“Felix. Is that you?”
He tried to say something but only managed whispering, creaking sounds. The woman spoke again.
“Felix? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”
With effort, he cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s me. Shot . . . shot . . . in the stomach.”
“Oh my God. Okay. Stay where you are and keep hidden. We’ve already called the police. They’re on their way.”
A wave of relief rolled through him. “Okay, Madeleine. I’m not going anywhere. Where are you?”
“In the panic room. There’s five of us here—Freya, Mikko, Sussie, me, and Sebastian.” She paused, then repeated, “Stay where you are.”
The room spun around Hugo, and the fire continued to burn in his stomach.
“I will.”
“We can see them on the cameras. They’re standing outside the panic room trying to get in.”
Felix heard someone near Madeleine shout. Then Madeleine moaned.
“Are you hurt too?” he asked.
“Maybe a concussion. Nothing serious.”
Felix knew it was worse than she was letting on, but before he could say anything else, their conversation was interrupted by more shouts. Moments later, the building was rocked by another explosion. Ceiling tiles began to crash to the floor, and dust clouds drifted in through the red-flashing doorway. The explosion caused Felix to drop the phone, and chaos rushed around him, pulling him down into the darkness again.
*
The room shook so hard that she fell. Madeleine screamed as she collapsed and felt her left ankle snap.
Sussie rushed to her. “Madeleine!”
Madeleine knew right away that her ankle was broken, and overwhelming powerlessness cascaded through her, but she reminded herself that help was on the way. “How long until the police get here?” she asked.
Sussie looked up at the battery-powered digital clock on the wall and replied, “They should be here any minute.”
Along one side of the panic room, four vaulted screens showed the devastation outside their small, isolated world. Lifeless bodies were strewn about as if a giant had stormed through and left destruction behind. Thick clouds drifted past, giving the dark figures outside a surreal appearance. A man with a dark visor walked up to the thick door of the panic room and put his hand against it.
Madeleine swallowed; the thug on the monitor was less than two feet away from her body. This creature from hell that had torn her world apart. This had been her responsibility; Novus was her place, and this was her fault. Sebastian had pointed out the security flaws in their building many times, but Madeleine had kept postponing the needed investment.
Sebastian sat in the corner, staring silently at her. She ignored him. This was not the time to point fingers. Right now, it was about getting through this misery with anyone who had survived.
The man on the screen pulled up his visor, and his dark eyes peered straight at her, sparkling in the flashing lights. He pulled his finger across his throat with a sinister smirk. In the distance, Madeleine heard the faint sound of sirens and smiled, exposing bloody teeth.
*
The first thing the guard saw as he swung around the corner was the thin line of smoke drifting from the building. He narrowed his eyes. Was it on fire? It didn’t appear to be—the smoke wasn’t thick enough. He drove closer in his white Securitas car, then froze when he saw the two dark Jeeps parked in front of the thick, cracked metal door. He reached for his radio, but at the same time, a dark figure stepped out from behind one of the Jeeps and lifted something out in front of him. Too late, the security guard realized what that thing was, and the last thing he saw in his life was his windshield shattering as high-speed ammunition penetrated it.
The figure studied his work for a couple of seconds, then resumed his position behind the car. He spoke into his radio. “Central, we have a visitor. Looks like a security car. The threat has been neutralized.”
The voice that answered through the radio’s speaker carried a distinct Chinese accent. “Roger that. We’re almost finished here, thirty seconds.”
“Roger.”
The dark figure nodded to his companion, who was hidden behind the adjacent car.
“It’s time.”
They got into the Jeeps and drove them into position in front of the building’s exit doors. But just as they did, a blue-and-red flashing light approached. The figure froze. A police car rounded the same corner as the guard car had done five minutes earlier, but this time, the car stopped further away. The dark figure stared at the stationary, flashing police car. It was scarcely thirty meters from the Jeeps. A woman’s authoritative voice echoed from the police car’s loudspeaker.
“Get out of the vehicles and raise your hands above your heads!”
It had started to snow again. The figure hesitated, then opened the door and stepped out, careful to hold his hands high enough that they were visible.
“Don’t shoot!” he called back. “I’m unarmed.” The passenger door of the police car opened, and a male police officer pointed his weapon at the dark figure. The voice of the cop who was still in the car thundered again.
“Get on your knees! Put your hands on your head!” To the other Jeep, the officer shouted through the loudspeaker, “You too—out of the vehicle!”
The dark figure did as he was told, kneeling on the coarse asphalt and interlacing his fingers behind the crown of his head. The officer ducking behind the passenger door stood and moved carefully toward him. But he hadn’t gone a few steps when the second man stepped out of the other Jeep, aimed, and opened fire. The police officer threw himself back behind the door, but two of the shots sunk themselves into his legs.
The kneeling man scrambled onto his feet and rushed back to his Jeep.
“Now!” he cried into his radio. “The police are here!”
The Asian accent replied, “We’re coming.”
The female officer stepped out of the driver’s side of the police car and aimed her sidearm in the direction of the men.
“Drop your weapons!”
A split-second later, six armed men came streaming through the distorted metal door and opened fire on the police. High-velocity rounds hit the police car with a thunderous rumble, easily tearing it to pieces.
*
Snow shot into the air like rockets as Hugo revved the engine and skidded across the road. The car hit a snowdrift, and he felt the car slide toward the sidewalk. He jerked the steering wheel and the car straightened, narrowly missing a head-on collision with a pickup truck. The truck’s driver laid on the horn, still honking long after he passed.
His destination wasn’t far away now, but Hugo still pressed his foot even harder against the accelerator. The French Peugeot bellowed like a living, growling animal and hurled itself forward. Hugo dialed the emergency number again.
“SOS Alarm, what’s your emergency?”
“Yes, I called earlier—I’m on my way to my brother’s office. Have you sent help?”
“What?”
Hugo groaned. He knew he shouldn’t have hung up when he’d called earlier.
“Listen, I called five minutes ago. My brother works at Novus, down in the industrial harbor in Malmö. I was talking to him on the phone when the place was attacked. Have you sent help?”