MILK

By Michael Owino

The Danish investigator Tom Halvorsen had just arrived home, to his newly bought, small but cozy house. placed in one of the prosperous suburbs in the northern part of Copenhagen, tired after a long day of work, finally seated, on his old chesterfield sofa, in front of the fireplace with a cup of te

• Language: English
• Publisher: MichaelOwino
• Release date: Jan 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9788794430005

Book preview

1

MILK

THIRD INSTALMENT IN THE TRILOGY BY

MICHAEL OWINO

ENGLISH TRANSLATION BY

OSKAR ANDERSEN

INTRODUCTION

Location: Central Østerbro, Copenhagen.

Time and date: 19:06, the 19th of February - 2018.

What the hell is happening? What-

His mouth doesn’t manage to utter the next sentence before it stops.

She can see that he’s shoved against the car door, with his chest being squashed in a disturbing and quite unnatural way. It’s like seeing a soft doll being mashed. The very next second a big stream of blood splashes out of the hole the projectile created.

It’s a big and heavy weapon that made this, she can tell. Instinctively, she bends forward with her arms above her head, kneeling on the street.

As she’s on her knees, she sees Ahmed’s head being capped open, with the neck being pulled back in a violent manor. Another shot.

As the blood flows from his head, meeting the other pool of blood on the street, she thinks to herself; This is my last moments.

As she’s still kneeling fully exposed, uttering a last prayer, she feels the burning pain in her hip. She’s shot.

As she is lying there, with her head facing the cold snow, she tries to reach for her gun. She manages to grab it, but as she does so, she flows out of consciousness.

Chapter 1

The Escape from Kronborg Castle

Thursday, 22 of February 2018.

As expected, the city is dead quiet. And just like any other small town he just passed through at high a speed in his car, on his way through the icy Strandvej and further up north. Elsinore should hopefully be a little more alive on a Thursday night, he says to himself - But no, a sleeping town meets him, as he enters the city, about less than 50 kilometers from Copenhagen, the capital.

From the south side, he passes at a slow pace past Elsinore's old and proud railway station, which at first glance resembles a small version of a medieval castle, with curved shapes and spires. Opposite the train station, lies a little, unvisited, Chinese restaurant; behind the glass door pane stands a waitress, looking dejectedly out at the snowfall outside. To get a quick overview of the area surrounding the square, the ferry wharf and the railway station, he stops at one of the empty parking spaces in front of the main entrance to the station. Diagonally to the right, he gets a glimpse of the great castle of Kronborg, which now lies almost hidden by a hazy mist and the dense snowfall, like a dark shadow of Elsinore. Beside him is the main entrance to the railway, where a scene is now unfolding.

One of the station employees, an authoritative guy, with a green, luminescent vest, pulled over his work attire, is arguing with a bunch of half-baked youngsters, that doesn’t want to leave the station. His untamed jet-black hair and tired sunken eyes is in stark contrast to his shiny vest. He is now closing the station for the night, which means the youngsters must leave the station's entrance hall. With their open beer cans in their hands and plastic bags filled with more drinks, they are making loud objections, as they wish to continue drinking in the waiting hall. They just managed to get the stuff in that they’ve just station’s 7/11.

The guy had enough as he’s yelling at them at the top of his lungs; he manages to get the mob out of the station building, and then hurries up to lock the two main entrance doors, so no further intruders might appear. The man in vest paces on and disappears around one of the corners of the building.

Tom starts the car again and glances to the left, passing by the square and taxi ranks in front of the station; tonight, it’s empty.

A phone icon lights up the display on the car system – it is Bjørn. Tom presses the button underneath the icon and a deep voice fills up the carriage. Bjørn's voice sounds loud and clear in the speaker system, a stark contrast to the sleepy silence that he experienced mere moments ago.

"It has now been confirmed, with one hundred percent certainty, that their phones that are inside Kronborg Castle. They have the same phone ID as ones used at the time of the Østerbro incident.

Tom answers in a dry tone. Of course, it is, then adds, as if to soften his initial cold response a bit. "I’ll find a parking spot as close to the castle as possible without it being too close, then take the rest of the trip on foot. It won’t take me many minutes to get there."

