Revenge

by Filip Forsberg

The men howled with delight, and a wave of relief rolled over Hugo.

  *

  No fear.

  Leonid took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The sound was louder than he had intended it to be.

  A dull voice answered from behind the door, “Yes?”

  “Yes, Doctor, it’s Leonid. I need to inform you of something. Can you please open the door?”

  “Not now, we’re busy.”

  Leonid hesitated. Most of all, he just wanted to leave—but if he did, Ilya would think he was a coward, and he couldn’t stand that thought. He clenched his jaw.

  “This is something you need to know, sir. Ilya sent me.”

  A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and a startled Markov stood inside the door. His sweaty hair was glued to his head as if it had been painted there.

  “What do you want now? Can’t you see we’re busy?”

  Leonid bowed involuntarily. “I apologize once again, Doctor, but a bear has run into the fence and died.”

  Markov stared blankly at Leonid and shook his head. “What do you mean?”

  Leonid repeated himself, and Markov raised his hands.

  “Stop. Why are you telling me this? Is this something that affects me?”

  Leonid’s courage sank like a stone as he feverishly sought answers. He cursed Ilya again for having sent him down here.

  “I—no . . . no. It was just that Ilya wanted you to be informed in case you heard something strange.” Leonid regretted what he’d said the same second it came out of his mouth. Markov’s face turned bright red, and he raised his finger.

  “This is incredible. I’m in the middle of a very important experiment, and you interrupt it to inform me that I should not be disturbed by a strange sound because a bear has attacked our fence. Do I have it right?”

  Leonid swallowed, and his dry throat clicked. “Yes, sir,” he managed.

  “Out!” Markov shouted in his face. “Get out!” He slammed the door, and Leonid stumbled backward. He staggered up from the basement in a daze, fighting away idiotic tears.

  *

  The cold was making his legs throb. After five minutes, Hugo gave Freya a signal to continue.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

  Freya licked her lips and said, “I’ll manage.”

  Hugo swept over the area with the binoculars; everything was again quiet and calm. Where the bear has been, there was now a big hole in the fence. He smiled—how lucky for them.

  “Talisman, this is Hammer. Come in.”

  “Talisman here. Go for Hammer.”

  “We’re moving ahead. We’ll try to get closer. Three minutes.”

  “Roger. Three minutes.”

  Hugo counted. It was something you learned when you went on secret assignments—a few seconds could often be the difference between life and death. He motioned to Freya to follow and set off running. He and Freya pounded through the snow along the same track until they reached the hole. Figured the guards must have turned off the electricity running to it, they passed through.

  Ninety seconds.

  Voices carried in the wind from a distance but did not seem to be getting any closer. Hugo and Freya made their way to the wall of the house and pressed themselves against it. Thick snowdrifts extended from the corner outward. The road where the ATV had driven continued around the corner, and guard-shaped shadows crept across the ground. Hugo stared at them but exhaled as they got smaller and finally disappeared.

  Sixty seconds.

  He snuck up to the corner of the house and peeked cautiously around it. A lone guard stood smoking fifteen meters away. Billows of smoke swirled around him.

  Hugo sensed Freya behind him and whispered, “A guard.”

  A few seconds later, the cigarette landed with a hiss on the ground. The guard stomped it and disappeared into the house. Once the massive wooden door had closed behind him, Hugo turned around.

  “Hide.”

  They sank into the big snowdrifts that surrounded the house.

  Ten seconds.

  “Now!”

  He and Freya covered their heads with their arms. Two seconds later, a deafening noise resounded through the night air.

  *

  The rumble echoed through the walls of the basement. Markov Tupolev froze when all the equipment in the room shook. He pulled the mask from his face and let it hang around his neck.

  “What’s happening?” he asked, eyes wide with uncertainty.

  Abram adjusted his monitors. He rubbed his face and said, “Earthquake?”

  Markov waited while the rumbling subsided. After ten seconds, everything was calm again.

