The Game Trilogy (94 page)

‘Sure,’ she nodded. ‘No problem.’

He leaned his head back and she was quick to follow his example.

A couple of minutes later she cautiously opened her eyes. She listened to his heavy breathing, then leaned forward and gently pulled out the rucksack from where he had put it on the floor.

Then she slid silently out of her seat and left the carriage.

‘I’m very pleased to have caught you, Miss Normén.’

It was Sammer, closely followed by Stigsson and the vaguely familiar man she had glimpsed in the office the previous day.

‘Both I and Superintendent Stigsson are extremely grateful for your cooperation. We are both deeply impressed by the strength of character and loyalty that you’ve shown.’

She smiled uncertainly, partly because she was having trouble with this whole charade, and partly because
she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react to the unexpected praise.

‘T-thanks,’ she managed to say.

The third man in the group held out his hand.

‘Erik af Cederskjöld, press spokesman for the Palace. Good to meet you. Colonel Pellas speaks very highly of you,’ he smiled.

His handshake felt damp, and his smile only reached halfway to his eyes. She had no difficulty seeing through his fake politeness.

‘Nice to meet you,’ she muttered. ‘I’m afraid I have to go, we’re on our way now.’

‘Of course,’ Sammer / Pellas said. ‘I just wanted to wish you good luck, Miss Normén …’

She met his gaze, and, just as the other two men turned away, he gave her a quick wink.

He was in a labyrinth, he realized that pretty much straight away. The pink walls around him didn’t quite reach all the way to the ceiling, and seemed to start and stop without any discernible logic.

He had no idea how he’d ended up there, nor how he was supposed to know who was chasing him. The passageway behind and in front of him was empty, and there wasn’t a sound to be heard anywhere. Yet he still knew they were out there, that they were making their way towards him on all sides through the maze.

The straps of the rucksack were cutting into his shoulders and the pain was so bad it was making him screw up his eyes, but he kept going. Somewhere inside this labyrinth was the solution to everything, he was convinced of that.

If only he could get there first, everything would be all right.

When he turned a corner she was just sitting there. A little
girl with a red hair-band, and he knew at once who she was. She had her hands over her face, but looked up as he came closer.

‘Is this the Luttern labyrinth?’ she said, and her voice was just as he remembered it.

‘Of course it is,’ he heard himself reply. ‘You can come with me, if you like?’

He held out his hand but she didn’t take it.

‘I daren’t,’ she said. ‘He says you’re dangerous …’

‘Who? The Carer?’

‘No, I don’t know him.’

The next moment he heard steps approaching. Sounds from all directions. Polished black shoes on tarmac. And he knew who they belonged to. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

‘Come on,’ he said to the girl. ‘You have to come with me …’

She shook her head.

‘If I go with you, we’ll both die.’

‘But you have to. The Carer …’ All of a sudden his voice sounded whiny, like a small child’s.

She stood up, and suddenly it was as if they had both changed and swapped roles. She leaned over him, stroked his hair and kissed his cheek.

‘Forget the Carer. People only come to the Luttern labyrinth for one reason, little Henke,’ she whispered. ‘They come here to die …’

He was sitting two carriages away, and as soon as he caught sight of her his face burst into a smile.

‘Well done, Nora, I knew you could do it.’

‘Thanks.’

She sat down in the empty seat beside him and handed over the rucksack. He put it down on the floor without showing the slightest inclination to open it.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ she muttered.

‘What about him?’

No answer.

‘We had no choice, you know that, Nora …’

‘Yes, I know … How’s Jeff?’

‘Don’t worry about him, he’s perfectly safe where he is. So, how long have we got?’

‘Half an hour, maybe a bit longer. I put half a Rohypnol in his Coke, and together with his lack of sleep …’ She shrugged.

‘Good, plenty of time. It’s up there.’

He gestured towards the luggage rack above them.

‘What about her, his sister?’ Nora said.

‘She’s exactly where she needs to be …’

He looked at her for a few moments.

