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Nordic Peril: The Sequel to Gone Missing in Sweden
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Allow me nevertheless to point out, that Gun has made a crucial mistake by leaving behind her cell phone unattended, knowing it is he only tool to communicate with the outside world, they are isolated from, and being aware that a possible enemy could be in the house! It is like a soldier leaving his rifle unattended.
xso
Tribune
'The door handle rotating downward.......a good guy or a bad woman???? Normally you have a bucket of water in the sauna......not a very good defence weapon, but something........try and push the aggressor against the heater........ Nice pic btw!!
Attachments
Chapter 15. Sauna of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 15:46.
It all happened so fast.
The door flew open on its hinges, striking the sauna’s outer wall with a loud bang.
Anna-Lisa charged in, at a crouch but with sufficient momentum to send Gun, who had her back turned to the door, sprawling to the floor as Anna-Lisa’s shoulder laid into the small of the police woman’s back.
Barbara screamed with alarm, and Min-Ji jumped to her feet to stare wide-eyed at the dark muzzle of the gun pointed straight at her chest.
But, in the next instant, ‘Pecos Bill’ Johnson loomed up directly behind Anna-Lisa to bring the butt of his handgun down hard on the back of her head. She slumped forward with a cry of surprise, sprawling over Gun’s prostrate form … but still clutching her semi-automatic assault weapon, and firing off a long burst that thankfully went over the heads of Min-Ji and Barbara. Splinters and chunks of pine wall and ceiling paneling cascaded down on everyone. The small enclosed space within the sauna walls, was quickly permeated with the pungent odor of Nitroglycerin given off by the expended ammunition of Anna-Lisa’s gun.
Min-Ji was the first to recover and was quick to pounce, along with Bill, on a semi-conscious and disoriented Anna-Lisa. Together, they dragged her away from Gun and pinned her face down to the floor.
Gun sat up slowly, a dazed expression on her face.
Barbara remained in place, a look of absolute horror painted her face. She was shaking like a leaf.
“Talk about just in time, eh?” grinned Bill, breaking the silence.
“Holy Shit! Did that just happen?” croaked Barbara, sitting down suddenly on the sauna bench.
“Look behind her left ear,” urged Gun, recovering quickly.
“Yes, just as you said, it’s there alright!” declared Bill, snapping Anna-Lisa’s head sharply to one side and pulling back her hair to reveal the small tattoo of a multi-headed dragon clutching a globe behind her ear.
“Yes, I see it too,” agreed Barbara, crawling forward on all fours for a closer look. “It’s quite tiny, isn’t it?”
“What the fuck is going on down here,” demanded ÅkePersson, who had just appeared in the sauna’s open doorway.
“Your house servant, Anna-Lisa, just tried to kill Min-Ji!” replied Barbara.
“What? Can’t be!”
“Afraid it is,” said Gun evenly. “And have a look at this tattoo. Ever seen one like it, Åke?”
“Uh … no … can’t say that I have.”
“I believe I may have, but I’m not certain,” said Min-Ji slowly. “It may be the insignia of a secret Asian organization that my Ministry is said to occasionally have had dealings with. I’ve no personal experience with such dealings , but have heard tell of a small identifying tattoo associated with the organization.”
“I think I can throw some more light on this,” declared Gun. “I’ve already suggested to both Barbara and Bill that I suspect it to be the ‘sign’ of a highly secretive pan-Asian organization known as the Syndicate … the very same folks, incidentally, who tried to abduct Barbara last spring. And I suspect that if I retrieve my phone from where I left it upstairs we’re likely to find confirmation there in a text I’ve been expecting from my colleague in Uppsala, whom I asked earlier today to check into whether any of the Syndicate team killed last spring, when Barbara’s abduction was foiled, had a similar tattoo.”
“I think I saw your phone on the coffee table upstairs. Why don’t I go up there and bring it back?” volunteered Barbara.
“Barbara, you do know you aren’t wearing a stitch, don’t you?” warned Åke.
“And since you sent everyone home due to the storm except for those present here, how does that matter?” she retorted crossly.
“Touché.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”
“Little chance of that. Hurry back.”
