Buzz: A Thriller (29 page)

In theory the three-way could have been taking place anywhere, and been broadcast via a webcam. But she was convinced that wasn’t the case.

She had made a mistake, albeit perhaps an understandable one given the circumstances.

Instead of just asking general questions about the people on the screen and trying to winkle out a few details, she had immediately blurted out both Henke’s name, and the fact that he was her younger brother. John hadn’t said anything, the expression on his face had hardly changed from the moment she dragged him up off the floor until the door slammed shut behind her. But for a split second she still imagined she had seen something when she said Henke’s name. A tiny, involuntary microexpression that his brain couldn’t stop. Surprise, anger, and something else, something even less benign.

The expression had only been there for a fraction of a second, but she still saw it.

Half an hour or so ago a dark Mercedes had pulled up outside the door and a well-built man had got out. He got some things out of the boot, but before she could get a closer look at him he disappeared in through the door.

There was something about the man’s posture, the decisiveness of his movements, that finally convinced her.

Henke was inside that building, and not only that. He was in danger.

And it was probably her fault . . .

♦  ♦  ♦

The first shock wasn’t actually quite as terrible as he’d expected. A sudden shooting pain that made his thigh muscles cramp for a couple of seconds. Then it was over. Elroy had started just above his knees. Giving him a warning shock so he realized how serious the situation was, which wasn’t really necessary. He got it. The next shock would be rather higher up . . .

How the hell had they cracked his cover?
Who had talked?

“So, Henrik. Both Elroy and I would very much like to know what someone like you is doing in our company, and right now, of all possible occasions . . . ?”

HP opened his mouth before he realized that Philip wasn’t finished.

“I’m very disappointed in you, I have to confess . . . We had such great hopes for you, Henrik.”

For some reason the tone of Philip’s voice hurt almost as much as the electric shock he had just got in his thighs, and once again he felt close to tears.

“Well, it wasn’t . . .”

Bang!

Another shock, halfway up his thighs this time. The muscles in his stomach and groin contracted into a little ball of pain and he groaned loudly.

Fuuck!!

When he opened his eyes Elroy’s grinning face came into view. These guys were deadly serious. But weirdly
enough, fear was no longer the strongest thing he felt, more like . . .

Sorrow?

As if he were sad about disappointing Philip?

Screwed up!

“I obviously didn’t make myself clear enough, Henrik. You speak when I give you permission, understood?”

HP nodded.

“Good! As I’m sure you realize, we know all about you now. You’ve got something of a reputation, to put it mildly.”

Philip gave him a long look, and HP had to bite his tongue to stifle the urge to reply. But he certainly wasn’t going to give Elroy that satisfaction again. The guy looked almost disappointed as he stood there bent over his legs with a jumper cable in each hand.

“As you probably know, our company is going through a particularly sensitive time,” Philip went on. “Things are going on in the world around us, things that have great significance for our future. There are forces out there that are trying to stop us, Henrik, and the best way to do that would be to send someone like you. A sharp, unscrupulous individual who is prepared to do practically anything as long as it serves his own interests, if you understand what I mean?”

HP nodded again.

“Good, it looks as if we understand one another . . .”

Philip sounded pleased, and oddly enough this made HP feel a tiny bit glad.

“So, let’s get back to my original question: Who sent you to infiltrate us, and what were your exact instructions?”

♦  ♦  ♦

So what the hell was Henke doing here?

How long had he been in Sweden, and why hadn’t he got in touch?

And who was this mysterious John, and what was his connection to her hapless little brother?

A bleep from her phone interrupted the spiral of thoughts going around her head.

Fuck, you were seriously tarted up last night. New boyfriend, or what?

Does the old one know about him?

Her heart began to beat faster and she couldn’t help looking around, then checking carefully in all the rearview mirrors. But it was still early Sunday morning, and not a car or even a bleary-eyed dog-walker was visible on the street.

She scrolled up to the sender’s number, and spent a few seconds wondering what to do. More angry texts in reply would hardly help, she’d already tried that. But on the other hand the tactic of simply ignoring him didn’t seem to work either. She had to do something about it, something that would make him get the message, once and for all.

She switched the menu on her phone and, after a few unfamiliar clicks, she managed to get the web browser going. It took her almost ten minutes to find the information she was looking for.

♦  ♦  ♦

Bang!

This time the shocks came toward the top of his thighs. All the air flew out of him, the muscles in his abdomen
cramped, and for a moment he thought he was going to piss himself. Tears were streaming from his eyes as the cramps slowly faded to a rumbling ache.
Fuck, that hurt!
A couple more shocks like that and he’d be ready for a care home.

Elroy seemed to have his sights set on an even higher target.

“Next time it’ll be your balls.” He grinned.

No shit, Sherlock,
he’d never have guessed . . .

Oddly enough, he still wasn’t anywhere near as terrified as he should have been. Scared, yes, no question about that . . . But not totally panic-stricken and petrified he was going to die, like down in Dubai.

Okay, so a twelve-volt battery could cause a hell of a lot of pain, and getting his balls jump-started wasn’t exactly something he was looking forward to, but at least it was unlikely to kill him.

Well, he didn’t think it would . . .

He tugged tentatively at the straps. One advantage of his wild convulsions was that the ties had loosened slightly. As he gradually regained control of his limbs, he did his best to loosen them further without anyone noticing.

“So, Henrik, you seriously expect us to believe that you infiltrated us entirely of your own volition? That you assumed a false identity simply because you were seized with an irresistible desire to get a job . . . ?”

The two men at the end of the bed smirked at each other, and HP took the chance to stretch the loops a little more.

His cover was blown, they knew his name, but the real question was what else they had managed to find out during the night. Did they know he was Player 128, the man they had
framed for Anna’s death, or were they happy simply to have identified him as Henrik Pettersson?

