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Nordic Peril: The Sequel to Gone Missing in Sweden
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Chapter 10. Wednesday, 21 January, 11:34. Entryway of the country home of Åke Persson.
“Welcome. Welcome. Do come in,” greeted Åke, stepping aside to allow Chang and Bill Johnson to come in out of the elements. Barbara, Gun and Anna-Lisa had already retreated a distance into the foyer to allow them space.
Chang said nothing, but Bill replied amiably in his Texan drawl, “Thanks. Looks like you’ve got yer selves a humdinger of a storm brewing out there.”
“Indeed,” replied Åke. “The SMHI weather forecasters on Sveriges Radio are warning us that we could see winds here gusting up to 35 meters per second, and snow accumulations of 45 to 50 centimeters before it’s over!”
“Remarkable. Don’t know how you folks manage. Guess we’ll all be stuck here for a while then. I’m Bill Johnson, by the way, Colonel Chang’s UN escort and body guard. My friends call me, Pecos Bill … that’s a reference to where I grew up and spent my youth. Never have been able to shake my west Texas accent.”
“That’s a part of Texas I’ve never seen and likely never will,” laughed Barbara.
“And you, mah lovely, sound like a damn liberal Yankee. Where from?”
“Minnesota.”
“Well then, this here kinda weather should be right familiar to the likes of you.”
“You might say that.”
“Let’s all go inside, shall we?” intervened Åke hastily. “It’s nearly noon and you must be hungry. Anna-Lisa, here, will be serving a lunch shortly.”
Anna-Lisa performed a curtsey of sorts before promptly taking her leave … retreating to the kitchen to prepare a lunch. but also to send a new text message.
“Oh, and please forgive me for not making proper introductions. The lovely lady from Minnesota is Dr. Barbara Moore. Dr Moore, like myself, Colonel Chang, is a human rights scholar and specialist. She will be assisting me this afternoon in our formal discussions.”
Chang nodded.
“And this,” continued Åke, waving his hand in Gun’s direction, is Detective Sergeant Gun Thorell. Gun is a detective with the Uppsala Police Authority. She’s a close friend of Dr Moore, who was good enough to drive Barbara up here from Uppsala ahead of the storm.”
“Pleased,” said Gun, offering her hand, which Chang ignored.
“Alright. This way to the sitting room. May I have Anna-Lisa offer everyone something to drink?”
*******************************
Office of Lieutenant General Bar Chul-Moo of the Ministry of State Security. Forbidden City, Pyongyang. Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Wednesday, 21 January, 19:03 (Wednesday, 21 January, 12:03 in Sweden).
General Bar was seated at his desk reviewing the contents of a stack of thick dossiers when an aide knocked on the door. He closed the dossier he had open in front of him, but sat lost in thought for a few minutes before allowing the aide to enter.
The case he had been reviewing was one that was particularly close to him, involving the daughter of one of his colleagues at the Ministry. A philosophy student at Kim Il-sung University, the daughter had apparently been overheard by classmates joking with her boyfriend in a most uncomplimentary fashion about the country’s Dear Leader. Her foolish indiscretion had, of course, been promptly reported to university officials who had duly passed the complaint on to the Ministry of State Security.
She and her boyfriend had been brought in for questioning. Her dossier included full transcripts of her interrogation. There were also photos of her in the interrogation room, stripped naked, arms outstretched,undergoing electric shock torture. Her boyfriend appeared in another dossier, being interrogated in similar fashion.
General Bar had lingered long over the series of photos that graphically documented her ordeal under torture after torture. He found them both horrifying and captivating. Horrifying in that he could sense her anguish and terror, and could feel pity for her. Captivating in the sense that he had seen her often, fully clothed, at his colleague’s home, and had often engaged himself in imagining what she might look like fully undressed. She was, in fact, every bit as stunningly beautiful as he had imagined, and he found the idea of her terrified reactions to electric shock and to all the other tortures used on her deeply arousing.