“Got anything around here we can use to bind her wrists behind her back?” intervened Bill, with a nod toward Anna-Lisa who appeared to be coming around.
“Yes, be right back,” said Åke.
He disappeared for a minute or two and returned with a length of nylon cord.
Moments later, Barbara returned … empty handed, looking rather perplexed, and shouting, “Gun! Your phone! It’s gone! Disappeared!”
***************************
Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Wednesday, 21 January, 16:04.
“Bertil! Why the glum look? … still fretting about what Gun might be up to? … she’s a big girl, and can do as she pleases … and if it pleases her to shack up with Barbara Moore …”
“No, it’s not that … not that at all,” replied Hansson, entering the office and seating himself across from Björklund. “I think there is something seriously amiss here. I can sense it.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
“Okay. Out with it … no wait! Let me pour us both a drink first.”
“Right. I could use one.”
Over the next few minutes, and a refill of both his glass and the Chief’s, Hansson laid out all that had happened with regard to his thoughts about and interactions with Gun since she abruptly took ‘personal time’ leave the day before … including his visit to her apartment building in Granby, their exchange over the phone afterwards in which he had learned she was at the home of Åke Persson up in Sollefteå, the text asking him to look for Coroner’s photos of a mysterious tattoo … and most concerning, the fact that she had failed to respond, after he had located the photos and texted them to her.
He left out, of course, the bit about him making love to his wife while thinking of Gun.
“It’s easy enough to see, Bertil, that this is eating away at you emotionally as well as professionally” observed the Chief, pouring them each a third glass.
“Yeah, Gun and me … are close.”
“Understandably so. Tell me more about this business with the tattoos.”
“That’s the thing. Gun didn’t say much. Let me read you her text: ‘Do me a favor. Please get hold of the Coroner’s reports on those foreign thugs involved in the Barbara Moore abduction case of last spring. Look through the Coroner’s photos to see if any of them had a small tattoo behind their left ear. If so, copy those photos with your phone camera and text them to me, ASAP. Awful storm up here. Will probably be snowed in for a couple days. Hope things are quiet at headquarters. Be glad you’re not up here.’.”
“I see what you mean. And you’ve tried texting and calling to see if she got your reply?”
“Yeah, more times now than I care to admit.”
“Perhaps the storm up there is interfering with …”
“Doubt it.”
“So, then, given the fact that all those perps back in May had the same tattoos, and that Gun and Barbara are up in Sollefteå together at the home of Persson, of all people, you are putting two and two together and suspecting foul play, right? Perhaps revenge for how things played out back in May?”
“I guess I am.”
“But how does Persson fit into this? Turned out he had nothing to do with what happened in May, isn’t that right?”
“I don’t know. He left the University here under a cloud. I do know that and I’m looking into where he landed professionally after that. I’ve put my new intern onto that. She’s the super eager type, probably has tracked that down already and left what she learned on my desk.”
“Might be a good idea then to go visit your office to see?”
“Right!”
TBC
It all happened so fast.
The door flew open on its hinges, striking the sauna’s outer wall with a loud bang.
Anna-Lisa charged in, at a crouch but with sufficient momentum to send Gun, who had her back turned to the door, sprawling to the floor as Anna-Lisa’s shoulder laid into the small of the police woman’s back.
Barbara screamed with alarm, and Min-Ji jumped to her feet to stare wide-eyed at the dark muzzle of the gun pointed straight at her chest.
But, in the next instant, ‘Pecos Bill’ Johnson loomed up directly behind Anna-Lisa to bring the butt of his handgun down hard on the back of her head. She slumped forward with a cry of surprise, sprawling over Gun’s prostrate form … but still clutching her semi-automatic assault weapon, and firing off a long burst that thankfully went over the heads of Min-Ji and Barbara. Splinters and chunks of pine wall and ceiling paneling cascaded down on everyone. The small enclosed space within the sauna walls, was quickly permeated with the pungent odor of Nitroglycerin given off by the expended ammunition of Anna-Lisa’s gun.
