“Hold on!” Hugo called to him. “We’re getting close!”
Mikko nodded and held on for dear life as another wave pushed them up. In the moment that they were airborne, Hugo could see a dark figure approaching from the northeast. It was a cargo ship of some kind, and it loomed as they got closer. Both he and Mikko stared up at the shadow above them, and Hugo held his breath.
At the same time, they had gotten considerably closer to the fleeing boat ahead of them. Hugo grabbed his weapon. With one hand, he held the railing; with the other, he rested the rifle against it. He aimed and squeezed the trigger, and the massive weapon thumped in his hands and arms as heavy bullets exploded against the other boat. A dozen rounds found homes in the water around the vessel, but some of them made contact. Mikko did the same, and together their weapons fired hundreds of shots. Even in the storm, the sound was deafening, and when Hugo finally released the trigger, his whole body ached.
Still, seeing the holes they’d torn open in the hull, Hugo roared triumphantly. Thin streaks of smoke climbed from the wounded craft. Hugo was about to say something when the other boat turned hard to the right, cutting across the path of the enormous cargo ship. The dark shape towered like a mountain, and for a few moments, the fleeing boat disappeared from vision.
Hugo turned back, pointed, and roared, “After them!”
Frank nodded and grabbed the rudder so hard that his knuckles whitened. Hugo turned to Mikko.
“Hold on!”
Mikko didn’t answer but crouched down low and held as tightly to the railing as Frank was to the helm. Frank sped up even more as Hugo and Mikko took shelter from the wind. Ahead of them once more was the enemy craft, which was now becoming engulfed in smoke and flames. Whoever was in it, they were not ready to give up.
Hugo had gotten a glimpse of a man earlier during the firefight, and he felt sure that was the person giving orders here. They’d only seen each other for a few seconds, but it was enough. For some men, that’s the way it was. Hunters—they have something in them, something primal. When they meet another of their kind, they recognize it at once.
Hugo checked his weapon—ten rounds left. He raised it, fired the last of the ammunition, and watched with satisfaction as his bullets slammed into the hull. But a second later, the other yacht did something completely unexpected. It swung hard to the left and sped up one last time.
More flames erupted from the back of the craft. It wouldn’t be long before it would be brought to a stop. Frank deftly steered toward the fugitive boat. It responded with a wide turn, withdrawing, and Frank followed. The boat then returned in an arc until they’d both completed a full turn.
Now, the vessel was heading straight for the cargo ship. Hugo signaled to Frank to follow. The cargo ship was now directly in front of them, less than a hundred meters away. Everything around Hugo slowed down again, and he felt every shock and vibration. It was as if he had become part of the boat.
Mikko shouted something, but Hugo couldn’t tell what he said. He pointed to the railing.
“Hold on!”
The fleeing boat sped up one last time. Hugo was impressed by their courage—this wasn’t something normal people would do. This was pure madness.
Fifty meters left, then forty. Hugo signaled for Frank to give it his all. A second later, Hugo felt the boat rise below him and accelerate even more.
Waves crashed over them, and the wind roared like a hungry lion. Everything around them exploded into a world of chaos when the fleeing vessel hit a wave that threw them high up toward the middle of the cargo ship. The slender motorboat flew as if a giant had grabbed and hurled it through the air.
A fraction of a second later, Hugo’s boat hit the same wave and followed the other boat’s course toward the cargo ship. Hugo screamed, and his whole world shattered.
11
Chaos. Pure chaos. Beatrice gasped when the police car stopped, and she slammed the door. The air was heavy with burnt rubber, and the stench of death and destruction filled her nostrils. The scene in front of her looked like it had been taken straight from an action movie.
Twisted pieces of metal lay scattered on the ground. Two still-smoldering cargo vans had been turned into nearly unrecognizable wrecks. One of them lay on its side and was covered with hundreds of bullet holes. The other one was right-side-up, but the entire front of it had been blown away. White sheets were laid out on the ground, covering what Beatrice assumed were the corpses of humans. She shook her head. She could hardly believe it. Here in Copenhagen, firefights like this didn’t happen; it was something you saw on film, not here.
