Probably has something to do with your lack of charm. Ever heard of the word “please”?That’s odd. Whenever I shout “Go upstairs and make me a sammich, woman!”, Barb just says “Blaaaahhh” (and no sammich is forthcoming)
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Nordic Peril: The Sequel to Gone Missing in Sweden
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
M
montycrusto
Guest
Ummm.. no.. is that Swedish for something?
snälla duUmmm.. no.. is that Swedish for something?
M
montycrusto
Guest
Oh .. I thought that was a demerit..
Migoz2
Senator
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Stretch the rack a bit further!That’s odd. Whenever I shout “Go upstairs and make me a sammich, woman!”, Barb just says “Blaaaahhh” (and no sammich is forthcoming)
All pieces are meanwhile set for the final chess game!
Migoz2
Senator
All pieces are meanwhile set for the final chess game!
xso
Tribune
Travesty, Ingmar Bergman: Syndicate: 'Jag är döden'. Barb: 'Har du kommit för att hämta mig' ?Stretch the rack a bit further!
All pieces are meanwhile set for the final chess game!
View attachment 1238011
Click 'visa på youtube'.
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montycrusto
Guest
Time for another ABBA-parody? Visst varför inte.
Anna-Lisa, tell me what's wrong,
You're enchained much to your sorrow,
Spill the beans, or you won’t last till tomorrow.
If you don’t we’ll tighten the rack,
There is no way you can resist it,
Tell us all, or we’ll grab that wheel and twist it.
Anna-Lisa, tell us the truth,
Your instructions were to spy on
All of us, you’re the one those goons rely on.
You were sent to murder us all,
But it seems you failed completely,
And so we get to ask you sweetly.
Anna-Lisa, you and I know,
How the tortures come and they go and the scars they're leaving,
You'll be crying once again and the pain won’t end
You will have much cause for grieving.
Anna-Lisa, is that your name?
While the storm is raging outside it’s time to confess it,
You’re not Finnish, that we know, don’t assume we’re slow,
Sing a new song, Anna-Lisa.
You’re a spy, and we’ll make you cry,
Sing a new song, Anna-Lisa.
Anna-Lisa, tell me what's wrong,
You're enchained much to your sorrow,
Spill the beans, or you won’t last till tomorrow.
If you don’t we’ll tighten the rack,
There is no way you can resist it,
Tell us all, or we’ll grab that wheel and twist it.
Anna-Lisa, tell us the truth,
Your instructions were to spy on
All of us, you’re the one those goons rely on.
You were sent to murder us all,
But it seems you failed completely,
And so we get to ask you sweetly.
Anna-Lisa, you and I know,
How the tortures come and they go and the scars they're leaving,
You'll be crying once again and the pain won’t end
You will have much cause for grieving.
Anna-Lisa, is that your name?
While the storm is raging outside it’s time to confess it,
You’re not Finnish, that we know, don’t assume we’re slow,
Sing a new song, Anna-Lisa.
You’re a spy, and we’ll make you cry,
Sing a new song, Anna-Lisa.
Perfect timing, I just watched Muriel’s Wedding again last night!
Chapter 20. Office of Chief Inspector (Kriminalkommissarie) Lennart Björklund, Police Authority (Polismyndigheten) Headquarters, Svartbäcksgatan 49, Uppsala, Sweden, Wednesday, 21 January, 22:12.
“Where are you going, Bertil?” muttered the Chief, raising his face from where it had been planted on his desktop among empty glasses, a nearly drained bottle of akvavit, several beer cans, and an overturned pizza carton.
““I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’m going to Sollefteå now, storm or no storm!, Bulldozer or no Bulldizer!” declared Hansson fiercely, and overturning his chair as he lurched for the doorway leading out to the corridor.
“But how?
“We’ll drive! Are you coming? My car’s downstairs in the garage.”
“This is probably not a good idea!” slurred the Chief, rising from his chair and knocking an empty beer can on the floor.
“Gun needs us! That’s all that matters!”
“Alright. We’ll do it for Gun!”
They were promptly met out in the corridor by Hansson’s young intern, who had stayed on that night in support of her obviously stressed boss.
“Out of our way, Annika!” ordered Hansson, shoving her aside with enough force to slam her into the wall.
“No! I overheard what you two are intending to do. It’s not safe!” she retorted fiercely.
“Stay out of this!” slurred the Chief.
Recovering quickly, she raced past them and planted herself again in their path. “You’ve both been drinking! In fact, you’re drunk! I can’t allow this. Let’s go back in the Chief’s office now and reconsider. How about it?”
“No, stop blocking our way. That’s an order!”
“Alright, then. If you’re determined to go, give me the car keys, because I’m driving! And don’t even try to argue me out of it!”
Hansson paused, looked into the fiercely determined dark eyes of the young woman blocking his path, and thought he saw a young Gun Thorell.
“Alright, here!” he muttered resignedly, as he dug in his pocket for his keys and tossed them to her. “Let’s go.”
Minutes later, with Annika at the wheel of Hansson’s vintage Saab, they were on their way, with Hansson’s bulk wedged into the front passenger seat and the Chief slumped over sideways in the back.
