Gustav is leading the first unit, and has taken cover with his two fire-and-manoeuvre teams behind the concrete foundations of a fuelling station. He hears a hacking sound and sees the helicopter losing height. Adam yells something and stands up.
‘Lie down!’ Gustav shouts.
Adam manages to take half a step towards the water before he gets knocked off his feet by the pressure wave from the explosion.
He falls backwards and his helmet hits the ground hard.
The heat sets fire to the surrounding trees.
Pieces of metal rain down on the boatyard, but at first Gustav can’t hear anything but a rushing sound, like wind passing through leaves.
And when he calls out to the others to stay down, his voice only seems to exist inside his own head.
The panel of the fuelling station is burning.
He looks at the flames, hears a faint crackle, then suddenly his hearing comes back, and with it the chaos. Adam is screaming desperately next to him.
‘Markus! Markus!’
Adam has lost his brother. His voice cracks as he stands up again. Before Gustav has time to react, Adam fires his semiautomatic. He empties the entire magazine into the rows of luxury motor cruisers, then just lets go of the weapon and lets it dangle from its strap.
‘Get down, they’ve got a sniper,’ Gustav calls.
Adam tears off his protective goggles and stares at the fire. Boats are burning and toppling over, and smaller explosions are still going off. Jamal leaves his cover, drags Adam to the ground and holds him there.
With his hands shaking, Gustav radios Janus.
Glass splinters and pieces of wood are flying through the air.
They’ve lost the helicopter and its four-man crew.
Gustav can still see the sparks in the darkness from the rotor-blade hitting the crane.
Like the crackling blow of an immense magic wand.
He fights back the tears as he recites the names of the colleagues he believes are dead.
‘Groups three and four are on their way, but you need to go in immediately and capture or neutralise the terrorists,’ Janus says.
‘And Joona?’ Gustav asks. ‘What’s happened to Joona Linna?’
‘We haven’t heard from him since he arrived at the scene,’ Janus replies. ‘We have to assume he’s dead.’
‘We have no way of knowing if they’re holding hostages or—’
‘Civilian losses are acceptable,’ Janus interrupts. ‘Backup’s on its way, but you need to do everything in your power to stop the terrorists immediately. That’s an order.’
Gustav ends the transmission and tries to calm his breathing as he looks at the men around him. Jamal is biting his bottom lip, August’s mouth is hanging open, and Sonny’s eyes are blank.
Adam is on his knees, crying as he inserts a fresh magazine into his rifle. His older brother Markus was the mechanic in charge of the rope, the guy who made sure they got to the ground safely just before the helicopter crashed.
‘OK, listen,’ Gustav says, clicking the butt of his semiautomatic into position: ‘Our orders are to capture or neutralise all the terrorists.’
‘When are we getting backup?’ Jamal asks.
‘They’re on their way, but we’re going in right now,’ Gustav replies. ‘Adam, you stay here.’
Adam runs his hand over his face, looks at him and shakes his head.
‘I’m coming,’ he says hoarsely. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I still think it would be best if you stay here.’
‘You need me,’ Adam insists.
‘Then you’re number four, and I’m last,’ Gustav says, feeling another flash of the bad feeling he had earlier. ‘Jamal, you take point.’
‘OK,’ Jamal replies.
‘Don’t take any risks. Think three-sixty degrees. You can do this. Now let’s go!’
Jamal points, gets up into a crouch, and runs over towards the boats through the burning grass. He waves at them to follow him, then starts to make his way through the narrow gap between two rows of luxury yachts.
They move forward like a single unit, trying to secure every angle as they go. The marina is hard to get an overview of, and there hadn’t been time to study a map of the terrain. The flames from the helicopter and burning boats rise up behind them. The fires give them extra light, but they also give the illusion that everything is in motion. The flames reflect off pieces of metal, and large shadows quiver and dart across the hulls of the boats.
Somewhere up ahead of them is a sniper, but it’s practically impossible to know how visible they are to the shooter. They could be standing out clearly against the fire, or they could be merging into the darkness of the boats and surrounding ground.
Gustav forces himself not to think about the officers who have just died. He needs to be focused.
The group moves at a crouch through the narrow passage. They cover all the angles and secure each line of fire instinctively.
Gustav looks back and quickly scans the area behind them. The ground is dry under the boats, and rubbish has blown in and caught on the cables and supports.
The smell of smoke is getting stronger.
The tall flames reflect off the men’s helmets.
Suddenly Jamal signals to them to stop, then squats and puts his left hand on his lower right arm: a signal that indicates the presence of hostiles.
Jamal is no longer certain, but he thought he saw a face out of the corner of his eye.
His heart is beating so hard that his chest hurts.
He gets down on one knee and looks under the hull. Maybe he just saw the fire reflected off a white rudder.
Jamal keeps his finger on the trigger, and moves forward cautiously. He tries to peer around the front of the keel.
Through the clutter he can see the wall of a hangar-like tin building, and a yellow forklift.
Someone is moving very close to them, under the next boat.
A black cat slinks away as Jamal’s finger quivers on the trigger.
Glowing embers are raining down between the rows of boats.
Gustav maintains his position as last man, and watches Jamal move on, straight ahead. He wishes he could call out to him to secure the area to their right instead.
Jamal looks left. A sheet of blue plastic moves in the wind, and drops of water fall to the ground.
Suddenly a pair of eyes flashes over by the building. Jamal spins his weapon around in an instant and looks at the face through the sights.
Someone groans behind him: Adam, tripping over a protruding beam. The barrel of his gun strikes one of the posts with a metallic clang.
Jamal doesn’t know how his finger didn’t succumb to the instinct to squeeze the trigger. Adrenalin turns his blood cold when he realises how close he came to killing the old woman with her knitting.
He puts one hand against a white hull and breathes out.
Gustav turns to check the area behind them. The fire is still spreading, and sheets of burning plastic are drifting across the water. The wind carries the flames, which sets more boats on fire.
Jamal waves them on, and Gustav looks forward, past his men and up towards the parking area. To the left a wrecked car stands among the weeds. Thistles and grass are sticking out from the open bonnet.
Adam is whispering to himself as he pulls out his magazine, looks at it, then clicks it back into place again.
A man in a black tracksuit rushes out from his hiding place behind the wrecked car.
Sonny reacts instantly and fires six shots.
The man’s torso is shattered. Blood explodes into the air, and his left arm is torn off. It’s held on only by the tracksuit sleeve, which wraps around his neck like a scarf as he twists and falls.
At the same time Jamal sinks to the ground. He lies down on his side, as if he needs to rest.
Gustav can’t see what’s going on. Crouching, Sonny runs up to him, then the end of a barrel in front of them flares up.
The sound of the shot is brief but deafening.
The bullet goes straight into Sonny’s face and out through the back of his head. Gustav sees the blood spray onto Adam. Sonny’s helmet flies off and the shot is still echoing as he falls backwards.
Gustav throws himself down and rolls under a huge yacht. The smell of dusty soil and dried grass fills his nostrils. He crawls over to a concrete plinth at the bow and steadies his gun on it.