Revenge

by Filip Forsberg

Mustafa shook his head and answered, “Absolutely sure. We have triple- and quadruple-checked the numbers. They are rock-solid.” Before anyone could say another word, a siren passed by outside on the street. As it faded away, another one came and went.

  Ben went to the window and looked down at the crowded street. In the distance, a police car’s flashing tail lights disappeared around a corner. A police motorcycle with its siren blaring followed behind it.

  “Something must have happened.”

  Tanya came up next to him. “Did you see anything?”

  “No, just the cops passing through.”

  They had good views of the park from there; Ben stood on tiptoe, but still saw nothing of interest.

  Mustafa shrugged and said, “All right, let’s finish this so we can get a cup of coffee before it’s time. It’s almost ten o’clock—one hour left.”

  *

  The phone vibrated in Hugo’s pocket, and he pulled it out. A picture of Lita’s smiling face sat in the center of the screen. He answered the call.

  “Lita?”

  “Hey, babe.” She hesitated. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t call.”

  “No, it’s okay.”

  “But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I’m just wondering . . . is it going to be like this from now on? You’ve only been home for a few months, and now— Are you just going to storm off on assignment again?”

  Hugo tried not to sigh in exasperation. Be understanding. See it from her point of view.

  “I hope not,” he replied.

  “But that’s what you did, you know? You just left.”

  Jesus. This wasn’t the time to have this conversation.

  “Lita, can we talk about this when I get home? We’re headed down to London now.”

  “London?”

  He cursed silently. “Can we do this later?” he repeated.

  “But Hugo, this can’t wait. We need to solve this—I just can’t accept it.”

  He pulled his hand over his face. Mikko came up to him, but he waved him away.

  “Okay, sure, you’re right. We have five minutes before we land.”

  He listened to her as she talked. Mikko came back and tapped on his wrist. Hugo nodded.

  “Lita, I hear what you’re saying, and you’re right in a lot of ways. But listen, sweetie, I really need to go, okay? We’ll have to finish this conversation when I get home.”

  “Hugo, this is important.”

  “I know. I love you.”

  “I love you too, but—”

  He hung up. Mikko put his hand on Hugo’s shoulder.

  “Relationship problems?”

  Hugo shook his head. “She’s right—Lita. This is the weekend that I’m finally home, and I’m out here trying to catch a supervillain.”

  Mikko chuckled. “You hadn’t imagined that one, huh?”

  “Nope, not at all.”

  “It’s time, buddy. We’ll be landing in a few minutes. Novus called ahead and paved the way for us, so getting through security should be a breeze, but we still have to get a move on.”

  Hugo considered the next step and nodded. “Okay, we go through the security check, find our ride, and then go full-speed toward the hotel.”

  “That’s it. Easy, right?”

  Hugo laughed humorlessly. “Especially with London traffic. How are Sussie and Freya doing?”

  Mikko grimaced. “As well as you might imagine. They’re both starting to look a bit worse for wear. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  Mikko pulled a box from the inside pocket of his jacket and opened it.

  “A little something to keep you alert?”

  Hugo tightened his jaws. He had used stimulants during assignments before. Sometimes it was necessary as a last resort. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but he accepted a small, white tablet and swallowed it. Mikko did the same.

  “I’ll see if the girls want one.”

  “Don’t call them girls, Mikko,” Hugo called after him as he disappeared into the back of the plane.

  Alone again, Hugo closed his eyes. This was the endgame, and now it was all about keeping things together, not fumbling the ball. His shoulder thumped in pain, but he ignored it. The plane rolled.

  Come on, Hugo, hold on.

  *

  For the family. That was the only thing that mattered: family. Teng Mao flung the wardrobe door open and grabbed the two machine guns hidden behind the hanging clothes. Xi was his cousin, and when he called for help, Teng had to say yes. That’s how it was in the family.

  “Hong! Hurry up!”

  A chubby young man came panting into the room. “Do you have them?” Hong asked.

