In a Fix (23 page)

The men—fifteen or sixteen of them, it looked like—formed a loose circle around us. Per stepped toward the center and looked down. “What happened here?” he said to Billy.

“I don’t know,” Billy said. “I just got here myself. This lady says she found him like this, and was checking to see if he was hurt or just passed out drunk. She got a little overexcited when I told her to leave and let me handle it.” He turned to me and said, “You can go now, miss. We’ll take care of him.”

I pushed myself up off the ground, careful not to look directly at Per. “Uh, sure. Hope your friend is okay. See ya.” I hurried toward a space between two of the barbarians.

“Wait,” Per said, taking hold of my arm and turning me to face him. “You’re not Swedish.”

I cringed at his touch.

“I know you,” he said slowly, staring hard, processing my face.

The Vikings behind me closed ranks. I saw Billy’s fists clench, and willed him not to do anything stupid. He relaxed his stance—somewhat—when Per dropped my arm.

I smiled, hoping I didn’t look as nervous as I felt. “I don’t think so. I’m sure I would remember if we had met. You’re, um, striking.” Especially with that huge purple bruise spreading down your forehead, and the double shiners. But I decided not to mention that. Didn’t seem like something he’d take kindly to being reminded of.

“No, I do know who you are. You’re the Halligan woman, the one working for Mina Worthington.”

“Who?” I said.

“Don’t play dumb. I don’t have time for it. Tell me what you did to Nils—did you drug him? Or sneak up on him and hit his head with a rock, perhaps?” He paused, a sneer on his face, a threat in his too-quiet voice. I got the idea he didn’t like women much. Probably had mommy issues.

I was about to address the subject with him when I caught a warning look from Billy, who was now situated to the left of and slightly behind Per. I kept my mouth shut.

“Cat got your tongue?” Per said. “No matter. Nils has always been weak-headed when it comes to women.” He looked down and kicked his colleague’s leg lightly. A small groan came from the prone Viking, which seemed to satisfy Per. “It could be you have taught him a valuable lesson.” He turned back to me. “So, Miss Halligan, it seems we have happened upon you at an opportune time. Tell me, where is Mina?”

“I have no idea,” I said, seeing no point in denying who I was. Then, just because his fearless leader charade got on my nerves, I added, “And I wouldn’t tell you if I knew.” (Yeah. Bluster. Like I said, it’s a reflex.)

Billy winced, but of course couldn’t say anything. Fortunately, Per was too busy staring at me like I was dog shit on his shoe to notice anything odd about his faithful Indian companion.

“Oh, I think you will tell me anything I want to know, Miss Halligan. I really do.”

I swallowed hard. Note to self: learn to keep your mouth shut.

He turned to two of the men and said, “Karl, Lennart—see to Nils. Take him back to the house. Get a doctor if you must, but use someone we know.”

They each got a shoulder under Nils’s arms and hauled him to his feet. His head flopped to one side, but his eyelids were starting to flutter and he was making an effort to get his legs to support him.

“I’ll take the woman,” Billy volunteered. He wouldn’t want to be around when Nils woke up. “She’ll talk for me.”

“No, Ahiga. I’ll take care of our little friend. I need you to go to our booth in the town center and see that the samples are ready to be distributed after our package is sent. Tell the men to prepare for delivery.”

“But—” Billy started, then heard Nils groan and thought better of it. “Right. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it,” he said to Per while looking straight at me. My mouth dried at the thought of him leaving, but I managed a minuscule nod. He’d be back for me somehow.

Watching him march off without me left me so scared I wanted to vomit. I drew in slow, deep breaths until I could control it, then chanced a glance at Per. He was watching me intently, sucking down my fear like it was blood and he was a tick. The fucking misogynistic asshole. I narrowed my eyes and stuck out my chin, refusing to feed him what he wanted.

Instead, I watched Nils. He was almost back to the land of the living. One of his human crutches spoke encouragingly to him in Swedish, and he mumbled something back. At least he was alive. I took some comfort from that. As much as I hated to see him go, I hoped Karl and Lennart got him away from here before he started questioning why Ahiga had clobbered him. Billy needed time to ditch that aura.