Min-Ji was the first to recover and was quick to pounce, along with Bill, on a semi-conscious and disoriented Anna-Lisa. Together, they dragged her away from Gun and pinned her face down to the floor.
Gun sat up slowly, a dazed expression on her face.
Barbara remained in place, a look of absolute horror painted her face. She was shaking like a leaf.
“Talk about just in time, eh?” grinned Bill, breaking the silence.
“Holy Shit! Did that just happen?” croaked Barbara, sitting down suddenly on the sauna bench.
“Look behind her left ear,” urged Gun, recovering quickly.
“Yes, just as you said, it’s there alright!” declared Bill, snapping Anna-Lisa’s head sharply to one side and pulling back her hair to reveal the small tattoo of a multi-headed dragon clutching a globe behind her ear.
“Yes, I see it too,” agreed Barbara, crawling forward on all fours for a closer look. “It’s quite tiny, isn’t it?”
“What the fuck is going on down here,” demanded ÅkePersson, who had just appeared in the sauna’s open doorway.
“Your house servant, Anna-Lisa, just tried to kill Min-Ji!” replied Barbara.
“What? Can’t be!”
“Afraid it is,” said Gun evenly. “And have a look at this tattoo. Ever seen one like it, Åke?”
“Uh … no … can’t say that I have.”
“I believe I may have, but I’m not certain,” said Min-Ji slowly. “It may be the insignia of a secret Asian organization that my Ministry is said to occasionally have had dealings with. I’ve no personal experience with such dealings , but have heard tell of a small identifying tattoo associated with the organization.”
“I think I can throw some more light on this,” declared Gun. “I’ve already suggested to both Barbara and Bill that I suspect it to be the ‘sign’ of a highly secretive pan-Asian organization known as the Syndicate … the very same folks, incidentally, who tried to abduct Barbara last spring. And I suspect that if I retrieve my phone from where I left it upstairs we’re likely to find confirmation there in a text I’ve been expecting from my colleague in Uppsala, whom I asked earlier today to check into whether any of the Syndicate team killed last spring, when Barbara’s abduction was foiled, had a similar tattoo.”
“I think I saw your phone on the coffee table upstairs. Why don’t I go up there and bring it back?” volunteered Barbara.
“Barbara, you do know you aren’t wearing a stitch, don’t you?” warned Åke.
“And since you sent everyone home due to the storm except for those present here, how does that matter?” she retorted crossly.
“Touché.”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”
“Little chance of that. Hurry back.”
“Got anything around here we can use to bind her wrists behind her back?” intervened Bill, with a nod toward Anna-Lisa who appeared to be coming around.
“Yes, be right back,” said Åke.
He disappeared for a minute or two and returned with a length of nylon cord.
Moments later, Barbara returned … empty handed, looking rather perplexed, and shouting, “Gun! Your phone! It’s gone! Disappeared!”
***************************
Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Wednesday, 21 January, 16:04.
“Bertil! Why the glum look? … still fretting about what Gun might be up to? … she’s a big girl, and can do as she pleases … and if it pleases her to shack up with Barbara Moore …”
“No, it’s not that … not that at all,” replied Hansson, entering the office and seating himself across from Björklund. “I think there is something seriously amiss here. I can sense it.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”
“Okay. Out with it … no wait! Let me pour us both a drink first.”
“Right. I could use one.”
Over the next few minutes, and a refill of both his glass and the Chief’s, Hansson laid out all that had happened with regard to his thoughts about and interactions with Gun since she abruptly took ‘personal time’ leave the day before … including his visit to her apartment building in Granby, their exchange over the phone afterwards in which he had learned she was at the home of Åke Persson up in Sollefteå, the text asking him to look for Coroner’s photos of a mysterious tattoo … and most concerning, the fact that she had failed to respond, after he had located the photos and texted them to her.
He left out, of course, the bit about him making love to his wife while thinking of Gun.
“It’s easy enough to see, Bertil, that this is eating away at you emotionally as well as professionally” observed the Chief, pouring them each a third glass.
“Yeah, Gun and me … are close.”
“Understandably so. Tell me more about this business with the tattoos.”