Turning at the edge of town onto the snow-covered northbound E4, Annika peered resolutely ahead through the near whiteout of the storm.
“Hang tough, Gun. Help is on its way,” declared Hansson under his breath.
*****************************
Office of Lieutenant General Bar Chul-Moo of the Ministry of State Security. Forbidden City, Pyongyang. Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Thursday, 22 January, 06;58 (Wednesday, 21 January, 11:58 in Sweden).
General Bar had been in his office early that morning to review videos of his colleague and his colleague’s wife being interrogated together. Both were strapped naked to chairs, facing one another.. They were bathed in sweat. He had electric wires attached by metal clips to his genitals. His wife’s clips were clamped to her nipples. Bar watched as she twisted, writhed and screamed under a fresh application of electric shock and noted the horror etched on her husband’s face. Bar couldn’t help but feel deep pity for them and for their daughter, whose loose talk had gotten them into this predicament.
But another matter had arisen to demand his immediate attention. He sighed, turned off the video and pushed the button on his desktop that would signal to his aide, standing patiently out in the corridor, that she could now enter.
“A priority message for you, General, from The Syndicate,” she reported.
Taking the decoded transcript from her and dismissing her with a curt wave of his hand, he held the flimsy up to his desk lamp and began to read:
To: General Bar Chul-Moo
Subject: Sollefteå Operation update
‘This is to first acknowledge receipt of your government’s recent communication indicating its desire to have Dr. Barbara Moore and Detective Sergeant Gun Thorell delivered to Pyongyang if operationally feasible, and the commitment of your government to cover the substantial financial fee for such service.
Given, however, that the operational feasibility of such an undertaking is in serious doubt, the Syndicate wishes to make clear that both Moore and Thorell may be liquidated if necessary, along with Colonel Chang, Chang’s body guard and, of course, Dr. Persson. The Syndicate reiterates that it has a score to settle with Moore and Thorell, and considers the score settled whether they are shipped to an unknown fate in Pyongyang or tortured and killed outright in Sollefteå. In the latter case your government will not be charged.
The second purpose of this communication is to update you on the known progress of the operation. We have reason to believe that our agent in place has regrettably failed in her attempt to liquidate Colonel Chang. We haven’t heard from her in a long time and assume the worst. Nonetheless, the Persson estate outside of Sollefteå is completely isolated by the fierceness of an ongoing winter storm, and our special-ops team is in place a mere 10-12 kilometers away in the town of Sollefteå, and is prepared to move the moment the storm abates to carry out their mission with our trademark efficiency and ruthlessness.
We also wish to report that our mole within the Swedish Security Service, known as SÄPO, informs us that the Swedes have been alerted to a possible situation in Sollefteå, and that steps have been taken to be sure that any attempt by SÄPO to intervene will never get off the ground.
Our next communication will report to you, with all certainty, the anticipated success of our operation.’
***************************
Cellar of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 23:59.
Bill Johnson stifled a yawn, and rose from the folding chair on which he had been seated in order to check on Marina.
She appeared to be resting peacefully, curled up on the rack, knees tucked under her chin. On Barbara’s insistence, they had released her wrists and one ankle from the torture machine’s fearsome grip, but had left her manacled to it by one ankle. She appeared to have fallen asleep, undoubtedly from physical and mental exhaustion. A half-eaten sandwich was still clutched in one hand.
The others had gone upstairs to get some rest, leaving Johnson alone in the cellar to stand guard over Marina. For the first time that evening he was allowing himself to relax. Things were looking more hopeful now that Gun had gotten through to her colleagues in Uppsala on Barbara’s phone. They now knew that help would be on the way as soon as the storm abated.
TBC
“Where are you going, Bertil?” muttered the Chief, raising his face from where it had been planted on his desktop among empty glasses, a nearly drained bottle of akvavit, several beer cans, and an overturned pizza carton.
““I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’m going to Sollefteå now, storm or no storm!, Bulldozer or no Bulldizer!” declared Hansson fiercely, and overturning his chair as he lurched for the doorway leading out to the corridor.
“But how?
“We’ll drive! Are you coming? My car’s downstairs in the garage.”
“This is probably not a good idea!” slurred the Chief, rising from his chair and knocking an empty beer can on the floor.
“Gun needs us! That’s all that matters!”
“Alright. We’ll do it for Gun!”
They were promptly met out in the corridor by Hansson’s young intern, who had stayed on that night in support of her obviously stressed boss.
“Out of our way, Annika!” ordered Hansson, shoving her aside with enough force to slam her into the wall.
“No! I overheard what you two are intending to do. It’s not safe!” she retorted fiercely.
“Stay out of this!” slurred the Chief.
Recovering quickly, she raced past them and planted herself again in their path. “You’ve both been drinking! In fact, you’re drunk! I can’t allow this. Let’s go back in the Chief’s office now and reconsider. How about it?”
“No, stop blocking our way. That’s an order!”
“Alright, then. If you’re determined to go, give me the car keys, because I’m driving! And don’t even try to argue me out of it!”
