Game: A Thriller Read Free

liquid rained down on her face and upper body. Dear God, please don’t let it be gasoline!
    Finally, they were around the corner again and she looked quickly behind her for Bengt, hoping that he remembered enough of his minimal training to have opened the car doors for them.
    But the turning circle where the car had been parked was empty.
    “Fuck!” she hissed but was drowned out by the assistant’s screams.
    “Blood!” he cried, almost in falsetto. “Christ, I’m bleeding!”
    Rebecca twisted her head again and suddenly realized she was having trouble seeing. A red fog was descending over her eyes and she rubbed the hand holding the baton across her nose.
    No car, no Bengt, and their attackers right behind them. What to do?
    Make a decision, Normén, make a decision now! her brain shrieked at her.
    Backward known and secure, forward unknown and dangerous. But what to do if your escape route had suddenly been cut off? They didn’t teach you that on the bodyguard course. Improvisation had never exactly been her strong point. She was close to panic.
    “Over here!” she heard a voice shout.
    The guard had opened the door wide and had taken up a position halfway between it and her. He’d drawn his baton and was staring at the corner where their attackers ought to have appeared by now.
    With a couple of quick strides Rebecca half-pulled and half-shoved the minister for integration through the door that they had left just a few minutes before. She could still hear the assistant’s hysterical sobbing behind her but paid him no attention, concentrating on getting her charge to safety.
    It wasn’t until several minutes later, after reinforcements had arrived and the situation had calmed down, that she realized that the whole of her upper body was covered in blood.

2
TRIAL
    Dear HP
    This is a trial game worth 100 points. Try it out, and if you like the experience, decide if you want to continue playing. This is your task: At the next station a man in a light coat will get on the train. The man will be carrying a red umbrella. For 100 points, you must take the umbrella before the train reaches Stockholm Central. If you succeed I will unlock the phone and it will be yours to use as long as you participate in the Game.
    Do you understand?
    Yes
    No
    This was actually fucking cool. HP grinned to himself as he clicked on Yes. Real Mission: Impossible stuff—all that was missing was the dry voice and the telephone going up in smoke.
    “This message will self-destruct in ten seconds . . .”
    He still hadn’t managed to work out which one of the other passengers was working for Mange, but it didn’t really matter. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what it was allabout now. Either he was expected to chicken out and would have to put up with weeks of crap about what a coward he was, or else—and this was more likely, now he came to think about it—there’d be some trick with the umbrella. It would be glued down, or would spray water, or give him an electric shock when he tried to grab it, and one or other of the passengers would film it so he could enjoy his humiliation on YouTube for months to come. It really was a beautiful setup, and now it was too late to back out.
    Excellent!
    When you get the signal to start playing, fix the phone to your clothes with the camera facing out, so we can see how you get on with your task.
    Do you understand?
    Yep, he understood. Fix the phone to his front, camera outward.
    YouTube, here I come!
    HP grinned again. God, Mange was an ingenious bastard. This set a whole new standard. As he clicked on Yes once more, he realized to his surprise that his hangover was almost gone.
    Good, HP!
    You can start your task.
    Good luck!
    The screen went dark.
    Okay, better follow the rules for a bit longer, he thought, and attached the phone to his belt, with the camera facing out, as per the instructions.
    As the train pulled slowly into Sollentuna Station he could feel his heart start to beat