“That’s the thing. Gun didn’t say much. Let me read you her text: ‘Do me a favor. Please get hold of the Coroner’s reports on those foreign thugs involved in the Barbara Moore abduction case of last spring. Look through the Coroner’s photos to see if any of them had a small tattoo behind their left ear. If so, copy those photos with your phone camera and text them to me, ASAP. Awful storm up here. Will probably be snowed in for a couple days. Hope things are quiet at headquarters. Be glad you’re not up here.’.”
“I see what you mean. And you’ve tried texting and calling to see if she got your reply?”
“Yeah, more times now than I care to admit.”
“Perhaps the storm up there is interfering with …”
“Doubt it.”
“So, then, given the fact that all those perps back in May had the same tattoos, and that Gun and Barbara are up in Sollefteå together at the home of Persson, of all people, you are putting two and two together and suspecting foul play, right? Perhaps revenge for how things played out back in May?”
“I guess I am.”
“But how does Persson fit into this? Turned out he had nothing to do with what happened in May, isn’t that right?”
“I don’t know. He left the University here under a cloud. I do know that and I’m looking into where he landed professionally after that. I’ve put my new intern onto that. She’s the super eager type, probably has tracked that down already and left what she learned on my desk.”
“Might be a good idea then to go visit your office to see?”
“Right!”
TBC
Excellent chapter, Barb!!!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
And quite right too!
Thank goodness for Pecos Bill ... but where can the phone be?
This is a terrific tale. Another great chapter Barb.
Chapter 16. Guest room, Hotell Appleberg, Storgatan 51, Sollefteå, Sweden. Wednesday, 21 January 16:05.
“How much farther is it to Persson’s house? Can’t be that far. We’ve made it this far despite the snow and ice.. I don’t see why we couldn’t go the rest of the way.”
“I already explained it to you,” snapped Arne Skogman, the local Syndicate operative in Sundsvall, who had been dragooned into escorting … with minimal notice or explanation in the midst of a once-in-fifty-years winter storm … a three-man special-ops Syndicate team to Persson’s country home.
Turning away for a moment, he glanced through the hotel window, looking northwest at the blinding sheets of windblown snow scurrying down the length of Storgatan, Sollefteå’s only business street, and at the deep frozen mounds that marked the buried presence of the few vehicles parked along the curb.
“It’s another 10-12 kilometers from here, but the road is impassable. Indeed, the authorities have closed it down. We have no choice but to wait here until the storm blows itself out.”
“Why can’t we rent a couple of snowmobiles or some such thing?” persisted the special-ops leader, a rather tall Asian, with hardened features who, so far, had not shown the slightest sign of good humor.
“Because that would be foolhardy. And, besides no one is about to rent us anything right now. The entire town is at home, hunkered down and riding this one out. We were fortunate to even find an available hotel room.”
At that moment Skogman would have given just about anything to not be closeted with these three killers in a twin-bed hotel room in Sollefteå, of all places. But, ever since leaving … or more accurately getting himself booted out of …. SÄPO, he had been doing well hiring himself out as a local ‘on-call freelance operative’ to any takers, which included both the Syndicate and the American CIA. To his neighbors in Sundsvall he presented himself as a businessman, but always taking care to be vague about his line of business.
He was thinking fondly of his cozy flat back in Sundsvall, but getting back to reality, he turned to his three roommates and declared, “Okay. Let’s use this down-time profitably and go over once again the outline of your mission. I understand that the main purpose is to ‘eliminate’ a North Korean defector, who for some Godforsaken reason is holed up at this fellow Persson’s place outside of Sollefteå.”
“That’s right. We’ve already told you that. She’s a traitor to the People’s Republic and the Syndicate has undertaken her elimination as a service for contract fee. It’s what we do.” responded the leader in his clipped Oxbridge English.
Skogman wondered whether he had once worked for Mi6. The other two, on the other hand, apparently spoke no English at all, for they seemed to be uninterested in the conversation, busying themselves instead with cleaning their weapons … with scant regarded for staining the hotel bedding with lubricants.
“I know, but what about the other occupants of the house?” persisted Skogman. “There’s the owner, Persson, and as I understand it you say there are at least three others, according to an operative you’ve placed on the scene already. And given that you have an operative there already, why are you guys even needed?”