Bjørn eagerly responds. In twenty minutes, we will have enough people to be able to put a ring around the castle and thus they will be completely surrounded.

Tom soberly answers: I am convinced that they have chosen Kronborg Castle to be able to make escape to Sweden during the night. They expect the police to monitor ferry crossings, airport flights and regular border crossings.

Bjørn has a slight laughter in his voice. Yes, the narrow transition across the pond is a classic. Had it not been for their phones, which for some reason they haven’t destroyed yet, they would probably have gotten away with this little scheme, yea?

Just a moment, I’m parking the car now. I’ll talk to you later. Tom hangs up. He makes an obliquely turn to the left, up one of the small roads along the harbor line. On his car screen he has connected to the PET-map, which shows him the map of Elsinore, as well as red dots, which resembles point-of-interest, another way to say signals from devices from both the criminals as well and the PET-agents. The PET has made a huge effort to help the mission, getting a top-secured device, that’s been set to receive signals from around a radius of two kilometers around him.

Tom takes a last look on the map; Sophie Brahe’s Street is showing on his device. He then slowly pushes the car into the narrow, dark street and begins to scout out the car for a space to park. Preferably one that is as close to the castle as possible. In his rear-view mirror, he can see the dark outline of the castle's spires, like bulging black spikes in the air, penetrating the cloudy haze surrounding the area.

As he is nearing the end of the street without having found a parking space, the headlights from the car behind him is approaching from a distance, he can see in his rear-view mirror. It’s a white van and it is fast as it drives towards him. Tom manages to make a right turn in his car, and unto another small street

FOOD DELIVERY is written with large letters on the side of the white food truck, as the van passes by at a high speed. Tom slowly pushes the Audi to the end of a small and narrow street. As he arrives, he reads: PARKING PROHIBITED. He parks the Audi anyway, as it’s not too illegal, and it’s a great spot to get close to the castle.

The display lights once again up, and he presses YES to an incoming call. Bjørn's voice fills up the car one more time, but this time even more enthusiastically.

Now everything is clear from here, I have coordinated everything, the Frogman Corps are on its way from the seaside, so they’ll be blocked from a maritime getaway, then two special-force police helicopters are on their way from Roskilde, they’re on standby at the old, abandoned Elsinore Hospital.

Tom interrupts Bjørn’s word flow with a question.

What about Helle and Karin, where will they be positioned?

Bjørn answers: On the ground floor of the Food Hall, and from there they will partly be able to be your back-up if needed, and at the same time act as my support to my orders, in a case of an attempt to escape. Ashore they will be able to cut them off in collaboration with common police.

Very well.

Tom hangs up the call and ponders on what happened to him 2 years ago in Munich, when KRÄSEN’s people captured him. He feels slightly embarrassed when thinking of the whole debacle. That wasn’t supposed to happen to an agent, the least of all him. They had apparently managed to break the code to PET's internal network, being able to track his every move. With all this information about PET’s agent and Tom, they had an easy time kidnapping him, when he decided to investigate to Kräsen Farm in Germany. For a short while, he sits and looks at the internal, interactive map of the PET, while he uploads all relevant information his service phone. A high-level map connected with a live update of locations, showing all the agents’ positions, granting them communication between each other.

From the restaurant opposite of him, classical music flows out through the door, which is now left open and small crowds of people flows in and out from the entrance. Whether it is to smoke a cigarette or just get some fresh air, he can’t tell, many of the guests still have their drinks in their hands; they’re all clearly drunk. The conversation is lively amongst the crowd outside, and none of the partying people take notice of him.

In this moment he suddenly feels a sting of envy. As in a flash he remembers his own carefree youth. It could have been him standing there, enjoying a glass of great wine, watching the snow descent towards the ground in a lightly, almost dancing movement. Such a night it could be, and with his first great love Minna.

When he narrows his eyes, he can just manage to read the sign the restaurant name on it: Francophile. Its letters are neatly twisted in an almost archaic fashion. The drunken guests are not even noticing his parked car out in front; who would bother to look at this anonymous middle-aged man in his up-scale car on a Saturday night? There are too many types like him in this area.

