Game: A Thriller (8 page)

He looked around the stairwell and landing once more before he got going.

First he pulled an old blue woolly hat over his head—he’d already cut holes in it for his eyes and mouth, just like number twenty-seven. Then he pulled out the things that had been in the bag. The first, a little rubber wedge, he pushed under the door that was his target, kicking it to make sure it was properly inserted. Then he took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. At the moment the door handle was pushed down from inside he pulled out the can of red spray paint that had been in the bag along with the rubber wedge, and set to work.

It took a few seconds for the man in the flat to realize what was happening, and HP had got almost halfway through the text before the man started trying to open the door seriously.

Suddenly the aimless jerking of the handle stopped and a moment later the whole door shook, as if the man inside had
given it a real shove. HP noticed to his horror that the wedge had slid out a bit on the slippery stone floor, and that there was now a centimeter-wide gap between the double doors. He caught a glimpse of a furious red face and heard the man inside yelling at him, but it was too late to stop now. Instead he gave the wedge a hard kick, which he hoped would make it hold for a few more seconds, long enough for him to complete his task.

“I’ll get you, you bastard, I’m going to get you, you cowardly little fucker!” the man inside roared as he kept shoving at the door.

The gap was growing wider and HP felt himself starting to panic. But he couldn’t stop now, he only had a couple of letters left. Nobody loves a fucking quitter, certainly not the fans.

Suddenly he heard a door to his right open and when he turned his head he saw a girl of about twenty peer out. As soon as their eyes met she pulled the door closed again in horror, and he heard the safety chain rattle behind it.

Fuck, he’d almost forgotten that he’d got the balaclava over his head!

There was another shove to the door and this time HP could see the wedge sliding back on the stone floor. All the guy in there had to do was pull the door back and it would be free. He could just see a muscular tattooed arm and a shaved head through the gap between the doors and had a sudden flash of inspiration. He raised the spray can and fired off a blast of paint at the furious face and was rewarded with a roar in response as the door closed again.

Direct hit!

With two quick gestures he completed his work of art and had just turned toward the stairs when all hell broke loose
behind him. Without looking back he threw himself down the stairs.

He took the first flight in two strides and when he reached the landing halfway down he heard the man up above take up the chase with a roar. Two more strides, first floor, two more to the next landing, then just one more flight of steps left to freedom. He could hear thuds and heavy breathing behind him, though not close enough to stop him getting away. But when he turned the corner to the last flight down to the exit he saw that his escape route was blocked. A woman was just squeezing a bulky baby carriage through the front door and there was no way he could slip past. The gorilla behind him seemed to have worked out what was going on because he let out a triumphant yell somewhere just behind HP.

“I’ve got you now, you fuck!”

Panic welled up inside him, but instead of running straight ahead and getting caught like a rat by the baby carriage, HP spun around past the lift and carried on toward the back door out into the courtyard.

He raced out into the walled yard without slowing down, and took aim at the carpet-beating frame off to one side. The gorilla was gaining on him; he was literally at his heels, so close that he could hear his labored breathing.

HP leaped up onto the frame and from there jumped up toward the top of the wall high above. He managed to grab the edge with both hands, and kicked wildly with his legs against the wall to get his upper body up to the top.

It worked!

He struggled hard to get to the strip of tin crowning the wall and managed to swing one leg over. But just as he was about to pull up the other one he felt someone grab hold of
his trouser leg and he was left sitting astride the wall, clinging on for dear life.

From the corner of his eye he could see his pursuer and could feel the man trying to get a better grip around his ankle.

Panicking, HP started to kick his left leg wildly in an effort to get free. Suddenly his foot hit something solid and he heard a grunt, and without warning the grip on his ankle let go. It came as such a shock that HP lost his balance and tumbled helplessly into the flower bed on the other side of the wall.

He landed with his face down and got a mouthful of soil.

When he got up a couple of seconds later and began to stagger toward a gateway that he guessed must lead out onto St. Eriks Street, he could still hear the gorilla roaring on the other side of the wall.

♦  ♦  ♦

Once he was out on the street he decided against the closest subway station and sprinted off instead along Karlbergsvägen toward Odenplan. When he reached the entrance four minutes later and reduced his speed, he realized that his whole body was shaking.

Congratulations, HP!

the screen said once he had sat down in a subway car and got control of his trembling hands.

You have successfully completed your third assignment, worth 700 points. I have also decided to award you 100 extra points
for an accomplished performance. Your film clip is expected to be ready in 23 minutes.

Greetings from

the Game Master

So in other words he would just have time to get home to watch everything repeated, and wallow in the love of the fans. Fuck, this was seriously cool!

♦  ♦  ♦

When the door of the flat closed behind Rebecca she was almost too tired to go through her new routine. For a moment she toyed with the idea of not actually bothering this time, that everything was good enough as it was. But then her anxiety took over and she spent almost three minutes locking, unlocking, and then relocking all of the four locks that were attached to the door.

When she was finally happy, sufficiently convinced that everything worked and that the flat was secure, she threw her soaking-wet gym clothes into the little washing machine, staggered into the living room, and collapsed on the sofa.

“Hello!” she said in the direction of the bedroom, but no one answered.

It had been a long time since there had been anyone there.

Yet she couldn’t help saying something, anything, so as not to feel so alone.

“Hello . . .” a voice suddenly answered, and her heart skipped a beat before she heard it continue and realized that she was listening to her own voice.

“. . . you’ve called Rebecca. I’m not home right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

She threw herself at the phone and just picked up the receiver before the answering machine bleeped, but whoever it was who had called had already hung up.