The special-ops leader sighed irritably before answering, “First, our operative on the scene is posing as house staff, and has already been ordered to proceed with the elimination, given the storm and the need for haste. Our mission is back up, in case she fails, and to deal with the others.”
“So the operative is a female?”
“Correct.”
“Okay. Then who exactly are the others?”
“Persson, as you already know, is the owner of the property and the host. He works for the UN, that much I know. Although in exactly what capacity has not been passed on to me … ‘need to know’ protocols and all that … one might expect a defector to be telling her story to some government rather than s Swede working for the UN … but one can well imagine that he’s eager to hear what she has to say.”
“Is he to be eliminated too?”
“Not necessarily. We’ll all be masked. If we can eliminate her before she tells him anything of value, I think the object is to just scare the hell out of him.”
“Okay, and the others?”
“I’m told she has a body guard … an American who goes by ‘Pecos Bill Johnson’. Heard of him?”
“Yeah. I’ve heard some stories about him. He’s kind of a legendary figure in mercenary circles.”
“Right. He could well be trouble. We’ll likely have to kill him.”
“And the other two?”
“According to my briefing … both are female. One is a cop … a detective on the Uppsala force by the name of Gun Thorell.”
Skogman blinked. He knew who she was, although he said nothing. He’d crossed her path the previous spring on an assignment for the CIA, in which he picked her up in a hotel bar in Norrtälje, accompanied her to her hotel room and fucked her. After which, he planted a bug in her underwear before leaving her asleep on her hotel bed. He was never told the purpose of that mission, but gathered later that it had to do with a missing person case that was all over the news involving an American woman called Barbara Moore. In his after action CIA report he’d boasted, rather unprofessionally but with boastful pride, that Thorell was in his opinion a ‘hell-uva good fuck’.
“And the other woman?”
“Barbara Moore … An American academic. You know her?”
“ Uh … No … I’ve heard of her … I think,” he stammered. “So what are your instructions with regard to the two females?”
“Apparently they’ve both crossed paths with the Syndicate in the past, and the Syndicate feels it has a score to settle with both of them. Our instructions are to treat them roughly … very roughly, in fact … but short of serious injury or death … and then await further instructions.”
At that point, his two silent brutish assistants looked up and smiled.
Which meant they understood some English after all.
Everyone then fell silent.
“Let’s get some rest,” said Skogman, breaking the awkwardness at last. “The storm will hopefully let up during the night, and we best be off as soon as it’s possible.”
***********************
Sauna of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 16:06.
“What do we do now?” asked Barbara, warily eying Anna-Lisa, who was now propped up and sitting, backed up against a sauna wall. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. Fully alert, she glared sullenly at her captors.
“She’s not going to talk. That’s quite obvious,” observed Åke. “She absolutely refuses to speak to us.”
“She’s obviously been well-trained,” remarked Gun. “I knew she didn’t quite fit the model of a typical house servant. Something just wasn’t right. Her claim to be Finnish didn’t quite jive, and she took too much of an interest when we talked business. I wish I had my phone now. I’d like to know what Hansson found out about those tattoos.”
“You could try calling him on my phone,” suggested Barb.
“Sure. Good idea.”
“I could run upstairs and get it?”
“Sure. In the meantime we’ll keep trying to get her to talk,” said Johnson.
“No, wait Barbara. Don’t leave yet. We need to consider the fact that there are very effective ways we could employ to make her talk,” counseled Min-Ji.
“Meaning …?” questioned Johnson, turning his head to one side and raising his eyebrows.
Min-Ji nodded.
“And I know just the place,” said Gun slowly.
“You mean … Åke’s … private torture museum? said Barbara slowly, her eyes widening.
Bill Johnson and Min-Ji exchanged puzzled glances.
“Come with me. I’ll show you what Barbara means” declared Gun, rising to her feet to exit the sauna. It’s over on the far side of the cellar.”
“Hold yer horses thar, ladies!” drawled Johnson. “You three ought to put on some duds first. Then Persson and I will drag our friend, Anna-Lisa, or whoever she really is, over there. And we’ll have ourselves a little look-see.”