He hoped that his dear colleague might never have to see the photos, and that the daughter’s indiscretions might not have negative repercussions on his colleague’s advancement within the Ministry … although he knew that to be quite unlikely, as the State routinely extended guilt by association to include over tome an ever-widening circle of family, friends and associates. That was just how things worked in North Korea.
According to the transcript, she and her boyfriend admitted their sacrilege, and gave up under duress a list of twenty-three other students, friends and acquaintances whom they claimed had said similar things. All twenty-five would go on trial, if one might call it that, and undoubtedly be sentenced to an indefinite term of hard labor and political indoctrination at one of the Ministry’s labor camps. That would be the end of their lives as they knew them. Few who went into ‘the system’ ever got out.
He sighed, and pushed the button on his desktop that would signal to his aide, standing stiffly out in the corridor, that she could now enter.
“A priority message for you from The Syndicate, General,” she said, handing him a decoded transcript.
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
Colonel Chang reportedly delivered today by Swedish Air Force helicopter to home of UN Rapporteur, Åke Persson, 10 km northeast of Sollefteå at approximately 11:30 Swedish time. Chang accompanied by American mercenary in the pay of the UN Human Rights Council, William Johnson, who is almost certainly armed. Due to extraordinarily severe winter weather conditions, Syndicate special-ops team delayed and unlikely to arrive on scene for 24-48 hours. Agent already embedded in Persson household is nonetheless fully able to act alone in the best interests of the People’s Republic of North Korea … and will take appropriate steps, if necessary, to silence Colonel Chang permanently and to destroy any record of her debriefing by Persson and his American assistant before it can be transmitted to Geneva. Await instructions as to what is to be done with Persson, Moore, and Swedish police detective Thorell, once special/ops team is on the scene. Please advise as soon as possible.’
TBC
“Welcome. Welcome. Do come in,” greeted Åke, stepping aside to allow Chang and Bill Johnson to come in out of the elements. Barbara, Gun and Anna-Lisa had already retreated a distance into the foyer to allow them space.
Chang said nothing, but Bill replied amiably in his Texan drawl, “Thanks. Looks like you’ve got yer selves a humdinger of a storm brewing out there.”
“Indeed,” replied Åke. “The SMHI weather forecasters on Sveriges Radio are warning us that we could see winds here gusting up to 35 meters per second, and snow accumulations of 45 to 50 centimeters before it’s over!”
“Remarkable. Don’t know how you folks manage. Guess we’ll all be stuck here for a while then. I’m Bill Johnson, by the way, Colonel Chang’s UN escort and body guard. My friends call me, Pecos Bill … that’s a reference to where I grew up and spent my youth. Never have been able to shake my west Texas accent.”
“That’s a part of Texas I’ve never seen and likely never will,” laughed Barbara.
“And you, mah lovely, sound like a damn liberal Yankee. Where from?”
“Minnesota.”
“Well then, this here kinda weather should be right familiar to the likes of you.”
“You might say that.”
“Let’s all go inside, shall we?” intervened Åke hastily. “It’s nearly noon and you must be hungry. Anna-Lisa, here, will be serving a lunch shortly.”
Anna-Lisa performed a curtsey of sorts before promptly taking her leave … retreating to the kitchen to prepare a lunch. but also to send a new text message.
“Oh, and please forgive me for not making proper introductions. The lovely lady from Minnesota is Dr. Barbara Moore. Dr Moore, like myself, Colonel Chang, is a human rights scholar and specialist. She will be assisting me this afternoon in our formal discussions.”
Chang nodded.
“And this,” continued Åke, waving his hand in Gun’s direction, is Detective Sergeant Gun Thorell. Gun is a detective with the Uppsala Police Authority. She’s a close friend of Dr Moore, who was good enough to drive Barbara up here from Uppsala ahead of the storm.”
“Pleased,” said Gun, offering her hand, which Chang ignored.
“Alright. This way to the sitting room. May I have Anna-Lisa offer everyone something to drink?”