  “No, not an earthquake,” Markov said.

  Abram jerked his head from screen to screen. “Then what is it?” he asked.

  Markov murmured, “It has to be something to do with the morons with the bear. They must have done something.”

  Abram hesitated. “Well, then . . . shall we proceed?”

  Markov pulled his mask up again and turned to face the woman on the gurney. “Yes. Of course we should. When this is done, I’ll talk to them.”

  *

  The shock wave tore through the snow. Hugo knew that any second, someone would throw open the main door and come storming out. He took a deep breath. Just as he’d expected, as he exhaled, the massive door was flung open and men rushed out, yelling and screaming and looking for the source of the explosion. A fireball rose in the east, and the men pointed.

  “Look at that! What is that?”

  Some of the men raised their weapons.

  “We’re under attack!”

  A man dressed in a dark uniform rushed out onto the porch. “Kolja, Niktin, Leonid. Check out what happened. We’ll contact the others and get them out here.”

  The three men rushed off toward the still-rising fireball. When everyone had gone, Hugo and Freya crawled out of the snowdrift.

  “Ready?” Hugo asked.

  Freya nodded. They slunk to the door and dropped to their knees. Hugo could hear voices behind it. He held his breath—they had the element of surprise on their side, and they needed to make the most of it. The explosion would give them five minutes, maybe ten before the guards came back.

  Hugo and Freya stormed into the room with weapons raised. Two men watching a wall of monitors—one seated, one standing—spun around and stared at them in amazement.

  “Hands up!” Hugo shouted at them. He pointed to the seated man. “Stand up!”

  Both men did as they were told.

  “Check them for weapons.”

  Freya searched them and discovered a gun on one of them. Hugo gestured to the men to go to the other wall.

  “Get down on your knees and put your hands on your head.”

  The men went to the wall, sat down, and reluctantly interlaced their hands on their heads. While Freya guarded them, Hugo went to the screens and scanned the displays. Most of them showed various areas outside the house. On a couple of them, Hugo could see the men who had left the house now approaching the destroyed gas tank fifty meters away. So far, the plan had worked well. Simplicity was always preferred. A couple of the monitors on the bottom rows showed a white, tiled room. Hugo sat down in the chair and drew closer.

  “What do we have here?”

  As he leaned in, one of the men on the ground moved suddenly as if to make a break for it.

  Freya hissed at him, “Try it and I’ll send you to your creator. Understood?”

  Hugo wasn’t sure this person actually did understand what Freya was saying, but her body language was clear enough; the guy slunk back down, glowering.

  Hugo looked at the men and tapped the screen. “This is the basement, right?”

  Neither of them answered, so Hugo repeated the question. Still no answer. He stood and approached the one he figured was the leader.

  “What’s your name?”

  The man didn’t move a muscle but merely glared at him. Hugo ran a hand through his hair; he was losing
patience. They didn’t have time for this. It had already been two full minutes since he and Freya had entered the room. It wouldn’t be long before the other men came back. He detached one of his knives from his chest harness, and the glossy polished blade gleamed. Both men’s eyes followed the knife in Hugo’s hands.

  “This is the last time I’m going to ask. What’s your name?”

  The man yelled, “Blyad!”

  Hugo could only imagine what that word meant. Without giving any warning, he took three quick steps and grabbed the insolent man’s ear. All it took was one hard twist to produce howling screams. Hugo lifted the knife and held the blade against the sensitive hunk of cartilage and flesh between his fingers.

  “Ilya! My name is Ilya!”

  Hugo eased the pressure on the ear but didn’t let go. “Well, look at that. So nice of you to share.”

  After a few seconds, he released his grip with a shove. Sobbing, the young guard reached for his ear.

  “You bastard, you tore it off!”

  Hugo rolled his eyes. “No, it’s still there. But that’s the least of your problems now.” Pointing at the monitors, he said, “Those are the lower levels, right? The basement?”

