Revenge

by Filip Forsberg

  Hugo’s eyes flashed. “Give her something that will wake her up,” he said. “Do it now—and if she doesn’t wake up, then this will be the last thing you’ll ever do.”

  The doctor clumsily pulled himself up by the doorframe and staggered to the metal cabinet. He removed a small, transparent bottle, then took a syringe, stuck it in the top of the bottle, and pulled the needle back.

  With a furtive glance at Hugo, Markov injected the woman with the syringe and took a step back.

  “There. She will wake up soon.”

  Not ten seconds passed before the young woman began to move. She moaned, and Freya put a hand gently against her face.

  “Hey, are you awake?”

  The woman opened her eyes with apparent effort, blinking several times before focusing on Freya.

  She mumbled, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Freya. What’s your name?”

  “Anna.”

  Hugo put his hand on Freya’s shoulder and said, “Okay, new plan. We’re taking Anna with us. You hold onto her, and I’ll handle Markov. Okay?”

  Before Freya could answer, a man roared from above them.

  *

  It was impressive. Mikko watched with admiration as Sussie directed the drones from the computers lined up in the back of the white van. Three additional monitors had been connected, and they flooded the van’s interior in a faint greenish glow.

  “Check this out,” she said.

  A second later, one of the drones swept down onto the roof of the villa and aimed at two men hiding behind a shed. Their bodies displayed angry red on the screen from the drone’s powerful infrared camera.

  “And tada!”

  A thin, metallic drumming filled the air as a torrent of ammunition pummeled the shed. The targeted men threw themselves behind a tree and then took off running.

  Mikko chuckled. “You control them pretty well.”

  “Hell yeah, I do. The issue isn’t with how to control them, though; it’s more about understanding how much is enough. I don’t want to scare these guys away. We need to draw them to us, not push them back against Hugo and Freya.”

  “True.”

  Suddenly, there were three more men on the screen. One pointed, then they all aimed weapons and opened fire on the five drones swarming outside the villa. Mikko raised his eyebrows.

  “They don’t seem to be in panic mode, even though we caught them off-guard with a surprise attack.” He checked his watch. “It’s time, Sus. Be ready to pull them back—slowly, so they can see which direction it’s coming from.”

  Sussie clicked her teeth. “Roger.”

  With expert precision, she directed the small cloud of drones toward the roof in a wide circle and emptied the last of the magazines. When the rounds were gone, she kept holding the trigger, creating a buzzing sound that sounded over the area. On the monitors, Mikko watched as guards poured out and pointed their weapons into the air. They had swallowed the bait.

  “Good,” he said.

  Sussie steered the cloud back in a kind of controlled chaos, and Mikko opened the back door to allow access to the drones’ storage chambers. Twenty-eight seconds later the first drone softly flew down and landed in its cage.

  “One in. Four to go.”

  Cries echoed from far away as Sussie steered the remaining drones back toward the van, and Mikko thought he heard the faint sound of revving snowmobiles. Stepping out into the snow, he lifted his binoculars toward the villa—then dropped them, startled.

  “We’ve got company, Sussie!” he shouted. He scooped up the binoculars from the ground and jumped back into the van. Pulling the door closed, he said, “Time to go. Four or five guys are heading this way, and fast. All the drones home safe and sound?”

  “Yep, we’re good,” Sussie said.

  Mikko slammed the rear doors closed. The first part of the plan was done, at least. He pulled out an emergency light, lit it, and threw it out the van window against a tree. The burning phosphorus illuminated the surroundings in a reddish gleam.

  Sussie jerked her head toward him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Mikko chuckled and hopped into the driver’s seat. “Giving them something to aim for,” he said with a wink. Then he stepped on the accelerator.

  *

  They froze as the voice above them thundered again. A deep, primal scream. Hugo grabbed hold of Markov’s arm and dragged him forward. Freya followed closely behind with her arm snugly around Anna. Anna, pale and weak, held on to Freya with a grip that turned her knuckles white.