  “Yes, here. Take one.”

  Teng handed a gun to Hong, and Hong almost dropped it.

  He snorted a little laugh. “Wow—it’s heavy.”

  “Do as I taught you. Both hands, aim, and squeeze.”

  “Are we really going to do this?”

  Teng’s eyes flashed darkly. “If our cousin calls and asks for help, it is our duty to help him, you understand?”

  Hong hesitated. “Yeah, but it’s not just us, right? Who else is coming to help?”

  “I got at least four men, maybe more. They’ll be here in a few minutes. Now head down to meet them—I’ll be there soon.”

  Hong didn’t move.

  Teng yelled, “Now!”

  Hong spun around and bounded out of the room. Teng went back to the wardrobe, got down on his knees, and pulled out a box. Opening it gently, he removed five hand grenades and a grenade-carrying vest. After he’d pulled the vest on and attached the grenades, Teng stood and looked at himself in the mirror. He grinned coolly. He looked like a real soldier.

  He popped his knuckles and whispered, “For the family.”

  Teng ran down the steps and ripped open the door. Hong stood just outside; his weapon raised high.

  “Lower the gun, you nitwit. You don’t want all the neighbors to see you.”

  Hong lowered the weapon. “Sorry.”

  Just then, two vans, a white one and a red one, swerved onto their street and slowed in front of their house. Two men jumped out and ran up to Hong.

  “Shall we do this?”

  “Yes. Xi called me from a plane saying he needs help. And we will help him. His enemies will land at Heathrow soon; what we’re going to do is intercept them on their way into London.”

  A light-haired man of about twenty-five laid his hand on Hong’s shoulder. He always reminded Hong of the quintessential California surfer, even though he was pretty sure Mike had never even been to the ocean.

  “You know we’d do anything for you, bro.”

  “Thanks, Mike, you’re a true friend. How many guys do we have?”

  “Two in each van. That’s what we could scrape together.”

  “Weapons?”

  Mike shrugged. “I grabbed what was available. It wasn’t much—two pistols and a machine gun. That’s all.”

  “Okay, it’ll do. Let’s go.”

  They jogged to the vans. Teng went to the red one and gestured to Hong.

  “You get in the white one.”

  “But Teng, I want to go with you.”

  Teng sighed. Some things never changed. Hong wasn’t the most intelligent kid in the family, but he was loyal to a fault.

  “Okay, come on.”

  Hong burst into a big smile and followed his big brother into the red van. Once inside, Teng turned to the man sitting next to him.

  “Hey, switch to the other one instead.”

  “Sure.” He glanced at Hong, then hopped out and ran over to the other vehicle. Both vans revved their engines and set off for Heathrow.

  27

  The cold made his bones ache. Hugo walked down the stairs with two large, dark bags in his hands. The snow made the steps slippery, and he nearly lost his footing. He made his way slowly, and when he reached the bottom, he looked back up at Mikko. Behind Mikko stood the familiar con
tour of Heathrow Airport.

  “Now what?”

  Mikko pointed to an approaching passenger van. “Right on time. I told you Novus was effective.”

  “Great.”

  Freya and Sussie followed behind Mikko as the van drove up to the bottom of the stairway and stopped. A young man with red, spiky hair jumped out of the driver’s seat, ran around the front of the van, and opened the side door.

  “Were you the ones who ordered the pickup?”

  Hugo walked up to him. “Yes, thank you for coming so soon.”

  The young smiled and said, “No problem. My boss said it was important?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Hugo said no more but motioned for the others to load the gear into the van. Then he jumped into the passenger seat.

  “Okay, let’s go. Take us into the Oriental Mandarin.”

  The man started to protest but fell silent when he saw the expression on Hugo’s face.

  “It’s just that there was an accident on the M4 earlier. There’s still a lot of traffic, so it’ll probably take a while.”

  “Okay, I understand.”

  Hugo turned to Sussie. “Do you think you can work out a faster passage to London?”

