He thought through the last hour. It might not have been so disastrous anyway. After all, the researchers had gone crazy. And they were probably dead. And the fact was that after this, QuantumCorp’s reputation in the industry would be destroyed for years. They would have a hell of a time getting other organizations to collaborate with them.
As Klaus went through the situation in his mind, he became more and more convinced that it might have actually been a success. After a few minutes, he found that he was enjoying himself. But the smile on his lips faded as the office door slammed open. Klaus sprang to his feet in a panic as Runner rushed into the room.
“What?” Klaus asked, wide-eyed.
“I just talked to our men. They’re delayed. They’re stuck in traffic.”
Klaus rolled his eyes. “You idiot! You scared me with your damned theatrical arts.”
“I apologize.”
“Leave me. Only disturb me if it’s of utmost importance. Understood?”
But before Runner could answer, a windowpane exploded in a thousand tiny fragments as a black-clad figure came crashing through it.
*
So close. Xi rolled and got up onto his legs as softly as a panther. The pain was still there, but it was just background noise now. Klaus stood there like a statue, unable to move. Xi took a few steps toward him, and the broken glass crunched under his feet.
He hissed, “So, you think you can dismiss me?”
Klaus’ face was pale as a sheet. The dancing flames in the fireplace reflected in the glass on the floor, spreading a kaleidoscope of colors that would have been beautiful, given different circumstances.
“No, no—it was a mistake. Believe me.”
Xi bared his teeth. “No, you’re the one who’s going to believe me. Believe me when I say you are going to regret it.”
The knife slid into his right hand, and Xi brought it toward Klaus’ face. Runner, who had thrown himself aside when Xi made his entrance, now rushed forward with his weapon raised. He fired a shot into the ceiling, and it blared in the room.
“Stop! Stay where you are!”
Xi froze and glared at the man. “Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about who I am. Just stay where you are, or I’ll shoot!”
Runner took two big steps and grabbed Klaus by the collar. “Time to go,” he said. “Move!”
Klaus stumbled to the doorway.
“You won’t get away,” Xi spat at him. “You know you’ll never get away.”
Klaus and Runner disappeared through the doorway and slammed the door.
*
From the corridor outside the apartment, Hugo heard crashing sounds. Voices shouted from behind the door, and he pressed his ear to it. There were at least two different voices, maybe three. Someone screamed, and glass shattered. Someone fell to the ground. Then came two loud bangs from a gun.
Now! Hugo kicked the door once, twice, but it didn’t move. It must have been reinforced, he thought. More shouting came from the other side of the door, and he kicked again. Nothing. Then, running steps. To Hugo’s surprise, the lock disengaged, and the door opened. A man with cropped, dark hair stuck his head out.
“Are you Hugo?”
Hugo stared in amazement at the tall, muscular man. “Yes, I am.”
“Help us, for God’s sake. There’s someone after us. We have him locked in one part of the apartment, but he’ll break out of there soon.”
Hugo didn’t need to hear any more. He pushed the door open and ran into the apartment. The beautiful sculptures and paintings along the walls stood in stark contrast to the chaos that ruled inside the apartment. Hugo rushed through the corridor and came to a doorway that opened into a massive library.
A man lay on the couch on his stomach with a gun pointing to a closed door. He turned his head when he realized he wasn’t alone.
“You.”
Hugo flinched. “Do I know you?”
“No. But I know you. I’ve been following you for more than twenty-four hours.”
“What do you mean?”
Klaus bit his lip. “I am the person who arranged this entire coup. But we’ll talk about that later. Right now, we have bigger problems. We managed to lock him in, but it won’t last.”
He pointed to the closed door, which shook a second later when someone threw themselves at it. Hugo smiled maliciously.
“Xi Liu?”
“How do you know his name?”
“You think you’re the only one with access to information?”
Klaus gave a conciliatory nod. “You’re right. So what should we do?”
The door stopped shaking and the seconds passed by. Hugo pulled out his phone.
“We make sure you get out of here.”
“Are you going to let us go?”
Hugo held up his hand. “Sussie? It’s me. Listen.” Hugo told her what had happened, then said, “Get a police force here that can take care of the people who come out.”
Once he had confirmation, he hung up.
“I want you to go straight down and wait in the hall. Do you understand? The police will be here soon to take care of you. And don’t try to escape, now that we know who you are. Got it?”
Just then, another windowpane exploded, and again a black-clad figure rolled over the rug, landing heavily.
*
Runner grabbed Klaus’ arm and pulled him out of the library. Hugo was alone with Xi, who slowly stood and brushed glass shards from his pants. Xi exposed his red teeth, and hair stood up on the back of Hugo’s neck.
“Hello, Hugo.”
Hugo took a few steps aside. “Yes. It’s me again.”
“You’re supposed to be dead. I killed you myself.”
“Not enough, obviously.”
Xi’s eyes flashed and turned black, and he moved in the other direction. The two men studied each other like two tigers in a pen. Hugo’s entire attention was focused on the wiry assassin in front of him. After so many hours of hunting, it was a strange feeling to see Xi in front of him again.
