The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3

by Filip Forsberg

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  The voice belonged to his boss, Madeleine Singh.

  “Hi, Madeleine. What’s up?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet,” she began, “but I just got a call from a pretty powerful client who lives in Copenhagen. He said there was a burglary at his apartment less than an hour ago.”

  Hugo pulled his hand over his face. “Okay. Was he injured?”

  “He wasn’t there. But his bodyguards were—and two of them are dead.”

  “What?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, ‘burglary’ isn’t exactly the right description, then.”

  “This client is one of the most well-known businessmen in Scandinavia. There was a safe in the apartment, and he had some important things in it. The people who broke in were professionals and knew exactly what they were after. They entered, shot two of the three bodyguards, took the contents of the safe, and got the hell out of there.”

  “So one of the guards survived?”

  “Yes,” Madeleine said.

  “How?”

  “It seems that these guys wanted the surviving bodyguard to tell people about what happened. But before they left, they shot him in both legs.”

  “Jesus,” Hugo said. “Sounds like some nasty people.”

  “Very.”

  A few quiet seconds passed while they both pondered what had happened.

  Finally, Hugo said, “I guess there’s not much I can do with this, is there?”

  Madeleine’s voice was like steel. “The client—besides an important business executive, he’s an acquaintance of mine. He asked me for help to get back what they stole.”

  Hugo cleared his throat. He’d known Madeleine would have a job for him the second she’d called.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’re at anchor in Copenhagen.”

  “Yes, I know,” Madeleine replied. “A car’s already on its way to you. It’ll take you directly to the apartment.”

  “And the police?” Hugo asked.

  “They’re also on their way. I called some contacts and made sure we’re on the sidelines.”

  “Who’s this friend of yours, anyway?”

  “Magnus von Silverstråle,” Madeleine said, punctuating each word.

  A shock went through Hugo. Magnus von Silverstråle was the head of Gripen Defense, one of the most influential people in Sweden and Scandinavia.

  “Wow. Okay, I’ll be ready. I’m just going to wake up Lita. I’ll be all set in five minutes.”

  “The car will be there in three.”

  Hugo hung up and cursed. The sound of the waves lapping outside wasn’t as relaxing as before. He took a deep breath and opened the door to where Lita and Elektra slept.

  2

  It was time. Madeleine Singh went over to the coffeemaker, poured herself a cup, and took a greedy sip. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was a little after three. Magnus’s call had come in just ten minutes ago, and she’d already arranged for a car to pick up Hugo and take him to the apartment.

  She sipped her coffee again. It was black and strong and tasted divine. All right, Madeleine thought, it’s time to activate the others. She picked up the phone again.

  Two signals went through before a muddy voice answered, “Yeah?”

  “It’s me, Mikko. Are you awake?”

  Mikko chuckled gruffly. “Yeah, now I am.”

  “Good,” Madeleine said. “Something’s up. I want you to come in.”

  “Now?”

  “Immediately.”

  There was a squealing, wailing noise on the other end of the phone, and it took Madeleine a moment to realize Mikko was stretching. Then he replied, “Right, I’m on my way. Be there in ten.”

  “Great,” Madeleine said and ended the call. Then she scrolled through her contacts until she came to the next name on the team: Freya. Once she’d made that call and one more after it, Madeleine downed the last of her coffee and put the mug in the top rack of the empty dishwasher. Time to head to the office.

  All the other people on Hugo’s team were on their way, and Madeleine would get there before any of them. It was her responsibility, after all, as the CEO of Novus; this is what she lived for. The company was small but efficient, taking on assignments in the land of twilight between rival companies.

  Multinational companies fought in an increasingly challenging market where competitors and rivals didn’t shy away from any means to achieve their goals. Industrial espionage, extortion, and even murder were commonplace as global corporations fought for power. Madeleine had had the experience and courage to start her own business—Novus—two years ago, when the corporate world had taken a new step into the global arena.

  Since then, she had succeeded in carrying out seven successful assignments; in return, she’d turned Novus into a name that commanded respect in the security business. At her disposal, she had three teams of highly competent men and women. Hugo Xavier headed the best of the teams.

  Last year, Hugo had replaced his brother, Felix, as the team leader. Felix had nearly died during a mission when a rival organization had planned and carried out an assassination attempt. Several of Novus’ employees had been killed in the attack, and Felix had been seriously injured. Hugo—an ex-soldier with the Swedish special forces—had thirsted for revenge on behalf of his brother. After the mission had been completed, Hugo filled the place Felix had left empty during his recovery.

  It was time for Madeleine to go. She went into her bedroom, changed clothes, and headed out to the car. As the Bentley coasted along the nearly deserted highway toward Novus’ headquarters, its driver stared straight ahead in silent contemplation. The office was located in the northern parts of Malmö harbor, and Madeleine was there in under seven minutes. After deactivating the alarm, she put on another pot of coffee, went into the conference room, and sat down to wait. The next few hours were going to be hectic.

  A voice came from the stairwell, and the next moment Sussie and Freya entered the room. The two women looked somewhat disheveled but composed nonetheless.

  Madeleine leaned forward. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” she said.

