The man screamed, fell to his knees, and gawked at the blade stuck deep in his flesh. With that one taken care of, Hugo turned to the other man.
“Let her go. Now.”
The man stared at his injured friend who was now sitting paralyzed in a red-spotted snowdrift. Everything had gone downhill so fast. He didn’t know what to do. Should he release her? Her hair smelled so good, like it was freshly washed, and he desperately wanted to keep that scent. The intruder in front of him stared calmly and steadily at him, and a shiver rolled down his spine.
The man faltered, and his grip over the woman’s mouth loosened for a fraction of a second. That was all it took. The woman bit into his fingers. Blood spurted, and Hugo saw his opening. He exploded forward, pushed the woman aside, and shoved a powerful fist into the jaw of her assailant. The target fell like timber.
The woman collapsed onto her knees, sobbing and shaking. She wiped her bloody mouth on the back of her arm. She spat, and reddish mucus stained the snowdrift. Hugo helped her up, then pulled off his beanie and wiped her face.
“Easy, now. Are you hurt?”
The woman shook her head, and her dark, curly hair danced where it peeked out from beneath her thick white hat. Hugo studied her. She looked to be around forty, maybe Spanish. Her eyes were clear; she didn’t seem to be in shock.
“No, I think I’m okay.”
Hugo nodded toward the two men. “You know these guys?”
She glared at them. “No.”
Hugo took the woman’s hands, held them in his, and breathed warm air onto them.
“Want to call the police?” he asked.
She stared at them, shrugging.
The man with the knife in his arm stammered, “We just wanted your money, nothing else. If you let us go, we swear we’ll never do this again.”
The woman walked over and slapped him in the face. “Bastards!” A long stream of angry words, all in Spanish, flew from her mouth.
Hugo grasped her shoulders. “Either we call the police or we let them go and make sure you get to the hospital. It’s a good idea for a doctor to make sure you’re okay.” He looked at the unconscious man and said, “That one’s jaw is broken, so he’ll be sucking soup for weeks.”
The woman turned to Hugo. In her eyes, he saw that the clarity of a few moments ago was dwindling. Her pupils were dilated, her skin pale and grayish.
“Miguela,” she said hoarsely. “My name is Miguela.”
“Nice to meet you, Miguela. My name is Hugo.”
“Hugo.” She took a shuddering breath, shook her head, and cleared her throat. “Thank you for helping me, but I’m fine now. I don’t need to see a doctor.”
Before Hugo could answer, his cell phone rang from his armband. He pulled it out. The screen displayed the name Felix.
“Hi, brother.”
*
The smattering of automatic weapon fire made him jerk, instinctively pulling away from the phone. Miguela stared at him with wide eyes; she’d also heard the sound.
“What was that?” she gasped.
Hugo ignored the question. “Felix!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”
“Hugo!” Felix sounded a million kilometers away.
“Felix? What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack! Call the police! They’re killing everyone!”
Hugo’s focus instantly zeroed into a fine pinpoint of ambition: his brother’s life. His eyebrows pushed toward each other in the middle, and he said firmly, “Who’s shooting, Felix?”
He got no answer. Hugo pressed the phone harder against his ear and heard his brother’s distant voice.
“I’m unarmed. Please. I have a wife and children.”
A thick snowflake landed on Hugo’s cheek in the same second he heard what sounded like a huge zipper being pulled closed. His focus shattered, and his blood froze to ice.
“No! Felix!” He listened hard for his brother’s voice but heard nothing. For a split-second, a wave of doubt rolled through his body. Everything around him slowed down. Heavy snowflakes descended, becoming one with the white quilt that covered the ground. He turned to Miguela, but before he could say anything, she nodded and handed him back his cap.
“Go, I’ll do it myself. Thanks for everything.”
He took the hat, and without answering, he started running. His legs were machines pumping rhythmically, tirelessly, and he sprinted back the same way he had come, toward the apartment at Magistrate Park.
He dialed the emergency number as he ran. A woman answered after two rings.
“SOS Alarm, what’s your emergency?”
Through his ragged breath, Hugo said, “I was talking on the phone to my brother when I heard an automatic weapon being fired. He works down in the industrial harbor. It sounded like they were under attack.”
“Automatic weapons you said?”
Hugo gave the address of the Novus building and explained who he was while he continued running toward the red light at Carl Gustavs Road. Car horns blared, and two vehicles thundered angrily past him, but he ignored them. A lady stared wide-eyed and pulled her twitching, barking dog closer to her as he rushed past.
“Send any backup you have! Now!” Hugo shouted. He didn’t wait for a reply, jamming the phone into his pocket and feeling for his car keys. He sprinted past his apartment, where he knew Lita was waiting for him. He couldn’t call now—there was no time. It would simply have to wait. She’d only be stressed if she heard him in this state and found out what had happened. At six months pregnant, it wasn’t a good time for surprises.
Hugo ran straight to the car and yanked open the door. He started the engine, revved it once, and raced out onto Foereningsgatan so fast the snow sprayed behind him. He reached under the seat, finding the cool surface of his SIG Sauer handgun.
As Hugo approached an intersection, a taxi swiped across the lanes in front of him, and he slammed on the brakes, barely missing the cab’s rear bumper. A stream of obscenities fell absently out of Hugo’s mouth. When the lights at the Triangle turned green, he stepped on the accelerator. But it was Friday morning, and traffic was picking up. He pressed down hard on the horn to get the cars and pedestrians to make a hole as he hurtled through town, his aim set firmly on his brother.
3
It was so strange. Oddly, at first, he didn’t feel any pain. Felix didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but his hands came away slick and sticky after he touched his midsection.
And then it came. Oh God, the pain came and came and came. Like a burning, runaway train, it ran over him, thundering over his body. Adrenaline flowed through him like a waterfall, and he nearly fainted as he struggled to pull himself into a half-seated position.
He peered out the doorway. The smoke from the red-flashing corridor was lighter now, and he saw two dark figures moving about in it. They were talking to each other, but Felix couldn’t make out what they said. His cell phone sat on the floor a few feet away from where he sat. He reached for it, but his sticky fingers struggled to grasp the smooth surface.
At last, the fingernails of his middle and ring finger found purchase on the edge of the phone where it met the case. He pulled it toward him and scrolled down his contact list until he found what he was looking for. It rang twice before a woman answered.