He took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled the smoke.
Okay Manga, I get what you mean, but to be honest I dont give a shit what PayTags up to. All I want is to deliver a decent kick in the bollocks to the Game Master, Anna Argos and Black. And thats where our interests seem to coincide. It looks like weve got a mutual enemy …
He took another drag, then stubbed the cigarette out on a cracked old saucer on the draining board.
Its like this, Manga: if you want my help, I need a favour in return. I need to get hold of Rehyman, preferably straight away. I need to talk to him with no-one else listening …
Manga looked up from the laptop.
W-what? Why?
Id rather not say right now. You asked me to trust you, and the same applies here … But, for the sake of appearances, I suppose we could call it my price for taking part in all this …
He gestured towards the yellow ceiling with one hand.
Manga gave him a long look as he seemed to consider the proposal.
Okay, I suppose thats fair enough … he muttered.
He tapped at the computer, then dug out a pen and paper and wrote down a number.
Here, hes online so you can call him right away. There are some pay-as-you-go phones in that box over there. When youve finished, smash the SIM-card and scatter the pieces out in the woods, okay?
Sure, no problem …
Manga gave him another long look.
You do know what youre getting into, dont you, HP? This isnt a game. If it goes wrong …
Sure, dont worry, Ive got everything under control. This isnt the first time Ive gone up against the Game Master …
Well, I guess thats true. But it is the first time youre doing something that doesnt suit the Games plans …
Good job Im not on my own, then, HP grinned. If it goes to hell, then we all get fucked at the same time!
25
Quests
Here.
He handed her the key to her gun-cabinet.
I presume youve got your ID and passcard in there as well?
She nodded.
Okay, get your stuff out and then head straight down to the firing range. Youll need to do the test again before we can let you out on duty. You soon lose it if you dont practise …
That wont be a problem, Ludvig.
Okay, good.
Was there anything else?
He nodded.
Before you go, Normén, I just have to ask. How the hell did you get Stigsson to agree to reinstate you?
Oh, you could say I had a bit of help from a mutual friend.
She smiled and he gave her a long look.
And is that something youd like to explain to your boss?
She took a deep breath.
Not right now, Ludvig. But sometime …
Okay …
He was still looking at her hard.
You do know what youre doing, Becca? he finally said in a low voice.
Dont worry, Ludvig. You wanted me back and now Im here. Just be happy with that for the time being, she smiled.
The target turned when she was ten metres away, and long before the conscious part of her brain had registered the fact she had gone into action. Clawing her jacket open, both hands down to her holster.
Gun out, left hand on the bolt. Then push forward and up, feeding a bullet into position. The steadying hand coming up beneath the barrel. Then the sights, and the target.
Two rapid shots.
The target turned away.
She released the hammer with her left thumb, and continued to move forward. A new target turned, this time far off to her right. She squeezed off a shot, not even thinking about the result. Quickly released the hammer and carried on. Two targets began to turn at the same time, and shed already shot a hole through the first before they stopped turning.
Then her gun clicked.
She hit her left hand against the base of the magazine, then performed the bolt action to release the trapped cartridge onto the floor. Three quick shots.
The targets turned away.
Stop, cease fire, unload! the instructor yelled.
Unloaded! she said.
She pulled out the magazine, flipped the bolt and caught the cartridge that was ready to fire. Then she let go of the bolt, holstered the gun and took off her ear protectors. All the targets popped up with a loud hiss, but she didnt look at the results. The shooting instructor walked past her, did a quick check of the targets, then came back. She heard him whistle.
Well, Normén, that went pretty well. What do you say?
Yep, she said.
I didnt actually time you, but Im guessing you were somewhere close to the record for the course. Ill call Ludvig straight away and tell him your shooting is … approved. Can you sort them out yourself?
He handed her a roll of little black stickers.
Sure.
He turned his back on her and headed towards the door.
She tore off four small stickers the size of a stamp and put the roll down.
