STOP
High Security Area
No admittance without permission
No photography, recording or surveillance
without permission
Hasselqvist stopped the van at the clearly marked line, just a couple of metres from the saw-toothed metal bar.
HP opened the door, jumped out and went over to the glass hatch in the gatehouse.
A sour-faced woman in uniform glared at him through what looked like a double layer of bulletproof glass. He carefully adjusted his fake glasses, then gave her his friendliest smile.
Yes, how can I help you?
Her voice was surprisingly melodic, almost disconcertingly so. Hell, she ought to be on the radio, not sitting out here in the middle of nowhere.
Er … E-Erik, Erik Andersson … he began.
Fuck, the smooth radio voice had almost made him forget his assumed name.
From Andersson Sanitation, he added quickly. Apparently youve got trouble with a couple of blocked filters. They said it was urgent …
Are they expecting you?
I certainly hope so … he nodded, throwing in what was supposed to look like an innocent smile, and trying not to glance at the camera fixed to the window just to the left of her.
One moment.
He watched as she turned to her left and began typing on a keyboard.
Have you got some ID, Erik?
He nodded again, removed his fake ID from its plastic holder on the breast pocket of his overalls, and put it in the metal drawer that slid out below the window.
The drawer slid back in with a whirr.
He could hear the faint sound of typing over the speaker.
He looked back quickly over his shoulder.
The van looked fine, almost better than hed expected it to.
The stickers with the words Andersson Sanitation could have been a bit straighter, but what the hell …
They hadnt had any time to waste on details, and besides, it was hardly noticeable when the sliding door was open.
Jeff was visible in the doorway, with Nora just behind him.
More typing.
Come on, for fucks sake, Rainman. Show us your magic!
Would you mind looking into the camera, Erik?
Of course.
He adjusted his glasses and tried to look relaxed. To judge by the reflection in the window, he more or less succeeded …
What if they had one of those face-recognition programs?
Shit, he hadnt even thought of that until now!
Fake glasses might stop you looking like the guy in the newspapers, but no way would they fool a piece of software …
He glanced over his shoulder again, then looked into the camera. A bead of sweat broke from the back of his neck and trickled down between his shoulder blades. Then another one. And in just a few moments very similar beads of sweat would begin to appear conspicuously on his forehead …
The guard reappeared.
Right, Erik …
He smiled again, a nervous, loose-bowelled smile. He didnt need to check his reflection to know that.
Here are your cards. The email said five people in total. The lads in Operations will be responsible for letting you in and out, and I dont want to hear about you blocking any of the doors to keep them open, is that understood?
Absolutely, he nodded.
Good. Okay, carry on down the slope and follow the signs for the Operations Division. Youll have to turn right, but youll see the sign. Dont forget to hand your cards back when you leave …
Okay, thanks!
The drawer opened and he pulled out his ID and the five cards marked Visitor before turning and heading back towards the van.
A loud click startled him, but it was only the saw-toothed bar being lowered.
As he got into the van the gate began to swing open.
Hasselqvist put the van into gear and they rolled slowly through the gate and down the hill. The road was cut deep into the rock and soon they could no longer see the edge of the forest.
Shit, it actually worked … . Hasselqvist sounded slightly happier.
Yep, Kent, my mate Rain … I mean, Rehyman, is a bastard when it comes to security. It only took him ten minutes to spot the weaknesses in their system. Ordinary, unencrypted email between the Fortress and the gatehouse. All Rehyman had to do was find out the addresses, then set up a cloned account that looked like it came from the Fortress …
Then, hey presto, it looked like we were expected, yeah, we got that bit when you told us. But were not home and dry yet. The hardest bits still to come …
HP opened his mouth to say something cutting, but changed his mind at the last moment. He was still holding Mangas superfluous visitors badge in his hand. He stared at it for a few seconds, then slowly slipped it into one of his breast pockets.
Theres the sign.
Nora pointed to the right.