*******************************
Office of Lieutenant General Bar Chul-Moo of the Ministry of State Security. Forbidden City, Pyongyang. Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Wednesday, 21 January, 19:03 (Wednesday, 21 January, 12:03 in Sweden).
General Bar was seated at his desk reviewing the contents of a stack of thick dossiers when an aide knocked on the door. He closed the dossier he had open in front of him, but sat lost in thought for a few minutes before allowing the aide to enter.
The case he had been reviewing was one that was particularly close to him, involving the daughter of one of his colleagues at the Ministry. A philosophy student at Kim Il-sung University, the daughter had apparently been overheard by classmates joking with her boyfriend in a most uncomplimentary fashion about the country’s Dear Leader. Her foolish indiscretion had, of course, been promptly reported to university officials who had duly passed the complaint on to the Ministry of State Security.
She and her boyfriend had been brought in for questioning. Her dossier included full transcripts of her interrogation. There were also photos of her in the interrogation room, stripped naked, arms outstretched,undergoing electric shock torture. Her boyfriend appeared in another dossier, being interrogated in similar fashion.
General Bar had lingered long over the series of photos that graphically documented her ordeal under torture after torture. He found them both horrifying and captivating. Horrifying in that he could sense her anguish and terror, and could feel pity for her. Captivating in the sense that he had seen her often, fully clothed, at his colleague’s home, and had often engaged himself in imagining what she might look like fully undressed. She was, in fact, every bit as stunningly beautiful as he had imagined, and he found the idea of her terrified reactions to electric shock and to all the other tortures used on her deeply arousing.
He hoped that his dear colleague might never have to see the photos, and that the daughter’s indiscretions might not have negative repercussions on his colleague’s advancement within the Ministry … although he knew that to be quite unlikely, as the State routinely extended guilt by association to include over tome an ever-widening circle of family, friends and associates. That was just how things worked in North Korea.
According to the transcript, she and her boyfriend admitted their sacrilege, and gave up under duress a list of twenty-three other students, friends and acquaintances whom they claimed had said similar things. All twenty-five would go on trial, if one might call it that, and undoubtedly be sentenced to an indefinite term of hard labor and political indoctrination at one of the Ministry’s labor camps. That would be the end of their lives as they knew them. Few who went into ‘the system’ ever got out.
He sighed, and pushed the button on his desktop that would signal to his aide, standing stiffly out in the corridor, that she could now enter.
“A priority message for you from The Syndicate, General,” she said, handing him a decoded transcript.
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
Colonel Chang reportedly delivered today by Swedish Air Force helicopter to home of UN Rapporteur, Åke Persson, 10 km northeast of Sollefteå at approximately 11:30 Swedish time. Chang accompanied by American mercenary in the pay of the UN Human Rights Council, William Johnson, who is almost certainly armed. Due to extraordinarily severe winter weather conditions, Syndicate special-ops team delayed and unlikely to arrive on scene for 24-48 hours. Agent already embedded in Persson household is nonetheless fully able to act alone in the best interests of the People’s Republic of North Korea … and will take appropriate steps, if necessary, to silence Colonel Chang permanently and to destroy any record of her debriefing by Persson and his American assistant before it can be transmitted to Geneva. Await instructions as to what is to be done with Persson, Moore, and Swedish police detective Thorell, once special/ops team is on the scene. Please advise as soon as possible.’
TBC
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
He's not the only one. Definitely a case of 'less-is-Moore' when covering the tortures of the young student ... erotic indeed. But the plot thickens and I am now not sure who will end up on the torture device in Åke's home ... can't wait to find out though! Loved it as awlays ...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
That's 126 km/h? Force 12 on the Beaufort scale. I hope Ake's house is of high quality carpentry!
But obviously, with Colonel Chang around, one does not need an extreme low pressure area, to create a freezing snow hurricane!
Luckily, there is some warming up for Moore!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
(in a wayward reading ahead of this twisted mind, Colonel Chang immediately unmasks Anna-Lisa as a Syndicate agent. To make sure she is, and to convince the others, Anna-Lisa is brought to the torture room, and Colonel Chang takes the lead of the interrogation, using her expertise, and assisted by Gun, who greedily takes the opportunity to improve her own interrogation skills).
