The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3
Page 27
“No!”
Hugo and Beatrice entered the room and found Magnus standing in front of the safe. He looked like he had shrunk a foot in size. His shoulders hung; all the air had gone out of him. Stumbling backward, he grabbed the edge of his desk to keep from falling and leaned against it.
Beatrice approached him. “I suppose this means the contents of the safe were valuable to you,” she said, eyebrows raised.
Magnus didn’t answer except to place his palms on either side of his head and close his eyes.
Beatrice came closer. “May I ask what was inside the safe, Mr. von Silverstråle?”
Magnus looked up and shook his head slightly. “In the safe?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t answer that.”
Beatrice frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s private. It has no monetary value. It’s purely emotional.”
Hugo watched Beatrice as she walked around the desk and came to stand beside Magnus.
“Sir, it’s important that we know what was in the safe. It was important enough for someone to arrange a professional burglary that resulted in two people dead and one seriously injured.”
Magnus bit his lip. “I understand,” he said in a low tone, “but unfortunately, I can’t tell you what was in the safe. It doesn’t matter to anyone but me. But it’s incredibly private, and I won’t tell. It’s not important.”
Beatrice came even closer, now standing face to face with Magnus. “I can see that you’re upset. But listen to me—I decide what’s important in this investigation. And it’s of the utmost importance that you tell us what they took.”
A wave slid over Magnus’ face, and it became a mask. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
The tension in the room was electric. Hugo studied the little drama in front of him as Beatrice and Magnus stared each other down. Finally, after a full minute of silence, Beatrice took a step back.
“This is not over.”
Magnus shrugged as Beatrice spun around and went out into the hall. His gaze traveled back down to the empty safe, and he stared at it with glassy eyes as if hypnotized. Hugo walked over to the desk and cleared his throat.
Magnus jumped. He snapped his attention up to Hugo and spluttered, “Yes, thank you for coming.”
“Don’t worry about it. Madeleine said you needed help.”
“Yes, thank God for Madeleine,” Magnus said, straightening up. “She’s an old friend, and she was the first one I thought of when I got the call.”
“I understand.”
Magnus glanced out at the hallway, where Beatrice was talking to some police officers. She turned her head and caught his gaze.
Magnus quickly turned back to Hugo. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.
Hugo nodded. “Sure. Magnus von Silverstråle, one of the greatest businessmen in Scandinavia. CEO of Gripen Defense and several other companies. Divorced, no children.” He flashed a grin.
Magnus chuckled and sucked in a breath through his perfectly white teeth. “Yep, that’s the short version.”
Hugo smiled and nodded but didn’t reply. Magnus walked over to the window.
“Can you keep a secret, Hugo?”
“I can.”
Magnus spun around. “Good,” he said, “me too. You don’t get to my position in life without having a certain code you live by, something that helps you keep the course in the world.” He paused. “And I can also keep a secret. But that’s not the point, nor is the point the particular item that was in my safe. The only thing that matters is that the item is mine, it’s highly personal, and I want you to take it back.”
Hugo scratched his stubbly cheek. “Magnus, why don’t you just tell the police what it is so they can take it back?”
“Because the police have nothing to do with it. If they find it, all sorts of things can happen. Some things in life are good if they stay where they are. I need your word that you’ll take on the task of getting back my stolen property without involving the police. When you find it, you bring it directly to me. Do we have an agreement?”
Hugo pursed his lips as he looked at the floor, considering. This guy’s a little nuts, he thought. Still, a job’s a job.
He looked back up at Magnus and said, “My boss commissioned me to help you in any way I can, and if that means getting back your stolen property, I’ll do it. No problem.”
Magnus’ face widened into a toothy smile. He looked like a little boy who had just been told he could have seconds on dessert. “Excellent!” he cried. “What you’re looking for is a box.” He measured a span of eighteen inches with his hands. “About this big. It’s dark red in color and relatively heavy. Get it back to me unopened. There’s a tracking transmitter on it, so you can figure out where it is with this.”
Magnus handed Hugo a scanner. On its screen was a detailed map of inner Copenhagen but nothing more. No flashing red dot. Hugo frowned.
“Is the tracking transmitter not on?”
“The signal comes and goes.”
Hugo nodded. “Okay. I have just a few questions.”
“Shoot.”
“Why right now?” Hugo asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Why did these guys strike last night?”
Magnus nodded slowly and walked to a side table, where he poured a highball of whiskey. Hugo glanced at the clock on the wall. It was half-past five in the morning.
“They couldn’t have chosen a worse time,” Magnus said after he’d thrown down the whiskey and refilled the glass. “I have a critical press conference eight hours from now in Oslo. I’ve been working on this business deal for the last year.” He raised his eyebrows. “All the details are secret, of course, but I can say that today’s going to be the most important day I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Do people know about this?” Hugo asked.
