as if this was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. Still Axel pushed on. “You’re not going to like this, Dad, but I’ve decided to become a journalist. I’ll complete my studies as agreed, but after that I’ll apply for a course in journalism. I’ve already talked to the Department of Media Studies. They say I have a greater chance getting in with a degree in National Economics…”
Eyes bulging with fury, and lips pulled back in pure revulsion, his father had practically jumped off of the sofa.
“A journalist!” he’d spat, his voice a loud shrill. “That’s not making use of your potential! That’s not making a difference in the world! It’s just an excuse to get out of a job and an education.”
“But…”
“No! You hear me? You are meant for great things. You started Talk Thirteen, for heaven’s sake.”
“Peter and I did it together,” Axel had pointed out, tired of having this conversation again.
“Still, it was your idea, and it shows you’ve got potential to become a great leader one day. You’re good with people; they listen to you. And God knows you’re stubborn, which most executives are.” He paused and pointed at his son. “Don’t give me that face! You know I’m right. You’re
not afraid to speak your mind and growing up abroad has taught you how to socialise with people of many nations and social backgrounds. You have your mother’s good looks, and if you apply to the Academy, I’m confident you’ll be accepted!”
“It doesn’t change how I feel, Dad,” Axel had muttered. “Don’t you get it? I’m not applying!”
Even now he could remember the expression on his father’s face: the anger and the disappointment. Behind his eyes had been a wrath that Axel had never seen before.
“My parents had nothing. They were simple country folks with no dreams. I pulled myself out of that gutter. I made myself a very good life. I’m now a respected man, and I won’t let you shame me by being lazy and arrogant.”
“You see!” Axel had retorted. “You say you’re doing this for me, but it’s not true. You want me to gain power and fame so you can brag about it to your friends.”
To Axel’s great surprise, his father had lowered his head like a dispirited pastor.
“You’re my son. I know I don’t say it very often, but I love you. I want you to be happy and I’m trying to help.” He’d raised his head, eyeing Axel who’d sat there in stunned silence. “You have a good heart, and Talk Thirteen is a great example of that. I believe you when you say you want to make a difference in the world, I do. But if that’s the case, then you have to become a leader.”
“Sorry, Dad. I’m not doing it.”
His father had given his head a slow shake.
“Very well.” He’d walked over to the window, run his finger along the windowsill, and puffed up his chest. “You think you’ll be happier doing things your way?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, have it your way. You’re an adult; your mother and I can’t force you to listen to our advice. If you want me to back off, then I’ll back off.” Axel had watched his father with growing suspicion, and the man had given him a small nod before walking back to the sofa to pick up his coat. “Of course, I should add that if you want your mother and me to back off, then we’ll back off in every sense. It means you’re on your own. We’ll sell your apartment and cut any financial support you’re getting today.”
Axel had felt his anger beginning to rise beyond his control.
“You can’t do that! You promised me this apartment. You said that if I got my masters, it’d be mine!”
“As a matter of fact, we never specified which subject you had to graduate in. Apply to the Academy and get your E.K.A. diploma. If not...”
It was at that moment that Axel realised how much he hated his father. The man was a freaking dictator.
“Then sell the damn apartment!” he’d yelled, overwhelmed by fury. “I don’t care!”
“Fine, if that’s your choice.” The man had walked over to the front door and pulled on his coat. “You know, Talk Thirteen has come a long way because of me. You and Peter have done a great job, I don’t want to take that away from you, but you wouldn’t have succeeded without me.” His father had smirked. “I can see you don’t believe me, which doesn’t surprise me. Despite all my effort to teach you, you still don’t understand how the world works. How many of Talk Thirteen’s largest donors have you secured through my contacts?”
“Around forty per cent,” Axel had growled.
“And should you explore the backgrounds of other donors, you’ll see that about seventy-five per cent can be connected to me in one way or the other. All of them, whether you’ve talked to them or not, have been encouraged by me or my employees to support your cause.” A smug smile had spread across his father’s face. “You see? That’s how success is built; through influence and power, and you don’t get that by being a journalist.” He’d reached for the door. “I wonder what would happen to Talk Thirteen if seventy-five per cent of its biggest donors pulled out?”
Axel had felt as if the world had collapsed around him. All the work that he and Peter had put into their organisation – all the people they’d helped and would help – would crumble if their donors pulled out.
“The Academy only accepts twelve students,” he’d whispered. “I’ll never get in.”
“No one cares for a pessimist, son. Apply, and you’ll have your apartment and an organisation that will continue to thrive.”
The doorbell rang and Axel was jolted out of his depressing memory. He placed the business card in his new wallet, which he then threw into the drawer of his bedside table.
