The First Frist Job
My name is Mikkel Madsen. I used to be a spy, until I decided to resign...
Most people have expectations of how their life will go, hence the common interview question, “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
And then reality steps in. Never would Mikkel have expected to wind up stuck in Malmö with his favorite berserker, the inimitable Sigrun Eide, her pyromaniac protégée Emil Västerström, his grifter friend Tuuri Hotakainen, her hacker/cat-burglar cousin Lalli, and a clueless intern named Reynir. If Mikkel had, he would have made suitable arrangements and been far, far away.
Of course, Mikkel’s current dour view of his plight might be ever so slightly prejudiced by the fact that he was hanging upside down rather more than ten stories in the air and fighting for his life.
It had been rather disconcerting for Mikkel to discover how many of his friends and acquaintances weren’t surprised at his predicament. However, their disinclination to help in all but the most minor ways possible was something Mikkel had anticipated.
“So, Sigrun,” Mikkel began casually as she was cleaning an old but well-kept MP40, “I seem to recall you had an uncle of sorts--Trond, was it?”
Sigrun flashed him a grin and kept cleaning. “Yep. Great guy. Throws me a bone every now and again, and I try to do the same.”
“So you have a way to get in touch with him at need.”
“Speed-dial number seven on my car phone. I’ll put the 5 krona per minute on your tab.”
*
“Ah, Mister Madsen.” The voice was the same one that had warned Mikkel to stay in Malmö. “I have been expecting your call. I hope I wasn’t too abrupt in our little chat earlier?”
“Why have you done this?” Mikkel fired back.
“I have done nothing but act as an intermediary for certain, shall we say, friends of yours in various positions in various nations--friends who believe locking you away was a mistake, and a wasteful mistake at that. Thanks to them, you have the run of Malmö--and, if you’re willing, I can arrange for you to meet with certain, ah, needy folk of the type you enjoy assisting.”
Mikkel’s internal debate was rather brief. “I’m willing.” And ready to suss out whatever your real game is, he silently added.
*
The thug grappling with Mikkel reached back and pulled a hidden knife free from its sheath, but Mikkel, while not quite as adept as Sigrun, was still more than able enough to disarm the thug as they struggled at the end of the tethers keeping them from rudely splattering all over the pavement far below.
To be fair, this wasn’t actually Trond’s fault per se, but Mikkel thought that mysterious figure would make a good enough scapegoat for now. Certainly Trond himself wouldn’t object, so long as Mikkel continued to dance to Trond’s tune.
The thug got another few hits in, and Mikkel lost his train of thought in favor of seeing stars.
“EIDE-HO!” And Sigrun knocked the thug cold with one punch.
Mikkel was still trying to shake off the thug’s last few hits when Sigrun, still hanging upside down beside him and the unconscious thug, said, “Y’know, this little escapade hasn’t increased my assessment of your battling skills.” At Mikkel’s non-committal grunt, she continued, “And this whole lone wolf thing is kinda unnecessary. I talked to the guys and they’re fine with pitching in every now and again.”
“I’m not sure I want to get involved with whatever they’re doing,” Mikkel replied. “And the Hotakainens aren’t known to be the kind of people who do things out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“So you prefer hanging like this to taking a chance on them?”
Mikkel sighed and surrendered to the inevitable. “I presume Lalli already has the item for which I came?”
“Oh, yeah. He had it before I jumped. Apparently, you make a very good distraction.” Sigrun cocked her head. “Tuuri claims she could have had it delivered to you without all the fuss.”
“Given enough time, a good grifter can work wonders,” Mikkel said, beginning the long climb back to the roof, “and Tuuri is a very good grifter, but this had to be done tonight.”
“Trond didn’t leave you much wiggle room, then?” Sigrun pulled herself alongside Mikkel without apparent effort.
“He already knows what I can do: this job is a compliance test, not an audition.” Mikkel paused to huff and puff a bit. “Trond needs to know I’ll toe the line he draws for me. I need to know he won’t cross the line I’ve drawn. Once we understand each other, we’ll be okay.”
“Sounds like a plan that’d work for the Hotakainens, too. Or are you really ready to trust Trond more than them?”
Mikkel sighed, though his heavy breathing made it hard to tell. “You already made your point there, Sigrun. I’ll give them a chance.”
They finally reached the roof, where Lalli was patiently awaiting them...