Shit, what a place …
They reached the end of the cutting and emerged into a large gravel yard. Right in front of them was a two-storey building and something that looked like a garage. Behind and above the buildings, the rock face rose up vertically at least thirty metres.
Theres only one way out of here … Hasselqvist muttered, glancing in the rear-view mirror.
They parked to the right of the building, next to a loading bay with the correct sign.
One of the garage doors on the building opposite was open slightly, and HP thought he could see something that looked like a dark minibus inside. His heart was beating faster and faster.
Somewhere a dog was barking, and the noise echoed around the little hollow before fading away into the gloom of the summer night.
For fucks sake, HP, calm down and stick to the plan …
He took a deep breath and put his hand in his pocket, fingering the handle of the taser.
Put your breathing masks round your necks. Everything has to look genuine, Nora said. Jeff, are you ready?
Sure, Im ready, her brother mumbled.
Okay, lets get going. This time I do the talking …
She gave HP a quick nod. Then she opened the door.
Okay, as you all know, its the big day tomorrow. The happy couple seem to have the weather gods on their side, no rain forecast, which means theyll be sticking to plan A: open carriage instead of the covered coach we recommended. The Palace PR department, however, want the young couple to be close to the public and not hidden behind glass …
Runeberg shrugged.
On the other hand, theyre going to be spending the rest of their lives behind glass, so I suppose we shouldnt begrudge them this last taste of freedom …
He pressed the remote and changed the picture.
Well be using runners, exactly like we did with the last royal wedding. Six in total, three on each side of the carriage. Two teams, running half the route each.
He pointed at the picture showing six bodyguards in suits running on either side of the royal carriage.
As you can see, Im getting more and more handsome as the years go by.
He placed the laser pointer at the easily recognizable figure at the front on the right. Quiet laughter filled the room. Runeberg must have been talking on his radio, to judge by his peculiar expression in the picture.
Well have three vehicles following the second troop of Horse Guards. Two as backup in case of an evacuation, and the van for the runners, just like last time. Any questions so far?
None of the thirty bodyguards in the room said anything.
In that case, Ill hand over to the head of security at the Palace. Im sure he has plenty to tell us, and I would advise everyone to listen very carefully.
Runeberg gestured towards Tage Sammer, who was sitting a short distance away. Rebecca had noticed him when they entered the hall, but her heart still began to beat faster when he stood up and buttoned his jacket.
The man on the other side of the little counter leafed through his papers.
Replacing filters, he said into his radio. Have you heard anything about that, over?
The radio crackled.
No, the voice at the other end said.
Have you checked the daily log, over?
Yep, theres nothing here. No alarms in the system either, over.
There were a few moments silence.
The man shrugged and smiled at Nora.
Sorry, but I cant let you go down without securing authorization from the boss …
I understand, she said. Obviously, we can turn round and go home, but it sounded urgent when the bloke called …
She pretended to look at her watch.
And were already late. If the system overheats …
The man grinned again.
HP had taken against him the moment they stepped inside the little office: very fit, with greasy, back-combed hair, a smarmy smile, prominent cheekbones. A bit too good-looking for a place like this …
He took a couple of slow steps forward so he could look at the other side of the little counter.
Dark blue ribbed sweater, matching trousers covered with pockets, polished black boots. On a table behind him there was a pile of yellow protective helmets, and an assortment of hi-visibility jackets were hanging over a rack full of radios. All the things you might expect to find in an Operations Division.
Yet there was still something not quite right …
The radio crackled again: Okay, look, I cant get hold of Jacobsson over the phone. He must be busy with all the other stuff. What we do is – you park them up there for the time being, then head down to the ventilation room and check, over.
Cant one of us go with you? Nora said before the man had time to reply. Then at least we can say we checked the filter on site, to keep the boss off my back. You know how it is … She smiled at him and tilted her head slightly. To judge by the mans inane grin, the trick seemed to work.