  “What about me?” a voice rumbled from the stairs. Mikko’s boisterous laughter rolled into the room as he entered. There was no situation too serious for Mikko. The opposite of disheveled, he wore a light blue sweater and pressed chinos. He was large, bearlike, with fair skin and hair, and spoke with a thick, Northern Finnish accent.

  When all were seated at the semicircular conference table, Madeleine rose and poured a cup of coffee for each of them. “Thanks again for coming in so fast,” she said.

  Freya, the group’s Norwegian weapons expert, took a cup from Madeleine and said, “Thanks. What about Hugo? Is he not coming?” Freya was tall, with long, dark hair. She looked objectively like a Greek goddess.

  “He’s on the move.”

  Freya raised her long, arched eyebrows. “What happened?” she asked.

  In answer, Madeleine pressed a button on the table, and a screen slid down against the wall behind her. An image materialized on the display of a self-important fortysomething man with a head of dark, curly hair.

  “This is Magnus von Silverstråle,” Madeleine said, “one of the most powerful men in Scandinavia, or really in all of Europe. He’s the head of Gripen Defense, a Scandinavian defense group with a global network. A little over fifty years old, unmarried, no children. Considered one of the most ruthless business managers of our time. He’s been in charge of Gripen Defense since his father died in a sailing accident with Magnus’ brother, Henri, twenty-five years ago.”

  “Is he dead?” asked the group’s Danish IT expert, Sussie. She was fair-haired and petite; her voice—unexpectedly strong for such a small woman—radiated confidence.

  Madeleine shook her head. “No, he’s not. But his apartment in Copenhagen was broken into tonight. Magnus wasn’t there—he was at his other house in northern Denmark. Three guards were stationed in the apa
rtment, though, and the intruders killed two of them. The third was shot in both legs and had to crawl through the apartment to call for help.”

  Sussie shivered. “Sounds like some nice guys who did this. Psychos.”

  Madeleine nodded and swiped the screen. The image of Magnus was replaced by a picture of an apartment building.

  “This is Magnus’ Copenhagen residence. His is the top apartment.”

  “Of course it is,” Mikko scoffed.

  Madeleine ignored the comment and took a sip of her cooling coffee. “So this assignment is a bit special. Magnus is an old friend of mine, and he knows what Novus is working with. When I spoke to him, it didn’t sound like the murdered guards were the most pressing matter.”

  Freya cocked her head to the side. “This sounds like more of a case for the police than for us.”

  “True,” Madeleine agreed, “but here’s where we come in. Magnus said he had a safe in his office and that the contents were what the intruders were after. The surviving guard said they were only interested in the safe, not in the art or sculptures or anything else of value in the apartment.”

  Mikko shook his head. “You’re telling me that people break into a luxury apartment in central Copenhagen filled to the brim with valuables. They murder two guards and let the third one live only to escape and not take anything with them?”

  “I never said they didn’t take anything with them,” Madeleine said. “They did. They took the contents of the safe with them.”

  Sussie frowned. “So what was in the safe, then?”

  “Magnus didn’t say,” Madeleine said with a shrug. “All he told me was that it can’t fall into the wrong hands.”

  Freya interrupted, “Hold on, you said Hugo was on his way? Shouldn’t he hear all this?”

  Madeleine turned off the screen and sat down. “Yes, he’s on his way. To Magnus’ apartment in Copenhagen.”

  ***

  Go in for the kill. That had always been Raynard’s motto, and it had paid off. He looked around. The men in black sat quiet and focused even now, though their mission so far had been a success. He was proud of them. It was this kind of team Raynard loved to lead.

  Jules, his right-hand man, leaned toward him. He was a young man, mid-twenties, Raynard supposed, and he had all the vigor and excitement of youth. His sand-colored, curly hair swayed as they passed over a speed bump. His long fingers gripped Raynard’s shoulder.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Raynard allowed himself a smile. “Everything is just fine, Jules, just fine.”

  “Good,” Jules said. “We should be at location B in less than three minutes.”

  “Super,” replied Raynard with a nod. In his head, he went over the next phases of the mission. Location B was an underground warehouse where an encrypted communication center had been set up. He glanced at his watch and saw it was just after three in the morning.

  The Renault arrived at the Nordhavn industrial area and turned onto a narrow street past an abandoned, decrepit house. They’d reached their destination. The driver leaned out the window and waved a keycard in front of a card reader. A rickety garage door rose, and they drove down into the darkness.

  When the van stopped, Raynard was the first to jump out. “You know what to do,” he told the men. “Jules, grab the box and come with me.”

  The men spread out. Two of them headed upstairs to monitor the street; two others took stock of their weapons. Raynard and Jules jogged down a spiral staircase that emptied into a cave-like chamber full of computers. Two people were already there and working.

  Raynard approached them. “How’s it looking?”

  A bald Japanese man dressed all in black stood from his seat. “It looks good, sir,” he said. “We were watching you and saw no one following you. The streets are green.”

  Raynard gave a quick nod. “Good, Aoki. And the connection?”

  “It’s ready to be activated. You just give the word, and we’ll fix it.”