He needed to keep a cool head, get them to play all their cards while simultaneously keeping his own story close enough to the truth to seem credible.

“It’s true. Honestly! Why would I lie? I needed a job, I’d heard good things about you, but there was no way you’d employ me given my criminal record . . .” He paused but there was no electric shock. “Mange, the real Mange, I mean, is away, and I just borrowed him . . . People doctor their CVs every day. The net’s full of fabricated identities. No big deal . . .”

Still no shock. HP had stopped pulling at the straps. Philip actually seemed to be listening to what he was saying. And why not? For once he was actually telling the truth . . .

“Everything I’ve done while I’ve been with you has been real. I’ve done my best. I like the job, the whole deal with the company, and . . . well, everything . . .” he concluded, aiming a long look at Elroy.

A few seconds of silence followed.

HP didn’t move a muscle.

“You certainly seem quite genuine, Henrik . . .” Philip said thoughtfully.

HP nodded. It was actually all true, totally absolutely true, in fact! For the first time in his life he had a job he liked, regular female company, and something resembling a future.

The twelve-volt kick had woken him from the dream, dumped him back in reality, which in a way was actually a hell of a relief! Now at least he wouldn’t have to start each day with a reality check to keep fact and fantasy separate. The only question was: What happened now?

Could he be forgiven . . . ?

Philip seemed to have softened slightly. In spite of everything, he was bloody good at what he did, a freaking made guy . . . ArgosEye’s very own golden boy.

“Let me vocalize a thought which has been growing stronger and stronger as you’ve been talking, Henrik . . .”

HP was nodding furiously.

Vocalize, thought, stronger . . .

That sounded promising!

“When I worked in the Military Intelligence and Security Service, we had to deal with infiltrators, or spies as they’re sometimes known . . .”

HP’s head was still moving up and down, but the movement was gradually slowing down.

“The very best of them, the ones who are hardest to crack, don’t even know that they’re spies. They believe that what they’re doing is for a good cause, and they don’t understand that everything is just a game. That they’re actually being manipulated by outside forces . . .”

HP’s nodding died away completely. His mouth suddenly felt as if it were full of sand.

“Could that be the case, Henrik? That you seriously believe that your intentions are good, but that someone else is actually pulling the strings? Someone who’s manipulating you into doing things?

“Someone who’s making you see things that might not actually be real?”

♦  ♦  ♦

She quickly jotted down the information on the screen of her cell onto the rental-firm label that was dangling from the rearview mirror.

SALK tennis hall, tomorrow evening, 18:30.

That was earlier than she had imagined. But it was just as well to get it over and done with as soon as possible. She folded the note and put it in the pocket of her jeans, then went back to her surveillance.

It was almost half past nine. The red-haired man had been in there for more than an hour, but she still hadn’t seen any sign of either Henke or John. The whole district seemed just as sleepy as Östermalm ought to be at that time on a Sunday morning, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that Henke was in some sort of trouble.

♦  ♦  ♦

Elroy leaned over him, and for a second he let the jumper cables touch each other right in front of his nose. A flash of blue lightning sparked between them and HP twisted his body to move his head away from them.

Philip hadn’t bought his story, which probably wasn’t all that strange. He hardly knew himself why he had taken the job at ArgosEye.

Where had he actually got the idea from?

“So, how do you want it?” Elroy muttered, repeating the trick with the jumper cables in front of his nose.

Another blue flash, larger this time. Then another.

Blink
.

Hallucinations . . .

Blink
.

Things that didn’t exist . . .

Blink
.

A

Blink.

dream?

Elroy attached one of the jumper cables to one of HP’s nostrils, putting an abrupt stop to the screen dumps in his head. The metal was ice-cold and almost numbed the pain in his skin. Then, with exaggerated slowness, he moved the second cable toward the first.

HP was writhing his body, twisting his head desperately, but all he could manage was to win himself a couple of seconds’ reprieve.

Damn, damn, DAMN!

Elroy put one knee on his chest, locking him to the bed as he waved the loose jumper cable in the direction of his face.

Red.

Which meant that the blue one was already in position.

This time he didn’t get to make the decision.

Both pills at the same time.

Open up and swallow . . .

The cable was approaching his face. He didn’t exactly have any choice. Double or quits?

Red or blue?

The cable was almost there.

5

4

3

2 . . .

“Ghourab Al-Bain!” he roared just before the cables touched and everything went black.

VOICES.

Agitated voices.

“ . . . did you hear what he said?”

“Rourab Al-Bain . . . ?”

“ . . . group we’ve never heard of . . .”

“ . . . international connections . . .”

“This could jeopardize the whole operation . . .”

“We’ll postpone the meeting for a few hours until we know more. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes . . .”

He kept his eyes closed on purpose, but ran a quick function check. Sight, hearing, arms, and legs all seemed more or less okay. His crotch ought to be throbbing with pain, but somewhere along the way his brain seemed simply to have decided to shut down its connection to his groin, because he could hardly feel anything.

He heard the door of the flat slam, then steps returning to the bedroom. But this time the sound seemed to come from just one person and he opened one eye a crack to see if he was right.

True enough, Elroy had been left on guard while his boss went to check this worrying new information. A minute or so of his best dying swan seemed to do the trick, because
he heard steps in the hall, then a tap running in the kitchen.

He carefully opened his eyes.

The room was empty.

The straps around his wrists, which had already shown signs of giving way, hadn’t withstood his convulsions, and it took him just a few seconds to get one hand free. Whichever one of the girl guides had been responsible for his arms should have her knot badge withdrawn, because he dealt with the second one even quicker. The straps around his ankles were tied rather more tightly, however.