“Walk with me, Miss Halligan,” Per said, sounding as pleasant as I’d ever heard him, which made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

Not seeing a ready alternative, I fell into step beside him. The others trailed a few feet behind us. Rocks in various hues of pink, gray, and black dotted the expanse between us and the sea, where the Baltic lapped against a strip of white sand. If I hadn’t been strolling with a monster, I might’ve enjoyed the view.

“Ciel, isn’t it? Such an unusual name. It means ‘sky’ in French, doesn’t it?” He got a faraway look in his eye, as if something had just occurred to him. “May I call you Ciel?” he continued conversationally as we walked along the strand.

I shrugged, not trusting that any words coming out of my mouth wouldn’t get me into even deeper trouble.

“Ciel, then. Are you quite sure you can’t be more helpful about Mina? She is a client, not a friend,
ja
?”

“I don’t betray clients,” I said, aiming my tone for neutral but hitting cold instead.

“But this situation isn’t in your job description, is it? Whatever it is you ‘facilitate’ for Mina doesn’t include you getting hurt, does it?”

“What it doesn’t include is
her
getting hurt.”

“Mina will come to no harm in the long run, if she cooperates. She has access to something we need. That is all.”

Yeah, I thought wryly. Trey. And I already knew the harm Per was willing to do Mina. It wouldn’t help me to let on, though, so I kept my eyes forward and said nothing.

My silence sparked speculation. “If it is a matter of money, whatever she is paying you, we can offer more.”

“I don’t need your dirty money.” I would have spit, but that’s a bit melodramatic even for me.

“I see. You are an idealist, one who must always take the moral high ground. In my own way, I, too, am an idealist. What I have learned, though, Ciel, is that sometimes the high ground is a dead end. Sometimes one must step around a lesser ideal in order to obtain a greater one. Do you understand?”

Step around? Try stomp all over. He sounded as benign as a philosophy professor giving a lecture to a slow student, but I knew better. “It seems to me, if you easily cast aside the so-called lesser ideals, then your loyalty to any greater one would always be in question,” I said, matching his lofty tone.

His mouth tightened. “There we must disagree.”

I shrugged again, and we walked in silence until we came to a huge wooden structure, weathered gray from the elements. A long, thick-timbered arm was positioned on an axle between two A-frame supports, with a massive counterweight at the bottom holding it in an upright position.

Sheesh. Talk about your phallic symbols.

At least fifty Vikings mingled near it. They weren’t exactly standing guard, but they had the effect of keeping the tourists a fair distance from it. My curiosity got the better of my reluctance to speak to Per. “What’s that?”

“That,” he said, pride evident in his voice and stance, “is the Visby trebuchet. It is a replica of a medieval war engine designed to launch artillery from a great distance. This one has a range of almost two hundred meters with a limestone projectile. Less for something heavier, but still impressive.”

“Oh. Well, not that I don’t appreciate the sightseeing tour, but why are we stopping here?” His almost human behavior was starting to make me antsy.

“Shortly we will send a package into town via this attention-getting delivery system.”

I stared at the machine, which suddenly took on a more sinister aspect. “
That’s
how you’re going to bomb the city?” I said, appalled.

“You know about that?”

Oops. Probably shouldn’t have let that slip. “I’m just guessing.”

He didn’t seem to mind my knowing. That wasn’t good—it meant he didn’t think I’d be talking to anyone about it in the near future.

“It seemed appropriate, given the medieval theme of the festival,” he said.

How could he be so cavalier about it? “But why? Why do you want to kill all those innocent people? What have they ever done to you?”

He looked puzzled. “Kill them? Who said anything about killing them?”

“You did. You just said you were going to bomb them, for God’s sake!”

“Yes. With advertisements. Why would we kill our potential customers?”

“Customers?” Then the connection came to me. The shampoo. The body wash. “Is this how you finance your group? You’re trying to ram some sort of new masculine agenda down Sweden’s collective throat by selling men’s toiletries?”

His smile gave me the creeps. “You are well-informed, aren’t you? Yes, restoring the true masculine ideal to Sweden is our goal. Getting our products into the hands of the men is one way we’re going about it.”