  Raynard approached the dais and the small table standing on it. Stepping up, he gestured to Jules to place the dark red box on the table. “I’m ready,” Raynard said.

  Jules put the box on the table and went back down from the dais. Aoki and his partner immediately went to work; just ten seconds passed before a screen slid down the wall. When it powered on, a full-frame pixelated face came into view.

  “Yes?”

  The voice was metallic. Raynard knew that their communication with clients was militarily encrypted. In his opinion, it was unnecessary, but some customers had a flair for the theatrical. It’s how they wanted things to go; this, to them, was what a mercenary’s life was supposed to look like. He’d learned that a long time ago while growing up in the slums of South Africa.

  Raynard stood still. A few quiet seconds passed. Then he said, “The first part of the mission is complete.”

  The pixelated face stared directly at Raynard. “Can I see?”

  Raynard nodded to Aoki, and the camera zoomed in on the dark red box on the metal table. The face leaned forward slightly.

  “Have you opened it?”

  “No,” said Raynard, “of course not.”

  “Excellent. You can continue with the next step in the plan.”

  “Understood.”

  The voice crackled. “Raynard?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well done.”

  The pixilated face vanished, and Aoki shot Raynard a thumbs-up.

  “Transmission ended.”

  Raynard nodded to Jules. “All right, you heard the man. You get the box, and we’ll continue.”

  Jules chuckled. “You don’t seem all that impressed with our employer.”

  Raynard shrugged. There was something strange about this entire mission. Their clients seemed to have access to infinite resources, yet there was a striking sense of amateurism. Raynard pushed the feeling away. Now wasn’t the time for doubt.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Load the box in the car and make sure we’re ready to leave in five minutes. I’m just going to get a smoke.”

  ***

  Lita Marquez’s eyes were moist. Hugo pulled her closer and kissed her softly on the lips. She hugged him even closer to her body, and Hugo was enveloped in her sweet scent.

  “Are you sure you have to go?”

  “Yes. I have to.”

  “But can they not send someone else?” she asked, pulling away to look into his eyes. “I mean, there’s got to be someone besides you that can do this.”

  Hugo gave a resigned shrug and said, “Yes, there are. But they need someone right now in Copenhagen, and I’m the closest one.”

  Lita lowered her eyes. “It’s not fair,” she said quietly. “This was our vacation. It was only a week. I mean, couldn’t we get just one week to ourselves?”

  Hugo looked into the immense pools of her dark brown eyes. Her perfectly curved lashes framed them like a portrait. Those eyes spoke effortlessly of love and intelligence and hope. This was the mother of his child.

  “How did I get so lucky?” Hugo asked her. He smiled and touched Lita’s cheek. “You’re right—it’s never fair. But it’s the way it is. And I need to go.”

  Lita bit her lip and pushed away the tears with a controlled breath. “Okay, if you have to, you have to, I guess.”

  He pulled her close again and said, “You know that you and Elektra are the most important things to me in the world.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  Hugo kissed her again, then turned and left her. Gathering his gear, he fastened his variety of knives in a holster over his chest and went up the deck of the yacht. A blast of wind hit him as he glanced over the harbor. The place was deserted. About twenty boats were moored, but there were no people in sight.

  In the distance, a car stood with its headlights on. Hugo’s ride was here. He jumped over to the quay and ran toward the car. When he was close, two figures stepped out, and the driver, a woman
, flashed her ID.

  “Lisa Heise,” she said, evaluating him. “You’re Hugo Xavier, I’m guessing?”

  Hugo nodded. “You guess correctly.”

  She nodded at the car and commanded, “Get in.”

  This one’s lovely, Hugo thought as he obediently tossed his pack into the back seat and sat down next to it. Lisa and the other passenger, a fair-haired man with a thick, pockmarked face, got in front. The engine revved, and they drove away.

  Lisa adjusted the rearview mirror and caught Hugo’s eye. “It’s pretty close. ten minutes.”

  Hugo nodded but kept his eyes fixed on his gear as he went through it. “Sounds good,” he said.

  They traveled in silence along the large, abandoned boulevards. Only a few cars and scattered pedestrians were out this early on a blustery Sunday morning. A few more hours and the streets would be filled, but for now, they were all but alone. Hugo rolled down his window, and the fresh air helped clear his head. The wind was strong today but mild in temperature, and the familiar salty Oresund scent relaxed his mind.

  Lisa studied him in the rearview mirror. After a few minutes, she spoke again. “Are you a cop?”

  “No.”

  “Agent?”

  He was silent for a few seconds before replying, “Something like that.”

  The man sitting in the passenger seat turned and looked at him and raised his eyebrows, creating sizeable creases in his meaty forehead. “For real? A secret agent?”

  Hugo pulled his pack closed and met the man’s gaze. He was young. Inexperienced. Hugo shook his head.

  “Not particularly secret, no.”

  “But an agent?”

  “Something like that,” he repeated with a half-grin, half-grimace.

  They drove on, and Lisa pointed. “Almost there. It’s just around the corner.”

  While the car was stopped at a red light, Hugo looked around. They were in a swanky part of Copenhagen—the apartments here were lavish and overpriced, and on the street stood luxury sedans interspersed with high-octane sports cars.