The interactive map is now fully uploaded to the system; the two dots on the map, resembling the targets, are currently inside the castle and appear red points with two luminous blue circles around them. He casts a glance at his wristwatch for the fifth time this hour, an almost compulsive act. It’s a habit that he got while starting out in the PET. He always enjoyed the craftsmanship of real watches and would rather use that than his phone. The luminescent numbers on his newly acquired Tag Heuer shows him time; it’s 9.30pm.

Chapter 2

Attack From Above

If he makes his move fast, he can get unseen to one of the guardhouses before crossing the bridge over the moat that leads into the castle and lake. Under the shelter of a guardhouse, he will be able to form an overview of the current situation. It's dark around the castle and the bridge - thankfully. It won’t be impossible for anyone to spot him, but very, very hard; he takes the chance.

From the back seat, he pulls out his thick, dark down jacket, which he places on the seat next to him, then takes his bulletproof vest and puts it over his sky-blue pullover, and then finally, he fits his handgun in his belt around his waist, and his other guns are well-hidden in the jacket one under each armpit. He gets out of the car, closes and locks the car door. Put the jacket on and zips up to the neck. Slightly bent forward, he begins to walk back down Sophie Brahe’s Street, towards the harbor and castle. As he reaches the street corner, he is out of sight of the guests standing outside in front of the restaurant. He picks up the pace and his gait become a run, and through the layer of snow that increases second by second. He jogs past the parking area where during the day there are cars and tourist buses with visitors to the castle and the nearby Food Hall. Further through a thick layer of snow that has settled on the open grass area along the path system that leads to the moat itself. Arriving at the first guardhouse, he hurries to seek shelter under the eaves while pressing himself up against the wall, before moving on to the riskier part of the trip - the open bridge over the moat.

A big roaring sound suddenly appears from above. As he looks up into the night sky, then out across the water he can see two cones of light, almost likes beacons, getting closer and closer towards his position at a high speed. He squints his eyes even more, with the snowfall disturbing his view, making it difficult to see clearly. The helicopter flies above him, he pushes himself all the way up the guardhouse wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. With a swift move he pulls his police phone up, covering the screen with his left hand, so that others cannot see the light from the phone. The two figures with fluorescent, blue, light circles around them have moved from their initial positions and into the castle tower. The helicopter is right above him now; the sound of the engines and rotating the blades resonates in the castle walls, as he peeps out. Confused and wondering what his next move is, he considers calling Bjørn, but doesn’t.

Why does he not get a notification on the map, nothing but the two figures with blue circles are showing.

From his current location, there is about a 20 second run to the outer wall of the castle. The gate to the castle courtyard is open, so all he must do is not being seen.

Shit, he mutters to himself. Why has he never taken the time to visit the castle as a regular guest? He has had plenty of opportunity to do it, but like so much else he had rejected the thought, of it being too boring, too common. In this hectic moment, he suddenly hears the word of his ex-wife, Minna, who frequently had suggested: Let’s go to Kronborg for the day. But his idea of fun was vastly different. He mostly cared about impressing his colleagues with expensive travels, Michelin restaurants and luxurious adventure. The old Castle was not on his list, not that he couldn’t see the beauty of the old magnificent building, but more that it was so touristy and close to home – no. Name a Champagne worth drinking - and he knows it. Name a restaurant worth visiting - and he’s been there. He still from and time, with painful clarity, recalls, how Minna once suggested, almost insisted that they should go hiking and biking around Bornholm. He went on to bully her for nearly a week straight, calling her nostalgic, backward thinking and boring. He stopped with the goodbye kisses in the morning before going to work, slept with his backside against her and avoided eating at home, until she had finally had enough and gave up on the idea, and instead went on a Surfing trip to California.

He had been arrogant and self-absorbed in the past; his career had been the only thing that mattered to him, even though he was a master at hiding it to others.

What really turned things around for him, was when Minna started to talk about having a child and starting a real family.

That sort of life isn’t for me. Everyone doesn’t have to start a family.

Had been his standing reply, when Minna regularly took to the subject.

His cell phone vibrates in his left pocket. He carefully picks up the phone, while putting the other phone with the interactive map away. He connects the specially made headset and accepts the incoming call; it’s Bjørn again.