"All right, Anna-Lisa! Now we are really going to find out how Finnish you are! Don't worry, we follow approved North Korean interrogation procedures : you have the right to remain silent, and to scream loud when we administer electric shocks to you! For your own good, you better give correct answers on the following questions that every true Finn should answer correctly."
One : what colour has the Swan of Tuonela?
Two : what do you know about the ferryman of Tuonela?
Three : what is Tuonela anyway?
Four : what had Lemminkainen planned to do, when he got killed in Tuonela?
Five : what tools, Lemminkainen's mother uses, first to find him in Tuonela, and secondly to prepare him to get him revived?
Six : what thought about a previous sexual encounter drives Kullervo so mad, he ultimately commits suicide?
Seven : what is the name of the epic poem, these stories come from?"
(apologies to Barb for the diversion, but the story captures me. If you think I crossed a line, put me next to that girl
and give be a few electric shocks too, to bring me back in line).
"All right, Anna-Lisa! Now we are really going to find out how Finnish you are! Don't worry, we follow approved North Korean interrogation procedures : you have the right to remain silent, and to scream loud when we administer electric shocks to you! For your own good, you better give correct answers on the following questions that every true Finn should answer correctly."
One : what colour has the Swan of Tuonela?
Two : what do you know about the ferryman of Tuonela?
Three : what is Tuonela anyway?
Four : what had Lemminkainen planned to do, when he got killed in Tuonela?
Five : what tools, Lemminkainen's mother uses, first to find him in Tuonela, and secondly to prepare him to get him revived?
Six : what thought about a previous sexual encounter drives Kullervo so mad, he ultimately commits suicide?
Seven : what is the name of the epic poem, these stories come from?"
(apologies to Barb for the diversion, but the story captures me. If you think I crossed a line, put me next to that girl
and give be a few electric shocks too, to bring me back in line).
twonines
LIMERICUS
Although an elite General`s daughter,
In an act of "subversion", they caught her.
To a camp she was sent,,
Because Kim is hell bent
That a very harsh lesson is taught her.
Great work again, Barb, you now leave us wondering what the Syndicate has in store and, in the meantime, who will Pecos Bill bed first, how does Chang swing and will she fancy Ake or one of the girls? We wait in anticipation.
In an act of "subversion", they caught her.
To a camp she was sent,,
Because Kim is hell bent
That a very harsh lesson is taught her.
Great work again, Barb, you now leave us wondering what the Syndicate has in store and, in the meantime, who will Pecos Bill bed first, how does Chang swing and will she fancy Ake or one of the girls? We wait in anticipation.
(in a wayward reading ahead of this twisted mind, Colonel Chang immediately unmasks Anna-Lisa as a Syndicate agent. To make sure she is, and to convince the others, Anna-Lisa is brought to the torture room, and Colonel Chang takes the lead of the interrogation, using her expertise, and assisted by Gun, who greedily takes the opportunity to improve her own interrogation skills).
View attachment 1234118
"All right, Anna-Lisa! Now we are really going to find out how Finnish you are! Don't worry, we follow approved North Korean interrogation procedures : you have the right to remain silent, and to scream loud when we administer electric shocks to you! For your own good, you better give correct answers on the following questions that every true Finn should answer correctly."
One : what colour has the Swan of Tuonela?
Two : what do you know about the ferryman of Tuonela?
Three : what is Tuonela anyway?
Four : what had Lemminkainen planned to do, when he got killed in Tuonela?
Five : what tools, Lemminkainen's mother uses, first to find him in Tuonela, and secondly to prepare him to get him revived?
Six : what thought about a previous sexual encounter drives Kullervo so mad, he ultimately commits suicide?
Seven : what is the name of the epic poem, these stories come from?"
