Listen, theyre asking if they can send someone along so they can tick some boxes. Maybe that would make sense, over?
Okay, thats what well do, over.
Over and out!
The man put the radio down and winked at Nora.
Okay, the two of us can go down …
Nice idea, but Im afraid only Jonas here has full authorization to carry out this sort of inspection … Nora put her hand on Jeffs arm.
I see … The mans disappointment was obvious, but HP hardly noticed. The nagging feeling that something wasnt right was getting stronger and stronger.
Busy with all the other stuff …
Dont forget me, if its a UV filter then itll take two of us to check it … HP said.
Nora gave him a quick look, and he held her gaze, nodding almost imperceptibly. She appeared to think for a few seconds.
Of course, she said. I almost forgot. It takes two to hold the frame.
Surely I could do that … ? the technician protested.
Im sure you could, but if it slips you could lose a couple of fingers. Remember what happened to Kalle? She turned to the others.
You mean Three-Fingered Kalle from ABB … ? Hasselqvist shot back like lightning. Ouch. And the insurance didnt cover it either …
The technicians smile died instantly.
Okay, you can come as well, he said, pointing at HP. The rest of you wait here, theres a coffee machine over there …
He got up, walked round the counter and headed over to a heavy metal door set into one wall. He pulled out a passcard that was attached by a coil to his belt, tapped it against a reader and then held the door open for them.
This way, gentlemen …
A guard with cropped hair and neat red goatee was sitting in a cubicle between the lift doors. As they approached he gave them a quick look, then went back to staring at the screen in front of him.
Im taking these two visitors down to the ventilator room, the man said.
Sure. Without looking up from the screen, the guard pressed a button and one of the lift doors opened.
They stepped inside and the technician repeated the card procedure with another reader, then pressed one of the buttons. The door closed and the lift slowly began to move.
No-one said anything. HP looked round cautiously. There was bound to be a camera hidden behind the mirror in the ceiling, but that wasnt what interested him most. The control panel showed six floors below the entrance level. The floor they were heading for was minus one, and had a small sign saying technical services.
Beside the button for minus two was a sign saying control room. The lower levels had no labels.
The lift braked so sharply that HPs stomach lurched. From the corner of his eye he saw Jeff starting to feel inside one of the pockets of his overalls …
Right then … their guide said.
Were not getting out here, Jeff said coldly.
What?
Jeff pulled out the revolver and aimed it at the mans head. HP recognized the gun straight away, it was the one he had taken down to the Grand. Hed had a feeling that an aggressive bloke like Jeff wouldnt get rid of a perfectly functional weapon …
Control room, now, Jeff ordered.
The technician didnt move.
Oh, for fucks sake … !
HP leaned forward and slowly lowered Jeffs arm. Then he pulled the passcard from the mans belt and tapped it against the reader. Then he pressed the button for minus two.
Just take it easy … He read the name under the photograph on the technicians passcard.
… Jochen, and everything will be fine.
The man looked like he was about to say something, but at the last moment he seemed to change his mind and buttoned his lips.
HP glanced at the mirror in the roof of the lift.
The only question was how long it would take the guard up above to realize that something was wrong.
But, if his suspicions were correct, then all the guards attention was focused elsewhere. He slowly took off the fake glasses and put them in his pocket. The masquerade was over, or very nearly, at least …
The lift stopped at minus two and the doors opened. The large lobby was empty, and through the huge windows around the sides they could make out long, illuminated tunnels containing rows of server units. But it was the windows facing the control room that interested HP most. Something like thirty workstations arranged in what looked like a semicircular amphitheatre, with large screens at the front instead of a stage. He could see the backs of at least eight people down there.
Jeff pushed Jochen the technician ahead of him.
Door.
This time the man didnt protest. He tapped his card to the reader beside the heavy steel door, then stepped to one side.
HP opened the door and gestured to the other two men to step in. His mouth suddenly felt bone-dry.
Nobody move, Jeff roared, holding the revolver in the air.
Lights, camera, action!