Hansson paused, looked into the fiercely determined dark eyes of the young woman blocking his path, and thought he saw a young Gun Thorell.
“Alright, here!” he muttered resignedly, as he dug in his pocket for his keys and tossed them to her. “Let’s go.”
Minutes later, with Annika at the wheel of Hansson’s vintage Saab, they were on their way, with Hansson’s bulk wedged into the front passenger seat and the Chief slumped over sideways in the back.
Turning at the edge of town onto the snow-covered northbound E4, Annika peered resolutely ahead through the near whiteout of the storm.
“Hang tough, Gun. Help is on its way,” declared Hansson under his breath.
*****************************
Office of Lieutenant General Bar Chul-Moo of the Ministry of State Security. Forbidden City, Pyongyang. Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Thursday, 22 January, 06;58 (Wednesday, 21 January, 11:58 in Sweden).
General Bar had been in his office early that morning to review videos of his colleague and his colleague’s wife being interrogated together. Both were strapped naked to chairs, facing one another.. They were bathed in sweat. He had electric wires attached by metal clips to his genitals. His wife’s clips were clamped to her nipples. Bar watched as she twisted, writhed and screamed under a fresh application of electric shock and noted the horror etched on her husband’s face. Bar couldn’t help but feel deep pity for them and for their daughter, whose loose talk had gotten them into this predicament.
But another matter had arisen to demand his immediate attention. He sighed, turned off the video and pushed the button on his desktop that would signal to his aide, standing patiently out in the corridor, that she could now enter.
“A priority message for you, General, from The Syndicate,” she reported.
Taking the decoded transcript from her and dismissing her with a curt wave of his hand, he held the flimsy up to his desk lamp and began to read:
To: General Bar Chul-Moo
Subject: Sollefteå Operation update
‘This is to first acknowledge receipt of your government’s recent communication indicating its desire to have Dr. Barbara Moore and Detective Sergeant Gun Thorell delivered to Pyongyang if operationally feasible, and the commitment of your government to cover the substantial financial fee for such service.
Given, however, that the operational feasibility of such an undertaking is in serious doubt, the Syndicate wishes to make clear that both Moore and Thorell may be liquidated if necessary, along with Colonel Chang, Chang’s body guard and, of course, Dr. Persson. The Syndicate reiterates that it has a score to settle with Moore and Thorell, and considers the score settled whether they are shipped to an unknown fate in Pyongyang or tortured and killed outright in Sollefteå. In the latter case your government will not be charged.
The second purpose of this communication is to update you on the known progress of the operation. We have reason to believe that our agent in place has regrettably failed in her attempt to liquidate Colonel Chang. We haven’t heard from her in a long time and assume the worst. Nonetheless, the Persson estate outside of Sollefteå is completely isolated by the fierceness of an ongoing winter storm, and our special-ops team is in place a mere 10-12 kilometers away in the town of Sollefteå, and is prepared to move the moment the storm abates to carry out their mission with our trademark efficiency and ruthlessness.
We also wish to report that our mole within the Swedish Security Service, known as SÄPO, informs us that the Swedes have been alerted to a possible situation in Sollefteå, and that steps have been taken to be sure that any attempt by SÄPO to intervene will never get off the ground.
Our next communication will report to you, with all certainty, the anticipated success of our operation.’
***************************
Cellar of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 23:59.
Bill Johnson stifled a yawn, and rose from the folding chair on which he had been seated in order to check on Marina.
She appeared to be resting peacefully, curled up on the rack, knees tucked under her chin. On Barbara’s insistence, they had released her wrists and one ankle from the torture machine’s fearsome grip, but had left her manacled to it by one ankle. She appeared to have fallen asleep, undoubtedly from physical and mental exhaustion. A half-eaten sandwich was still clutched in one hand.
The others had gone upstairs to get some rest, leaving Johnson alone in the cellar to stand guard over Marina. For the first time that evening he was allowing himself to relax. Things were looking more hopeful now that Gun had gotten through to her colleagues in Uppsala on Barbara’s phone. They now knew that help would be on the way as soon as the storm abated.
TBC
M
montycrusto
Guest
Big mistake, I’m sure she can pick locks using only half a sandwich.. everyone knows it’s taught in the first term at Black Widow Top Secret College.
Migoz2
Senator
From now on, writers/critics should refer not to Chekhov's gun, but @Barbaria1's whipping post.
M
montycrusto
Guest
Yeah, don’t post a post in your post unless you’re going to whip out the whip.
M
montycrusto
Guest
I’ve always wondered why they’ve got the board turned sideways.. Is it a Swedish thing?
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Annika, I wonder how long you will be able to keep your clothes on, once you will be at your destination!
Another mole!?
Migoz2
Senator
Title of an ABBA song?Yeah, don’t post a post in your post unless you’re going to whip out the whip.
I’ve always wondered why they’ve got the board turned sideways.. Is it a Swedish thing?
In Sweden, there’s always the “middle way”
It’s snow secret now … not with Annika taking charge!
Mostly undercover.