“Stay still, would you?” Ben asked, irritated.
“You’re not the one with a bullet in your leg!” Mark
snapped. “If you were, then, you would feel that bloody excruciating pain!”
“Mark, I’m gonna cut a line on your leg…” Ben trailed off as he
ran a small dagger over the dancing flame in front of him.
“Why can’t I just go to the hospital?!” Mark exasperated. “It’s
just a bullet wound!” But on the inside, he’s afraid. He’d never been ‘cut
open’ before, let alone leaving that job to another assassin.
Mark was more to a pampered kid. Growing up with two older
brothers and loving parents, they led a happy life – until Gary and his father
had a car accident and died on the spot. His mother had to work to get the
money for them to survive through the rough days, but Colin and Mark had their
fair share as the remaining males in the family of three. Colin started working
late at nights, only to come home early the following day. Mark had a job at a
burger joint nearby. He needed the money to get him through secondary school.
Apart from those, nevertheless, they were a very happy family; glad that they
had each other. On the other hand, Mark had hate Colin when he found out that
Colin was working as an assassin.
‘Can’t believe I’m an assassin myself now,’ Mark thought.
“But they’ll ask where did you get the bullet. What are you
going to say?” Ben asked calmly as he ran the tip of the knife on the flame.
Mark’s head snapped up, tuning himself away from his memories.
“That I… I…” Mark threw up his hands in despair. “Oh, I dunno!”
He turned his head a little when he heard a soft knock on the door. “Who’s
that?”
“Are you in there?” a man asked from the other side.
The both of them knew that man very well.
Simon Webbe.
A wealthy man who had many enemies in his world where he spun
his business webs. Those that were helpless would be caught in his webs, just
like an insect caught and stuck in a spider’s web. Those who could
wriggle their ways out – well, let’s just say that there’s very little chance
for them to survive later on.
But Mark and Ben knew better.
There’re many people working for Webbe. Countless people who
didn’t dare to have their own say; voice out their minds to Webbe. They were
ordered to do many things, hideous things that they would carry with them to
their graves.
Why did those people with great careers gone nuts and then,
disappeared from the very surface of this earth later in their lives? The
answer won’t be easy for normal people to know, but to those working for Webbe,
it’s kind of easy to figure out. Those poor people were assassinated. If not,
something horrible would be arranged to befall on them and then they would feed
on those horrible things; becoming mentally ill in the end.
In short, Webbe was a very cruel man. Nothing stood on his path
to success, although he was already on the top of the ladder marked
“success”.
Mark’s thoughts were interrupted when someone bent over him,
casting a heavy shadow over him.
“What happened?” Webbe asked.
“He’s on the mission…” Ben was about to continue his sentence
but Mark raised his hand, cutting his friend’s sentence off.
“I was shot, Si,” Mark said.
“Shot?! How?” Simon Webbe asked.
“While I was trying to escape.”
“So, did Fjellmen die?”
Mark nodded. “I managed to kill him before his mistress woke up
and screamed her head off.”
“Did his mistress saw you?”
“I don’t think so,” Mark lied. In fact, deep in his heart, he
knew that Kirsten had seen him. One more wrong move and the Prime Minister
would’ve known everything and men everywhere would be rewarded… if they could
find Mark, whether he’s dead or alive. He would be a wanted man, running from
one corner of the Earth to the other corner. He wouldn’t be safe anywhere!
“Thank God then,” Simon said. “C’mon, let’s get you to the
hospital. After you’d recovered, I can guarantee you that I have another job
for you.”
“You always have jobs for us,” Ben chirped in.
Mark sighed although he was relieved in the inside. At least Ben
needn’t to deal with the bullet. He wouldn’t really trust Ben for a job like
that. “Are you sure I can go to the hospital? I mean, look at me! I’m dressed,
like, totally in black. Won’t they be suspicious? Won’t they asked how the hell
did I get this bullet in my leg?” he repeated Ben’s question earlier.
“I can always say that you’re my employee – which is totally
true ‘cause I hired you – and I shot you accidentally. Besides, it shouldn’t be
hard because I’m well known around the world as, what, a very successful
tycoon… and I was practising my pistol when you went out of the house and I
shot you. I didn’t see you in the first place.”
“Interesting…” Ben said, rubbing his chin. “Well, let’s go
then!” he said enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want him to bleed to death now,
would you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I can’t afford to lose such a
professional assassin now, can I?” Simon asked, smiling.
Mark just smiled at that comment. He knew that Simon was telling
the truth. Mark was the best assassin someone could get his hands on, and
getting Mark to work for Simon wasn’t an easy job. Mark preferred to remain
anonymous when he first received the email from Simon asking him to work for
WebbeCorp. But now, he’s comfortable just as he was. He knew his place in
WebbeCorp and Simon had to pay Mark a huge sum of money – usually involving
seven figures – every year for the missions that were completed by Mark and
Ben. Ben alone had to be paid about three quarters of Mark’s salary every year.