  This might not have been such a great idea, Hugo thought as he watched Anna stumble along. But really, it had been inevitable. Freya was never going to leave the woman behind.

  Another shout, this one even louder. Whoever was doing the screaming had to have been completely mad with anger.

  Hugo yanked Markov to the door, spun him around, and demanded, “Who’s screaming?”

  Sweat was streaming into Markov’s eyes, and he rubbed at them and grimaced. “How am I supposed to know? One of the guards must have discovered you.”

  Freya looked at Hugo, and Markov, sensing a moment’s uncertainty between them, snickered triumphantly.

  “Not so victorious now, are we?”

  Hugo swung a fist and hit the scientist so hard that his forehead thumped into the doorframe. Markov whimpered but said nothing more.

  They were going to have to improvise. That’s the kind of thing that happened during secret missions—circumstances changed, and you could either change with them or go down in flames. From further up the stairs, a door slammed open and a man stuck his head out and shouted something. Markov yelled in response, and Hugo hit him again. This time, Markov cried out in pain. Ahead, the man stepped into the stairway with a long, dark weapon.

  A second later, a series of heavy bullets slammed into the door frame next to Hugo’s head. He grabbed Markov’s arm and threw them both backward into the lab room. They collapsed in a pile beside Freya and Anna; Markov tried to scramble to his feet, but Hugo lunged for him and pinned him down.

  “Not so fast, my friend.”

  Markov pursed his lips and spat in Hugo’s face. With the back of his arm, Hugo wiped away the bloody saliva and threw a look at Freya. She was hunched over, protecting Anna with her body. When the long salvo was finally silenced, Hugo glanced at his wristwatch—only three minutes left to get out of here. If they didn’t escape, they’d be dead soon.

  The gunman at the top of the stairs shouted in glee. “Stay where you are. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  Hugo clenched his jaws. It was now or never. His pulse throbbed in his ears as adrenaline drove through his veins like a high-speed freight train. He jumped to his feet, lifted his weapon, and set off up the stairs. Flying up three steps at a time, his legs pumped like pistons.

  From the top of the stairway, their assailant cried out in surprise. He raised his weapon again and pulled the trigger. A long, hazy sound echoed through the stairwell, and Hugo felt something pelt him in the shoulder and face. Still, he didn’t stop advancing.

  At the door less than a second later, he reached out and grabbed the barrel of the man’s rifle. It burned his fingers, but he ignored the pain and yanked the weapon away. The man screamed in words Hugo didn’t understand; in response, Hugo tiger-leaped forward and thrust the butt of the rifle into the man’s face. A muted thud mixed with a sick crunching noise as the man’s nose was crushed and he staggered backward.

  Only then did Hugo stumble to the side, reaching for his shoulder. The warm wetness that met his fingers confirmed that he’d been hit. Freya shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Hugo? Answer me!”

  Hugo took a few deep breaths and regained balance. “Yeah, I’m here,” he called back. The coast is clear. Bring them up.”

  Markov and Anna came first, with Freya right behind them, pointing her Desert Eagle at the back of Markov’s head.

  When she saw Hugo leaning against the
doorframe, she said, “Christ. You’re hurt.”

  Hugo grimaced. “Yeah. Went right through the shoulder.”

  “Okay. When we get to the van, we’ll patch you up.”

  A long burst of machine-gun fire exploded in the distance, and they stared at each other, wide-eyed.

  “Time to go,” Freya said.

  Hugo looked at the time. “Forty seconds left. We definitely have to get out of here now. Take Anna; I’ll take care of Markov.”

  “Sure you can?”

  “I’m sure. Go.”

  The small group moved through the deserted house and, after what seemed like a lifetime, pushed themselves out through the massive door. In the distance, explosions and a long, drawn-out burst of gunfire rang out. Hugo smiled crookedly. It seemed that Mikko and Sussie had successfully given the villains something to aim for.

  He pointed. “There. Let’s move.” He and Freya put Anna and Markov in front of them as they headed to their meeting point, and Hugo sent up a silent prayer that the plan he’d orchestrated would succeed. This was always the most sensitive part of a collaboration—the first assignment.

