The Norse Directive (24 page)

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Authors: Ernest Dempsey

BOOK: The Norse Directive
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“Thank you,” Tommy offered, still wary that the men following them could come through the door at any moment. He turned his attention to Sean. “Should we double back?”

“Not sure,” Sean said. “They’ll be expecting that move, too. If I had to guess, I’d say they put someone back there at the entrance to Stroget.”

“We get in behind them, then,” Adriana said.

“And we loop back around,” Sean added. “We can go through Kongens Nytorv and circle back to the train station. I’m guessing those two guys split up at the fork out there. One went toward the park palace, the other toward the river and the Parliament building.” He took a sip of his cappuccino after laying out the plan.

“You’re actually going to drink that?” Tommy asked incredulously.

Sean shrugged. “I don’t like to waste good coffee. Besides, we need to let those two put some distance between us.”

“What if they double back?” Adriana asked.

“Then we’ll see them. Hopefully, that’s exactly what happens.”

 

 

 

     Chapter
31

Copenhagen

 

The three companions sat patiently in the coffee shop, waiting to see if the guy in the red jacket and his partner would walk by again. Five minutes went by, then another five. Still no sign of them. Sean had finished his coffee and had decided to stand up and make their move when he froze in place. The two men had stopped directly outside the cafe and were looking around with puzzled expressions on their faces.

“Stay in your seats. They’re right outside.” His warning came just above a whisper, keeping Tommy and Adriana likewise glued to their seats.

Red jacket’s partner, a broad-shouldered brute in a peacoat, was pointing in one direction and then the other, back toward the entrance of Stroget. It was evident they were confused as to what had happened to their quarry. The one in the red jacket was clearly furious.

Tommy stared down at his nearly empty cup and breathed calmly. “What happens if they come in here?”

“I don’t think they can see us,” Sean said. He flicked his eyes around at the dim lighting. “Too dark to see in here from outside.”

“Yeah, but what if they do?” He looked up from his cup, staring at his friend with a questioning glare.

“Then I guess we’ll have to have a talk.”

The two men outside continued their brief discussion before deciding to head back to the main entrance to Stroget. Ten seconds later, they had disappeared.

“Okay, they’re gone,” Sean said, getting up. “Now’s our chance.”

The three slipped out the front of the coffee shop and back into the mass of people. They turned right and made their way past the closed bookstore and down the next street. Ahead, they could see the monstrous roundabout known as Kongens Nytorv, or King’s New Square. A greenish metal statue stood proudly in the center, surrounded by small sections of trees and shrubbery.

Kongens Nytorv had been the concept of the old Danish king Christian V, inspired by a visit to the Royal City in Paris. Taking ideas from other European cultures and making them their own was a common trait of Danish royalty. Upon visiting Amsterdam, Christian loved the canals so much that he purchased vast amounts of land around the city of Copenhagen and dredged the earth to create their own waterways.

Surrounding the square were some of the city’s notable buildings. The Royal Danish Theater, Charlottenborg Palace, the Thrott Palace, and the famous Hotel D’Angleterre.

Sean stopped next to a rack of city bikes at the edge of the square and looked in both directions.

Tommy glanced down at the bicycles and had an idea. “You got any kroner coins?” he asked, fishing through his own pockets. He pulled out two metal discs.

“Yeah,” Sean said, “I think so. Why?” Then he followed Tommy’s eyes to the bikes. “Good call.”

“We can definitely go faster on those.”

The city of Copenhagen’s bicycle initiative provided thousands of public bikes all over town in specified locations. Visitors or citizens could rent the bikes for twenty-five kroner and drop them off at other designated areas.

Now, the bikes gave the three companions an unfair advantage.

They slid their coins into the locking mechanism and freed the white bicycles. Sean noted the GPS unit attached under the handlebars. “That’s new from the last time I was here.”

He pulled the bike off the rack, hopped on, and started pedaling into the roundabout with Tommy and Adriana close in tow. The three wound their way around to the other side of the square, passing the renowned Magasin du Nord department store, and cutting down one of the less-traveled side streets.