‘You like him, don’t you?’ he finally said. ‘HP, I mean …’

Nora didn’t answer.

Instead she stood up, got the object down from the rack, and put it over her shoulder.

‘He thinks you were manipulated,’ she said curtly. ‘That you meant well, but were deceived as well. He’d rather believe that than the alternative, Manga …’

They were in position outside the cathedral.

Six of them around the carriage. Runeberg in front on the right, with her in the same position on the left.

Two troops of Horse Guards in ceremonial uniform were grouped around the Obelisk in front of the Palace. The horses were stamping anxiously at the cobbles, the sound of their hooves echoing between the buildings.

For what must be the tenth time, she ran through her equipment. Baton, radio, pistol. All of it fastened to her belt under her jacket.

The wire from the radio ran up her back, and turned into a curly little telephone cable above her collar before reaching the earpiece in her left ear.

In the other ear she had the speaker connected to the mobile in her inside pocket.

She tried jogging a few steps down the slope in front of the Palace.

No problem, everything was where it should be.

She glanced at the time.

Forty minutes left.

‘Wake up, HP!’ She shook him gently on the shoulder.

He opened his eyes reluctantly, and it took him a few seconds to realize where he was.

‘We’re almost there,’ she said.

‘Okay.’ He sat up, rubbed his eyes, then looked down at the floor for the rucksack.

It was gone!

Panic-stricken, he leaned down so quickly that he banged his head on the seat in front. Then he realized it had just slid under his seat slightly.

‘You were talking in your sleep,’ Nora said.

‘Oh?’ He sat up again, rubbing his head.

‘The same words, over and over again.’

‘What words?’

‘
The Luttern labyrinth.
What does that mean?’

He shrugged his shoulders.

‘You tell me. I’ve been trying to work it out for weeks now. Luttern is a region in northern Germany, in Westphalia, to be more precise. That’s all I’ve managed to find out.’

‘Okay, well that explains the street name …’

‘What?’

‘Westphalia was Swedish once, that’s why they named a street after it.’

‘Hang on, what are you talking about? There’s no Lutternsgatan in Stockholm …’

‘No, not any more, there isn’t. They got rid of it when they built Kungsgatan. They did away with another road at the same time, Hötorgsgränd …’

She was interrupted by an announcement over the tannoy.

We will shortly be arriving at Stockholm Central Station. The platform will be on the left hand side of the train, facing the direction of travel.

We at Swedish Railways would like to welcome you to Stockholm, and once again, we apologize for the late arrival of this service …

Nora stood up from her seat.

‘Time to go …’

He stretched, then squeezed out of the window seat.

‘So where was it, then, Lutternsgatan?’

‘Where Malmskillnadsgatan crosses Kungsgatan, I think.’

The train was slowing down jerkily, making the carriage sway.

‘I did a unit on the architecture of Stockholm at university, in case you’re wondering …’ she added. ‘The only reason I remember Lutternsgatan is that we were given half the day off to go and take pictures of the sign …’

‘The sign?’ He pulled the rucksack on.

‘There’s a sign under the Malmskillnad Bridge …’ She helped him with the straps. ‘
To commemorate the breaching of the Brunkeberg Ridge and the successful union of separate districts of the city,
something like that. It was part of the test …’

She carefully did up the metal catch across his chest, and pulled up the hood of his jacket. The other people in the carriage were making their way to the exits, but Nora took HP’s hand and forced her way through to one of the doors. The train pulled slowly into the platform.

They saw the men as the train moved slowly along the platform. Two standing at the end of the platform, another two in the middle, all of them in dark suits and sunglasses, their earpieces clearly visible. Nora squeezed his hand.

‘Ready?’

He nodded.

She turned towards him and started fiddling with the thick flap of material above the catch of the rucksack,
adjusting the velcro several times before she was satisfied. It felt bulky against his chest, as if it had grown while he was asleep.

‘There, now you’ll be able to run without it rubbing.’

The train made a few last jolts.

‘If we get separated don’t wait for me,’ she said. ‘The mission comes first. Whatever happens you have to get to that internet café, okay?’