(apologies to Barb for the diversion, but the story captures me. If you think I crossed a line, put me next to that girl
I do love to keep you all guessing, but you’ll have to wait and see, because there’s twenty more chapters yet to go before this is all over.
I must say, though, that you all have very active imaginations and are, at times, not far off the mark, which suggests some may be reading ahead! Naughty! Naughty!
That's 126 km/h? Force 12 on the Beaufort scale. I hope Ake's house is of high quality carpentry!
If you’ll recall from an earlier chapter, it was built nearly a century and a half ago by a powerful timber Baron … the same guy who erected a whipping post behind the house. Both the post and the house have stood well the tests of time and weather.
Its a style I have been striving for of late in my CF writings … that is to leave Moore, when it comes to sex and torture (not every thing, of course) to the imagination and to place greater time and effort into intricate plotting, suspense, character development, thick descriptive scene painting, historical and place settings accuracy, etc. I enjoy all that, and have frankly tired of the long drawn out blow-by-blow, shock-by-shock, lash-by-lash, descriptive prose that tends to overwhelm everything else in some stories.
I also enjoy long-running, multiple story series that feature familiar characters in new and interesting situations … something that both Fossy and @windar have often done here so well.
And when I look back over my writing here on CF (after nearly ten years of it now) I am pleased to see that it has changed for the better, I think.
I owe some of that to the influence of my collaborators and mentors. To Windar I owe my abandonment of writing only in the first person and learning to make greater use of dialogue as a story driver. And to PrPr (May he Rest In Peace) my greater attention to accurate, thoroughly-researched historical and place contexts. There’s always so much to learn from others.
And now, having said all that … on with the show!
M
montycrusto
Guest
twonines
LIMERICUS
It is apparent that your recent efforts have been excellent, and it is to your credit that you have identified ways in which you can improve your writing and our enjoyment of it. Still, I`m sure that there are many of us who enjoy your courage and endurance being stretched to its limits, and beyond, in sado-masochistic situations, even if they are fictional. More power your elbow (or your typing fingers).
twonines
LIMERICUS
Cruel, but I suppose we all love to see Barb suffer.Huh. I thought you just copied it all off the back of a corn flakes packet…
Not sure whether I should laugh or launch a demerit barrage.Huh. I thought you just copied it all off the back of a corn flakes packet…
windar
Teller of Tales
I'm very touched if any of my poor efforts have helped Barb to evolve her writing style. But she was a very talented writer long before I showed up here, and there's no question that my writing has evolved under her influence as well.
Barb has been kind enough (or foolish enough) to have me read this story as she has been writing it and I have been enjoying it greatly. My personal opinion is that it's even better than the first one. I find I don't have much to say here in the thread, partly because I've already given her my comments and partly because she posts at a time when I am usually asleep and by the time I wake up, you guys have already said whatever one might say. The fact that she wrote with a light touch was certainly something I praised greatly in my private comments.
As far as first person, it can sometimes be a good choice-there are great works of literature written in first person and I have written a few stories in that voice myself (none to be confused with great literature)-but it limits your options in many cases. So third person is more of a default setting.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Or simply eat the corn flakes?
Well said! It is not that simple to write such long stories of such good quality! I think, such a story like this would take me five years to finish!
Nevertheless, we are always a bit worried, when Goldman is not around, to keep a guarding eye on Barb.
If you’re pulling back the curtain, I’d like to add some words if I may?
Overall I agree with both you and @windar in that I have seen growth in your writing skills but you were already an enjoyable and proficient author when I arrived!
I similarly detect improvement in my own writing, and was very much not just encouraged but frankly nurtured by my dear departed friend PrPr, Gosh I miss that man!
The best thing about this forum, for me, is the friendly pool of talent we have and the feedback so freely given. Nowhere else do I see such a spirit of cooperation and support for our style of writing.
Back to the show, and WHAT a show it is.
Migoz2
Senator
Want to try for an accumulator bet with Åke again?
Let her listen to Sibelius' Finlandia and see if she recognises it?
Show her one of these and ask what it is
See if she answers questions with sentences of more than 3 words
Chapter 11. Sitting room of the country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 12:05.
