My name is Mikkel Madsen. I used to be a spy, until I decided to resign...
Most people, when confronted by a cypher-locked door in a research hospital bearing the legend âNO ENTRYâ, would at least pause to reflect that there might be good reasons to stay out. Sigrun Eide was not one of those people. Her protĂ©gĂ©, Emil VĂ€sterström, was, but he was standing watch outside while Sigrun, Mikkel and Lalli went in.
There was a soft click as the cypher-lock disengaged, Reynirâs computer skills triumphing over Sigrunâs hopes of just busting in like a whirlwind. This was the only conceivable way Reynir had of triumphing over Sigrun, but he still would have babbled out an apology if heâd known what heâd done.
Sigrun made to push the door open, but Lalli had already swept by her while she was raising her arm. Sigrun blinked and followed the swift Finn into the room, Mikkel bringing up the rear in his usual taciturn way.
*
It had all started with a phone call, of course. After Mikkel had delivered the item Trond had requested that he obtain to the place Trond had requested Mikkel to drop it off, a few uneventful but exceedingly tense days had gone by before Tuuri had received a call on the phone she thought no one knew the number to.
After destroying the phone, Tuuri let Mikkel know about their new job, or what little Trond had told her. Emil got another call from Trond a few minutes later, and Mikkel was able to get a little more out of the not-too-forthcoming old Norwegian.
In any event, there was something rotten in Malmöâs Clinical Research Centre, which was run by Lund University. Two days ago, part of the Centre had gone dark, and certain people were beginning to get a little concerned.
Biological weapons were comprehensively outlawed throughout the civilized world (which Trond seemed to view as the Norse nations and maybe Finland) with one crucial exception: in order to research cures and vaccines, active biological weapons were essential. Now, no one wanted to admit where or what research was being done, but one of the University Hospitals in the bustling city of Malmö, home to a large cross-section of Eurasian phenotypes, would be a plausible site for such defensive research.
Now, Trond didnât state outright, âThey were working with horrible diseases and somebody goofed, so theyâre probably all deadâ, but that was the general tone of his message. Mikkel and âhis teamâ were to effect an entry into the affected portion of the Centre (which officially didnât exist, which complicated things), assess the situation, and âtake appropriate actionâ. Again, Trond didnât say, âKill anyone unfortunate enough to still be alive and torch the place so nothing can get outâ, but that was the general tone lurking behind his phrase.
Why not the police? The military? Anyone else besides Mikkel and the five companions Fate had allotted to him? Well, this was the kind of delicate op that necessitated plausible deniability--uh, delicate handling âof the kind that you have such a good touch forâ.
While Danish and Norwegian were mutually inter-comprehensible, it was amazing how much, er, translating talking with Trond always required.
*
Breaking into the ward that didnât exist had been surprisingly easy, but it was what was awaiting them there that would prove the real surprise...