  “Let me see.”

  Hugo beckoned to the young man to start driving. “We’ll just take it as it comes. Get us to the hotel as fast as you can.”

  “On it.”

  *

  The van picked up speed. Teng removed a laptop from his backpack and opened it, and the screen flickered. The driver pulled the wheel, nearly causing the computer to slide off Teng’s lap to the floor.

  “Take it easy!”

  The driver shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Teng snorted. He worked fast and opened the email from Xi.

  Thank you, cousin. Your help is very valuable. You know you’ve always been my favorite in the family. The people I’m after are extremely competent, so don’t make the mistake of underestimating them. They are armed. Attached is the tracking signal I managed to attach to one of them.

  Teng typed in the signature Xi had attached, and a map flashed onto the screen. A red, flashing dot appeared in the middle. He lifted his head and pointed out the front window.

  “They’re driving north on the parkway away from Heathrow. Get on the M4 at Cranford Parkway Bridge so we can intercept them.”

  The driver pressed harder on the accelerator, and Teng smelled the odor of rubber burning.

  “What is this piece of shit car you got hold of?”

  “It was the only thing we could get on such short notice.”

  Teng glared at the man but said nothing. Hong leaned forward and put his hand on Teng’s shoulder.

  “Is everything all right, Teng?”

  Teng patted his brother’s hand. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. We’re about to go hunting, so get ready.”

  Hong leaned back, raised his weapon, and smiled. “I’m ready.”

  *

  The van swayed when the young man pulled too hard on the wheel.

  “Sorry!”

  Hugo looked at the clock. It was a little after ten.

  “What’s your name?” he asked the driver.

  The young man’s focused face cracked into a toothy smile. He looked over at Hugo. “It’s Tim.”

  Hugo nodded at the road. “Tim, do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, her name’s Andrea.”

  “Tell you what. If you can get us to the Oriental before eleven o’clock, I’ll arrange for you and Andrea to get a luxury trip to the Maldives next month. How does that sound?”

  Tim’s smile grew until it covered his face. “It sounds like an offer I can’t resist. I’ll do my best. Hold on.”

  Tim slipped into the crowded traffic on the M4 and glided in and out between the cars. The traffic was dense but moving. The snowfall had eased, and the multitude of cars had effectively plowed tracks in the snow. Hugo twisted around and made eye contact with Sussie.

  “Are you online?”

  “Yep.”

  “See if you can get us some press cards or something so we can get into the press conference.”

  Mikko nodded. “Smart thinking.”

  Hugo shrugged. “We should have thought of it sooner. It’s been a busy day.”

  Freya sat quietly, her hands fiddling with the weapon on her lap.

  “Hey,” Hugo said. “You okay?”

  She shrugged. Her eyes were glazed over. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.

  Hugo recognized that gaze. When a person approached the edge of exhaustion, they often got the look Freya had right now.

  “Good. Go through our weapons and make sure they’re locked and loaded. We want to be prepared if we get into a firefight at the hotel.”

  Before Freya could respond, a burst of bullets hammered into the rear of the van.

  Hugo shouted, “Look out! They’re shooting!”

  Tim pulled hard on the steering wheel and veered past a truck in the inner lane.

  “What was that?” he cried.

  Hugo turned to Freya. “Give me a weapon.”

  Freya tossed him a rifle; he caught it and checked the magazine. It was full.

  “Tim, whatever you do, don’t stop, okay? If you stop, we’ll all die.”

  Tim’s eyes were as big as saucers, but he nodded and stared at the roadway ahead. Hugo checked the side mirror. One—no, two vans crossed through the traffic behind them. In the closest one—a dented, white van—a man hung out of the passenger side window and pointed a gun at them.

  Hugo shouted, “Take cover! Turn right, Tim, now!”

