Antler Plan (A Konrad Loki Thriller Book 1)

by Joonas Huhta

  “Defaming and underestimating,” Ruut retorted, “exactly what causes them to riot. If we see them as rowdy provocateurs and fail to see them as a reservoir of creativity and energy, they just sink to meet the low expectations we give to them.”

  “What do you even teach in your gatherings?”

  “Love. Care. Camaraderie. Chance. Respect. Anything for balanced growth. The young hate lists of rules, but the ideas of self-discovery and what’s important make their faces shine. Meet their needs with possibility, and they are more willing to contribute to the betterment of the world than most adults. It’s not indifferent where our horse gallops and what fields it starts to plow to become healthily independent.”

  “Sounds like Sunday school.”

  Ruut held a bough from slapping across Konrad’s face. He acknowledged his gratitude with a nod, but she released it. The bough-spikes whipped his cheek numb.

  He grumbled a curse.

  “Sorry. But you saw it coming,” Ruut folded his arms. “By the way, don’t you think it’s odd how much ahead of his time Newton was?”

  “The crowning achievements require the right brains. But physical truths change when condition change. At high speeds and strong gravities, at the extreme circumstances of traveling the speed of light, Newtonian physics breaks down. It took Einstein and his Special and General Relativity theories to go beyond the limits of Newton’s ideas. We expand our awareness by building upon one another until one day we realize we did everything ourselves.”

  “You can’t expect to approach God with a map of perception and a compass of analysis,” Ruut said and started talking something about a theory of nothing, but Konrad felt heaviness on his tongue. Two crows in a tree were staring at him. A chill passed over his skin. The air around him became crisp and cold, for he expected the birds take to the air, to make the shriek darker than their wings.

  A bee flew past Konrad’s head and collided with a tree with an unnatural loud bang.

  “Konrad?” Ruut asked.

  Halfway through the sound of overstretched rubber breaking in half, the blast of a handgun exploded behind them. A jolt of impact passed through the rope up Konrad’s arm and numbed it. His fingers lost all sensation. Another boom brought up unintentional gulps. Something tightened the length of the rope.

  If there was a way to comprehend the pain in his hands, nothing could explain the tightening of the rope. Did the distances do the impossible? There were more explosions. Konrad grit his teeth together as he sensed blood—as cold and sticky as truth—oozing from his palms. He didn’t know why, but an image of an old grand piano visited his eyes. It brought familiar warmth and memories, refueled safety, but they were taken from him as if a sudden missile blasted it, the white keys torn apart under his fingers.

  The rope slipped through their fingers, disappeared.

  Konrad turned to Ruut. Face wide and white, a shadow of her had bounced to run like a wild antelope, but the shock had numbed her still. Her asthma resurfaced.

  The blood on his hands made blood escape Konrad’s head. He fell to his knees.

  Passing out wasn’t an option for there would be no coming back. The truth hovered on the outskirts of his consciousness, lying just out of reach when he saw a shadow approaching at great speed.

  Ruut’s icy hand slapped across his face, carrying a dire warning of alarm.

  The enemy was close.

  28

  KONRAD’S VISION ELECTRIFIED with black specks. Ruut crouched next to him. Her hand was on her windpipe, and she labored through her thin and wheezy breathing.

  Something moved behind them.

  A stab of panic made Ruut’s eyes bulge.

  Konrad scrambled up and turned toward the noise. A bright red color that looked like a flashlight was pointed at them.

  “Hands up,” a voice rang out.

  Ruut spun around and squinted. Konrad had already figured out what they were looking at, but not what was wrong with it.

  A gun’s laser.

  Konrad saw a silhouette of a broad-shouldered man trying to track the laser across his head, but the beam spread, engulfing him and Ruut in the light. The man’s voice didn’t shake.

  “Hands where I can see them!”

  Ruut gave a nudge with her leg to Konrad’s shin, and they bounced to run in opposite directions.

