The Game Trilogy Read Free Page A

or so, same as him. Dark-framed glasses, hair combed back, a summer suit and coat, he noted as the train set off from the platform. That had to be hot.
    The man’s lower half was hidden, so HP couldn’t see if he really was carrying an umbrella. There was only one way to find out.
    He stood up and started moving slowly through the carriage towards the man. For some reason he was sweating, his t-shirt was sticking to his chest and his palms itched, but this time it was more than just the hangover.
    As he passed the teenage girls one of them suddenly burst out laughing and the sound made him jump. Pull yourself together, this is only a game, an elaborate prank, nothing to get excited about. Stealing a crummy umbrella was hardly that much of a challenge for him. He’d nicked considerably better things than that.
    Now he could see that the man was carrying a black and white paper bag, one of those designer ones with a rope handle and a big logo to show the world that he could afford to shop in the smartest shops. A cylindrical object stuck up from one side of the bag. The umbrella!
    HP felt his pulse start to race. He had to admit that this was all pretty exciting. Stealing something while the whole thing was being filmed …
    Okay, so the man in the coat was in on the whole thing, but even so. There was something appealing about theunfolding situation that he couldn’t quite explain. But he really didn’t want to make a fool of himself.
    ‘Next stop Karlberg. Karlberg, next stop,’ the speaker in the roof announced, and he felt the train start to slow down. He took a few more cautious steps towards the man, who hadn’t so much as glanced up at him.
    Then the train jolted several times and stopped at the platform. The doors opened, letting in a smell of warm tarmac and hot brakes. HP took another step forward. Here we go!
    ‘Pigs’ blood,’ Superintendent Runeberg said from behind his desk, leaning back in his chair.
    Although several hours had passed since the events outside Rosenbad, and even though the office was air-conditioned, Rebecca was still sweating. Her hair was wet from the shower, and in the absence of anything better she had put on her gym kit, the only clean clothes she had in her locker.
    ‘They threw pigs’ blood at you and Lessmark,’ her boss went on. He was a thickset man in his mid-forties, with a steely gaze, spiky blond hair and a suntan that went all the way down to his scalp.
    A perfect example of a bodyguard. Good-looking too, if you like the over-pumped type, she thought.
    But those days were far behind her now.
    Strangely, considering what had happened, she felt pretty good, with the possible exception of a bit of adrenalin-fuelled trembling that she was doing her best to hide. She had done her job and her charge was okay, that was the main thing. She could think through the details later.
    ‘According to Forensics, one of the men threw a balloon filled with pigs’ blood at the Minister for Integration, but you burst it with your baton and most of the contentsended up on you. The minister escaped with a few drops on her jacket and a serious bruise on her arm from where you were holding her.’
    He paused, but before she could work out if she was expected to say something he went on:
    ‘One of the evening papers seems to have pictures already, which would explain why the third man wasn’t involved in the actual attack. Presumably he was busy taking pictures. The free market and the free press in beautiful harmony. The Minister sends her thanks and best wishes, by the way. I doubt the same could be said of the perpetrators,’ Runeberg said.
    Rebecca gave a short nod in response.
    ‘According to eye-witnesses, the men escaped on foot, running across Gustav Adolfs torg and in through the back entrance to the Gallery shopping mall. Our uniformed colleagues in the regular force stopped the underground, but before they managed to get hold of someone in charge and the order was actually