TBC
“How much farther is it to Persson’s house? Can’t be that far. We’ve made it this far despite the snow and ice.. I don’t see why we couldn’t go the rest of the way.”
“I already explained it to you,” snapped Arne Skogman, the local Syndicate operative in Sundsvall, who had been dragooned into escorting … with minimal notice or explanation in the midst of a once-in-fifty-years winter storm … a three-man special-ops Syndicate team to Persson’s country home.
Turning away for a moment, he glanced through the hotel window, looking northwest at the blinding sheets of windblown snow scurrying down the length of Storgatan, Sollefteå’s only business street, and at the deep frozen mounds that marked the buried presence of the few vehicles parked along the curb.
“It’s another 10-12 kilometers from here, but the road is impassable. Indeed, the authorities have closed it down. We have no choice but to wait here until the storm blows itself out.”
“Why can’t we rent a couple of snowmobiles or some such thing?” persisted the special-ops leader, a rather tall Asian, with hardened features who, so far, had not shown the slightest sign of good humor.
“Because that would be foolhardy. And, besides no one is about to rent us anything right now. The entire town is at home, hunkered down and riding this one out. We were fortunate to even find an available hotel room.”
At that moment Skogman would have given just about anything to not be closeted with these three killers in a twin-bed hotel room in Sollefteå, of all places. But, ever since leaving … or more accurately getting himself booted out of …. SÄPO, he had been doing well hiring himself out as a local ‘on-call freelance operative’ to any takers, which included both the Syndicate and the American CIA. To his neighbors in Sundsvall he presented himself as a businessman, but always taking care to be vague about his line of business.
He was thinking fondly of his cozy flat back in Sundsvall, but getting back to reality, he turned to his three roommates and declared, “Okay. Let’s use this down-time profitably and go over once again the outline of your mission. I understand that the main purpose is to ‘eliminate’ a North Korean defector, who for some Godforsaken reason is holed up at this fellow Persson’s place outside of Sollefteå.”
“That’s right. We’ve already told you that. She’s a traitor to the People’s Republic and the Syndicate has undertaken her elimination as a service for contract fee. It’s what we do.” responded the leader in his clipped Oxbridge English.
Skogman wondered whether he had once worked for Mi6. The other two, on the other hand, apparently spoke no English at all, for they seemed to be uninterested in the conversation, busying themselves instead with cleaning their weapons … with scant regarded for staining the hotel bedding with lubricants.
“I know, but what about the other occupants of the house?” persisted Skogman. “There’s the owner, Persson, and as I understand it you say there are at least three others, according to an operative you’ve placed on the scene already. And given that you have an operative there already, why are you guys even needed?”
The special-ops leader sighed irritably before answering, “First, our operative on the scene is posing as house staff, and has already been ordered to proceed with the elimination, given the storm and the need for haste. Our mission is back up, in case she fails, and to deal with the others.”
“So the operative is a female?”
“Correct.”
“Okay. Then who exactly are the others?”
“Persson, as you already know, is the owner of the property and the host. He works for the UN, that much I know. Although in exactly what capacity has not been passed on to me … ‘need to know’ protocols and all that … one might expect a defector to be telling her story to some government rather than s Swede working for the UN … but one can well imagine that he’s eager to hear what she has to say.”
“Is he to be eliminated too?”
“Not necessarily. We’ll all be masked. If we can eliminate her before she tells him anything of value, I think the object is to just scare the hell out of him.”
“Okay, and the others?”
“I’m told she has a body guard … an American who goes by ‘Pecos Bill Johnson’. Heard of him?”
“Yeah. I’ve heard some stories about him. He’s kind of a legendary figure in mercenary circles.”
“Right. He could well be trouble. We’ll likely have to kill him.”
“And the other two?”
“According to my briefing … both are female. One is a cop … a detective on the Uppsala force by the name of Gun Thorell.”