He nodded.

‘Good.’

Just as the door began to bleep, she leaned forward, put her hand behind his back and kissed him.

‘Thirty minutes to go, are you ready?’

She nodded to Runeberg as he marched towards her over the cobbles, but he didn’t respond.

‘Over here, everyone.’

The other four bodyguards joined them.

‘We’ve just received new information. The two remaining suspects are not longer thought to be in the forest outside Uppsala. They may have managed to get back to Stockholm.’

‘Are we cancelling the cortege?’ one of the other bodyguards asked.

Runeberg shook his head. ‘The threat is not judged serious enough …’

He gave Rebecca a quick look.

‘Someone really wants this cortege to go ahead. At almost any cost, it would seem …’

She let a few eager passengers out first before pulling him onto the platform.

The train on the other side of the platform must have just arrived as well, because the platform was soon full of people heading in all directions.

They zigzagged their way towards the exit, trying to keep their heads down.

The exit was getting closer.

A loud cry behind them made him look back.

Two men in suits were heading straight for them.

‘Come on!’

Nora dragged him after her, forging ahead faster and faster.

Off to the left in front of them two more men were trying to elbow their way through the crowd of passengers. Nora broke into a run, pushing a couple of people straight at the two men. One of the passengers fell over right in front of the suits. But Nora didn’t stop. She pulled his hand harder, speeded up and found a gap along the edge of the platform.

The exit was getting nearer.

Then he caught sight of the man from the Fortress. His square frame was unmistakeable. The security chief, the man he’d almost run over …

The man wasn’t moving, he was just standing there waiting by the exit. Staring straight at them. His knees were slightly bent and he had his hands out in front of him, like an American footballer.

HP pulled Nora’s hand, then looked back over his shoulder. Their pursuers were just a few metres behind them.

No chance of turning back, that escape route was completely cut off …

Ten metres away from the man, and HP thought he could just make out a hint of a smile. A creepy, snakelike smile that made HP shudder.

But Nora carried on straight ahead without seeming to realize the danger.

The man steeled himself, thrusting his shoulders out …
At the last moment Nora let go of his hand. Her long legs pumped a few times like pistons on the platform …

Then she jumped.

She crashed straight into the man. Their bodies collided with a muffled thud.

He heard Nora yell something, saw her hands rise and fall as she made an all-out attack on the man, and HP was overwhelmed by an instinctive urge to help her.

Then he realized that she wasn’t shouting at the man.

She was yelling at him.

‘Keep going, keep going, keep …’

One of the man’s massive hands grabbed Nora by the neck, lifted her from the ground and cut off her cry. HP looked straight ahead and aimed for the exit. But it was impossible not to look back. Nora was struggling wildly, trying to loosen the man’s grasp round her neck.

HP looked forward again to avoid running into the doorpost. When he emerged into the hall he looked back one last time and just managed to see the massive man toss Nora’s limp body aside as if it were a ragdoll.

The feeling took him by surprise. It came out of nowhere, and it took him just a fraction of a second to identify it. Hate.

White hot, burning hate!

His pursuers were still close behind him. HP raced through the concourse, aiming for the main exit. But just as he was about to swing left through the glass doors leading to Centralplan he caught sight of a police car outside, and carried on straight ahead instead. Someone shouted something behind him, but he ignored them.

Shit, obviously he should have run down into the underground network instead of heading straight for the nearest exit like some fucking rat …

The south end of the concourse was rapidly approaching
and all the exits were behind him. There was nothing but restaurants at this end, no decent escape route anywhere.

A quick look back.

Two muppets in suits ten metres behind him, then another group led by the square-framed man.

The door to the restaurant was getting closer but he made no effort to slow down.

Instead he stormed past the reception area and carried on towards the back of the room.

A swing door opened to his left and a waiter came out carrying two plates. HP raced past him with the narrowest of margins and shot through the swing door into the kitchen.

Two men in aprons looked up in surprise.

‘Exit?’ HP yelled.

