Revenge

by Filip Forsberg

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  Epilogue

  About the author

  1

  When the gunshot’s muffled sound reached him, he was already dead. The man’s head snapped back, and he toppled softly onto the snow-covered ground. Quick steps approached, then dragged away the lifeless body. Swiftly, purposefully, a shadow slid past the spot where the guard had stood moments before when he’d been alive; the shadow studied the next obstacle.

  Xi Liu stared at the heavy steel door in front of him, memorizing the details. He hadn’t had much time to plan the Novus attack, but given the resources available, he was sure the team would succeed.

  Behind him, the muted roar of two hulking, dark vehicles grew stronger. Twelve seconds later, they sped past the entrance to the house the guard had been patrolling. The whirling snow whipped up by the cars drifted lazily around him. His black body armor and combat helmet—dark visor pulled shut—glittered.

  Xi ignored the cold as it wrapped itself around his body. Two men, also wearing dark body armor, jumped out of the front car as it pulled to a stop. They ran past Xi and kneeled in front of the locked metal door. They performed their work silently and expertly, and when they were done; they quickly withdrew.

  Another seven men stepped out of the vehicles and formed an attack formation behind Xi. He gave the sign, and five subdued explosions echoed through the darkness of the freezing Friday morning.

  He loved this part of a job. The controlled chaos, the brutal violence. He signaled once more, and the men rushed past the broken, smoking door. A flight of stairs stood behind the door, bathed in red from the flashing warning lights. Sirens howled throughout the space, but Xi didn‘t care. It didn‘t matter; they had the element of surprise on their side.

  Surefooted, he took the stairs two steps at a time, swinging deftly around the corner as he reached the second floor. A huge, bearded man stormed through the doorway in front of him, but the brute didn’t have time to say a word before Xi’s front man put a round in his skull. The man fell backward into the room he’d just exited, and voices screamed hysterically.

  Xi smiled behind his dark visor and signaled for the others to push forward.

  *

  He froze when an explosion caused the entire building to shake. Plaster fell from the ceiling in chunks, and Felix Xavier jumped up. He rushed to the door, tore it open, and looked out into the hall. His corner office was the one furthest from the door that led to the stairwell. Flashing red lights and smoke rose from the stairs. This was clearly not a drill.

  The dozens of men and women who populated this floor of the office landscape all stared at this mouth of a volcano that was the exit doorway. Everyone, that was, except Leo, who took three giant steps to meet the threat. Leo would do that—of course Leo would, the bastard. Always striving to do what needed to be done, even when it meant making a jackass move like this. The others looked at one another with barely concealed terror. Two seconds later, Leo’s body came flying back through the air, thudding hard against the hallway wall. He slumped over onto the floor, blood trickling from a gash in his temple. He was dead.

  “Take shelter, now!” Felix shouted. But all the workers were screaming, and no one heard him. It was too late, anyway. Before anyone had time to react, the shadowy figures of doom arrived, spreading death and annihilation as they advanced with their weapons. Felix threw himself back into his office and slammed the door. He rushed over to the desk and retrieved his mobile phone.

  His fingers were trembling so terribly that he had to press his thumb down with his left palm so the phone could read his fingerprint. The roar outside his door was closer now. A sudden gunshot smashed the window in his office door, and thousands of glass shards rained down onto the carpet. The jagged hole exposed the red, flashing chaos outside.

  “Hugo! Can you hear me?” Felix stared wildly at the phone. Nothing. He called out for his brother again. “Hugo!”

  “Felix?” came the voice at last. “What’s happening?”

  “We’re under attack! Call the police! They’re killing everyone!”

  A dark, heavy shape loomed in the smoking doorway, and Felix froze as the black visor turned in his direction and locked onto him. Felix raised his arms and dropped the phone.

  “Please. I’m unarmed. Please. I have a wife and children.”

  The dark figure raised his weapon and released a long burst of bullets, never hearing the voice that continued screaming from the phone on the floor long after Felix had fallen.

  2

  The light turned red, and he ran across the street into the park. The thin, crunchy layer of snow on the ground creaked under each footstep as Hugo Xavier continued along the edge of the pond. A flock of birds ascended as one from the ice cap and headed south.

  Hugo’s hot breath rose in white puffs as he sprinted the last stretch around the pond and continued down toward the Margaret Pavilion. At this hour, the park was more or less abandoned; the sounds of the city were far away. An ambulance howled somewhere in the distance. He raced up the wide stairs toward the amphitheater, slipping and nearly falling. His leg muscles burned with lactic acid when he finally reached the top. He raised his arms in silent triumph.

  He was alone—or that’s what he’d thought. Hugo turned his head slightly, listening. No, he wasn’t alone. His well-developed sense of danger had saved his life more than once, and now the alarm was going off. He looked around, studying his surroundings. A dark hedge to the left. Trees lining a steep hill to the right. His eyes were drawn to the left once more. Rotting, brown-black leaves hung down and obscured the view.

  There was an opening in the hedge. Hugo moved toward it, his senses on full alert. Snow swirled through the opening, but he ignored it and continued through. Then he saw her.