He didn’t need much pay because he’s just a rookie, learning the techniques
from Mark.
Simon had to admit – the both of them were very expensive
but he could afford it…
~~ecaf~~
“Kirs, honey, you need to eat…” her mother, Caroline, said
softly. She tried coaxing Kirsten into eating something but the stubborn girl
wouldn’t even bat an eyelash, staring aimlessly ahead of her.
“If she won’t eat, leave her. Sooner or later, she’ll come to
and surrender to her hunger. Mum, please, get some sleep. You haven’t been
sleeping for so long!” Kirsten’s twin brother said.
“Christian, I’m fine. I don’t need sleep,” said Caroline
as she bent forward to put down the china bowl and spoon.
Immediately, a maid went forward to receive the bowl from
Caroline. She picked up a spoon and tried getting some of the porridge into
Kirsten’s system.
The young blonde smiled. “Of course you don’t, Mum,” Christian
said. “It’s just that Dad said he’s coming home later and I think he wants you
more than any of us.” Pause. “Mum, just leave Kirsten to me. She’s my sister
and I’m sure I can take care of her rather well.”
“Sir, Mr. Ingebrigtsen is on the line,” a servant said, handing
a silver mobile phone to Christian.
“Excuse me,” Christian said and got up from the table after
accepting the phone from the servant. “Dad?”
Christian listened to the man on the other end of the line,
walking slowly through the grand foyer and into the lounge where he poured
himself a glass of white wine. He sat down on the lush white couch, slowly
sipping the wine. He told his father about the late Jacob Bysen, the man whom
Kirsten had been having an affair with since she divorced with Nathan Fjellmen.
“Dad, where’s Nathan Fjellmen?” Christian asked. He listened for
a little while. “You mean he’s a successful…?” Christian was genuinely shocked.
“Dad, are you sure?” Another long pause as the elder Ingebrigtsen explained everything
to his son. “Simon Webb wants to kill Fjellmen? Is that why he ran away to the
US? No wonder he flew to the other side of the world now. But his business is
still going great, yeah?” He listened carefully to his father for a minute
before answering, “Sure, I know, I’ll be in Stockholm by tomorrow. But do I
really have to represent you and meet those people?”
“Yes,” the patient voice on the other end said. “I told you,
this musical event is a very important thing and we have to co-operate with Sweden
to prove to them that we Norwegians are fine with the festival. Have you got
the folder I sent you last night?”
“Yeah, a messenger knocked on the door earlier the day and
handed it to me. 350 artistes, Dad? Isn’t it a little bit too many people to
perform in that festival?” Christian asked.
“The festival is for three days and three nights, Christian,”
his father sighed. “What are you doing now? Still lounging around the house?”
“Yeah,” Christian said.
“Not working on the car company?” His father had recently bought
a building near the centre of Oslo and they specialised in selling imported and
expensive cars such as Jaguars, Porsches and Mercedes.
This time, it was Christian’s turn to sigh. “Dad, you’ve got
like, a hundred people working in that company! You don’t need me actually.
Dad, can I ask you one thing?”
“Yes?”
“Can I have my own studio? I mean like getting myself a building
or something and do those things that those people need to do for artistes.”
“You mean, like a production company, then?” his father asked.
“Yes, and having some sound engineers around, producing great
songs for people.”
“Like something they do in the music industry then?”
Christian sighed inwardly. He knew his father wouldn’t approve
of it. He wondered why he even wanted to discuss this with his father. He
could’ve just get himself a partner that’s willing to do the works in the
production company while he, Christian, would just show up to tweak things and
mix those things to form some songs.
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why not,” his father said. “I mean, there’s nothing
wrong with getting into your own business. In fact, I’m quite glad you came to
terms with it. I definitely don’t want to see my son growing up to be someone
who don’t want to have a job for the rest of his life.”
Christian mouth dropped open. “Really? Oooh… that’s great!
Thanks, Dad!” He could’ve leap seven feet in the air. Yes, he’s that
happy.
~~ecaf~~
“See, that wasn’t so bad now, wasn’t it?” Ben asked as he helped
Mark into the flat’s living room.
Mark limped onto the blue leather couch and sunk deep in it,
panting slightly. “This leg is going to be in the way for quite some time.”
“In the way for…?” Ben asked, a twinkle dancing in his blue
eyes.
“Oh, just shut up, Ben!” Mark laughed.
Just then Simon entered the flat and he didn’t look very
pleased. “Mark, Ben, there’s something that I think you two should do.”
“What, you’re staying for the night?” Ben asked jokingly.
Realising that Simon wasn’t laughing – or smiling – Ben asked, “Okay, what’s
wrong?”