Skogman blinked. He knew who she was, although he said nothing. He’d crossed her path the previous spring on an assignment for the CIA, in which he picked her up in a hotel bar in Norrtälje, accompanied her to her hotel room and fucked her. After which, he planted a bug in her underwear before leaving her asleep on her hotel bed. He was never told the purpose of that mission, but gathered later that it had to do with a missing person case that was all over the news involving an American woman called Barbara Moore. In his after action CIA report he’d boasted, rather unprofessionally but with boastful pride, that Thorell was in his opinion a ‘hell-uva good fuck’.
“And the other woman?”
“Barbara Moore … An American academic. You know her?”
“ Uh … No … I’ve heard of her … I think,” he stammered. “So what are your instructions with regard to the two females?”
“Apparently they’ve both crossed paths with the Syndicate in the past, and the Syndicate feels it has a score to settle with both of them. Our instructions are to treat them roughly … very roughly, in fact … but short of serious injury or death … and then await further instructions.”
At that point, his two silent brutish assistants looked up and smiled.
Which meant they understood some English after all.
Everyone then fell silent.
“Let’s get some rest,” said Skogman, breaking the awkwardness at last. “The storm will hopefully let up during the night, and we best be off as soon as it’s possible.”
***********************
Sauna of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 16:06.
“What do we do now?” asked Barbara, warily eying Anna-Lisa, who was now propped up and sitting, backed up against a sauna wall. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. Fully alert, she glared sullenly at her captors.
“She’s not going to talk. That’s quite obvious,” observed Åke. “She absolutely refuses to speak to us.”
“She’s obviously been well-trained,” remarked Gun. “I knew she didn’t quite fit the model of a typical house servant. Something just wasn’t right. Her claim to be Finnish didn’t quite jive, and she took too much of an interest when we talked business. I wish I had my phone now. I’d like to know what Hansson found out about those tattoos.”
“You could try calling him on my phone,” suggested Barb.
“Sure. Good idea.”
“I could run upstairs and get it?”
“Sure. In the meantime we’ll keep trying to get her to talk,” said Johnson.
“No, wait Barbara. Don’t leave yet. We need to consider the fact that there are very effective ways we could employ to make her talk,” counseled Min-Ji.
“Meaning …?” questioned Johnson, turning his head to one side and raising his eyebrows.
Min-Ji nodded.
“And I know just the place,” said Gun slowly.
“You mean … Åke’s … private torture museum? said Barbara slowly, her eyes widening.
Bill Johnson and Min-Ji exchanged puzzled glances.
“Come with me. I’ll show you what Barbara means” declared Gun, rising to her feet to exit the sauna. It’s over on the far side of the cellar.”
“Hold yer horses thar, ladies!” drawled Johnson. “You three ought to put on some duds first. Then Persson and I will drag our friend, Anna-Lisa, or whoever she really is, over there. And we’ll have ourselves a little look-see.”
TBC
M
montycrusto
Guest
Ah!! There was some very clever foreshadowing here!! Great story Barb, your prose twinkles and crackles like sunlit snow underfoot on a frosty morning. And it begins to look like we might actually get a bit of torture and interrogation!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
What on earth was he listening for!
At last ... a demonstration mwahahaha ...
Wonderful stuff as always ... I can almost feel the chill of that storm...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Here is the dilemma :
Will the Rapporteur with the UN Human Rights Council on Human Rights allow that, in his own house, methods will be used, for the sake of his own security, that are part of the practices, the same UN council denounces, and probably carried out by an 'expert' in such interrogation practices?
Will the Rapporteur with the UN Human Rights Council on Human Rights allow that, in his own house, methods will be used, for the sake of his own security, that are part of the practices, the same UN council denounces, and probably carried out by an 'expert' in such interrogation practices?
What a ride, @Barbaria1 ! So many elements coming together and I’ll say right now I’m suspicious of Åke’s motivations too.
SHHHHHH … let’s keep it a secret, okay?
M
montycrusto
Guest
Commrnts Monty “Wordsworth” Crusto from his secluded English Lake District cottage.
M
montycrusto
Guest
I wandered lonely as a whip,
That floats on high o’er female backs,
Then all at once my flight begins to dip,
And lovingly I leave my livid tracks.