  A woman’s big, frightened eyes stared at him. A man wearing a dirty, tattered cap stood behind her, holding her in a tight grip with a hand over her mouth. Another man stood next to him, staring hatefully at Hugo, a knife in his hand. He sneered, showing off his crooked, yellow teeth, and croaked, “Walk away.”

  Stepping closer, Hugo pointed at the knife. “Be careful not to hurt yourself,” he said.

  A hiss came from the other thug: “Cut him!”

  The woman’s eyes widened like watery globes. Hugo looked from her to the two men, then back again. The most pressing thing was to disarm the guy with the knife. After that, Hugo could help the woman escape the other one’s grip. He flexed his fingers inside his thin mittens to force blood into them.

  “I’m only going to say this once. Drop the knife and walk away.” He paused. “Just go.”

  The first man stuttered, “C . . . cut him!”

  The yellow-teeth man glanced anxiously at his friend and then back at the stranger who had arrived from nowhere. His gaze flickered. It had been going so well. They could’ve easily robbed the woman and maybe had some fun with her. But then this idiot had come in and ruined things.

  The man, gangly and scruffy, took a step forward and waved the knife in front of him menacingly.

  “You damn— I’ll—” Before he could say anything else, Hugo slid toward him like mercury and grabbed his wrist with an iron
grip. He pulled it down swiftly and then yanked upward. The man gasped as white-hot pain radiated up his arm. The knife dropped from his fingers, but before it could land in the snow, Hugo caught it with his left hand and thrust it upward through the man’s bicep.

  The man screamed, fell to his knees, and gawked at the blade stuck deep in his flesh. With that one taken care of, Hugo turned to the other man.

  “Let her go. Now.”

  The man stared at his injured friend who was now sitting paralyzed in a red-spotted snowdrift. Everything had gone downhill so fast. He didn’t know what to do. Should he release her? Her hair smelled so good, like it was freshly washed, and he desperately wanted to keep that scent. The intruder in front of him stared calmly and steadily at him, and a shiver rolled down his spine.

  The man faltered, and his grip over the woman’s mouth loosened for a fraction of a second. That was all it took. The woman bit into his fingers. Blood spurted, and Hugo saw his opening. He exploded forward, pushed the woman aside, and shoved a powerful fist into the jaw of her assailant. The target fell like timber.

  The woman collapsed onto her knees, sobbing and shaking. She wiped her bloody mouth on the back of her arm. She spat, and reddish mucus stained the snowdrift. Hugo helped her up, then pulled off his beanie and wiped her face.

  “Easy, now. Are you hurt?”

  The woman shook her head, and her dark, curly hair danced where it peeked out from beneath her thick white hat. Hugo studied her. She looked to be around forty, maybe Spanish. Her eyes were clear; she didn’t seem to be in shock.

  “No, I think I’m okay.”

  Hugo nodded toward the two men. “You know these guys?”

  She glared at them. “No.”

  Hugo took the woman’s hands, held them in his, and breathed warm air onto them.

  “Want to call the police?” he asked.

  She stared at them, shrugging.

  The man with the knife in his arm stammered, “We just wanted your money, nothing else. If you let us go, we swear we’ll never do this again.”

  The woman walked over and slapped him in the face. “Bastards!” A long stream of angry words, all in Spanish, flew from her mouth.

  Hugo grasped her shoulders. “Either we call the police or we let them go and make sure you get to the hospital. It’s a good idea for a doctor to make sure you’re okay.” He looked at the unconscious man and said, “That one’s jaw is broken, so he’ll be sucking soup for weeks.”

  The woman turned to Hugo. In her eyes, he saw that the clarity of a few moments ago was dwindling. Her pupils were dilated, her skin pale and grayish.

  “Miguela,” she said hoarsely. “My name is Miguela.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miguela. My name is Hugo.”

  “Hugo.” She took a shuddering breath, shook her head, and cleared her throat. “Thank you for helping me, but I’m fine now. I don’t need to see a doctor.”

  Before Hugo could answer, his cell phone rang from his armband. He pulled it out. The screen displayed the name Felix.

  “Hi, brother.”

  *

  The smattering of automatic weapon fire made him jerk, instinctively pulling away from the phone. Miguela stared at him with wide eyes; she’d also heard the sound.

  “What was that?” she gasped.

  Hugo ignored the question. “Felix!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”

  “Hugo!” Felix sounded a million kilometers away.

  “Felix? What’s happening?”

  “We’re under attack! Call the police! They’re killing everyone!”

  Hugo’s focus instantly zeroed into a fine pinpoint of ambition: his brother’s life. His eyebrows pushed toward each other in the middle, and he said firmly, “Who’s shooting, Felix?”

  He got no answer. Hugo pressed the phone harder against his ear and heard his brother’s distant voice.

  “I’m unarmed. Please. I have a wife and children.”

  A thick snowflake landed on Hugo’s cheek in the same second he heard what sounded like a huge zipper being pulled closed. His focus shattered, and his blood froze to ice.