  The red flash turned to Konrad. The man fired. Konrad saw the flames and flinched, but there was no sound. The trees flashed around him again.

  Still no sound. Not even a whisper.

  Ruut screamed something from behind.

  Konrad made a full 360 and saw the agent aim at Ruut and squeeze the trigger.

  Flash of light.

  No sound. No bullet wounds.

  Ruut acted swiftly and attacked the agent. Her directed punch landed on his ear, throwing the mountainous man off his equilibrium. Forced to his knees, the agent received another strike to his chin.

  A knockout.

  Konrad raised his hands over his head, feeling tremors in his fingers. The punch rewound in his eyes, the agent in an awkward wobble-fall. His mind combined the bits of information. She was dragging the agent to a pine. She hit him again.

  Blood started seeping from the corner of the man’s eye.

  Konrad’s voice shook. “Ruut?”

  Being unnaturally quiet and decisive, she fetched the rope from the last trunk, returned to the man and tied his hands behind the tree.

  “What are you doing?” Konrad whispered. “Let’s go.”

  Ruut ignored him. She untied and pulled off the agent’s shoelaces. She combined them, tied his legs together.

  “That won’t hold him forever,” Konrad said.

  Ruut swiped her hand across her nose. She explored at the bee between her thumb and forefinger. “A nanodrone?”

  She was hovering the bee’s sting close to the man’s eyes. Surgically.

  Pocketing his hands and scratching his head in turns, Konrad walked around back and forth, keeping distance. Ruut dug a pad out the man’s pocket.

  Konrad stopped.

  Ruut looked at a lit-up screen. “Konrad, are you checking on me?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look at this and say you don’t want to hurt him as much as I do.”

  Konrad stared down at the screen in total confusion.

  “An infinity mirror?”

  Ruut scrutinized Konrad’s eyes. She plucked something out. “Contact lenses with an in-built camera. I thought you were only wiretapped.”

  Konrad experienced a loss of coordination.

  “God knows what else they have done to you.”

  Konrad couldn’t look at the bleeding man without instant dizziness. “Wake him up.”

  Ruut started slapping across the agent’s face without any intention of being gentle. Konrad walked away. At fifty meters distance or so he kicked cones and pebbles on the forest floor. His racing mind didn’t register the presence of another soul until they stood face to face.

  “Gideon?”

  Gideon looked past him, avoiding eye contact. “Who’s she beating?”

  “Some bad people want bad—”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. They murdered my father. If these cases are linked, I won’t interfere. She can do whatever she likes.”

  Konrad swallowed.

  Gideon continued. “And hitting is what she likes.”

  “Has she hit you?”

  “Her husband beats her,” Gideon replied. “She tries to save the world and kids so much that she forgets herself and her needs. She thinks she can change Jake, because she cares about Netta so much. She blames herself for the death of my real sister eight years ago. Why do you think she serves in the army anyway?”

  Konrad digested the news quickly. “To keep you safe?”

  “In war civilians die more than soldiers. She knows the army is the safest place to be. And she can take me to the army cave, should war break out.”

 
“Cave?”

  “Classified.”

  “If Ruut has told you to keep quiet on the matter, I respect that. But we’re in the middle of illegal operations. Any information would be welcome. We don’t like each other, but maybe I could help you find your father’s murderer.”

  “Yeah, right.” Gideon looked like he was ready to spit on the idea.

  “I stole a watch that belonged to your father. I threw it out the window in the hospital. With luck, you could find it at the southeast corner flowerbed. It may contain valuable information.”

  Gideon frowned.

  “I’m sorry. But please, tell me about the Cave.”

  There was deep adolescent defiance in Gideon’s body posture. “The place is below Santa Park. The entrance is hidden near the civilian entrance. There are firing ranges, lots of computers, wires. They test new weapons and bullets. Ask her. She’s the one who works there.”