One of them pointed with a spatula.

‘Thanks!’ he managed to splutter before rushing on.

There was a serving trolley parked by the wall and he pulled it over behind him to slow his pursuers. But he didn’t waste any time looking at the result. Instead he crashed into the door with full force, hammering the handle down and lurching out into an enclosed yard. In front of him, on the other side of the fence, stood the ten-metre tall cement pillars supporting the Klarastrand flyover.

Out of reflex he ran to the right, and it took him several seconds to realize that the way out was back to the left.

Fuck!

The men chasing him crashed through the door, but he’d just spotted another way out. The end of the station building was covered in scaffolding, and there was a ladder not far ahead of him. He scampered up it to the first platform like a chimp on acid, and just as the first suit put his hand on the ladder he kicked it away as hard as he could.

The ladder fell to the ground and he heard swearing below him, but didn’t stop to see if it had landed on anyone. He raced off along the planks until he found some more steps, and shot up them to the next level.

The railing of the flyover was clearly visible now.

Up another level, and now he could feel the scaffolding shake as his pursuers ran along the platforms below him.

Another level, and now he was the same height as the railing.

The only problem was that there were two metres of empty air between it and the scaffolding …

One last ladder and he was at the top of the scaffolding.

Fuck, it was high!

Someone shouted something in English. The platform was shaking badly, and he guessed that everyone chasing him was now scrambling up the scaffolding.

The flyover was about a metre below him, but at least two metres away. Difficult, but not impossible. Well, that was what he hoped, anyway …

But of course he did have the rucksack on his back now.

It felt heavier than before, but that could well be because he was weaker.

The scaffolding was shaking more and more.

He kicked the safety rail away, then took a step back and pressed against the wall of the building.

The next moment the first of his pursuers reached his level, and he pushed off as hard as he could, taking a single stride and then leaping out into thin air …

‘Well, good people, that’s the ceremony over,’ Ludvig’s voice said over the radio in her ear. ‘Ten minutes for the bride to freshen up, then it’ll be time. We’ll be moving the carriage to the outer courtyard any minute now …’

He was standing ten metres away, in a cluster of uniformed colleagues with plenty of gold on their shoulders. She tried to catch his gaze, but without success. Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest and her mouth felt dry.

A moment later her phone rang.

She pressed the button on the handsfree earpiece.

‘Yes,’ she said abruptly.

‘I just wanted to check how you’re getting on …’

‘No problems.’

‘Good …’

‘How about you?’ she said.

‘Fairly well. One slight difficulty, but nothing to worry about …’

‘What sort of difficulty?’ she asked.

But he had already hung up.

He scraped over the railing by the smallest of margins and landed on the pavement.

The momentum of his landing carried him on into the road, and he only just managed to avoid being hit by a bus which missed him by a matter of centimetres, horn blaring.

He staggered back to the pavement and looked at his pursuers on the scaffolding. None of them seemed particularly eager to repeat his jump, and he couldn’t help waving to them. Then he saw the square-framed man step forward.

‘You there, don’t fucking move!’ the man roared.

HP responded by sticking his middle finger up at him.

‘Shoot him!’ the man ordered the closest muppet in a suit.

‘No way,’ the man replied. ‘He’s unarmed …’

‘Which side are you on, man? He’s a fucking terrorist, shoot him. That’s an order!’

The suits seemed to flinch.

‘You’re not our boss …’ one of them muttered. ‘And this is Sweden …’

The square-framed man swore loudly, then cast a quick glance at HP, shoved the suits aside and braced himself against the wall.

Shit! The crazy bastard’s really going to jump …

HP spun round, crossed the carriageway and began to run.

When he was halfway down the slope he realized that he really should have chosen a different route.

The slope was taking him straight down onto the Söderleden motorway, and, to make things just that little bit worse, the traffic was heading towards him.

Cars came racing at him, many of them sounding their horns madly, as he cursed his stupid decision. But it was too late to turn back. Instead he kept as close to the edge of the bridge as he could.