I was unable to suppress a derisive snort. “Shampoo and body wash will make men more manly? Hello? I think you must have some wires crossed somewhere. Ever hear the term ‘metrosexual’? Your target demographic probably isn’t the most macho group out there.”

“Not at first, no. But they will be after they use our soap and lotions for long enough,” he said. I must have looked blank, because he continued. “Steroids, Miss Halligan. Surely you’ve heard of them.”

“Steroids,” I echoed, shocked. “You’re lacing your toiletries with steroids?”

He didn’t deny it; he only stood staring at the huge catapult with smug satisfaction, the arrogant bastard.

“Don’t you know how dangerous that is?” I asked, biting back the “you idiot” I desperately wanted to add. See? I can learn. “Even in a controlled situation the side effects can be horrendous. With no monitoring, no dosage warnings…” What he was proposing was tantamount to poisoning a large segment of the population.

“There may be a few bad reactions, yes, but on the whole it will make men’s lives better. They will be stronger. More willing to listen to what we have to say. In the long run, more likely to vote for someone who supports our platform.”

“Good God. You sound like a freaking politician.” It was so ridiculous I almost laughed, but the glint of fanaticism in his eyes killed the mirth in my throat.

“Politics is the only true path to power. To do the country any lasting good, one must eventually pursue that course, yes.”

“Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, it should be a man’s own decision whether or not to shrink his testicles down to the size of raisins?” Contempt colored my voice as I shot a quick glance at his crotch.

His laugh was an ugly sound. “If these so-called men had any balls to begin with, they wouldn’t be in need of our help. And, no, Miss Halligan, I don’t find it necessary to use our products. Would you care to see for yourself?”

“I’ll pass on that,” I said with as much scorn as I could summon. “I prefer men who aren’t clinically insane.”

He stepped closer, looming over me, and whispered, “And do you know what I prefer, you little bitch? I prefer that you tell me immediately where I can find Mina. You have one more chance.”

“Or what? You’re going to slap me around in front of all these people? You get off on that, don’t you? Hurting women?” I taunted. Stupid, I know, but I was too pissed off to care.

His face darkened. He opened his mouth to speak, but a middle-aged, long-bearded buffalo of a man interrupted our little tête-à-tête.

“It’s time to turn the engine to face the wall. The men are ready,” the man said in surprisingly good English.

Per’s face relaxed. His whole demeanor changed to that of someone who’d just received an unexpected gift.

“A moment, Sam.” Per looked at me, speculation glittering in his eyes. “Can you swim, Miss Halligan?”

Huh?

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“Sam, tell the men to winch up the arm, and bring me some leather straps.” And then, more softly so the people beyond the Viking human shield wouldn’t hear, “We have a volunteer for a test flight.”

Holy shit.
He couldn’t mean that, could he? “Sam, wait!” I called after the retreating man.

The buffalo started to turn back to me, but continued on his way when Per gave him an abrupt hand signal.

“You’ll get no help from Sam just because he is a fellow countryman of yours. He is my brother-in-law, and quite loyal to our cause.”

“Listen, Per—”

“Tell me where Mina is.”

“I don’t know!”

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Look, she could be anywhere. She might be on her way home to the States by now. How about we just slow down here until you check the airports?”

“I’m afraid you will have to do better than that. Ah, here is Sam back.” He took the straps from him.

“No, really. I don’t know, I swear.” I hated the pleading that had crept into my voice. Not so, Per. He liked it fine.

“Take her arms, Sam. Hold her still.”

Knowing it was useless, I took off, getting not even two steps before I was jerked to a halt by the back of my stupid dress. A hand came down over my mouth and stayed there until a gag—a filthy-tasting linen rag—replaced it.

A fence of Vikings blocked the actions from any curious passersby. Hell, they probably would have thought it was just another show, anyway, the oblivious sheep.

With the help of a handy Viking knot ace, Per fashioned a harness snugly around me. My hands were tied in front of me, and my ankles bound. It took two of them to carry me over to the trebuchet. I managed to kick one of them in the gut, but eventually I was laid beneath the archaic device and held in place, my shoulders and feet pinned to the ground by large hands.

Per straddled me, placing his feet on either side of my hips, and looked down at me from his great height. He held a hook connected to a long rope in one hand, and appeared to be enjoying himself.