  Ilya nodded shakily.

  “How do we get there?”

  After a nervous glance at his wide-eyed compatriot, Ilya answered, “Down the stairs and through the first door. You need an access card.”

  “Okay. Where’s the access card?”

  Ilya fumbled through his jacket pocket and pulled out a yellow card. “Here. Hold it up to the scanner and the door will open. The doctors are there.”

  “Four minutes,” Freya spoke up.

  “Good,” said Hugo. He took the card from Ilya’s hand and nodded his head in the direction of the captives. “See to them.”

  Freya retrieved a small plastic spray bottle from her pack and walked over to the kneeling men.

  “What is that?” Ilya asked anxiously.

  The other guard held his hands up in front of him. “No, please—we are sorry,” he said dopily.

  Freya lifted the bottle and pulled the trigger twice. Almost instantly, as if she’d hit them with white spray paint, all the color drained from the guards’ faces. Their eyes rolled back into their sockets, and they collapsed.

  Hugo placed his fingers on their jugulars. “Pulses are strong,” he said. “Well done.”

  “Easy as taking a cookie from a kid,” Freya replied.

  “What?”

  Freya didn’t respond but headed to the door that led to the basement. “Coming?” She stepped through, followed by Hugo, and they vanished into the darkness.

  *

  Surprises always come when you least expect them. Xi Liu sat in the cabin of a massive military helicopter and yawned. He rubbed his eyes; when he opened them again, something out the window caught his glance. A red ball of fire was climbing into the sky on the horizon.

  “What the—” Xi narrowed his eyes.

  “What is it?” Sebastian, who was sitting opposite him, turned toward the window. “Holy shit. Looks like it’s coming from the direction we’re headed.”

  Xi stared at the fireball, bewitched, as it rose high above the treetops in slow motion.

  Planning out this day had been a relatively simple task. Even without much time for planning, their preparations were sound. Now, this wrench—whatever it was, exactly—was messing with the agenda. Xi rubbed his hands together uneasily. The stranger he’d met in Malmö had gotten him off balance—not many people had that effect on him—and Xi had a sneaking suspicion that this man was behind the fiery explosion in the distance.

  He shook his head to clear his mind, then patted the pilot on the shoulder and pointed. “That’s where we’re going. Put us down as fast as possible!”

  14

  Hugo and Freya reached the heavy metal door at the bottom of the stairs, and there was the scanner, installed on the wall next to it. Hugo held Ilya’s yellow access card up to it, and the door clicked.

  He lifted his eyebrows at Freya. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” She cocked her Desert Eagle handgun and gave a curt nod.

  Hugo pushed the door open. Behind it stretched a corridor dressed in old, white tiles. A simple fluorescent bulb in the ceiling spread a sterile glow through the hallway. Another door stood further down, and they snuck up to it and took their positions. With his ear against the door, Hugo could hear weak voices but nothing that indicated their presence had been detected.

  He motioned for Freya, readied his weapon, and grabbed the handle. Throwing open the door, they rushed in.

  They found themselves in a room that extended deeply to the right; along one wall were two rank chairs that held two men in white coats. The next wall contained a picture window that separated the room from another, smaller one behind it, which housed a simple gurney. A woman was lying unconscious on top. Another person in a white coat—this one also wearing a medical-grade face mask and surgical gloves—stood next to her.

  Then, two things happened at the same time: a piercing scream issued from the woman’s lungs, and the men in the lab coats stood up brusquely.

  “Hey! Who are you?” the younger, more built one shouted.

  Hugo lifted his rifle and aimed it at the man’s chest. Next to him, Freya trained her gun on the older man, who raised his scrawny arms over his head on instinct.

  “Quiet,” Hugo said.

  There was a blink, then a shifty glance. Hugo shook his head.

  “Don’t do it. It’s not worth it.”

