The Valkyrie Song

II

The last meeting of the day had gone on late. They had arranged for caterers to bring food in and, eventually, they had been able to crack open a bottle of champagne to seal the deal. After all the negative publicity, Gina Bronsted had had to do some tough negotiating and make some firm assurances. But things were back on track.

Because the meeting had gone on so late, Bronsted had decided to stay over in her penthouse above the offices. Truth was, she loved it here, with the huge windows looking over the harbour and out towards where they were building the new opera house. She poured herself a glass and drank in the view and the champagne at the same time. She was going to own this city one day. And Copenhagen.

Something caught her eye, reflected in the window glass. She spun around.

‘What are you doing here?’ Bronsted’s tone was more puzzled than angry. ‘How did you get in?’

‘Do you know who I am?’ asked the blonde woman standing in the middle of Bronsted’s living room.

‘What the hell do you mean?’ Real anger now. ‘Of course I know who you are. Now will you tell me what the hell you are doing here? I have nothing more to say to you.’

‘Do you know my name?’ asked the woman.

‘Of course I know your name. Have you lost…’ Bronsted’s voice trailed off. Her focus was now fixed on the gun that the woman had lifted out from the folds of her black coat.

‘My name isn’t what you think it is. My name — my real name — is Liane Kayser. I am a Valkyrie. You know all about the Valkyries, don’t you, Gina?’

‘I…’ Bronsted’s expression turned from realisation to fear. ‘Listen, I can give you work…’

‘You mean you can use me. The way you used Margarethe and Anke? Do you know, the funny thing is that I didn’t know I cared. I thought I was incapable of feeling anything for anybody. But I do care. They were the closest thing I had to family. But I am going to do something for you, Gina. I know you like making the news. I’m going to make you news. Tomorrow you will be big news. I promise you.’

‘I can make this right for you…’ Bronsted’s eyes darted around the room. The panic button. The phone. Both a universe away.

‘You know Gina, you’re right. You can make it right for me.’ Liane Kayser pulled the trigger twice, the shots muffled by the suppressor attached to the Makarov PM automatic. Bronsted fell to the ground. She was breathing in short, rapid gasps. The blonde woman took a few steps closer.

‘Do you know what the word Valkyrie actually means? It comes from the Old Norse Valkyrja. It means chooser of the slain.’ She pulled the trigger twice more. Head shots. ‘Goodbye, Gina.’