“An hour, I think,” said Brunswick.
“I hope they’re ok back there.”
“They’ll be fine,” she snapped, wiping the sweat off her face.
Did he have to remind her? She had pushed the situation in the emergency facility to the back of her mind. The chaotic escape that led to the deaths of Aiko, Lena and Jonas had demoralised them. Especially Brunswick. Finding themselves in an even tighter space without food had tipped them over the edge. The firefight in the main facility had cut off the power. Everyone was hungry, exhausted and afraid. After the scuffle between Phil and Vitaly had broken out, Brunswick knew they had to act. She had deliberated for a long time before deciding that the secrecy of the Neutralaser project was no longer a priority. Something terrible had happened to Michael, Brunswick was sure of that, and that meant they would need to call someone else for help. She fired up the battery-operated satellite phone and made contact with the Inselheim Group. The Chief Security Officer Anke Müller called back and said that she had given a NATO unit the coordinates for the concealed tunnel exit. With a rough time window for extraction, Brunswick and Shirvan left immediately, terrified that The League Of Reckoning would figure out where they were.
Must be close now, thought Brunswick, realising she had been on autopilot. Shirvan had said nothing for a long time.
“Sorry,” she whispered absentmindedly.
“What?” said Shirvan from behind.
“Sorry I snapped at you before,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “You’re doing fine.”
Bullshit. There was nothing ‘fine’ about losing three of their friends, she thought.
“I think we’re close now,” added Shirvan. “We have to be.”
They proceeded in silence for a long time, before Brunswick saw a soft glow in the distance.
“There,” she said.
The appearance of their goal injected Brunswick with a thrust of energy that carried her forward. The aches in her body dissolved. She picked up her speed, kicking a large rock and almost tumbling over. Shirvan’s breathing rate increased behind her. The details and shape of the tunnel emerged, and patches of dirt and tiny pebbles on the floor appeared, along with the bare-concrete walls and ventilation system. Finally, they made it to the over-sized, hydraulic-powered steel loading cage. With Shirvan’s big eyes looking at her, Brunswick stood panting under the dim moonlight coming through the cracks between the boulders used to camouflage the tunnel entrance above.
“We made it,” said Shirvan. “God, let’s not do that again.”
Brunswick rubbed his arm then marched over to the control panel mounted on the side of the cage.
“I can’t hear anything,” said Shirvan.
Brunswick trained her ears to the surface. The rescue team was probably still hours away. That was not going to stop her from going up. She pushed the button, and a loud whirring noise came from beneath their feet, as the cage began rising upwards with enough force to lift the mammoth weight of steel and rocks.
At the top they were greeted by the moonlight. Brunswick walked out onto the dirt and raised her head to the sky before sucking in an enormous breath of freedom. She gave a sigh of relief and stretched her neck, savouring the moment.
Her ears went stiff. A rush of footsteps came towards her from behind. She turned and flinched hard. A group of eight commandos dressed in all-black approached with their rifles held across their chests. Brunswick automatically lifted her hands into the air.
“Put your arms down,” said the group leader as the commandos surrounded Brunswick. “Nobody is going to hurt you if you cooperate.”
Brunswick hesitated, then slowly lowered her arms. Shirvan came over to her side. The two of them gazed at the small fleet assembled at the tunnel entrance. It was clear that they were not NATO.
“Move it!” yelled the group leader to his soldiers.
The engines of four army transport trucks came on and revved up simultaneously. The fleet of vehicles formed a straight line, and one of the trucks drove onto the cage.
“Who are you?” said Brunswick when the first truck had descended into the tunnel.
The group leader gave her a brief stare before checking his watch then looking impatiently toward the horizon. Who was he worried might come, wondered Brunswick? She studied him and the rest of the team attentively but found no clue which gave away their affiliation. Suddenly she could not shake the feeling that she and her team were mere pawns in a high-level game of chess. It made her feel tiny and insignificant, creating a pounding in her ears and a pressure in her chest which threatened to burst wide open. She began shaking with rage. A cloud of dust from the tyres of the trucks then blew into her eyes, and she knew that she had been tipped over the edge.
3
The disturbing mix of emotions had Frederich levitating. He felt surprise at Ida’s unexpected appearance, confusion at how Vidrik had been behaving. There was also the dark, familiar presence. Knowing that Vidrik had stalked and threatened Ida, as well as slaughtered her neighbour, Frederich was ready to rampage. Vidrik was a dead man, no buts about it. If only Frederich knew in Copenhagen what Ida had told him now. How could he have been so careless?
Standing in his living room with fists clenched, the chemical cocktail of surprise, confusion and fury exploded. He stepped forward and kicked the lamp over with a loud grunt, smashing it against the wall. Broken glass from the bulb crumbled to the ground. He grimaced from the sharp pain in his back where Vidrik’s bullet had struck him and stood there with his chest heaving up and down.
“Frederich,” said Ida sternly from the sofa. “Relax. Come sit here.”
Frederich stared out of the window, dragged away by his thoughts. He had greatly underestimated Vidrik. He should have known. That demented look on his face was a dead giveaway. If Vidrik was crazy enough to follow Frederich to Copenhagen and try