27
Prineville
Good morning, everyone. My name is Colonel André Pellas, and Im afraid I have some disturbing information to share with you. It would appear that there are advanced plans afoot to disrupt the wedding. We suspect that these individuals are involved in some way.
He nodded to Runeberg, who changed the picture.
A photograph appeared on the projector screen, and she bit her lip unconsciously.
Henrik Pettersson, alias HP, or Number 128. Pettersson is known to the police, not least for a conviction for manslaughter. He is suspected of being behind the attack in Kungsträdgården two years ago, and is, as you may know, wanted in connection with a failed attack at the Grand Hotel one week ago.
She saw the officers around her nod, and did her best to look unconcerned.
The other person is a more recent acquaintance.
Runeberg changed the picture again.
Magnus Sandström, also known in some circles as Farook Al-Hassan. Sandström is probably the brains behind an autonomous group known as the Game. Hes highly intelligent, with a manipulative personality, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous. We are currently trying very hard to locate these two gentlemen, and we believe that we are closing in on them. So there is a good chance that we will have apprehended them before the wedding tomorrow, but if for some reason we should fail, you will all be issued with their pictures.
He looked at Runeberg.
Their pictures are actually in the folders in front of you, along with maps, the official schedule and various contact numbers, including Colonel Pellass mobile number, Runeberg said.
Thank you, Superintendent. Well, allow me to wish you all the very best of luck for tomorrow, and to add that I personally, along with the Marshal of the Realm and His Majesty the King, are extremely grateful for your efforts. Let us hope that we have a calm and peaceful day ahead of us …
Eyes like saucers, mouths wide open, pale faces.
Jeff pushed the technician aside and took several firm steps down the narrow staircase leading to the floor of the room. His revolver was still pointing at the ceiling.
Whos in charge here?
I am. A thickset man in a short-sleeved white shirt, with a pen-case in his top pocket, stood up from his chair.
Sit down! Jeff aimed the revolver at the man.
He hesitated for a moment, then obeyed.
Jeff carried on down the steps until he reached the mans desk. HP followed slowly, looking round the whole time. No cameras in here, just as he had suspected …
The union s didnt like it if you filmed people at their desks …
A couple of the operators exchanged glances, then nervous smiles, as if to reassure each other …
Jeff had stopped beside the managers computer. HP hung back a bit while Jeff slowly pulled at the velcro to open one of the breast pockets of his overalls.
Here.
He pulled out a chunky USB memory stick and put it on the desk next to the man.
Plug that in, then open the file entitled Bigboy.exe. Then youll receive new instructions …
Okay …
The man in charge put his hand on the USB stick and slowly pulled it towards him. HP glanced quickly over his shoulder. He caught the looks on the other operators faces.
Fear?
Maybe, but that wasnt the dominant feeling. More like …
Anticipation … !?
The manager leaned over towards the USB ports on the side of one of the screens.
Jeffs Adams apple was performing a vigorous dance. The hand holding the revolver was shaking noticeably.
From the corner of his eye HP noticed Jochen the technician slowly moving closer. The manager turned the stick the right way up, and moved it closer to the USB port. As he leaned forward his shirt sleeve rode up, revealing the lower portion of a tattoo. A drop of sweat freed itself from one of the mans sideburns and slowly trickled down his cheek.
STOP! HP suddenly said.
The manager jumped and dropped the stick on the desk.
W-what? Jeff turned towards him.
DONT put that stick in! Dont you get it … ? HP snapped as the man picked up the USB stick from the desk.
B-but wait. Big Boy … ? Jeff began.
Do you seriously think its possible to plug in a stick containing a virus, just like that?
HP stepped forward and snatched the USB stick from the mans hand.
Tell us what would happen … he said to the man in charge.
The man stared at him dumbly.
HP pulled the taser from his pocket and pressed the trigger halfway in, making the blue lightning perform its jerky dance between the metal prongs.
Tell us what would happen if you plugged that stick into the system, otherwise Ill send fifty thousand volts up your fat arse!