After twenty minutes or so of awkward conversation over a round of drinks, Åke decided that … since lunch was still being prepared and wouldn’t be ready for at least half an hour … it might be a good idea to treat his guests to a tour of the house. So he announced brightly, “Perhaps a tour of this old house might be in order before lunch? It’s quite historic and has a lot of interesting features … having been built by a filthy-rich timber Baron back in the 1800’s. What do you say?”
Bill Johnson responded with characteristic enthusiasm. Chang looked doubtful but politely agreed.
“No, thanks. Seen it already,” replied Gun with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Same here,” seconded Barbara.
“Right then, follow me. We’ll start the tour on the second floor.”
“Don’t forget the cellar!” called Gun after them as they ascended the stairway to the upper floor.
Barbara giggled.
“So, what do you make of her, Babs?” asked Gun, once they were alone.
“Well, not exactly what I expected.”
“In other words, you were expecting a rather stout and frumpily attired woman, with legs like tree trunks, a severe hairdo and a perpetually pinched expression on her face … a kilo or more of medals pinned to her chest if uniformed?”
“That’s a caricature … but yes, something like that.”
“I know. Me too. But she is, in fact, not anything like that. Rather attractive, really, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, and probably around the same age as you and me.”
“Well, good to know that we are in agreement on that,” smirked Gun.
“Yep … and what’s your professional opinion of Pecos Bill. I’m dying to know.”
“Yes. I guess the first thing to say is that he’s packing a handgun. I know what to look for and can usually tell. It’s in a holster under his left arm, which of course means he’s right handed.”
“And the second?”
“Don’t let that corny aw-shucks Texas act fool you. The guy’s a pro. And, one more thing, Babs, I saw how closely he was scrutinizing our Anna-Lisa. And I don’t think it had anything to do with her bustiness.”
“You really have it in for her, don’t you?”
“I’m a police detective, Babs. Suspicion comes to me naturally. But here’s another thing. I noticed a little while ago when Anna-Lisa bent over to remove the empty glasses from the coffee table, and her hair fell away from the side of her head, that she had what appeared to be a small tattoo behind her left ear.”
“Soooo??? A lot of people have tattoos these days.”
“True, but behind their ear? And … listen to this! I seem to recall from the Coroner’s reports on those four thugs who intended to do who knows what to you and me on that dreadful day back in May … something about them all having a tattoo behind one ear.”
“Really! What kind of tattoo? Same as Anna-Lisa’s?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good enough look at hers, and I never saw theirs. But I’m going to text Bertil Hansson later this afternoon and ask him to have a look at the Coroner’s reports on those thugs and text me copies of any photos of tattoos they might contain.”
“And in the meantime we might both try to get a good look at Anna-Lisa’s tattoo if the opportunity presents itself?”
“Yeah, I think we should.”
***********************************
Solarium. The country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 13:41.
Following a hearty lunch of pyttipanna washed down with a Heineken beer, Åke and Barbara had taken Chang off to Åke‘s study to begin her debriefing.
With nothing better to do Gun had wandered out to the solarium at the back of the house to have a look at the developing snow storm. And after a few moments hesitation, Johnson had gotten up from the table to follow her.
“Snow sure as heck can fly here,” he drawled as he sidled up to her, “looks like it’s blowin’ harder than a Texas haboob!”
“Okay, Johnson, let’s cut the Texas crap and be straight with one another,” she snapped. “You’re no more of a Texan from Pecos than I am the Pope in the Vatican. We’re both professionals and should be working together. For starters, why don’t you tell me where you’re really from.”
“Would’ya believe New Yawk?” he replied, switching to New York City English.
“Or B-Ahh-ston?”, sounding like JFK.
“Just as I thought. None or all of the above. Any Law enforcement background?”
“Fourteen years NYPD, five with the FBI, small stint at Langley before I got wise and began freelancing on my own. And for your information I really am originally from Pecos.”