“You mean the press conference? Yes, of course. Like I said, it’s happening at a hotel in Oslo in less than eight hours in front of hundreds of business journalists.”
“I understand.”
Magnus turned to Hugo. “I hope I’m doing the right thing by trusting you and Madeleine. If you succeed, I’ll see that Novus is richly rewarded.”
“I can’t guarantee anything, Magnus. But my team’s already on its way here, and we’ll do everything in our power to get this valuable item back to you—whatever it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a good bit of work ahead of me.”
Magnus met Hugo’s gaze and liked what he saw. “Good,” he said. “Here’s my number. Report to me how things go. And remember, I must have it back before the press conference starts at one.”
Hugo stared at Magnus. “What? Why?”
“Because,” Magnus said, eyes like steel, “what’s in the box can be used to blackmail me.”
Hugo clenched his jaws. “I see. I’ll be in touch.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and set out from the apartment.
***
It was time. Raynard pulled one last puff on the cigarette, threw the butt on the ground, and stepped on it. The sirens in the distance had fallen silent. The clear morning air rejuvenated his lungs as he took a few deep breaths. On the horizon, dark clouds were rolling in.
He looked up at the infinite vault of stars above his head and smiled. Another successful mission had been completed. Another feather in the hat. His reputation in the underworld would grow even greater after this blow. He spat, then turned around and started walking back to the rickety metal door at the end of the ramp.
A car rolled down the street—a cop car. Raynard froze. The lights and siren weren’t on. He kept his eyes on the ground, only daring to briefly glance up at the cruiser as it approached. When it reached him, the car slowed down and came to a stop. A tingle ran down Raynard’s spine, and he forced himself to keep going.
Have we been discovered?
The police car stood still, but the officers inside didn’t get out. Raynard clenched his jaw as he walked stif
fly to the metal door, pulled it open, and went into the building. When he was safely inside, he exhaled explosively. Then Raynard bolted from the door, running full-tilt into the garage, where the rest of the team waited with the van. Jules and the others looked up when he burst in and pointed behind him to the door.
“The cops!” he gasped. “They’re right outside!”
Everyone jumped to their feet. Raynard took a deep breath and tried to regain some composure; he couldn’t allow himself to appear weak in front of them.
Waving Jules over, he said, “Take two troops and try to get high enough to see the cruiser. It’s on the right, up on the street.”
“What should we do when we see it?”
Raynard shook his head. “Don’t do anything. There’s a chance they’re here by coincidence, but we just don’t know. We’d better not do anything hasty.”
Jules nodded and waved to two of the men. “Meyer, Jacky, follow me.”
Without another word, Jules’ group set off at a double-time up a flight of stairs. Raynard pulled a hand over his face. Keep calm.
Umar, a mercenary from Sudan, approached him. “Hey, boss.”
“Yes?”
Umar held out a black instrument. Its small digital display showed a zero. “There’s something in the box,” he said.
Raynard looked askance at the mercenary. “Are you kidding?” he snapped. “Of course there is. We just snatched it.”
Umar shook his head and chuckled. “No, that’s not what I mean. I went through the car again to make certain it was clean.”
“And?”
“And it was, but the thing we stole wasn’t.”
Raynard leaned forward and asked slowly, “What are you saying, Umar?”
Umar shrugged. “Looks like there’s a tracker inside it. And the client gave us strict orders not to open the box.”
Raynard bit his lip. This was unexpected. “Okay, Umar,” he said after a moment. “Good work.” He would need to get in touch with their client before doing anything about it. If they opened the box to remove the tracking transmitter without his approval, Raynard was out. Integrity in this industry was the alpha and omega; if you couldn’t obey orders, you were nothing.
He pulled up his communication radio. “Jules, you there?”
A few seconds passed, and then, “Jules here.”
“Get back here right away.”
When Jules didn’t answer, Raynard said, “Leave the troopers to monitor the police car and let them know if anything changes. We need to get out of here, but first, we have to contact our client.”
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”
Raynard nodded to Umar. “Okay, put the box back in the van and swipe it again for the transmitter. Make sure we’re ready to go in ten minutes.”
Umar nodded and turned away. Behind Raynard, echoing steps came closer, accompanied by a cold wind. He turned to see Jules in the doorway.
“All right, come with me,” Raynard said. He and Jules ran down the spiral staircase to the underground computer lair. Raynard hopped up onto the dais, and Jules headed over to the bald Japanese programmer.
“Hey, Aoki, try to contact the client again.”
A few taps later, the screen slid down the wall; soon, the pixelated face reappeared. The tone was sharper now, harsh.
“Yes?”
Raynard was like a statue. “Sir, we need permission to open the box.”
The magnified face showed no emotion. It spoke in a monotone. “Why?”
“We’ve discovered a tracking transmitter in it.”
There was a moment of hesitation, and then, “Why do you think you should remove it?”