A policeman approached her, visibly shaken. “It’s just pandemonium here. It’s unbelievable,” he said.
Beatrice nodded. “You were the first on the scene, Officer?”
“Yes, my partner and I heard the call and drove straight here. We found this—” he pointed to the white sheets. “It’s not a pretty sight. There are three of them, all completely ripped apart.”
Beatrice stepped toward the white sheets. As she got closer, she noticed the stench even more clearly. Burnt human meat had a very distinct odor.
“Find any weapons?”
“Yes, all of them were armed. We’ve taken care of the weapons. They were all fully automatic high-speed rifles.”
Beatrice flinched. “Automatic weapons?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Beatrice contemplated the situation. This must have something to do with Magnus’ burglary. She was sure of that. But she didn’t know how it was connected. She turned to the policeman.
“What’s your name?”
“Niels, ma’am.”
“Niels, did you see any other cars here when you entered the area?”
Niels thought, then replied, “Nothing suspicious, if that’s what you mean. We were on call in the area, but we only passed two vans on the way here.”
Beatrice’s mouth became dry.
“Think carefully, Niels. What did the vans look like?”
“They were ordinary vans. Peugeots, maybe, or Renaults. One black, I think, the other a dark color of some kind.”
Beatrice exploded. “Some kind!? Come on, Officer Niels. You have to remember what color they were!”
Niels took a step back and swallowed. “No—I mean yes,” he said, frozen. “Wait, we have the camera in the cruiser. We’ll be able to see them on the footage.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Show me. Now.”
Niels hurried to the car, where a policewoman was talking on the radio. Niels jumped into the passenger seat, and the other officer looked up. Recognizing Beatrice, she nodded briefly. Niels pressed a button on the small center console to rewind the video feed. He stopped when he got to the moment the cruiser had passed the vans on the road.
“Here it is,” he said, pausing the video.
Beatrice leaned in and looked at the screen. “Show me.”
Niels pressed a button, and the video started playing. The police car was driving along one of the inroads to the town center and continuing to where they were now. A van approached from the opposite direction, leaving town. It was a black Renault Master with tinted windows. Beatrice could make out the first three letters of the license plate before the cruiser drove on. After a minute, another van arrived. It was dark blue with white text on the sides. It passed through the shot, but Beatrice wasn’t able to make out any of its plate numbers.
“Okay, good job. Send that to the lab as soon as possible. I want both of those tag numbers as soon as possible.”
Niels nodded and said quickly, “Sure thing. I’ll do it all at once.” His fingers tapped the keyboard as he sent the video.
Beatrice took a deep breath. At least they had a real clue. Until now, she’d been stumbling in the dark. There was no doubt in her mind that the shootout here was connected to the burglary. The black van in the video looked remarkably like the one she saw on the surveillance footage in front of Magnus von Silverstråle’s house.
Sh
e patted Niels’ shoulder and said again, “Good job, Officer.”
Niels beamed. “Thanks.”
Beatrice went back to the wrecked vans. The place was a veritable battlefield. One of the vans and the dead men lying in front of it were unquestionably part of the theft. But she couldn’t imagine what the other van was for. And why were there no bodies in or around it? She thought through several scenarios, but none of them seemed likely. Had part of the group turned against the others and tried to deceive them? Perhaps. She needed answers, but no one was there to give them to her.
Beatrice shook her head. It wasn’t fair—she wasn’t even supposed to work today. She’d planned to take the weekend off and go on a road trip with her husband, but when two of her coworkers became ill, she’d had to cancel the trip and fill in at work instead. And now this. First, a burglary with a bunch of people dead, and now, just two hours later, she was in the remains of a regular firefight.
She knew that this case had already garnered a lot of attention; this would put even more eyes on her. Beatrice had to find answers, and quickly.
Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone vibrating in her pocket.
“Beatrice Holdt.”