“Okay, got it. Perhaps you are from Texas. But enough sparring. We need to work together here.”
“Anything you say, sugar!” he laughed, resuming his West Texas accent as he put his arm around her and brought her close.”
“Stop that! Let’s get serious now! I need to fill you in on something.”
“Right. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“It’s about Anna-Lisa.”
“The cook and servant girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ve already got her on my radar, as a matter of fact. What do you have on her?”
Gun went on to relate her suspicions regarding the veracity of the girl’s story about being from Finland, the peculiar tattoo that Gun had gotten a fleeting glimpse of behind the girl’s left ear, and the girl’s intense attentiveness to everything going on with regard to Chang. Adding, finally, her intention to seek information about the tattoo by text messaging later that afternoon with her Police Authority colleagues in Uppsala.
When she had finished, he nodded in solemn agreement, saying, “Alright, Gun, from here on out we’re on this together.”
He began to hold out his hand as if to seal the deal by a handshake, suddenly thought better of it, and kissed her full on the mouth instead.
****************************
Servants’ Quarters. The country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 13:5O.
Anna-Lisa removed the earpiece she’d been listening to and laid it on the bed. She’d been monitoring the conversation between Gun and Johnson in the Solarium on one of the dozen or so hidden mics she had surreptitiously planted throughout the house.
Picking up her cell phone, she fired off a text to her superiors.
Then she undressed, padded into the bathroom to take a long hot shower.
Returning to the bed, still drying herself off, she reached for and checked her phone for a reply to her text message.
Nothing yet.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she did nothing for a minute or two … thinking. Then she got up, removed the disassembled automatic weapon from its concealed compartment in the bottom of her bag, assembled and loaded it.
Then she returned to the bedside, picked up the earpiece, pushed her still sodden hair away from her left ear and inserted it. Retrieving a small plastic console that was lying on her pillow, she activated the mic she had planted in Åke Persson’s study.
TBC
After twenty minutes or so of awkward conversation over a round of drinks, Åke decided that … since lunch was still being prepared and wouldn’t be ready for at least half an hour … it might be a good idea to treat his guests to a tour of the house. So he announced brightly, “Perhaps a tour of this old house might be in order before lunch? It’s quite historic and has a lot of interesting features … having been built by a filthy-rich timber Baron back in the 1800’s. What do you say?”
Bill Johnson responded with characteristic enthusiasm. Chang looked doubtful but politely agreed.
“No, thanks. Seen it already,” replied Gun with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“Same here,” seconded Barbara.
“Right then, follow me. We’ll start the tour on the second floor.”
“Don’t forget the cellar!” called Gun after them as they ascended the stairway to the upper floor.
Barbara giggled.
“So, what do you make of her, Babs?” asked Gun, once they were alone.
“Well, not exactly what I expected.”
“In other words, you were expecting a rather stout and frumpily attired woman, with legs like tree trunks, a severe hairdo and a perpetually pinched expression on her face … a kilo or more of medals pinned to her chest if uniformed?”
“That’s a caricature … but yes, something like that.”
“I know. Me too. But she is, in fact, not anything like that. Rather attractive, really, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, and probably around the same age as you and me.”
“Well, good to know that we are in agreement on that,” smirked Gun.
“Yep … and what’s your professional opinion of Pecos Bill. I’m dying to know.”
“Yes. I guess the first thing to say is that he’s packing a handgun. I know what to look for and can usually tell. It’s in a holster under his left arm, which of course means he’s right handed.”
“And the second?”
“Don’t let that corny aw-shucks Texas act fool you. The guy’s a pro. And, one more thing, Babs, I saw how closely he was scrutinizing our Anna-Lisa. And I don’t think it had anything to do with her bustiness.”
“You really have it in for her, don’t you?”
“I’m a police detective, Babs. Suspicion comes to me naturally. But here’s another thing. I noticed a little while ago when Anna-Lisa bent over to remove the empty glasses from the coffee table, and her hair fell away from the side of her head, that she had what appeared to be a small tattoo behind her left ear.”