Raynard tilted his head. “There’s a cop car outside,” he said. “They don’t look like they’re here for a crackdown, but we can’t be sure. We’ve got some troops supervising them, but if things go too far and we have to flee with the police on our heels, we can’t do it with a tracker in tow.”
The face looked away silently, saying nothing for a good thirty seconds. A drop of sweat ran down Raynard’s back.
Then the face looked back at him. “No.”
Raynard froze. “No?”
“No. Do what you need to do to keep from being discovered, but you may not open the box.”
“And if the police are on their way here?”
“That’s your problem, and you’ll have to deal with it,” Raynard’s customer said simply. “But I suspect that if the police are headed your way, a tracker is the least of your problems.”
Raynard clamped his teeth together, swallowing his arguments. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Head north to the harbor,” the face on the screen told him. “You have less than nine hours left, so I suggest you speed things up.”
Raynard gave a brief nod. The client was always right. “Okay,” he replied. “We’re on it.”
When the call ended, the big screen went black, and Raynard spun around and pounded the table with his fist.
“This could get interesting,” Jules said, approaching Raynard.
Raynard’s radio crackled. “The police! They’re getting closer!”
4
They say that he who waits for something good never waits too long.
Sara Blitz put down her coffee cup and sighed thoughtfully. The first part of the plan had gone smoothly, she thought as she stood and poured another cup, then entered the living room and sat down on the soft, exquisite sofa.
Pulling up her long legs beneath her, Sara wrapped her flowery kimono around her shoulders. At nine in the morning, it was already warm; it would be another sweltering day. She raked a hand through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail.
The first part of the plan was complete. Everything had been done right, so the next part should go well, too. Glancing across the precious furniture and paintings that adorned the place, Sara peered out the window at the magnificent view over Oresund. The window was open, and outside, the sounds of a perfect morning spread out in all their glory. In the distance, some fishing boats were already on their way out, headed north.
A male voice behind her broke her contemplation. “Don’t you sleep?”
Sara stretched out her hands as a man came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist. He bent down and kissed her hair.
“I couldn’t,” she said.
Marco Blitz chuckled as he walked around the couch, kissed her again, and sat down on the opposite end. He wasn’t a small person; Sara’s end of the sofa shifted upward slightly when he sat. She leaned forward and crawled closer to him.
“You know what it’s like when I can’t sleep,” she told him.
Marco put a woolly arm around her. “Yeah, babe, I know.”
She curled up into him, and they sat together, taking in the view in silence. The sun rose, coloring the sky faintly with gold and vermillion. Far to the east, hints of dark clouds were starting to roll in. The sunlight glittered in the water as more fishing boats set out toward the north.
Marco pointed at two ibises that were taking turns diving. They glided briefly above the water and then disappeared. “Sure is beautiful.”
“Very,” Sara agreed.
After a few minutes, Marco smacked his lips. “Did you make coffee?”
“Yeah, it’s ready,” she said, pulling herself up to sitting.
“Excellent.” Marco got up, tightened the belt around his bathrobe, and headed to the kitchen.
Sara heard things slamming around as Marco selected a mug and poured himself some coffee. Subtlety had never been Marco’s strength, but that wasn’t why Sara had married him. It had been his outstanding business acumen. When he’d been young—barely a high schooler—Marcus had shown a unique mind for business. At twenty-five, he’d entered the stock market with the millions that his father had left him when he died.
By the time he’d hit thirty, Marco had become one of the youngest billionaires in the world. And now, ten years later, he was one of the richest men in Denmark.
Suddenly, Marco tensed and pulled away. “Sorry.”
Sara’s arms fell away from him, and she hopped down from the island and picked the kimono up from the floor. Yet again, her lust would go unfulfilled. She bit her lip and forced herself to smile.
“Don’t worry about it, baby. It happens to everyone.”
Marco groaned as he tightened his robe. “I—I was just thinking—”
Sara put a finger to his lips. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It happens to everyone.”
Marco kissed her on the cheek. She smiled at him, then spun around and left the kitchen, her thoughts racing. One day, Sara would be free. She’d have her own money and be something more than just the trophy wife she’d been forced to become. Sara shook her head—what a struggle life had been so far. She’d come from a completely different background than Marco had. She’d had to fight hard to progress from those sour beginnings.
One good thing about her terrible upbringing was that it had helped shape the person she was today. It had given her a drive for money and power that few could match. When she’d met Marco three years ago as a young waitress, luck had turned for her. Marco had fallen hard for her, and within a couple of months, they’d married.
He’d given Sara two million to play with on the stock market. Her investments had gone well, even if the growth was too slow for her liking. It didn’t matter, though; she’d made her plan, one that would secure her financial future for the rest of her life.
As all these thoughts swirled around her head, Sara went upstairs and got into the shower.
***
There was no time to lose. Hugo ran down the steps two at a time, burst into the grand foyer, and continued out into the balmy morning air. The two policemen guarding the sidewalk turned around.