A gust of wind picked up and sent a chill through Sean’s bones, but he kept pedaling, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure his friends were close behind. Once they were safely in the deep confines of the side road, the wind died down. No one paid them any mind as the three companions rode hard down the street.

After five minutes and three pairs of burning quads, they reached the main stretch of road that stretched beyond the plaza and the entrance to Stroget. They waited for the light to turn green and then pedaled across, darting behind the Rathaus to avoid being seen by one of their trackers.

The bikes rolled around the back of the old brick building and then turned sharply to the right. Sean stopped his bike suddenly, nearly causing Tommy to crash into the back of him. Adriana pulled up next to the both of them.

“We need to split up,” Sean said. “We’ll be easier to spot if we stick together.”

“I’ll go first. Adriana, you follow me, then Tommy. Go to the train station, and get your tickets, but keep separate. They’re looking for all of us, not one of us. I’ll see you on the train to Helsingor.”

Tommy gave a quick nod. “Sounds good.”

Adriana agreed as well. “Okay. Be careful,” she said.

Sean flinched. “Careful doesn’t really seem to be my style. But I appreciate the sentiment.” He winked and took off, pedaling at a leisurely pace and blending in with several other cyclists who were riding in the same direction.

“It’s really not his style,” Tommy said. “It’s not yours either.”

“Touché.”

They watched as Sean reached the next intersection and waited for the light to signal traffic to turn left. He turned his head both directions a few times, making sure none of the henchmen were around, then when the light changed, he hurried through the crossroads with the other bikes, disappearing around the corner near Tivoli.

“You’re up,” Tommy said. “I’d say be careful, but it’s probably moot at this point.”

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush. “Thanks for caring, Thomas.” She stepped on the pedals and took off, merging with another batch of bikes.

He shook his head as he watched her take the same route Sean had just used, waiting patiently. After she vanished around the corner, Tommy hopped onto the seat and started to push when he stopped himself and put his feet back on the ground. At the stoplight, the man in the red jacket was jogging through the crosswalk, followed closely by his partner in the peacoat and another guy in a black leather jacket.

Tommy pulled his phone out of the front pocket and quickly found Sean’s name and hit the call button. After the third ring, “Come on, Sean, pick up. They’re following you.” Sean didn’t answer though. And Tommy knew why. His friend’s phone was probably on vibrate. Without the ringer turned on, he probably wouldn’t feel the phone going off as he was riding along the rough pavement on a bicycle.

Tommy got back on the bike and started pedaling, falling in line behind a small cluster of cyclists as they rolled toward the stoplight. He frantically looked to the left and down the sidewalk at the men in pursuit as they disappeared around the corner of the Hard Rock Cafe. He turned back to the turn signal that seemed to be taking forever. The seconds ticked by, each one putting him farther and farther behind and putting both of his friends in danger.

“Ah, screw it,” he said and shoved the bike to the sidewalk, letting it fall to the curb. The people around him shot him looks of surprise and confusion. Tommy didn’t stick around to explain. He darted through the mass of bikes and sprinted across the street, ducking in and out of cars as they passed by. Angry drivers slammed on their brakes and honked, one of them in a Volkswagen nearly clipping him with the front bumper.

Tommy held up an apologetic right hand and kept going, pumping his legs hard as he flew down the sidewalk as fast as he could go.

Sean parked his bicycle in one of the designated city bike return stations next to a pile of what looked like a million other bicycles. He looked back and saw Adriana approaching around the square as he pushed through the massive door into the train terminal.  Tommy still wasn’t in view, but if his friend timed it right, they would all be about the same distance apart. Sean didn’t like the idea of being separated, but at the moment, it seemed the safest course of action. Adriana and Tommy could take care of themselves; at least that was the thought that continually ran through his mind as he strolled past the cubed information desk and small food court to get in line at the ticket office.

He continued to glance around the room until he reached the ticket counter, checking for any familiar faces.

“Hey, hey,” the blond man with a kind face said in the traditional Danish greeting. “How can I help you today?”

“I need a ticket that will get me to Helsingor and back.”