“Mark,
Fjellmen’s alive.”
”WHAT?!” Mark shouted. “What do you mean by he’s still
alive? You mean I got shot for nothing?!”
Simon shrugged. “I’m just telling you that you’d killed the
wrong person last night.”
“B… but… how?” Mark stammered. “We’ve been through the plan so
many times!”
“Actually, the plan is correct. It’s my information that’s
wrong. This man told me the wrong thing. He didn’t tell me that Fjellmen ran
away to the US. I received a call from Alex in the United States and he told me
that Fjellmen is now on his way to Canada.” Simon looked at Mark seriously.
“Mark, Ben, I need you two to go over to Canada to finish this mission and
close this case once and for all.”
“Canada?!” Ben exclaimed, awe filled his voice. “No
kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding, Ben?” Simon asked gravely.
Ben looked down at the marbled floor and shook his head slowly.
“And you don’t have to worry about your expenses. I’ll arrange
everything. All you two have to do is just say “yes” and everything will be
arranged and you’ll be on your way to Canada in three months’ time. You’ll be
given money to spend in all the things you need in order to get rid of
Fjellmen. Your accommodation will be arranged… everything will be done by the
time you got there. We’ll just give Fjellmen some time to “get acquainted” in
Canada.”
Mark sighed. “When can we turn down an offer, eh Ben?” He looked
at Ben and got a nod instead. “So, Si, I guess the answer would be a “yes”. We will
go to Canada and finish that Fjellmen for you.”
~~ecaf~~
“Paul, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t
wanna go to Stockholm?” Christian exasperated.
“But, Chris, think. This is Stockholm we’re talking about! Who
wouldn’t wanna be there?” Paul asked from the other end of the line.
“I’ve been there countless of times, Paul.” Christian sighed and
shifted the mobile phone to the other ear as he sat down on the settee in his
bedroom. “But those times I’d been there, I was on vacation. Well, sort of.”
“I’ll come with you,” Paul offered.
“Thanks Paul, but no thanks. You’re in Spain for God’s sake!”
“Ahh… but can’t a Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son travel? I’ll
go to Norway, and Norway is a foreign country that Spain would want to,
well, co-operate with. I think Mr. I and Dad will have a talk about, what,
copper soon.”
“I don’t think it was copper at that time, Paul,” Christian
laughed. “But it’s their business anyway.”
“Haha… yeah, and I think they should have a new international
rule: sons and daughters of ministers aren’t suppose to get themselves involved
in their parents’ businesses.” There was a pause and Paul continued. “I’m not
making a lot of sense, am I?”
“No,” Christian confirmed. “But I can’t wait to see you again,
which also means that you are going to Stockholm with me.”
“Oh, joy!” Paul said sarcastically. “Reckon we can drive up to
Sweden again?”
“Not anytime soon, am afraid. I’m taking a plane there.”
“It’s a pity then. Remember the time we drove to Sweden?”
“Yeah,” Christian laughed again. “God, it was stupid!”
“But it was a very “romantic” drive, wasn’t it?”
Paul laughed.
“Should’ve invited Williams at that time, shouldn’t we?”
“Oh yeah!” Paul exclaimed. “Why didn’t we get him to go with us,
eh? I’m sure he would’ve agreed.”
“But Prince Harry wasn’t very excited when we told him about
it.”
“Chris, Chris,” Paul tutted. “Prince Williams was excited
though. He’s thinking of some exotic country!”
“Haha… hey, what about your friend, Ben?”
“You mean Ben, the boy whom I’d known since I was in primary
school?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Ha… hmm… I dunno. I haven’t heard from him since that time when
he helped me with my equestrian skills.”
“Paul, that was ages ago!”
“I know. The thing is, he still calls me now and then to check
me up. He says that he’s in a university in London now, majoring in music or
something.”
“Good for him, then. I’m also finishing my course. Did I tell
you that Dad allowed me to buy a building to do one of those production
business I told you about?”
“No… you haven’t, but did Mr. I really allowed you? I mean, I
thought he…”
“I know… I was expecting him to turn me down and told me to go
do something else instead.”
Paul laughed at the other end of the line.
“You know, wouldn’t it be funny if we suddenly end up being in a
band or something? I mean, have you ever thought of that?”
Paul laughed again. “What… something like a punk band? With you?
I’ll look twice un-punk!” Paul sighed. “Man, I hate being stuck as a
Prime Minister’s son! I really can’t do all those things that punks get to do…
I don’t even look like one!”
“Erm… Paul, you already look like a punk – with all those
piercing and stuff. You don’t look like the son of a minister! You
listen to rock, heavy metal and God knows what else! Why are you still
complaining?”
“I do? Gee… thanks Ingebrigtsen. But seriously, Dad wasn’t very
happy when he saw the piercing.”
“I’d bet!” Christian laughed.