Xi pulled out a knife, and Hugo did the same, both of the blades glittering.
“We doing this again?” Hugo asked.
“Didn’t finish the first time,” Xi answered, never taking his eyes from his target. Then, he lunged.
Hugo took a step aside. Xi mirrored his actions, and Hugo took a step to the other side. He felt every breath, every air molecule that came into his lungs.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Hugo asked.
Xi didn’t answer. Hugo knew he had to push him, make him lose his balance. Hugo blinked.
“You know the police are on their way, right? They’ll be here soon, and then you’ll be stuck.”
Xi spat, “You idiot. Do you think you’ll ever get me?”
Hugo took a few deep breaths and released his brother into his consciousness. He knew what to do now. He tensed.
“You’re right. I won’t catch you.”
Hugo lunged, and Xi barely parried. Hugo faked a move right but went left and pretended to stumble. Xi cried out, threw himself forward, and thrust his knife at Hugo. Hugo turned at the last second, and the knife landed in his shoulder. Xi shouted triumphantly.
Hugo didn’t feel the pain. Instead, he opened his hand and let his knife fall, but before it hit the floor, he caught it with the other hand.
In a single sweeping motion, Hugo arced the knife upward and plunged it into Xi’s chest. Xi stopped cold and staggered backward. A bubbling sound left his lips, and while Hugo watched, his eyes rolled back and he fell.
For a full minute, Hugo stared at the motionless body.
Finally.
Xi was dead. Hugo had gotten his revenge. He had avenged his brother. He looked through the broken window beside him and didn’t even notice the icy blizzard outside.
Epilogue
The aircraft rocked in the turbulence, but Hugo wasn’t paying attention. A hand touched his shoulder. It was Mikko.
“Hey, buddy. How y
ou doing?”
“Okay. A little tired, and my shoulder hurts constantly. Other than that, I’m okay. Can’t wait to get home, though.”
“I hear that.”
Hugo leaned back. It was over. The whole thing was over. The police had taken care of Klaus, who was at this very moment in an interrogation room with a couple of police inspectors to sort out this whole mess. Mikko leaned forward.
“I think Sussie has something for you.”
“What?”
“A surprise.”
Hugo turned his head to look at Mikko and saw Sussie approaching him. She handed him a phone.
“Here.”
He took it, eyeing her warily. “Hello?” he said into the phone.
“Hey, Hugo. It’s me.”
Hugo froze at the sound of his brother’s voice. A wave of relief broke over him, and tears began streaming down his cheeks.
“Felix! You’re alive!”
Felix chuckled and said, “You’re a real Einstein. Of course I’m alive—you didn’t really think I was dead, did you?”
Hugo sniffed. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“But you didn’t have to worry. The doctors took good care of me, and Madeleine will come by later. I’ll tell her we talked.”
“Good. I’m so glad to hear your voice.”
“All right, enough about me. Tell me what you’ve been up to for the past twenty-four hours.”
Hugo grinned. “Not so much, you know,” he said. “The usual.”
Felix chuckled. “Come on.”
So Hugo told his brother about the twenty-four hours he’d just lived through. He told him about the mission to Russia and the trip to Helsinki and how they’d crashed. He told Felix about London and how close they’d all come to dying.
Felix whistled. “Sounds like you had a full schedule.”
“You can only imagine,” Hugo said, “but I had invaluable help from your team. They’re truly amazing.”
“Yeah, they’re the best. But wait, I have someone else here who wants to talk to you.”
“Who?”
Another voice came on the line. A woman’s.
“Hugo?”
A wave of heat rolled through him. “Lita.”
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m in the air now, on my way home.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
They chatted for a few minutes, and Hugo was overwhelmed by his good fortune. His brother had survived, and he was on his way home to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Life was good. No, it wasn’t good.
It was great.
SHADOW GAMES
1
The light turned green. The nondescript, black Renault Master with dark-tinted windows ambled on, made a left, and continued in silence. The driver was careful not to break even the smallest of traffic rules. It was a little after two o’clock in the morning, and most of Copenhagen was quiet. Only a couple of cars passed, and one delivery truck swung around the corner of a tall brick house.
The van rocked as the wind gusted. Inside the vehicle, the seven men dressed in black sat huddled and focused. They were all seasoned mercenaries.
Their leader—a large man with a saw-shaped scar that ran from his left ear down to his chin—held up his hand, made a fist, and then extended two fingers. Two minutes. The mercenaries nodded; it was time. This was their life, their passion. They checked their weapons.
The Renault continued down Great King Street, then stopped at another red light. Outside, two young (and very likely drunk) women, walking arm-in-arm across the crosswalk, turned their heads and made eye contact with the driver. They laughed and waved, and the driver waved back.
From behind the driver, the man with the saw-shaped scar peered over his shoulder. “Who are you waving to?” he whispered.
The driver, a French mercenary named Henri, shrugged as the women continued across the street.” Just a couple of girls who were out partying. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good.”
“Take it easy, Raynard,” murmured Henri.
