He shadowed Haargersen in a lightheaded state from inside the trees as the ex-diplomat crossed the bridge to the main side of Christiania. Haargersen passed him on the footpath, going in the direction of the main town, and a hundred-foot gap opened between them before Frederich began trailing Haargersen. While Frederich followed the path, propelled by Haargersen’s rapid march, his attention was drawn toward the trees. He slowed down, expecting to see something deep inside the forest. During that brief time Haargersen passed out of sight. It had to be a side-effect of the drugs, thought Frederich, even though he was sure he was sensing something real. It’s the weed. Go. He broke into a light jog until he caught up with Haargersen and resumed trailing his target.
Before Haargersen reached town he turned off into an obscure, open yard between the trees, covered with overgrown grass. Frederich used a tree trunk as cover and watched as Haargersen moved toward a small, lone brick structure half-submerged in the ground. Haargersen ignored the entrance steps which descended to the door and went around the back, where the grass was even longer. He treaded through the thick weeds and then ducked out of sight. It was too risky to go any closer. Frederich stayed where he was and waited. Less than a minute later Haargersen emerged carrying a large black sports bag on his shoulder. He pushed through the wild grass and passed Frederich again, going back the way he came. A dark, heavy-set man with dreadlocks and a hyper-coloured yellow singlet was also walking along the path. The man stopped and turned his head when Haargersen passed him and stared for a long time. Frederich concurred with the man’s suspicions. It looked like Haargersen was done hiding out and was going on the run.
While Frederich waited for the dreadlocked man to resume walking the other way, he remembered to check his phone. He cocked his head as he read the three-hour old encrypted message on the screen sent by League Intel: “Vidrik missing. Seen boarding commercial flight to Copenhagen. Proceed with caution.”
Vidrik chewed on his lower lip while weighing the situation. Where the hell did Abel go? He was right there next to the tree before that hippie with the filthy hair moved in the way.
Meanwhile Haargersen was getting away. Vidrik reluctantly turned and pushed through the trees, travelling along the river until he was back in position behind his sniper rifle. He looked out and saw Haargersen crossing the bridge. Which way Haargersen turned would decide Vidrik’s next move. Vidrik tightened his grip around his weapon and braced himself to take the shot. Haargersen turned right, and after disappearing behind the trees for some seconds, appeared again and went straight down into his hut. A minute passed with no movement. Then another. Vidrik maintained his finger on the trigger.
Frederich managed to force the back door of Haargersen’s shanty open and rush inside just as Haargersen approached from a distance. He was thoroughly drenched and his veins were pulsating all over, his heart pounding like a jackhammer. He sucked in another breath of air and tried to centre himself. The lightheadedness rose up like a sand cloud and he felt himself on the verge of passing out. He quickly reached his arm out and found support against the wall. A long sprint through the trees and underwater dive through the river mixed with drugs and a heavy load was a lousy cocktail. He had even re-aggravated the bruising on his ribs from Scheffler’s punch. Considering the situation, however, he had no other choice.
There was a thump at the front door. He reached in and took out his pistol. Quick, loud steps filled the hall before Haargersen appeared in the bedroom.
“Don’t move,” said Frederich with his back to the wall beside the bed, his pistol pointed at Haargersen. “Not another step.”
Haargersen flinched and turned quickly. He looked at the dripping wet Frederich and almost jumped when he noticed the pistol, his eyes opening wide and his lips parting.
“Wh… Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Frederich. “I have orders to let you go as soon as you tell me about your friends.”
“What? Which friends?”
Frederich waited. When no answer was forthcoming, Haargersen’s shoulders dropped.
“You’re with The League Of Reckoning, right?” he said with a low, flat voice.
“Right.”
Haargersen hesitated, appearing to be thinking hard. Frederich was not going to offer him time to think up a lie.
“Talk. Quickly,” said Frederich.
“You’ll let me go if I tell you what I know?”
“Yes.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll kill me anyway.”
“We want the people who hired you. By now they already know you’ve been compromised. I’m guessing that’s why you’re hiding out here. You knew they would be looking for you. This is your one chance to make it out alive. Don’t waste it.”
There was a long pause.
“What do you want to know?” Haargersen said.
“Start from the beginning.”
“The beginning. Ok. Can I sit down first?”
“No. Start talking.”
Haargersen breathed deeply and looked at the floor.
“They contacted me a month ago. They said The League is pushing the world toward economic collapse. They wanted to put together a counter-organisation to fight back. They said they had the intel to hit you where it hurt the most. Kalakia was going to be assassinated along with your key soldiers. My job was to organise the attack on your training facility. The aim was to take out Vince Scheffler while inflicting maximum casualties.”
“And you just said yes to all this?”
“I wasn’t contacted by coincidence. My feelings about The League are no secret in government circles. Plus their money offer was through the roof.”
“Who contacted you?”
“I don’t know who she is. She said her name was ‘Tina.’ We spoke a few times on the phone and had a meeting here in Copenhagen.
