The car stood at the edge of a field, the grain already turning gold, swaying in the wind. A black Audi e-tron GT, lowered and silent, like a shadow on four wheels. Tinted windows, body slick as glass. The only sound was the faint hum of the AC, little more than a whisper.
Inside it smelled of leather, fresh electronics, expensive cologne. Lars sat at the wheel. Jeans, designer T-shirt, hair cut sharp, eyes hidden behind rimless shades. Next to him his partner, Felix. Younger, leaner, a face carved from stone, dark sneakers, a watch worth more than a month’s salary.
Between them, the display. A woman’s voice came through the speakers, crystal-clear, neutral, commanding.
“Status report.”
Lars stifled a yawn. “Subject is at Helios Hanse Clinic. Secured. Accompanied by Marit Nyborg.”
“Access?”
Lars shook his head, not in the mood for this call. “Not possible right now. Staff, cameras, no gap.”
Felix leaned forward, clicked open the glovebox. A sleek black pistol appeared, a SIG P226, suppressor-ready. He lifted it like something precious, checked the thread, then twisted the silencer on with almost tender care. He grinned at Lars.
“Problem solved. Clinic garden, back side. Camera there is down. Two steps, one shot. Then we vanish.”
“Denied.”
Defiance edged Felix’s voice. “Without insurance they’ll turn her away anyway. She’ll come out, and then—”
“She will be examined. That has already been arranged.”
Lars stared out at the gold of the fields, bored. “Why take the risk? She doesn’t belong here. Every move raises visibility.”
“The risk is small. Cost is limited, manageable. The clinic pays, not us. As long as no surgical intervention occurs, control remains intact. We get the latest readouts from her brain, and in the interviews we may extract fragments of memory…”
A burst of static, then clean silence.
“…your scope has been expanded. Evidence outside the zone has been removed. Investigations shut down. Fraud division is officially involved but disengaged. Everything is considered closed.”
Lars pulled on expensive leather gloves. “Temporary.”
“No. Final. Terminating her outside protocol would trigger new movement. Felix, surely you grasp that? Out of the question. Control would no longer be ours. We leave things as they are.”
Felix placed the weapon back, carefully, almost lovingly. Shut the glovebox. “There’s always a way. She’s only human.”
“That depends on how you define human. There must be another way.”
Lars cracked the window, letting the sea breeze slip inside.
“What about tomorrow?”
“The Usedom operation proceeds as planned. Lotta Kaspar is briefed. The family has been notified of your visit. Afterward, standard procedure.”
Felix opened the glovebox again, this time for gum. “What’s her case?”
“Mammary carcinoma. Hormone receptor-positive. Eight-year progression. End stage. Multiple bone metastases. Life expectancy: one to two weeks.”
Felix leaned back with a smile, head against the rest, eyes sliding toward Lars. His gaze was silk, soft and cold all at once. “Ah. Good old cancer. Makes sure we’re never out of work.”
Lars didn’t flinch. Just lifted his hand slowly, a silent sign: Are you out of your mind? He tilted a thumb toward the display.
One beat of silence. Then the voice returned, colder than before, stripped of all tone.
“Felix, this is your final warning. Your disrespect makes you useless to us. Change your attitude.”
A sound, faint, like a channel cut off. Then silence.
Felix swallowed. Turned his head back toward the window. The fields shimmered in the evening light.
Lars started the motor. Silent. The car slipped onto the road, gliding away as if it had never been there.
“She said there must be another way,” Lars murmured. “Tomorrow Usedom. The day after, we take Sina.”
The car vanished into the shimmering dusk. Nothing remained but the promise they would return.