Screw the old man, he thought, as he rolled out of bed. His father wasn’t half as smart as he thought he was. On the contrary, he was an idiot. Once Axel had the power his father wanted him to have, he’d use that power to get even with the old man. Anyone with half a brain could figure that out.
The thought gave him some comfort as he jogged through the long corridor, past the spacious living room and over to the front door. Mr Milton was waiting for him at the door with a gleeful expression and the new phone.
“I see you’ve opened the packages from our sponsors,” Mr Milton observed. Axel glanced at his new Rolex and smiled. At least now he knew why Nicole told him not to bring anything. “If there’s anything you’re missing, just let us know and we’ll provide it for you.”
Axel laughed. The heaps of gifts on his bed had contained everything from high-class clothes and accessories, to a gold tablet with his name inscribed.
“I doubt you’ve missed anything,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear that, sir,” Mr Milton replied. “Dinner is at seven-thirty, would you care for a tour around the premises before that?”
“Thank you, but I think I’m going to take a shower and maybe rest a little before the evening’s event.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Mr Milton bowed again and left.
For a little while, Axel played around with his new phone. After managing to connect it to a series of wireless speakers, he turned on some music to lighten his mood. Then he wandered around the apartment, marvelling at all the furniture and exclusive art that filled his apartment.
It’s strange, he thought to himself, as he peeked out of one of the living-room windows, it’s so different, yet somehow they’ve managed to make it feel like home.
CHAPTER 16
His mouth was dry and his pulse raced. The new clothes and shoes, which had fitted him perfectly an hour ago, were now either too tight, too stiff, or too itchy. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looked fine, didn’t he? Suitable for an introduction dinner?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a scornful voice laughed at him. Since when are you worried about your appearance? Ignoring the voice, Axel shoved his hands in his pockets to stop them from trembling. In a few seconds, the elevator doors would open and he would step out on the fourth floor to meet the other eleven students for the first time.
What if he didn’t like them? What if they didn’t like him? It was easy to assume that they were all ambitious and arrogant individuals who thought themselves better than everyone else. How would he be able to socialise with such people, let alone respect them?
The elevator came to a stop. Axel took another deep breath, rolled his shoulders twice, and exhaled as the doors began to open. This was it.
A wonderful aromatic smell forced its way into the elevator, followed by the soft tunes of a well-known love song. Axel pulled his hands out of his pockets. They were still shaking. He tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket and stepped out.
Spellbound, he stared at a huge hall with oak floor, sand-coloured walls, and massive trees that reached for a vaulted ceiling. Way up there hung great chandeliers, casting their warm light over him in a welcoming embrace. He couldn’t help but smile. It was amazing.
Mesmerized by the atmosphere, he almost forgot how nervous he was. For a moment he just took in the sight, wishing Mikael could have been there to experience it. His friend would’ve loved it.
A group of servants gave him a quick bow before scurrying off past a great marble statue. Curious, Axel walked over and found
it to be a statue of Hayato Sano, the most famous E.K.A. student to have graduated from the Academy. Axel turned and realised that spread out along the walls were more statues, all of them of former students. Will they have one of me? He laughed at the thought. It was crazy.
Axel had just spotted a gigantic ice sculpture of the Academy logo when someone called his name.
“Welcome, sir.” A waitress in black uniform and a sunny expression approached from a nearby bar carrying a champagne glass on a tray. “May I offer you a drink?”
“Uh…”
“Don’t worry, sir. We are aware that you don’t care for alcohol. This is a White Jasmine Sparkling Tea.” The waitress gestured towards the tables. “Let me show you to your seat, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Russo. I’ll show Mr Hallman to his table.”
Axel turned to find Nicole approaching with long, elegant strides. She’d visited two countries in one day, three if you included Brussels, and Axel guessed she’d been up since at least half past three that morning. Even so, she looked stunning in a beautiful dark-blue gown. Her blonde hair was pulled back in an elaborate up-do, and around her long neck hung a pearl necklace.
“Ms Swan!”
“Oh, please, you can call me Nicole.”
Axel smiled. “As long as you call me Axel.”
Nicole laughed. “That’s kind of you, but I don’t think the management would approve. There are rules about these things, you know.” She waved off the waitress and took Axel by the arm. “Come, I’ll show you to your table.”
Making their way across the floor, Axel took in the surroundings. They were approaching the five dining tables. One long square table was placed along a windowless wall. The remaining tables were smaller and round, placed in the middle of the room. They were all elegantly set, with white, linen tablecloths, candles, and wide but short bouquets of red roses. The most spectacular feature, however, were 3D holograms of eagles, flying in circles at the centre of each table. Most of the other students had already arrived. Axel could hear their hushed conversations and feel their eyes upon him as he passed.