Raynard de Cryx ignored him. The light turned green, and Henri drove on. The target wasn’t far now. Turning to the group of dark-clad men, Raynard held up a single finger. Everyone gave an affirmative nod.
“Fifty meters,” Henri reported.
Raynard took a deep breath and held it. Forcing down his heart rate, he closed his eyes; when he opened them again, a sense of calmness spread through him—it was, he knew, the calm before the storm.
Ten meters. Five meters. Henri pulled softly to the curb and stopped the van.
“Now!” Raynard growled.
The man closest to the door grabbed the handle and yanked it. Moving like shadows, the mercenaries took to the streets and split into two groups of three, Team Alpha and Team Beta. Before them was an ornate, towering apartment building. A large, arched doorway in front was secured with intricate metal latticework. Team Alpha disappeared into an alley running along the building’s side; Beta made its way to the door.
One of the Team Beta men, a senior soldier named Ames, pulled a laser cutter from his pack and placed it against the metal. Ames looked at Raynard, who nodded, counting quietly to himself. Turning back to the entrance door, Ames began cutting through the metal rods fortifying the keyhole.
Raynard’s earpiece crackled. “Team Alpha here. We’re in place.”
Raynard pressed the earpiece to his ear. “Good,” he replied. “Continue according to plan. Three minutes.”
Ames worked quickly and efficiently. Small veils of smoke slid up the facade as he burned through the first metal rod. One more to go.
The van’s position concealed most of the view from across the street, but Raynard still felt a rising sense of concern. The night was illuminated by the finely crafted streetlights that stretched along the sides of the road. Their frosted globe-like bulb housings glowed warmly from atop iron posts ornamented with whimsical coils.
Raynard’s fears came true. A pair of powerful headlights appeared from around the corner, seventy meters away. “Hurry up,” he hissed.
Ames swiftly moved his hand over the other metal rod, which finally jolted and sprung from its attachment. Strong arms bent it away, and Raynard gestured to the slender, black-clad man standing to his left.
“Jules, go. Hurry up.”
Jules took a big step forward and drove the lock gun into the now-exposed lock. As Raynard watched him press the trigger, then press it again and again, a drop of sweat slid down his back. This type of equipment was only intended for use by the police; it was forbidden for private individuals to own one. Raynard pulled his lips over his teeth in a shark-like smile. It just went to show what kinds of resources their clients had.
The lock pistol clicked, and Jules took a firm grip on the handle, pressing first downward and then inward. The headlights were closer now. The door swung open, and Raynard and his troops shuffled into an extravagant corridor. A large crystal chandelier spread soft dapples of light on the tile floors, and two narrow green velvet sofas stood against each wall. A brighter beam of light slid across one wall as a garbage truck passed by; then the door clicked shut.
Raynard pressed on his earpiece. “Alpha, are you in place?”
A few seconds later, the response crackled back, “Yes. We’re ready.”
“Good,” he said. “One minute.” Raynard approached one of two elevator doors, which were both covered with a stunning landscape mural. He pressed the button. The door slid open, and Raynard and Team Alpha entered it. Once they were inside and the door had slid shut again, Raynard withdrew a magnetic card from his pocket and stuffed it into a narrow black slot at the top of the panel. The button indicating “one” flashed, followed by the top floor button. Not far to go now. The faint taste of metal slid through Raynard’s mouth. It was always like that when he was at work—nerves and anxiety would hit him like invisible punches in the gut. Still, it didn’t matter. He loved it. The excitement, the
adrenaline rush. The chaos.
The elevator stopped, and the group dispersed into another grand corridor. Dark red carpeting dampened their steps as they approached their goal. A stylized number two adorned a four-panel mahogany door, and there they stopped. The three men took up position. Raynard nodded to Jules, who once again position at the door’s deadbolt. He gently drove the lock gun into the lock and pushed off several times but did nothing more. The alarm in the apartment would be turned off now, and there would be three guards inside. The apartment owner wasn’t home; he was with a woman at his other residence north of Copenhagen.
“Alpha,” Raynard said in a low bark. “Ready?”
A second passed, and then, “Alpha here. Ready.”
“On my command. Three, two, one. Now!”
***
Inside the apartment, a caveman-like brute rose from a massive leather armchair in the library. The man sauntered to a side table and poured a glass of whiskey. Taking a sip, he turned to another guard sitting in the chair across the room.
“You want one, Martin?”
Martin shook his head. Lean and bony and as dark as a shadow, he was the perfect antithesis of his brawny partner. His black eyes sparkled.
“No, thank you, Jones,” he replied in a creaking voice that would give children nightmares. “Not at work.”
The hulking Jones chuckled as he topped off his glass and put the whiskey bottle back in its place. Then he went back to his chair. When he sat in it, his two meters made the armchair look like a toy.
Jones shook his head and said, “Come on, now. You know that when he’s with Veronica, he always comes home the next day.”
Martin Kemp was a former German military man who had switched to the private sector when he’d had enough of the government’s shit. The salary was significantly better now, too, and there was less risk of injury. But he still held fast to his honor code.
The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3 Page 23