They’re fucking on to us. Hold your position. The chopper above is theirs, not ours. We have one on its way. Right now, I’m figuring out how we can speed up the process. It’s not common for Bjørn to swear, he’s clearly worried.

Tom meets Bjørn’s concern in a low-pitched, almost toneless reply. Who do we have on the ground, and can they support me?

Yes, yes. We have people in place, Bjørn answers.

Tom pulls out his gun. They are damn fast!

Yes, it’s not good says Bjørn and continues. Karin and Helle have arrived, they are standing-by on their positions near the Food Hall. They both follow your every move on the screen. A boat with 6 Frogmen is on its way, approximately five minutes. If you can get into Kronborg before the others arrive, making the push, that would be-

Tom and Bjørn doesn’t have time to talk any further, as the sound from the roaring helicopter above him makes him unable to hear more.

Now, there are several more engines in the airspace, this time the sound comes from behind, -police helicopters. He switches back to his service device containing the map, putting his other phone back in the pocket. He then proceeds to grab his gun with the other hand and looking out into the snow filled night, shielding his eyes to get a view.

The timer shows: 22.33, exactly 20 minutes since he parked the car. The targets have moved further up in the castle. Tom changes position from his squatting stance, to get up and run all way over to the bridge that leads inside the castle, then he continues through the gate and into the castle square, he makes a to the right turn and pushes himself up the castle's inner wall.

Tom’s trying to listen for any noise, but there’s nothing. No one noticed this swift little maneuver - so far so good. He can now see across the whole castle courtyard. He has view from the fountain in the middle of the courtyard, all the way up to the thorny spires. A tornado of snow is taking form in the square due to the pressure from the Helicopter's rotary blades, causing the snow to swirl upwards. With one hand up in front of his face to protect his eyes and to maintain his vision, he scouts from side to side, trying to look beyond the castle. The helicopter has now descended so much that with the slightest navigation error would cause its rotary blades to hit the Kronborg’s proud spires. It must be professionally trained pilot for this job.

Two large projectors mounted on the helicopter are turned on, that’s still hovering in the night sky. The light cones are directed towards one of the towers, which answers the light back with another cone. He can see few figures moving on the narrow external balcony that runs around the lower part of the spire. The helicopter slowly begins to descend further towards the spire. The snowy wind is blowing even harder, but it is still possible for him to follow the whole scenario unfold. The pilot clearly experienced; it requires lots of practice to navigate a Black Hawk EH60.

A door on the side of the helicopter is opened; one of the figures dangles on a wire the air between the spire and the helicopter. With swift forceful move, the chopper pulls him upwards and inside the cabin. Another figure walks out into the spire balcony, but suddenly a loud robotic voice sounds from behind him, a jolt of danger runs through his body.

It’s the Danish police force! Land the unauthorized aircraft now!

The dense snowfall makes it virtually impossible for him to see what is going on, but he can still sense that there are now two helicopters hovering over the castle.

It’s the Danish police. Stop the operation immediately! Put down the helicopter! Another figure dangles in the air and is then hoisted up into. Again, the police voice echoes out over the castle. The whole of Kronborg is now bathed in extreme light from the two helicopters and mixed in with the heavy snowfall; it is now impossible then bright white light. The sound of a machine-gun a bang out, so it resonates through the old walls. Then two more rounds are fired. Tom tries to take aim without being able to see much.

There is a boom like in a bomb explosion, then a huge flash of light illuminating the sky; he gets a glimpse of the two helicopters, one of which is now bathed in flames. He can see the other one is on its way away from the scene at high speed, towards the coast. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it. He just stands paralyzed watching the whole thing in disbelief. The big fireball in the sky has begun to rotate around itself while going downwards, fast. Petrified, he sees the scenario. A voice from far away, might be in his head, makes him react suddenly.

RUN!

Running over the castle square once more, then to the bridge with the snow-covered moat below. As he reaches the bridge, there is a colossal bang, behind him. He throws himself flat on the ground, on his stomach with both hands over his head and his face down in the snow. A sound of broken glass and thousands metal pieces being torn apart on top of the explosion. Fragments of the shattered aircraft hit his body as they are escaping their former home. The helicopter has crashed halfway into the moat, like a giant bomb its’ lying on its head, and might explode again. Tom can see it as he gradually lifts his head up off the ground.

