An Alternate Beginning
My name is Mikkel Madsen. I used to be a spy, until I decided to resign...
The first thing Mikkel Madsen noticed when he woke was the bad taste in his mouth. Someone had stun-gunned him.
The next thing he noticed was how very Icelandic his surroundings were. Not only was all the signage in Icelandic, but the architecture, road style, and a dozen other big things and small screamed Iceland at Mikkel. Naturally, he therefore presumed he was somewhere in Finland.
*
Mikkel looked on askance as the red-haired Norwegian fury took out another contingent of guards. Whoever was paying Sigrun to break him out of this “upscale gated community” was getting their money’s worth. Of course, that was why Sigrun was the go-to girl when it came to ops like this.
Eventually, however, there was no one left for Sigrun to fight, so she could turn her full attention to Mikkel. He put up his hands in a placatory gesture, but Sigrun proved implacable as ever, ignoring his attempts to assure her that he would not be fool enough to resist in favor of stun-gunning him into oblivion.
*
For the second time in under a week, Mikkel came to with a bad taste in his mouth. This time, however, his hands and feet were bound, his eyes covered and his mouth gagged. “Sorry, big fellow,” Sigrun’s cheerful voice told him from somewhere to his left, “but I couldn’t chance you changing your mind about coming along peacefully at the last minute. I’ll have you out of those soon enough.”
Before she could say any more, her phone rang. Mikkel snorted through his gag. Unless his ears deceived him, Sigrun was still using the old car phone she’d had when he first met her, all those years ago. Mikkel had thought the telecom companies didn’t service those type of phones anymore, but he was wrong.
“Wait, what?” Sigrun sputtered, breaking into Mikkel’s rather nostalgic reflections. “You’re cancelling the job? WHAT ABOUT MY FEE?”
Mikkel could hear the panic in the swift response even from where he sat. Evidently, her erstwhile former employers knew of Sigrun’s standard response to being denied her fees.
“Great,” Sigrun groaned. “What am I supposed to do with a hundred kilos and more of recalcitrant Dane? Hmmmmmm...” After a considerable bit of thought, Sigrun snapped her fingers. “OK, I’ve got it! I’ll just drop you off in Malmö so you can ‘await further developments’. I’ve got a buddy there doing a job who can put you up in a pinch.”
*
Sigrun’s “buddy” was a young, golden-haired pretty boy named Emil, which surprised Mikkel, until he snuck a look at Emil’s quite comprehensive explosives lab. Trust Sigrun to take to a budding firebug. Emil was obviously somewhat in awe of her, which was normal enough.
Before Sigrun could really get to wheedling Emil into doing her bidding, though, Emil’s cell rang. Emil listened to his caller for a few minutes, confusion deepening on his face, until he handed the phone to Mikkel.
The voice was unfiltered but unfamiliar. “Welcome to Malmö, Mister Madsen. I trust your journey wasn’t too unpleasant, but we both know Ms. Eide can get a bit enthusiastic about carrying out a contract.
“Now, to business. You claim you wish to retire, and you chafed at the notion of living in the little reserve in which you were placed. Very well; if you stay in Malmö and keep yourself out of trouble, you will be left alone. If not, there are certain people less principled than Ms. Eide. Consider this your only warning.”
The line went dead, and Mikkel handed the phone back to Emil, who, wide-eyed, asked Sigrun, “Who is this guy?”
The confab was broken up by the far door opening and a cheery female voice calling out, “We’re back, Emil!” Seconds later, two ash-blonde Finns and a tall, gangly redhead with a truly remarkable braid walked in.
Emil made the introductions somewhat awkwardly. The two Finns were the semi-infamous Hotakainen cousins: Lalli, cat burglar and computer wizard, and Tuuri, grifter and mechanic extraordinaire. The redhead, who proved to be an Icelander, was their intern, Reynir, who was under the impression that they were a legitimate outfit doing security testing work, instead of a ring of thieves and swindlers. Reynir was so like a human puppy, though, that none of them wanted to disillusion him.
Fortunately, Sigrun was glib-tongued enough to claim to be a simple bounty hunter bringing Mikkel back to face justice in Malmö, so the ruddy naif’s illusions were kept intact for the present.
Mikkel had already decided to metaphorically sit back and, as Sigrun had mockingly said, await further developments, and this latest twist only reinforced that notion. Things looked to become quite interesting very shortly...