On her way to the targets she picked up the little green blank cartridge that the instructor had sneaked into her magazine, which had caused the break in her shooting.
All the shots were in the dead zone. Three of the pairs of holes were so close together that they were touching, and the other two had just a millimetre of paper between them.
Good, then youll be in touch? Thanks for your help.
He ended the call, opened the back of the phone and pulled out the SIM-card.
He had just snapped it in two when Hasselqvist came round the corner.
Er, hi, HP. Listen, I just wanted to explain something …
Sure.
He turned his back on Hasselqvist and sent one half of the SIM-card into the nearest clump of nettles.
That thing in the van …
You mean the GPS?
He tossed the other half in amongst the fir trees.
Yep, thats right … You see, Id just found it when you appeared at the door … it had been underneath a bag and just rolled out.
Okay …
Is it yours?
W-what? HP turned round.
The GPS transmitter, is it … ?
Yeah, I get it, Kent. No, it isnt …
Okay, I just wanted to check. You were the one sitting right at the back, so I thought …
HP shook his head.
Nope, not mine. Maybe it belongs to the van?
I doubt it …
In that case I suggest that you get rid of it at once.
Sure, I just want to check with Jeff first, it may be his …
Hasselqvist drifted away and HP waited another minute before pulling a new SIM-card from his trouser pocket. He inserted it into the phone he had got from Manga, switched it on and tapped in his pin-code.
The text arrived almost immediately.
Done!
Hidden number, but he knew who it was from.
Fuck, Rehyman was fast!
They got changed in silence. Tight black wetsuits, rubber shoes, then neoprene ski masks that made the heat intolerable, and which HP pulled off at once. Total fucking madness, on a massive scale!
Everythings ready, he heard Manga say from round the back of the Polo.
I still want to double-check, Jeff said.
But its getting …
Weve got time, Jeff interrupted. Theres always time to check your equipment …
Manga seemed to give up, because when HP walked round the car the back door was already open.
Diving gear, inflatable dinghy, welding equipment, explosives … Jeff was saying to himself as he moved his hand over the various black bags in the boot.
The word explosives startled HP. He had a sudden flashback to the E4 motorway two years before, when he had plugged his phone into a similar bag. A bag stuffed with so much explosive that it was enough to blow an entire building sky-high.
For almost two years he had believed that hed blown the Games brain to kingdom come. But, according to Manga, that had been nothing but an illusion, a very clever one that the Game Master had implanted in his head. The real Death Star wasnt located in an old office building out in Kista, but deep underground in a bunker little more than a couple of kilometres away.
But if everything he had experienced up until a few days ago was just an elaborate mind game, then what guarantees did he have that what he was experiencing now was any more real?
He had been wrestling with that particular dilemma for several days.
Even if he decided to trust Manga, there were no guarantees. Manga seemed to be telling the truth, because – as far as it was possible to tell – he genuinely appeared to believe his own story. But what if it wasnt his story?
What if someone else was playing mind games with Manga, in exactly the same way they had done with him? That what they were heading towards now was actually nothing more than part of an even more elaborate plan?
That was the trouble with conspiracy theories. Once you started to accept their existence, it was impossible to say where they really stopped.
Just because youre paranoid, doesnt mean they arent after you …
Quiet! Jeff suddenly said, raising his head from the boot.
Did you hear that?
No-one said anything.
What is it, Jeff? Hasselqvist quacked after a few seconds.
There!
A faint humming sound was approaching from the east.
HP realized what it was immediately. He took a couple of quick strides, grabbed the heavy sliding door of the barn and began to close it.
What the hell … ? Jeff yelled.
HP ignored him.
The sound was getting closer very fast, throbbing like a pneumatic drill on his eardrums.
The door was almost closed, just a metre or so left, and HP was leaning his entire weight on the handle. But the door was slowing down, began to catch, and finally stopped with a loud screech.
The throbbing noise was suddenly echoing off the buildings, amplified until he could feel the vibration in his ribcage, and only now did the others seem to get it.