The Nightmare

114

The gray-haired bodyguard slides out of the dining room silently, glides through the doors, and then runs quickly along the glass-covered section of the deck, holding his camouflaged weapon ready. The lenses of his glasses sparkle. Joona sees him sneaking up behind Niko and knows he will get Niko in a few seconds. Niko’s back is unprotected.

The bodyguard raises his automatic weapon and shifts his finger to the trigger.

Joona stands up, rigid, and places two shots into the middle of the man’s chest. The bodyguard staggers and catches the railing to keep himself from falling overboard. He looks around wildly to see Joona coming. He raises his weapon back up to shoot again.

Joona realizes that the man wears a bulletproof vest under his black jacket.

Joona has already sprung at the man and knocked his weapon before slamming his gun into the base of the man’s nose. The bodyguard’s legs collapse. He staggers back, head thudding against the railing, his sweat and snot scattering about the deck. He flops down completely.

Joona and Niko run along the yacht on each side of the dining hall. They can hear the helicopter’s rotor blades revving even more.

“Hurry up! Get aboard!” someone is shouting.

Joona runs as close to the wall as he can. He pauses to take a look around the corner to the foredeck. Raphael Guidi’s son is already in the helicopter. The shadows from the rotor blades flutter over the decks and railings.

Joona hears noise from overhead and realizes that Raphael’s other bodyguard has spotted him. The blond man is just twenty-five meters away and he’s already aimed at Joona. There is no time to react. A bang rings out and Joona feels a flick like the stroke of a whip across his face. His surroundings fade to white. He falls over some lounge chairs without being able to stop himself and sprawls on the floor unable to keep his neck from striking the railing. His hand hits a bar, knocking his weapon from his hand so hard that his wrist feels broken. The gun falls over the railing and clatters down to the deck below.

Joona blinks as his sight returns. He creeps along the wall. He still feels confused and for a moment doesn’t realize what’s happened. Blood trickles down his face. He has to get up, he has to have Niko’s help, he must find out where that bodyguard has gone.

He rubs his bloody cheek. It burns from pain and he feels along his face to understand that the bullet scored it.

It’s a surface wound, but nothing more.

He hears an odd ringing in his left ear.

His heart pounds.

As he stands up, protected by the metal wall, his head feels a familiar ache.

It is the warning that precedes a migraine.

Joona presses a thumb against his forehead between his eyebrows and closes his eyes, trying to force the pain away.

After a moment, he opens them again, tries to see Niko, the helicopter, and beyond the foredeck and the railing.

The Finnish navy’s well-equipped vessel is approaching like a black shadow on the smooth sea.

Joona twists free a long rod of metal from the broken lounge chair. At least he will have something in his hand when he has to face the bodyguard.

He presses tightly against the wall. He spots Raphael and Axel out on the foredeck. Moving backward toward the helicopter, they’re oddly fused together. Raphael has an arm slung across Axel, the beautiful Amati in his hand a bright red against Axel’s chest. With his other hand, he holds a knife blade to Axel’s throat. Their hair and clothes flutter in the draft from the rotor blades.

The man who shot Joona is creeping sideways to locate him again. He’s not sure if he scored a direct hit to the head; it happened so quickly.

Joona slides backward to get away, but his headache slows him down until he comes to a stop. He can move no more.

Not now, he thinks as he feels the sweat on his back.

The bodyguard edges around the corner, weapon ready. He catches sight of Joona’s shoulder and glimpses his throat and his head.

Then blond-bearded Niko Kapanen barrels around another corner with his automatic rifle raised. The bodyguard is too quick. He whirls and lets off four shots in a row. Niko doesn’t even feel the first one hit his shoulder but he’s thrown back when the second hits his stomach. The third misses, but the fourth strikes Niko in the chest. He falls on his side, along the edge of the raised helicopter platform. He’s so shocked from his wounds, he doesn’t realize his finger is still on the trigger as he falls. The bullets aren’t even aimed and fly out over the water as he empties the entire magazine in two seconds until his weapon clicks.

Niko draws a ragged breath and his eyes roll back in his head. He drops his weapon and dazedly sees the massive bolts on the underside of the helicopter pad. He notices that rust has forced its way through the white paint at the cracks of the large nuts, but he doesn’t notice that his right lung is filling with blood.

He coughs weakly and fights against losing consciousness. He spies Joona hiding behind the wall to the dining room with no weapon but a metal rod in his hand. Their eyes meet. Niko gathers his last strength and kicks his automatic rifle over the deck to Joona.

Axel is terrified. His heart races. Gunfire all around makes his ears ring. He can’t help trembling under Raphael’s knife, his body held as the man’s shield. The knife has cut into Axel’s skin and blood runs down his shirt. He can see the bodyguard getting closer to Joona Linna’s hiding spot, but he can do nothing.

