Buzz: A Thriller Read Online Free

After only a couple of seconds it was as if they had never existed at all . . .
    Modin was shouting something, and far away she heard the radio crackle, but her pulse was pounding so hard against her eardrums that she couldn’t make out any of the words.
    Everything around her seemed to be happening in slow motion. She could make out the tiniest details: the smell of the leather seats, the figures huddled on the backseat, Modin’s jerky movements as she fought to keep the car on the road.
    Her hands were clutching the pistol so tightly that her fingers were beginning to cramp.
    The dust was still being whirled up by the airflow behind the car, forming long, hypnotic spirals that captured her attention and made it impossible to look away.
    Then Modin must have hit a pothole, because for a few moments it felt as if they were flying, floating free, almost like in a dream.
    A couple of milliseconds of weightlessness—then the car hit the ground again. Rebecca crashed down against one of the seats, the dreamlike sensation vanished, and she was thrown back into reality again.
    “Answer the radio!” Modin was shouting, and at the same moment Rebecca realized that her earpiece had fallen out and was dangling on her right shoulder. She quickly poked it back into her ear, lowered her gun, and sank back onto the passenger seat.
    “Is everyone okay, Normén, over?”
    Malmén’s voice sounded worried.
    She twisted around to glance at her fellow passengers.
    The minister and Gladh were each huddled on either side of the backseat.
    “Are you okay back there?”
    No answer, but two chalk-white faces peered slowly up at her.
    “Are you okay, Ann-Christin?”
    Rebecca leaned back at an angle and prodded one of the minister’s knees, which was at least enough to prompt a glassy nod in response.
    “The minister’s okay. We’re returning to the villa,” she said as calmly as she could into the microphone, but the radio somehow seemed to reinforce the tremble in her voice.
    “Understood,” Malmén replied curtly.
    Rebecca suddenly realized she was still clutching her pistol with her right hand.
    She loosened her grip, put the gun back in its holster, then slowly pulled the seat belt on.
    Her pulse had begun to slow down, the adrenaline kick slowly faded away, and she could feel a vague sense of nausea rising in its place.
    “That was damned close . . .”
    Without taking her eyes from the road, Modin nodded in response.
    “I thought I’d had it for a moment there, I don’t know why he didn’t shoot.”
    Modin gave her a quick sideways glance.
    “He probably didn’t have time to get his rifle out before they were on top of him.”
    It took a couple of seconds before Rebecca understood.
    “No, no, not the soldier—I mean the man with the revolver, of course.”
    “Who?” Modin said, shooting her a questioning look.
    Before she had time to answer, Gladh leaned forward and spoke into her left ear.
    “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Normén?” he hissed.

2
FLASHBACK
    “HELLO?”
    “Good evening, my friend. It is already evening with you, isn’t it  . . . ? Is this a bad time to call?”
    “No, no, not at all, I’ve been waiting for you to get in touch. I’m in position—is everything  . . . ready?”
    “Everything’s ready.”
    “What about  . . . ? ”
    “Like I said—everything’s ready. The only question is: Are you? The task is risky, so I can understand that you might be feeling doubtful  . . . But the fact is that we can’t do this without your help.”
    “I’m ready—no problem!”
    “Excellent!”
    “So when do we get going?”
    “Soon, my friend—very soon  . . .”
    ♦  ♦  ♦
    “Darfur?”
    “Hmm . . .”
    “How long?”
    “About a week for recon, four days with the minister, then a couple of days to finish off. Two weeks in total, I’d guess,depending a bit on whether I come home in the government plane or have to take a regular