  Konrad nodded. “I’ll discuss it with her.”

  “I’ll check for the watch,” Gideon said. “By the way, one agent has infiltrated Ounavaara ski team. The ski center is closed tomorrow. Something weird is happening there.”

  Gideon turned to leave.

  Konrad said, “That morning… You saw the collision? The police haven’t heard your story yet.”

  “You carried the explosive.”

  “What?”

  “The bomb rolled on the road from your suitcase and detonated. But she rolled onto it. On purpose. She saved you.”

  Fear crept into the pit of Konrad’s belly.

  “My friend heard his police officer father saying a low-tech wristwatch was the mechanism behind the bomb.”

  Konrad made no comment.

  Gideon prepared to leave. “Your Parabellum is buried under the tree in the glade.”

  “I don’t think I want to have it back.”

  “Suit yourself, oldie. By the way, if you ask Ruut’s opinion, she thinks it was you who planned to suicide that day, but the woman got in your way.”

  “I assure you I never had such intentions. I didn’t carry any wartime bombs. They’re highly unstable.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it was Oona who screamed allahu akbar. She thought she was committing a righteous act. That it’s a good way to die with Allah on her lips.”

  “No,” Gideon said. “She didn’t say anything.”

  Konrad’s world twisted. “How am I supposed to trust you?”

  Gideon said nothing as though to emphasize that Konrad wasn’t listening to him. He walked away.

  “Gideon!” Konrad felt cold sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “I’ve questions!”

  He saw danger symbols in everything; the experience of a complete break with the reality. Could it be true he had jumped to illogical conclusions about Oona? Did she really manage to roll herself upon the bomb? But where did the explosives come from? And why had Ruut left matters unspoken when she claimed to be so straightforward?

  Konrad felt the pad in his hand. He weighed the technology inside the machine. How much did these agents have control over him? Konrad considered all options. Then the most frightening yet utterly insane question formed in his mind.

  Can they make people commit suicide?

  29

  ANGER LACED THE VETERAN’S words as he heard Patrick’s status report through his cell phone.

  “You were supposed to put them into the grave—without caring who goes after.”

  “This development wasn’t a risk factor.”

  “Your job includes risks and constant risk evaluation, but it is not limited to them. Getting rid of any threat is the priority.”

  “As I have reported before,” Patrick said, “the woods put our gear in great distress. We’re still working on understanding the phenomena. There has been a delay in the video feed since the two ran into the woods. They’ve got Arkadi. You know the skill set of this man...”

  The Veteran knew well the man’s reputation. As an assassin, he had liquidated high American and Russian agents and was none other than one of the top five secretly most-wanted men by the world’s alphabet agencies. The resources and burned money just to get a word to him was a taxpayers’ nightmare.

  “Oona warned us not to intervene in God’s plan,” Patrick commented.

  “Don’t talk me about her. Just put a lid on this.”

  “I trust Arkadi. He knows how to proceed.”

  The Veteran sighed inwardly. “See that it happens.”

  “We’ll prevail. But if you don’t want to take risks, we could offer Konrad a deal.”

  “What kind?”

  “Profitable.”

  “Go on.”

  “Konrad has the twist of divine irony. He has exactly the opposite worldview as we do. Offering a meaningful role in the inevitable future world might work. He’s by his own definition a man of the dark side.”

  “And?”

  “The immoral man knows morality,” Patrick said. “His calculated, provoking performances and journalistic investigations have spawned a rabid fan-base mainly because of the global fire and shit storms among believers. The more he reasons, the more reason people have to abandon their faith or defend their stand.”

  The Veteran made the deduction, and indeed saw the need of a public speaker, but grew reluctant. “The future world has no gods with many faces. Nor will it have idolized men. Where does he fit?”

  “That’s the thing. He makes people feel they are the authors of their lives. When people are truly free, there has to be something that roots them to the former world. Quarreling and debating and fist fights will never disappear, no matter how moral we make the man. We’ll only tend the fever of the climate change, not the virus causing it.”