A woman on the other end cleared her throat. “Beatrice, my name is Madeleine Singh. I’m calling from Novus in Malmö.”
Beatrice lifted her head and replied, “Novus? This is the second time I’ve heard that name in one day.”
“Yes, but that’s not what matters at the moment.”
“No?”
“No. I’m calling because I have the information you need.”
Beatrice’s eyebrows shot up. “What kind of information would that be?” she asked.
Quickly, Madeleine conveyed how Magnus von Silverstråle was an old friend of hers and how he had asked for Novus’ services. When she finished, Beatrice was silent.
“So you’re telling me you’ve sent a team after Magnus’ thieves?”
“That’s correct.”
“And this team is led by this Hugo Xavier? The same man I met just two hours ago at Magnus’ apartment?”
“Yes.”
A wave of white-hot anger welled up inside Beatrice. “You cocky little . . . This is a police matter,” she spat. “You have no authority to send out an attack patrol for some private vendetta. Is that clear?”
Madeleine’s tone was sharper now. She said, “Now listen to me. I’m calling you of my own free will. And we don’t have attack patrols; we’re a serious business that helps companies who need it. And this time, the company in need happened to be an old friend.”
“I am telling you right now to stop what you’re doing immediately!”
“I don’t think so.”
A few seconds passed as the silence between them lingered. Finally, Madeleine spoke.
“Listen. I know you disagree with what we’re doing, but this is bigger than you or me or Novus. What’s going on here is about far stronger forces than you or I can imagine.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Beatrice answered, “which is why you need to step down and let us do our jobs.”
“For the last time, we’re on the same page, whether you believe me or not,” Madeleine said.
“I hardly think so.”
Madeleine sighed. “As a gesture that we’re on the same page,” she said, “I’ll tell you where the thieves are.”
Beatrice’s voice became tense. “Where are they?”
“Out in Oresund,” said Madeleine. “They’re on Magnus von Silverstråle’s stolen yacht heading north.”
“How do you know that?” Beatrice gasped.
“Because Hugo called and told me. He’s out there looking for them.”
Before Beatrice had time to reply, the call was dropped. Beatrice stood there, phone still to her ear, staring out at the dark clouds over Oresund.
***
The sound was deafening. As if in slow motion, Hugo saw the fleeing yacht crash onto the deck of the cargo ship and plow through a few car-sized wooden containers. Hugo roared as his own boat, flying through the air, approached the ship too.
Behind him, Mikko shouted. A split second before they crashed into the other yacht on the ship's deck, Hugo and Mikko made a jump for king and country. Hugo hit the deck hard, and the air was pounded out of his lungs. He rolled, managing to dampen the worst of the shock, and stars danced around his field of vision. He tried in vain to pull air into his lungs.
Their yacht crashed into the first one, straight into its stern, and the first boat was pushed even further into the containers. The screeching sound of metal being torn to pieces echoed across the deck. Somewhere, something exploded.
Finally, Hugo convinced his lungs to take in oxygen again. He took a few breaths and crawled up to standing. Nothing seemed to be broken, but his legs throbbed. Looking down, he saw a thick streak of blood staining his left trouser leg red. Hugo staggered closer to the boat, navigating torn chunks of metal as he went.
“Freya! Sussie!”
No answer. As Hugo moved closer, he perceived movement to his right.
“Mikko!”
Mikko slowly pushed himself up from the deck of the cargo ship. Hugo could tell he was distraught.
“Mikko, are you hurt?”
Hugo ran up to Mikko and helped him stand. Mikko’s eyes flickered, and Hugo held him with both hands.
“Mikko, can you hear me?”
Mikko nodded weakly. “Yeah. I hear you.”
“Are you hurt?”
Mikko shook his head and said, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Good,” said Hugo, giving his friend a relieved hug. “Stay here. I’m going to go find the others.”
Mikko nodded but didn’t answer. Hugo turned to the two boats crashed on deck. He could hear voices speaking far away but saw no one. The rain had stopped, and some small fires here and there gave off thick plumes of smoke. He stumbled toward Frank’s yacht.