Hell! She’d put the phone on Mute while she was doing yoga the previous evening and must have forgotten to reset it.

Oh well, they’d call back if it was important.

The odds were fairly short that it would be a call from work about some overtime, something which for once she didn’t feel inclined to do.

The intense training of the past few days had left her worn-out and tonight she just wanted to sleep. She might do a short session in the gym tomorrow, but she was planning to spend the rest of her day off catching up on a bit of well-deserved rest.

She went through her messages. The following were all reminders from herself:

“Rebecca, remember to book a time in the laundry room and pay the Nespresso bill, it’s due on the twenty-fifth.”

“Step up the training regime with the Sig, Normén.”

“This evening there’s that documentary about serial killers that you ought to watch. Discovery, eight o’clock.”

She gave a wry smile at her own orders as she deleted the messages. It was odd how strange her own voice sounded when she heard a recording of it. Almost like another person on the tape. A distant relative with a few common features, but more stern and cold. But then the sound quality wasn’t very good. She actually thought it was rather a silly habit to use the machine like this. Maybe it was time to get a new cell? Then she could type up her reminders instead of carrying on with all these endless calls. A suitable project for the next time she had a few days off.

She picked up the phone and reset the ringtone, and fought a sudden impulse to call Henke. She actually missed him, more than she cared to admit. But that would have to be tomorrow now, or sometime over the next few days, she promised herself before she put the phone down and switched on the television.

A few minutes later she was lost in a deep, dreamless sleep.

♦  ♦  ♦

The clip exceeded all expectations! It looked as if someone had set up a camera on the landing, because he couldn’t see a single movement that suggested a human hand behind the images that had been posted alongside his own under his profile. Even though the events had only taken place an hour or so before, everything actually seemed even more dramatic than he remembered it.

The door shaken by the gorilla’s shoves, the terrified girl poking her face out, and not least his own masked figure tagging the entire door. He looked at least as cool as Twenty-Seven had done when he sorted out that cop car!

And the text on the door looked pretty damn good:

REMEMBER RULE NUMBER ONE!

That was a message the grass inside was guaranteed never to forget. A little reminder from the Game Master about what the rules were, basically. Silence is golden . . .

Damn it all to hell, the guy must have been a bodybuilder or something, because he looked pretty fucking solid when he came storming out onto the landing.

The sequence from the yard was almost as good. Because he’d only been half-lying on top of the wall, the camera had
been pointing in the right direction and he could get a better idea of the effects of his kicking.

You could make out a powerful lower arm and parts of a furious face sliding in and out of the shot, then his own size-forty-three Nike landing in the middle of the gorilla’s face before everything became a mess of sky and soil when he fell down the other side of the wall.

At a guess, the orc on the other side had been too pumped up on steroids to get over it.

Too bad, sucker!

Time to cut back on the anabolics.

He grinned broadly and pressed Repeat one more time.

The fans liked it when you fried rats. The comments had already started to appear and his average rating had crept closer to four stars. With a bit of effort he’d have passed the boundary to “good” by the morning.

And why not? After all, he was pretty much born for this. A hitman in the service of the Game Master!

The jacket had been a stroke of genius; the new clip was a hell of a lot better than the previous ones. You could even watch the run down Karlbergsvägen without feeling seasick, and he made a note to remember to pull off the balaclava sooner next time. It wasn’t until a couple of old women had screamed in terror somewhere near Hälsingegatan that he had remembered that he still had his face covered.

He’d make sure he did better next time.

Because there was definitely going to be a next time!

From:
Talent Acquisition

To:
Game Master

Subject:
Candidate Evaluation 128

Name:
Henrik Pettersson

Alias:
HP

Age:
31

Height:
179 cm

Weight:
72 kg

Build:
Slight

Hair:
Medium blond

Eyes:
Blue (see attached passport photograph)

Status:
Unmarried

Family:
One sibling (a sister with whom he has only sporadic contact)

Both parents deceased

Profession:
Various, currently unemployed

Address:
Maria Trappgränd 7, Södermalm, Stockholm, a two-room flat that he inherited from his mother

Number of completed assignments:
5

Total points
:
2200

Current ranking:
23

Current level:
3

Method of recruitment:
Recommendation

Education:
9 years of basic Swedish schooling, mixed grades

Started but did not complete 3-year course in economics in Swedish high school

Has twice started but never completed adult education courses

Other qualifications:
None

Leisure interests:
The candidate spends most of his time watching television and films, mainly American TV series, action films, comedies, and erotica. He often plays Counter-Strike without belonging to any particular group or clan. Less regular player of World of Warcraft, where his avatars are usually Rogues belonging to the Horde.

Internet habits:
thefragarena.com, various file-sharing sites for downloading films and music, the Block (a Swedish trading site often used to dispose of stolen goods), YouTube, as well as various pornographic sites. A frequent user of MSN. Has recently opened a Hotmail account under the name Badboy.128

Medical history:
One broken arm and two broken ribs in relatively quick succession during the 80s. The case was passed on to social services on suspicion of child abuse. Appendix removed 1992. Latest medical examination 2007 (conducted during probation) showed no abnormalities apart from THC in his blood (the active substance in cannabis-related drugs such as hash and marijuana). No history of allergies, heart problems, impaired immune system, or intolerance to any medication.

Social service records:
After the referral from the health service (see above) the children were placed in care for the duration
of the investigation. This decision was revoked a short while later and the case was dropped. Further instances of suspected child abuse followed, but the only result was a number of visits by social workers. One entry in the register refers to a police report, but this could not be identified.