Sean was familiar with the way the Danes sold their train passes. A particular amount of money would get you certain zones on the map. Even other cities were assigned zones. The system seemed odd to an American, who was more accustomed to paying for a round trip ticket to a specific place. The Danes were less precise, but it seemed to work fine. If a traveler needed to go a little farther than they expected on their journey, they could just add a few credits and increase the number of zones.

“Going to visit Kronborg Castle?” the ticket agent asked politely as he passed the stub across the counter. “It’s quite an impressive sight.”

“Yep. Doing a little historical tour of Denmark and can’t miss that castle.” Sean made small talk to keep up appearances when all he really wanted was to get his ticket and go. Once he had it in hand, he thanked the man in Danish and walked quickly toward the escalators leading down to the trains.

As he strode through the mobs of people, he stole a glance over at the entrance and saw Adriana coming through the doorway. He gave a slow, subtle nod and flashed the ticket in his hand. His intentions were to wait at the train platform for her and Tommy to arrive, then board the train together.

Sean stepped onto the escalator and started his descent, looking back again to see Adriana enter the short line at the ticket office.

He shifted nervously, waiting to reach the bottom of the conveyance. Being on escalators unnerved him simply because he felt they moved too slowly. A man in a fedora, brown blazer, and khaki pants passed by on the way up, eyeing Sean suspiciously. He wasn’t sure why the man was looking at him that way, but it seemed whenever things became tense, people around became a little too nosey.

Sean diverted his glance to the right, pretending to check out the lines of red train cars parked by the platform. He walked along the gangway, underneath high arched ceilings supported by red steel beams and illuminated by thousands of skylight panes. He stopped next to a tall metal clock and looked around. The clock’s surface had aged poorly in the elements, showing hints of green on its original black surface. For a second, Sean imagined the clock had been there for several decades, probably dating back to World War II.

He continued checking his surroundings. A gray-haired woman in a plaid jacket stood ten feet away from him, staring forward. An older man with thin white hair sat on the bench nearby. He had a cane propped against the edge of the bench while he spoke to someone in Danish. A man closer to Sean’s age checked his watch for the third time as he stared at an empty section of track, apparently waiting for the next train to arrive. He carried a briefcase to go along with his trench coat, signaling he had business somewhere outside the city. Dozens of other commuters occupied the platform as well. Families with small, toe-headed children, young twentysomethings in skinny jeans and tight T-shirts, and a few more businesspeople heading off to make a deal somewhere on the island.

Sean turned his attention back to his train. The doors opened, and the speakers began to calmly announce that the train to Helsingor would be departing shortly. His heart began to beat faster in his chest. He turned his head toward the escalator again, wondering where Adriana and Tommy were. Were they stuck in the ticket line? It hadn’t been that long of a wait when he went through it. The people waiting on the platform began to board the train in an orderly fashion. Sean watched them through the car windows as they found empty seats.

Relief washed over Sean as he saw Adriana’s face as she stepped onto the top of the escalator. Now the only question was where Tommy was. According to the announcement, the train would be leaving in approximately five minutes. He looked up at the schedule board. Apparently, the Danes were like the Swiss when it came to being on time with their trains.

He smiled at Adriana when she noticed him midway down the escalator, but his smile changed in an instant. Red jacket and peacoat were right behind her, making their way rapidly down the escalator steps. Sean noticed a familiar bulge in their jacket pockets, pointing right at her back. He started to step toward her and shout out a warning, but was stopped by someone behind him, jabbing something into his lower back.

“That’s far enough, monsieur. She’ll be with us soon enough.”

Sean started to turn around, but the man ordered him not to.

“Keep your eyes forward, and don’t turn around. If you make a scene, I will kill you, and my men will kill the girl.”

  Sean watched as the two men collected Adriana and forced her onto the train through the last car’s open door. None of the commuters seemed to notice in their hurry to get onboard and find seats. He turned his head just slightly and realized that the businessman in the trench coat was the guy now holding him hostage. He cursed himself internally for the mistake, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“Step onto the train,” the man ordered, his nasally accent making the command slightly more sinister.

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