  The seconds passed, and a cold feeling began to spread in Hugo’s stomach. But when he finally heard the sound of an engine approaching, he relaxed. It was the van, with snow spraying high behind it.

  “Excellent—let’s move. Our ride is here.”

  Without coming to a stop, the white van slowed and the passenger side door slid open in front of where they stood. Hugo and Freya pushed Markov and Anna inside, then jumped in after them. In the distance came the renewed sound of shouting voices.

  *

  He regretted it the second he gave the order to land. Xi gripped the armrest as the helicopter pilot performed evasive maneuvers, dipping and turning sharply to escape the firestorm beneath them. Xi stood from his seat and swore as the helicopter dived, fighting to keep his composure. He got a clear look at the ground through the side window as again the pilot abruptly changed direction.

  A dozen little dots below scurried around, shooting their weapons into the air toward the helicopter. The helicopter’s runners hit a treetop, and Xi growled, “Get us out of here, goddammit! Now!”

  The pilot said nothing but immediately changed course again. Xi turned to Miguel, who was a sickly green color but produced a wan, distorted grin that reminded Xi of a shark’s mouth.

  “That Russian scientist is a popular guy,” Miguel said in a quivering voice.

  “The men on the ground are looking for something. It looks like someone got here before us.”

  “You think?”

  Xi shrugged. “They don’t seem particularly interested in talking, do they? Shoot first and ask later. I’m thinking it isn’t likely that Markov’s still in his lab.”

  Miguel was going to reply when the pilot once again threw the helicopter in a cross turn. He sat in his seat, arms wrapped around his knees, and closed his eyes.

  “So what are we going to do, then? Landing here would be pure suicide.”

  The hair on Xi’s arms stood up. It was true. “Pilot,” he said, “ascend. Take us the hell away from this nightmare.”

  The helicopter climbed sharply, pressing Xi back down into his seat. Ten seconds later, it leveled out, and Xi pulled a pair of heat-seeking glasses from a black box under his seat. He pulled the equipment onto his face, turned it on, and scouted the area below them. Thirteen little red ants scurried around on the ground. He lifted his gaze toward the villa in the distance.

  “Take us closer.”

  More red-and-gold dots appeared as the helicopter approached the property. Xi counted five—and four of them were moving quickly away from the villa. He knew immediately that one of those insolent dots was the man he had met in Malmö.

  Under his breath, Xi grumbled, “Now you, you moron—you’re finished.”

  *

  It’s always better to get away and live to fight another day. As Mikko slammed his foot on the accelerator, Hugo’s injured shoulder rammed into the edge of his seat. He moaned, and Freya grabbed hold of him.

  “How is it going?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Sussie looked up from her laptop. “What’s going on? You hurt?”

  Hugo nodded. “Yeah, took a round to the shoulder.”

  Without a wasted moment, Sussie retrieved a first aid kit from the wall of the van and tossed it to Freya. She caught it and rifled through the contents.

  “Well,” she said, raising an eyebrow, “that’s convenient,” and pulled out a package of hemostatic gauze. With a knife, she cut a hole from the fabric around the wound, exposing Hugo’s skin, then tore open the gauze pack and pressed the bandage hard against Hugo’s shoulder. The color drained from Hugo’s face.

  “Looks like it went right through, like you thought,” Freya said.

  Hugo let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Give me something for the pain, and just do your best to fix it.”

  Freya found a bottle of disinfectant and some ibuprofen in the first aid kit. “Just ibuprofen?” she griped, shaking her head. “There’s hemostatic freaking gauze, but nothing stronger than ibuprofen?” She sighed and turned to Hugo. “Hold on. You’re going to feel this.”

  Hugo emptied his mind, swallowed the pills, and felt a vague burning sensation as Freya worked on his shoulder.

  The van swung hard to the left as Mikko turned onto the snow-covered forest roads. “Hold on!” he shouted. A second later, the van took to the air, hitting an enormous pothole like a roughly constructed ramp. Hugo flew forward, almost landing on top of Freya, but she managed to hold him down. White-hot pain surged through his shoulder; Hugo clenched his jaws and endured it.

