Project Nirvana Read Free

and had also put a price on their heads. During their visit to straighten out the affair, Tor had been too quick on the trigger as they pressured the ex-Syrian intelligence officer to divulge information. Shortly afterwards, they had been caught unawares by two police agents, who had also seemed to have dealings with Omar. When the gun battle was over, there were two more dead bodies, one of which was a cop. To dodge being arrested as a cop killer, Tor had cut a deal with the surviving dirty cop. Tor had realized the potential disaster of this decision, but he had no option while a gun was being pointed at his head.
    Almost five months later, he was still living at Ricki’s – his favourite slut. He did not dare return to his cabin because of the outstanding arrest warrant. One consolation of this miserable situation was that he was getting laid on a regular basis. Ricki had agreed to a few tricks every week, and on credit too, because Tor was short of cash. She had also kindly bought him some new sets of clothes so that he could change daily. As collateral for her help, Tor gave her Omar’s ring, because he could not expect to fuck her and sleep on her sofa free of charge. Tor had not revisited the hospital after the operation on his hand and it was getting worse. He had difficulty moving his fingers and the area around the titanium plate was painful. He had not left Ricki’s flat in Hallonbergen since the taxi ride from Ekerö island and, as long as he did not have a weapon, he could not be outside among people. Without cash, he could not buy a gun. He was stuck in a downwards spiral.
    “I need some cash now!” Ricki said, glaring sourly at Tor. She had been more than fair with Tor, but there were limits even to her goodwill. Months with nothing to show for it except the ring was no longer enough. She needed money just like everyone else. Her customers were becoming increasingly infrequent and the older she got, the more often they would argue about the price. Despite the boob job and face-lift, it was impossible to conceal the effects of nineteen hard years of dealing with all sorts of punters. In her glory days, she had pulled in twenty thousand crowns a week and could always take Sundays off. Nowadays, she was lucky if she could scrape together five thousand, and that included the weekly blow job for that handicapped guy in Sundbyberg.
    Tor had promised her at least thirty thousand as soon as he sold the ring. He had already screwed her for most of that money and she could not live on fresh air, even if Tor’s money would be a welcome addition to her regular income.
    “Next week,” Tor said nonchalantly, changing the TV channel. He needed more time to think. Besides, it was really nice to be served with food and the occasional fuck between the TV soap operas. It was nearly time for lunch.
    “No fucking way,” Ricki snarled. “I’m tired of your ‘next week’ bullshit. You haven’t even tried to fence the ring like you said you would. If you won’t pay a visit to the Hut, I’ll do it.”
    Tor threw down the TV remote.
    “You can’t see him unless I am with you,” he growled determinedly.
    “I don’t give a fuck what you want!” Ricki yelled from the hall. Her green eyes had become as black as the mascara that encircled them. She was not a bloody bank that he could borrow money from indefinitely. Although it was extra cash, she was tired of Tor lying on her sofa watching daytime TV.
    Tor heard the front door opening and then slamming shut. He immediately jumped out of the sofa and ran into the bedroom where Ricki kept the ring. The pathetic toy safe under the bed gaped at him, empty.
    “Silly cow,” he swore loudly.
    Thinking quickly, he grabbed his jacket and set off down the stairs. Out of breath, he arrived at the ground floor just as Ricki got out of the lift. She glared at him suspiciously.
    “So now you have balls?” she said, sarcastically.
    “Let’s take a taxi,” Tor said and opened