  Neither of the lab techs said a word. The older one—probably in his sixties—still stood there with his hands stretched so far upward that it looked like he was trying to touch the ceiling. In the other room, the doctor went about his business. He hadn’t noticed them yet.

  Hugo pointed to the chairs. “Sit back down. Both of you.”

  The older tech plopped quickly down in his seat and hesitantly lowered his arms. The other took his time, gradually working his way down to the chair.

  Hugo grabbed his radio. “Hammer here. Come in, Talisman.”

  “Talisman.”

  “Goal in sight. Three minutes.”

  “Roger.”

  The second he’d made the call, Hugo knew it was a mistake. The young tech, having not yet sat down and still in a crouch, sprang forward like a raging bull. He threw himself toward Freya.

  “Doctor!” he shouted. “Look out! They’re coming!”

  Everything that happened next was a whirlwind. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo saw the scientist in the other room spin around. The two locked eyes. Freya took a step aside, raised her weapon, and pistol-whipped the young man in the head. He collapsed onto the floor like a sack of potatoes.

  In the other chair, the other man sat whimpering. Hugo raised his weapon again and walked to the window in the wall. The scientist faced him head-on, glowering, as Hugo tapped the glass with the end of his rifle barrel.

  “Dr. Markov,” he called out, motioning backward with his head. “Let’s go. We’re going to take a little trip.”

  Markov pulled his mask down so it hung around his neck.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Hugo looked past the doctor at the woman on the gurney, then returned his gaze to Markov. “What are you doing there? You’re hurting that woman.”

  Markov shook his head disdainfully. “You know nothing about what we do here! This is the future!”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Hugo said with a shrug. “But I do know you’re coming with us.”

  “Never! You can’t get in here. The door is locked, and I have the only key.”

  Hugo threw a look over his shoulder at Freya. “Will you take care of that problem, please?” he asked her.

  Markov’s face drained of color when Freya raised the Desert Eagle and shot the deadbolt completely off the door. His screams mixed with the violent thunder of the blast, and he threw himself down on the ground as the two black-cl
ad figures stormed into the room and grabbed hold of him.

  *

  They worked fast. Hugo grabbed a pair of strong cable ties from his pack and tied Markov’s hands behind his back. The Russian said nothing as they lugged him from the room, but when he stumbled and banged into the door frame, he let out a moan and dropped to his knees.

  Hugo yanked him up again. “Get up! We don’t have time for this.”

  Freya approached the woman on the gurney. Her sheet-white face was sweaty and ravaged, and she had urinated on herself. Freya flinched slightly at the sharp odor, but then came closer and stroked the hair from the traumatized woman’s forehead.

  “Hey, can you hear me?”

  She was answered with a weak moan; the woman’s eyelids fluttered but did not open. Behind Freya, Hugo held Markov in a firm grip.

  “What have you done to her?” he growled.

  “Nothing you could understand.”

  “Sure about that? Could it have something to do with control, maybe? Injections? Drugs?”

  Markov closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “How do you know any of that? This is secret research.”

  Gently, Freya pulled one of the woman’s eyelids open; even with the overhead light shining down, her pupils were enlarged.

  “She’s definitely drugged.”

  Markov swallowed hard but said nothing.

  Freya turned toward him and asked, “She’s drugged, isn’t she?”

  No answer. Hugo took a step forward and swung, hitting Markov square on the mouth. The scientist’s body thudded to the ground, blood flowing from the corners of his lips.

  “You were asked a question. Answer it.”

  Markov spat blood and a piece of a tooth onto the cold tile floor. “Yes. She has received a medical injection,” he murmured.

  Freya stood over him. “And what was in this so-called medical injection?”

  “A combination of certain benzodiazepine drugs. For the purpose of sedation.”

  Freya looked at Hugo. “We can’t leave her here. We just can’t.”

  Hugo clenched his jaws. Taking the drugged woman along with them would certainly delay them and maybe even lead to their discovery. He thought through the various options, then turned to Markov.