“Soooo??? A lot of people have tattoos these days.”
“True, but behind their ear? And … listen to this! I seem to recall from the Coroner’s reports on those four thugs who intended to do who knows what to you and me on that dreadful day back in May … something about them all having a tattoo behind one ear.”
“Really! What kind of tattoo? Same as Anna-Lisa’s?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good enough look at hers, and I never saw theirs. But I’m going to text Bertil Hansson later this afternoon and ask him to have a look at the Coroner’s reports on those thugs and text me copies of any photos of tattoos they might contain.”
“And in the meantime we might both try to get a good look at Anna-Lisa’s tattoo if the opportunity presents itself?”
“Yeah, I think we should.”
***********************************
Solarium. The country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 13:41.
Following a hearty lunch of pyttipanna washed down with a Heineken beer, Åke and Barbara had taken Chang off to Åke‘s study to begin her debriefing.
With nothing better to do Gun had wandered out to the solarium at the back of the house to have a look at the developing snow storm. And after a few moments hesitation, Johnson had gotten up from the table to follow her.
“Snow sure as heck can fly here,” he drawled as he sidled up to her, “looks like it’s blowin’ harder than a Texas haboob!”
“Okay, Johnson, let’s cut the Texas crap and be straight with one another,” she snapped. “You’re no more of a Texan from Pecos than I am the Pope in the Vatican. We’re both professionals and should be working together. For starters, why don’t you tell me where you’re really from.”
“Would’ya believe New Yawk?” he replied, switching to New York City English.
“Or B-Ahh-ston?”, sounding like JFK.
“Just as I thought. None or all of the above. Any Law enforcement background?”
“Fourteen years NYPD, five with the FBI, small stint at Langley before I got wise and began freelancing on my own. And for your information I really am originally from Pecos.”
“Okay, got it. Perhaps you are from Texas. But enough sparring. We need to work together here.”
“Anything you say, sugar!” he laughed, resuming his West Texas accent as he put his arm around her and brought her close.”
“Stop that! Let’s get serious now! I need to fill you in on something.”
“Right. Go ahead. I’m listening.”
“It’s about Anna-Lisa.”
“The cook and servant girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ve already got her on my radar, as a matter of fact. What do you have on her?”
Gun went on to relate her suspicions regarding the veracity of the girl’s story about being from Finland, the peculiar tattoo that Gun had gotten a fleeting glimpse of behind the girl’s left ear, and the girl’s intense attentiveness to everything going on with regard to Chang. Adding, finally, her intention to seek information about the tattoo by text messaging later that afternoon with her Police Authority colleagues in Uppsala.
When she had finished, he nodded in solemn agreement, saying, “Alright, Gun, from here on out we’re on this together.”
He began to hold out his hand as if to seal the deal by a handshake, suddenly thought better of it, and kissed her full on the mouth instead.
****************************
Servants’ Quarters. The country home of Åke Persson. Wednesday, 21 January, 13:5O.
Anna-Lisa removed the earpiece she’d been listening to and laid it on the bed. She’d been monitoring the conversation between Gun and Johnson in the Solarium on one of the dozen or so hidden mics she had surreptitiously planted throughout the house.
Picking up her cell phone, she fired off a text to her superiors.
Then she undressed, padded into the bathroom to take a long hot shower.
Returning to the bed, still drying herself off, she reached for and checked her phone for a reply to her text message.
Nothing yet.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she did nothing for a minute or two … thinking. Then she got up, removed the disassembled automatic weapon from its concealed compartment in the bottom of her bag, assembled and loaded it.
Then she returned to the bedside, picked up the earpiece, pushed her still sodden hair away from her left ear and inserted it. Retrieving a small plastic console that was lying on her pillow, she activated the mic she had planted in Åke Persson’s study.
TBC
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
And how do we think the opportunity for Barb and Gun to get close to Anna-Lisa's tattoo might present itself?
Why is that Gun has this effect on people ...
And the plot thickens. Excellent as always Ms Moore ...