Swedish Drop by Michael D Wright

Author:Michael D Wright [Wright, Michael D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-08T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

STOCKHOLM SWEDEN

JANUARY 18

TIME CHECK: 1545hrs

As the gray skies had turned indigo, John was huddled on a park bench with his earbuds in all afternoon in the cold sipping hot coffee listening to Ludvig Lindqvist go about the day, while waiting to execute his plan. To pass time, he was reading the Dagens Nyheter and noticed Arlanda International Airport was closing due to another impending winter storm.

Jesus, now I’ll have to catch a train… I need to finish this mission and get the hell out of here!

Pausing for a beat to process what he had just read, John glanced up to check his surroundings one more time. Norrbro, the street that crossed through the Swedish Government Complex where Lindqvist met his driver, was busier this afternoon. The city had recovered from the blizzard, and the park-like area in front of the building was bustling with employees leaving for the day. Knowing Lindqvist usually left work at four o'clock sharp, John bet today he would do the same.

There was nothing that had alerted John as unusual about Lindqvist’s conversations up until a moment ago when he heard a chair grate across the floor. Someone had come into the minister’s office, and his gravelly voice had disappeared in mid-sentence.

Why did his phone go dead? I'm within range...

John clenched his jaw as the bare black branches of the trees beside him rattled in the wind. Pulling his earbuds out, he adjusted the tiny volume control before putting them back in and turning on a song to test the listening device. When the tunes tickled his ear, John was reassured his equipment was operational, and threw the phone and earbuds in his backpack, slung it over his shoulder and focused on the task at hand.

Peering down the street, he noted a stoplight a block away had turned green and another line of traffic was motoring down Norrbro, and the black SUV was behind the lead car. Smiling to himself, John stood just as Lindqvist's ride slowed and pulled up to the curb.

Earlier, he had stepped it off and determined the distance between the bench and the spot where he expected the SUV would park was approximately one hundred meters — a two-minute walk. And now that it was 1555hrs, it was time to execute his plan.

John exhaled a frosty cloud and adjusted his pistol inside his parka. As he treaded past the seventy-five-meter marker — a waste can — the copper door swung open and a man stepped outside.

He’s right on time…

First John squinted, then blinked in disbelief. The guy descending the steps was not Lindqvist. And there was no doubt the man wearing the Clark Kent glasses was MALLARD!

What the hell is he doing here? First NOBLE, now my old friend Matt Fowler... Too many surprises…

Lifting his hood, John stepped behind a tree for a beat and pretended to scroll through his phone until MALLARD turned and wandered south along Norrbro in the opposite direction of the SUV. A half block away, the agent strode across the street and around the corner.

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