  The Veteran hated the risks involved. Russia, as the world knew it, would cease to exist. The people of Russia would learn to inhabit their actual characters, stripped of lies. “Although Konrad has all the signs of the perfect puppet, I disagree. We’re too close to our goal. It took me the best half of my career to come to terms with what must be done. I will not let anything lead to unexpected complications.”

  “Understood,” Patrick said, his voice emotionless.

  “Any other troubles before the showdown?” The Veteran asked.

  “No, sir. Who will deliver the package?”

  “I have a Finnish general in mind.”

  “Is he any good?”

  The Veteran heaved a peaceful sigh. “As good as it gets.”

  “Fulfilling his dream of getting rid of the Big Brother?”

  “Hell yes.”

  30

  EAVESDROPPING FROM A distance, Konrad saw blood in his vision with every hit Ruut landed on the agent’s face. The agent was surely a strong mind to break. It could take days to make him speak. But before that, his partners would arrive and make them disappear as fast and effortlessly as piss melts snow on a grave.

  He had to withdraw to the glade for another cold dip. The air was suddenly at least ten degrees colder than it had been an hour ago. The madness of having to move around to keep his muscles warm and get cold treatment to keep his body functioning was worse than a prolonged torture. He was the condemned, ready to trade places with the torture master.

  The pond was frozen shut. Konrad left his clothes on the bank. He walked on the ice, stood there in the middle for a few seconds. Not having put much weight and pressure on the balls of his feet he fell through the ice, and let his body regenerate itself. He thought of Jesus and his miracles, how he never walked on water as the legend had it, but on thin ice during a cold night. The darkness and coldness surrounding him squeezed his heart smaller in his chest before it launched itself to a pounding like a panicky bird bursting out of his rib cage.

  The cold shock took him out of his reverie. Adrenaline flowed through his system. It was ages back when he hadn’t been able to contain the internal responses, keep calm and pulse rate in check.

  Above the surface cam
e a flash of light. Knowing that panic was the first enemy in water, he considered his options. Rising might mean an instant bullet lodged inside his skull. After ten seconds, the one-way ticket was about all the options before him. He thought of the hole above him, contemplated the contrasting colors, the hole darker than the snow-covered ice surrounding it, and kicked off.

  A gasp of air. There was nobody in the glade. Where was the source of light?

  The easiest way to get up was to imagine the ice as water, lean over it and swim with a kick, while getting the body as horizontal as possible. Konrad rolled over until the ice felt more solid. He quickly redressed himself and fought off the body vibrations.

  There were footprints in the frozen grass, not his size. His eyes followed the prints approaching the tree that backed up the same way. The shoe size seemed bigger compared to his. Under the tree at the base, dirt spread over the snow. Someone had dug something up.

  Ruut screamed curses far behind the trees.

  Screams of pain.

  Konrad wasted no second and sprang after the footprints that seemed to lead directly in her direction.

  His heavy breathing drowned out all other noises. He ran with a new adrenaline surge, closing the gap between them, stopping short at what seemed impossible.

  Ruut hung his head between her elbows as though her head was too heavy to hold upright. She was resisting something painful with every fiber of her being.

  “Ruut?” Konrad said.

  She aimed her weapon at the agent’s head and took off the safety mechanism.

  “NO!” Konrad ran to her, but she guided the barrel to face his forehead. He backed up. A chill raced its way up his spine as he raised his hands. “It’s me. Konrad.”

  Her eyes were transfixed, some thoughtless imitation of a killer.

  “Speak to me, Ruut. You’re not yourself!”

  “I’m sorry, Konrad. We’re just obstacles standing in the way of the inevitable.”

  The agent locked eyes with Konrad over Ruut’s shoulders. Konrad looked down and found another bee on the ground. He picked it up, stifling a shudder.