  “No! Felix!” He listened hard for his brother’s voice but heard nothing. For a split-second, a wave of doubt rolled through his body. Everything around him slowed down. Heavy snowflakes descended, becoming one with the white quilt that covered the ground. He turned to Miguela, but before he could say anything, she nodded and handed him back his cap.

  “Go, I’ll do it myself. Thanks for everything.”

  He took the hat, and without answering, he started running. His legs were machines pumping rhythmically, tirelessly, and he sprinted back the same way he had come, toward the apartment at Magistrate Park.

  He dialed the emergency number as he ran. A woman answered after two rings.

  “SOS Alarm, what’s your emergency?”

  Through his ragged breath, Hugo said, “I was talking on the phone to my brother when I heard an automatic weapon being fired. He works down in the industrial harbor. It sounded like they were under attack.”

  “Automatic weapons you said?”

  Hugo gave the address of the Novus building and explained who he was while he continued running toward the red light at Carl Gustavs Road. Car horns blared, and two vehicles thundered angrily past him, but he ignored them. A lady stared wide-eyed and pulled her twitching, barking dog closer to her as he rushed past.

  “Send any backup you have! Now!” Hugo shouted. He didn’t wait for a reply, jamming the phone into his pocket and feeling for his car keys. He sprinted past his apartment, where he knew Lita was waiting for him. He couldn’t call now—there was no time. It would simply have to wait. She’d only be stressed if she heard him in this state and found out what had happened. At six months pregnant, it wasn’t a good time for surprises.

  Hugo ran straight to the car and yanked open the door. He started the engine, revved it once, and raced out onto Foereningsgatan so fast the snow sprayed behind him. He reached under the seat, finding the cool surface of his SIG Sauer handgun.

  As Hugo approached an intersection, a taxi swiped across the lanes in front of him, and he slammed on the brakes, barely missing the cab’s rear bumper. A stream of obscenities fell absently out of Hugo’s mouth. When the lights at the Triangle turned green, he stepped on the accelerator. But it was Friday morning, and traffic was picking up. He pressed down hard on the horn to get the cars and pedestrians to make a hole as he hurtled through town, his aim set firmly on his brother.

  3

  It was so strange. Oddly, at first, he didn’t feel any pain. Felix didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but his hands came away slick and sticky after he touched his midsection.

  And then it came. Oh God, the pain came and came and came. Like a burning, runaway train, it ran over him, thundering over his body. Adrenaline flowed through him like a waterfall, and he nearly fainted as he struggled to pull himself into a half-seated position.

  He peered out the doorway. The smoke from the red-flashing corridor was lighter now, and he saw two dark figures moving about in it. They were talking to each other, but Felix couldn’t make out what they said. His cell phone sat on the floor a few feet away from where he sat. He reached for it, but his sticky fingers struggled to grasp the smooth surface.

  At last, the fingernails of his middle and ring finger found purchase on the edge of the phone where it met the case. He pulled it toward him and scrolled down his contact list until he found what he was looking for. It rang twice before a woman answered.

  “Felix. Is that you?”

  He tried to say something but only managed whispering, creaking sounds. The woman spoke again.

  “Felix? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

  With effort, he cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s me. Shot . . . shot . . . in the stomach.”

  “Oh my God. Okay. Stay where you are and keep hidden. We’ve already called the police. They’re on their way.”

  A wave of relief rolled thr
ough him. “Okay, Madeleine. I’m not going anywhere. Where are you?”

  “In the panic room. There’s five of us here—Freya, Mikko, Sussie, me, and Sebastian.” She paused, then repeated, “Stay where you are.”

  The room spun around Hugo, and the fire continued to burn in his stomach.

  “I will.”

  “We can see them on the cameras. They’re standing outside the panic room trying to get in.”

  Felix heard someone near Madeleine shout. Then Madeleine moaned.

  “Are you hurt too?” he asked.

  “Maybe a concussion. Nothing serious.”

  Felix knew it was worse than she was letting on, but before he could say anything else, their conversation was interrupted by more shouts. Moments later, the building was rocked by another explosion. Ceiling tiles began to crash to the floor, and dust clouds drifted in through the red-flashing doorway. The explosion caused Felix to drop the phone, and chaos rushed around him, pulling him down into the darkness again.

  *

  The room shook so hard that she fell. Madeleine screamed as she collapsed and felt her left ankle snap.

  Sussie rushed to her. “Madeleine!”

  Madeleine knew right away that her ankle was broken, and overwhelming powerlessness cascaded through her, but she reminded herself that help was on the way. “How long until the police get here?” she asked.

  Sussie looked up at the battery-powered digital clock on the wall and replied, “They should be here any minute.”

  Along one side of the panic room, four vaulted screens showed the devastation outside their small, isolated world. Lifeless bodies were strewn about as if a giant had stormed through and left destruction behind. Thick clouds drifted past, giving the dark figures outside a surreal appearance. A man with a dark visor walked up to the thick door of the panic room and put his hand against it.

  Madeleine swallowed; the thug on the monitor was less than two feet away from her body. This creature from hell that had torn her world apart. This had been her responsibility; Novus was her place, and this was her fault. Sebastian had pointed out the security flaws in their building many times, but Madeleine had kept postponing the needed investment.