Joona reaches for Niko’s carbine and pulls it toward him. The bodyguard crouching near the helicopter pad lets off a blast toward him. The bullets ricochet every which way. Joona jerks out the empty magazine and, from the corner of his eye, sees Niko rummage through his pockets. Niko looks drained of blood and he can barely move. He has to stop a moment, his hand pressing against his stomach. A bodyguard yells at Raphael to hurry and climb in the helicopter; it’s about to lift off. Niko fumbles in a pocket on the leg of his pants. A candy wrapper flutters away. Still, his fingers close over one stray bullet. Niko coughs and looks at the full metal jacket bullet in his palm, then he tosses it to Joona. The bullet rolls across the metal floor, flashing in the sunlight. Its bronze hull and tip of copper shine.

Joona grabs it and shoves it into the magazine as fast as he can.

Niko’s eyes are shut now. A bubble of blood appears between his lips, but his chest is still rising and falling with shallow breaths.

The bodyguard’s heavy steps clunk across the deck.

Joona shoves the magazine into the carbine, slips in the one bullet, lifts the weapon, waits a second, and leaps out of his hiding place.

Raphael is still pulling Axel with him. Raphael’s son yells something from within the helicopter and the pilot is waving at Raphael to get in.

“You should have kissed my hand when you had the chance,” Raphael murmurs into Axel’s ear.

The Amati gives off a deep sound as Raphael pulls it into Axel’s chest.

The bodyguard is strolling toward Niko and bends to send a bullet into his face.

“Jonottakaa!” yells Joona in Finnish.

He sees the bodyguard whirl to shoot at Joona instead. Joona leaps to one side to concentrate on the line of fire since his one bullet must count.

It all happens in seconds.

Behind his shield, Raphael keeps a firm grip on his knife. The increasing draft from the helicopter rips at their clothes. Rivulets of blood are sucked from Axel’s neck. They see Joona crouch, shift the muzzle of the carbine slightly, and fire.

Jonottakaa! Joona thinks. Get in line, boys! He feels the hard recoil bang against his shoulder. The full metal jacket bullet leaves his weapon at eight hundred meters a second. Making almost no sound, the bullet plunges into the bodyguard’s throat and exits in a spray of blood before it plunges again into Raphael’s shoulder and out to fly over the water.

Raphael’s knife arm is shocked from the hit and the knife tumbles to the deck.

Axel Riessen falls away.

The bodyguard looks at Joona in surprise as his blood spurts from his throat to pour over his chest. He tries again, groggily, to lift his weapon, but he can’t. An odd sound emanates from his throat. He coughs, and this time blood splutters from his mouth and down his chin.

He sits down abruptly. He lifts his hand to the hole in his throat. He blinks two times and then his eyes fix, wide open.

Raphael’s face has drained and he wavers in the strong, pulsing draft. He still clutches his violin. He stares malevolently at Joona.

“Pappa!” Peter yells. He throws a pistol to his father.

It strikes the deck and bounces once before landing at Raphael’s feet.

Axel has dragged himself up against the railing, his hand pressing against his throat.

“Raphael! Raphael Guidi!” Joona yells. “You’re under arrest!”

Raphael is only five meters from his helicopter. The pistol is at his feet. His gym clothes flap on his body. With effort, he bends for the gun.

“You are under arrest for weapon smuggling, kidnapping, and murder,” Joona shouts clearly.

Raphael straightens with the gun in his shaking hand. His face is covered in sweat.

“Put down your weapon!” Joona orders.

Raphael is aiming the shaking gun. The pounding of his heart interferes. He meets Joona’s eyes.

Axel yells at Joona to run.

Joona remains absolutely still.

Everything then happens at once.

Raphael lifts the pistol toward Joona and pulls the trigger. The pistol clicks. He tries again and fails. He chokes on a ragged breath when he understands that Peter never put a new magazine in the pistol. He understands his son has thrown him an empty gun. The loneliness he has always feared wraps itself around him. And now it’s too late. He cannot drop the weapon and give himself up. He feels three soft thuds against his body as a bang sounds over the sea. Raphael feels only as if someone has struck a fist against his chest. Then he loses all sensation in his legs.

The helicopter will wait no more. It lifts straight into the air, leaving Raphael Guidi behind.

The Finnish navy’s ship has drawn alongside the yacht. The three sailors once more fire in unison; once more, all three bullets strike Raphael with one explosive bang. Raphael Guidi’s body twitches as if he wants to move but he can’t. He falls.

His back is warm, but his feet are already ice-cold.

Raphael stares up at the helicopter quickly rising into the hazy sky.

Peter looks down at the yacht growing ever smaller beneath him. His father is sprawled inside the concentric rings of the helicopter pad, which now look like a target.

Raphael Guidi holds Paganini’s violin to his bloody chest. The red pool beneath his body widens. His eyes are now blank in death. Joona is the only person still standing upright on the deck of the yacht.

He watches the helicopter fly away.

The sky is bright and empty. On the shining surface of the ocean, three vessels bob together in a moment of quiet.

Soon the rescue helicopters will arrive from Finland. Right now, though, it feels like the moment after a performance when the last note fades away, the audience is still enthralled, and the thunderous applause is about to erupt.