  This time, the burst of bullets lasted longer. A dozen rounds breezed past them as they changed lanes, striking the truck that had been in front of them. Cars honked and pulled to the side as the chaos on the freeway took hold like a rolling storm. Hugo rolled down his window and leaned out. The van swerved, and he fell back onto his seat. He crawled out again and tried to find a position.

  “I don’t have a clean shot. There’re two of them, a white one and a red one.”

  Mikko crawled to the other side, rolled down the window, and stuck out his head. “They’re close. The white one’s thirty meters away.”

  Hugo’s brain went into overdrive. The police must be on the road, considering how many people had witnessed the shooting.

  Snow exploded into the air when a car drove into another with a violent crash.

  “Whoa!” Hugo shouted. “Shit! I hope they’re okay.” He turned back to the driver. “Tim, how much further to the hotel?”

  “A little more than seven kilometers.”

  “Get in the emergency lane. See if we can put some distance between us and our pursuers.”

  Tim didn’t need any more instructions. He yanked the van into the emergency lane, and a white cloud appeared behind them. The two vehicles chasing them skidded and sped up. Forced to drive single-file in the emergency lane, their overall visibility of the Novus team’s van decreased, and so did the rate of fire.

  Tim called out, “Guys, the engine’s doing its best, but I don’t think it can go any faster.”

  Freya leaned forward and grabbed Hugo’s arm. “Now what? Are we going to drive into London with them in tow?”

  Hugo shook his head but didn’t respond. There was no time to hash out the details of this problem. He looked around for his target but saw nothing. Nodding toward the road, he said, “Go on, Tim. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

  Another bullet hit the back door, and this time the rounds drilled into the interior of the van. Sussie shouted and fell forward.

  “Sussie!”

  The van lurched again, and Sussie slid onto the floor. Hugo froze as he watched her fall seemingly in slow motion.

  No!

  A second later, he exhaled as she crawled up and groaned. She reached for her head.

  “I actually think I got hit.”

  Mikko pulled her hair away from her face and saw a stream of blood running down her t
emple.

  “You did, but it looks like the bullet just barely nudged you.”

  Sussie whimpered, “The luckiest girl in the world, I guess.”

  The last barrage had slammed a dozen holes in the door, and Hugo saw the swirling snow through the hole. The red van was close now; there was no time to lose. He turned his eyes to Tim. The young man was pale but held the steering wheel with a grip so sturdy that his knuckles were pure white. A symphony of honking cars contributed to the chaos.

  “You’re doing a great job, Tim. Just a little longer.”

  Hugo scouted ahead and pointed to a boxy Royal Mail truck driving in the middle lane. “Tim!” he shouted. “Drive past the mail truck and get in front of it!”

  Tim’s face resembled a question mark. “And then?”

  “And then we’ll give them a surprise.”

  Tim’s face went even paler when he understood what Hugo meant.

  *

  It was time. Teng swapped magazines. The warm weapon was like a living force in his hands. He pointed to the escaping van.

  “Get us closer! They’re injured.”

  The driver stepped on it, and a faint smell of smoke began to fill the cabin. They gained on their target. The van in front of them had been hit, and a faint vapor swirled behind it.

  Hong shouted, “Teng! Are you going to shoot them?”

  Teng bared his teeth. This had already taken too long. The police were surely on their way. They had to finish this now.

  “Yes, hold on.”

  Teng leaned out of the side window and started shooting. The long hail of ammunition thundered into the window of a sedan driving next to the Novus van, and it exploded in a cloud of shards. Hong cried with delight.

  “Again, more!”

  The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and shook his head but said nothing. Teng swapped out the magazine once more and again hung out the side window. The cold wind tore at him, but he aimed carefully.

  This time they wouldn’t get away. As Teng was about to squeeze the trigger, his target punched the accelerator and sped past a long, red Royal Mail truck. Teng motioned for the driver to follow.

  “Get us up in front.”

  The driver started to turn the wheel, but in the same instant, Teng watched in horror as the van’s brake lamps turned on; a fraction of a second later, the brake lights of the mail truck also lit up.