  “There,” Freya said after a few minutes. “Not quite like new, but it’ll be good enough for now.”

  Before Hugo could reply, Freya pulled a thin syringe from the box and stuck it in his leg.

  “I found something stronger,” she said with a half-smile. “This will make you feel better.”

  A wave of fire streamed through his body, and his eyes glistened.

  “Holy— Wow. What was that?” he asked breathlessly.

  Freya blinked. “Just our special energy mix.”

  The van drove over another bump, and from the back seat, Anna groaned. Her skin was blanched and clammy, but otherwise, she appeared unscathed. Freya crawled over the seat back and sat down, wrapping her arms gently around the young woman.

  “Easy. Take it easy. It’s over now.”

  Anna lay in her arms and began to sob.

  But through the sound of her cries, the van’s engine, and the road rushing by beneath them, Hugo heard something else—a deep, rhythmic sound. He knew what it was the second he heard it.

  “Helicopter,” he said.

  Mikko cried out, “We’ve got company! Again!”

  A long burst of gunfire echoed through the air. Ahead of them, Hugo saw the snow being whipped up as high-caliber rounds pelted the road in front of them. A bullet went through the windshield and shattered it. Mikko screamed as a shard of glass sliced his face. He slammed the accelerator, and Hugo cursed in the crippling cold gusts that blasted through the van as they sped down the slick roadway.

  *

  It had been way too close. Xi hit Miguel on the shoulder.

  “Jesus, not so close! Markov’s in the car. We need to stop them, not kill them.”

  Miguel’s face reddened, and he spat, “Don’t you think I know that? Tell the pilot to keep the chopper still.”

  Xi groaned. Miguel was a brilliant mercenary; he’d have been outstanding if it weren’t for that temper that tended to made him unsteady.

  “Okay, now. Put a few rounds in the bridge in front of them.”

  Miguel aimed at a wooden bridge forty meters ahead of the van. The heavy bullets demolished the wood, and Xi smiled. That would stop them.

  *

  It may not have been the best time to have a chat with the manager, but Hugo put on a headset.

&nbs
p; “Ready.”

  Sussie worked fast. The van was approaching a wooden bridge, and in the same second that Sussie gave thumbs-up, the bridge exploded in front of them. Massive chunks of wood trusses tore off and fell to the river below.

  “Hold on!” Mikko yelled.

  The voice in Hugo’s ear spoke, but he couldn’t make out what it said. Everything happened so fast, and adrenaline made his body perceive everything without filters: the sharp salves from the helicopter, the crashing of bullets hitting the bridge, Mikko’s roaring, Anna’s hysterical screaming.

  A second later, the van slid onto the collapsing bridge. It listed alarmingly to the left, and Mikko pressed the accelerator to the floor.

  “We’re going to make it!” he shouted.

  The wheels spun beneath them as the once-level bridge became a slanted incline. The icy river rushed heedlessly beneath the disintegrating structure. Finally—miraculously—the tires found purchase and the van lurched forward, clearing the threshold with a roar and leaving the destruction—and merciless helicopter—behind.

  “Yes!” Hugo thundered.

  The voice in his headset repeated its question. “What’s happening? Who is this?”

  “Hugo! It’s Hugo!”

  “Hugo? This is Madeleine. How’s the mission going?”

  Hugo gave a dry, nervous chuckle, then hashed out a quick summary of the last half hour. Madeleine listened patiently.

  “You said you have Markov?”

  “Yes, he’s lying here on the floor of the van.”

  Now Madeleine chuckled. “Great job, Hugo. I knew you were the right man for us.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have an angry helicopter chasing us, and they’re not giving up. And yeah, we have Markov, but we didn’t find an antidote or a scanner.”

  “Gotcha. Get to runway B as fast as you can. I’ll see if I can arrange for a little help to be waiting for you there. And you’re heading to Helsinki later?”