“Sussie, Freya!”
There! A weak voice, barely audible, called back. Hugo came closer; now he heard it more clearly.
“I’m here!”
Hugo climbed along the deck and came to a broken windowpane. Carefully, he stuck his head inside. The cabin was in complete disarray. Everything was thrown about indiscriminately, there were holes in walls and ceilings, and sparkling shards of glass covered the floor.
“Sussie!”
Hugo perceived movement from the floor. A hand appeared, and then a face. It was Sussie; her face was covered in blood.
“Sussie!” Hugo gasped.
Sussie forced a smile. “Don’t worry! I have cuts on my forehead, but it looks worse than it is.”
Hugo shook his head and said, “It looks pretty bad from where I stand.”
Something moved behind Sussie, and a voice groaned, “Hugo.”
“Freya!”
Hugo hopped down into the cabin and gently helped both Sussie and Freya to their feet. They both trembled as they exited the yacht, and Hugo waved to Mikko. The massive Finn had gathered his composure and came to meet them.
“How’s it going? Sussie, are you okay?” he asked.
Sussie took a rag and wiped blood from her face. “Yeah, I’m all right. I got this gash on my forehead, but it isn’t all that bad.”
Hugo whistled. “Damn. And I thought I was tough.” He turned his attention to Freya. She was pale, almost certainly in shock. Hugo took her hands.
“Freya. It’s okay. We’re all right.”
A tear ran down Freya’s cheek, and she shook her head. “No. Not Frank. He isn’t all right.”
Hugo flinched. He had completely forgotten about Frank.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Freya nodded. “Yes. He’s in there. Broken neck.”
“Shit,” Hugo said, gripping his temples. Frank had given his all when Hugo had asked him to speed up and follow the other boat.
“Okay,” he said, “we’ll take care of Frank later. The important thing now is that we regroup as qui
ckly as possible and get hold of some weapons. We don’t have any idea what to expect now.”
When Hugo said that, Freya recoiled. “Yes, you’re probably right,” she said shakily.
Mikko cleared his throat and said, “Okay, I’ll see if I can find some weapons. We’ll get these bastards once and for all.”
They heard other voices and realized it must be the crew of the other yacht. So they weren’t dead, then. Hugo nodded to Mikko.
“Find any weapons you can. Be back here in thirty seconds.” To Sussie and Freya, he said, “Stay here. If the cargo ship’s crew comes, explain what’s going on. Okay?”
Both women nodded.
Mikko spun around and left. Hugo straightened and looked over at the hull of the other fractured boat, and white-hot anger rushed up inside him. He would find the people who were responsible for this. Dead or alive.
***
Not now, not when he was so close. Magnus von Silverstråle leaned forward and held his head in his hands. For the past half hour, a grinding headache had crept up from the base of his neck over the top of his skull. And now it grew louder, pounding in his head. He groaned as the car drove over a bump. Stretching, he peered out the side window. The last bit of the highway passed, and he sighed heavily. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror.
“Not far to go now.”
The last hours had been exceedingly challenging. Magnus had planned to prepare for the press conference that would be happening soon. Instead, he’d had to spend hours with the police as they questioned him about the apartment theft. And that damned Beatrice Holdt had been remarkably stubborn, almost as if Magnus were the guilty one! He scoffed. Idiots.
He pushed his thoughts away and took a deep breath. He had to regain control.
“Thank you, John.”
John braked and exited the highway. They passed some houses, and John drove onto a minor road to take them to their destination. They continued for several minutes while Magnus went through the last details in his head. Nothing could go wrong. Nothing.
When they had arrived at their destination, John stopped the car. Magnus stepped out. A private airfield stretched out in front of him. Helicopters were lined up along one of the hangars, and to its left, a runway stretched out. He clasped his hands together. There were some benefits to being rich, after all. Money was never a problem. A hangar door opened, and a woman wearing a flight suit came out.
The Hugo Xavier Series: Book 1-3 Page 36