Up again. He races as fast as he can away from the burning wreck and over the open entrance heading towards the Food Hall before the helicopter explodes. There is a ripping deep droning sound, glass shattering, a huge flame shooting out of one of the Food Hall's ten meter high and ten-meter-wide panoramic windows on the first floor. The heat and impact can be felt within a radius of thirty meters; the ground shaking beneath him. The Food Hall is on fire. In shock, he pushes himself once more against the cold snow, lying on his stomach. What is this? He thinks to himself.

The silence is interrupted by the sound of sirens, many of them. He has the taste of blood and a constant ringing from his right ear as the noise approaches.

Up on the feet again, sprinting towards Sophie Brahe’s Street and his car. As he approaches the street, a herd of shocked and frightened people is gathering. One of the women is screaming out hysterically, while another woman shouts Fucking terrorists.

A fat guy in a short-sleeved T-shirt is shouting Police, police! Where the hell are you when we need you?

The people are standing in small separate groups, terrified. There are children crying, as the black cloud of smoke gradually rises up cover the whole area. Tom yells with full force while showing his gun.

Keep your distance, it's the police, go back into your homes.

A couple of guys line up to block the way for him, with one of them shouting Can I see your badge?

Tom ignores this request and proceeds to yell out

Get away from the street, it's the police. He fires two shots with great precision between their legs, only inches from their feet. It’s so close that it rips the bottom of their pants. Both stop immediately, and in total shock and disbelief, they move to aside.

Tom shouts, I will shoot again if necessary.

Now no one dares to do anything. The small crowds are standing paralyzed and stiff, as the black, foul-smelling smoke spreads around them.

Tom jumps in the Audi, starts the engine, floors the accelerator and starts racing in the opposite direction of the harbour and Kronborg, moving away from the coast and towards the motorway.

Chapter 3

Gustav Kräsen's true identity

Friday 23 February 2018.

The road he is driving on is gradually changing in colour; from dark-greyish hew to completely white due to the continuing heavy snowfall. There are no people and the cars he passes by could be counted on one hand. A few months earlier, this stretch of road had been filled to the brim with eager Christmas shoppers. Now it is as quiet as it possibly could be. Only a few shops are partly lit by lighting but most of them are entirely seeped in darkness. The high electricity prices mean that even on the country's most exclusive shops are in full lightning always.

With the attack on Kronborg, one of the most known national treasures in Denmark, where the story of Hamlet took place, the country has been hit in the heart. So far, everything is in a state of emergency as the Prime Minister put it late last night in a press conference.

We are under attack and the entire state force is deployed to defend the country and protect our citizens

The violent scenario last night, which Tom himself only barely survived, has left the streets desolate. Even the regulars at the low-cost pubs, who are usually willing to go through fire and water to fight their inner loneliness and maintain their daily alcohol level, are staying indoors. The only signs of life in Copenhagen is a handful of homeless people and gypsies going from trash to trash, while rummaging through empty bottles and cans, looking for gold.

It's a gloomy Sunday night, and he's thinking with great horror about how everything is going to unfold tomorrow when the whole country is reopened and the state of emergency is being lifted. Train operations have been halted for fear of bombings, as well as planes, buses and ferry operations, not to mention the pressure at the border crossings, which obviously also have been closed.

He sees with his inner eye, kilometre-long queues of people and vehicles waiting to get back to work or cross borders. That’s not going to work.

The government have promised a solution by 6 AM tomorrow. Public transport is completely up-and-running by then and the highway roadblocks will be lifted so the traffic can flow through as normal. He's looking at his new ROLEX watch. In principle, he never uses the car or the watch on his phone. He loves his watches and he has many in his collection.

Tom stares at his newly acquired Rolex. He hasn’t worn it to work yet, with the Tag Heuer being the work-watch. The Rolex watch has cost over 150,000 kr.; he wears it as a symbol of all his hard work. The steadily increasing high salary, which only he, Bjørn and Olina has in the agency, is the means that makes purchases like this possible.

As he’s looking at his timepiece, he realizes he doesn’t have much time, and for a rare occasion he is totally in line with the rest of the organization, the