The Complete Game Trilogy: Game, Buzz, Bubble. Литагент HarperCollins USD
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he saw the little sticker.
‘Card + code’ it said, and his mood fell like a stone.
What fucking code?
After a couple of moments thought he tried tapping 1855 into the keypad, but it protested instantly with an angry double bleep. He glanced anxiously around but everything was okay. The floor seemed completely deserted.
So what now?
He released the mobile from his belt, but the screen was blank. No help from the phone, then.
Unless … It had to be worth a try.
He pressed the card to the reader once more and tapped in the number 128, then added a zero after a moment’s hesitation.
A simple single bleep, then the lock clicked.
With his heart pounding he opened the door and carried on up to the fifth floor.
A metal door and another card-reader confronted him there.
A quick glance over his shoulder, a bleep from the reader and then he was in. His senses were on high alert, he could taste the adrenalin in his mouth. All that was missing were some dramatic strings, otherwise it was perfect!
A narrow corridor with a sloping ceiling, flickering lights and a series of more metal doors along one side. Much less stylish than on the floors below. So what happened next?
Just as he finished the thought the mobile started flashing again – almost as if it were reading his mind. Kind of spooky!
He pulled the mobile free from his belt and was about to read the message when a voice made him jump and he dropped the phone on the concrete floor.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, the shop will be closing in five minutes. Thank you for your custom. We are open again at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. The food hall will remain open until eight o’clock.’
Christ, it startled him! He must have been standing right under one of the loudspeakers. Almost time to change his underwear.
Muttering, he picked up the mobile and checked the message.
Third door on the left.
The white rabbit worked for the third time and suddenly he was standing in a bare concrete room full of humming boxes, cable runs and other equipment. There was a smell of electricity and warm metal.
Far wall, black box,
press Ready when you’re in position.
There were loads of boxes, but as luck would have it there was only one black one. An old thing made of Bakelite that stuck out badly among all the other anonymous grey metal boxes. Two plastic-covered buttons on the front, one blue, one red.
He pressed Ready.
Well done, HP!
For tonight’s assignment you get to choose between the buttons. When the countdown reaches zero I want you to press one of them.
If you choose the blue, everything will carry on as usual, you will get your money and further tasks of the more basic sort. A steady, secure income, spiced with just enough excitement.
But if you choose the red button the clock will stop on your old life and you will enter an entirely new experience, the like of which you have never even dared to dream of.
The risks are greater here, but so too are the rewards, of course. Only a very small number of people are qualified for this level. The question is: have you got what it takes?
The choice is yours, neither of the options is wrong, and regardless of which choice you make, you will have passed this evening’s assignment.
Do you understand?
He clicked Yes.
Excellent, HP!
Think carefully and then make your decision.
You have twenty-five seconds as of now.
Good luck!
The Game Master
The message vanished and was replaced by a countdown.
24
23
22
This was utterly fucking super-cool! Talk about his cup of tea! So which should he choose, the blue button or the red one?
Evidently they were both right, but it looked like only one of them would have any sort of real effect?
12
11
10
He could feel his heartbeat in his temples.
Play it safe or go all in?
6
5
Obviously there was only one answer.
Adventure without risk was fucking Disneyland! Time to find out exactly how deep this rabbit-hole really goes!
2
1
He pressed the red button.
The box clicked, then there was a faint rumble. The lights in the ceiling flickered.
HP held his breath.
When she had finished her report she took a stroll round the Crime Unit to see if any of her former colleagues were on duty. Her role in the personal protection unit was only a secondment, so she still had her basic post. But the corridor was empty, which wasn’t so surprising seeing as it was almost seven o’clock in the evening. The few poor bastards who weren’t off on holiday would at least have had the sense to finish work on time.
After her interview with Anderberg she had been driven home in a patrol car, leaving her bicycle down in the garage of the police station. The quickest way to reach it was through the lift in the custody section, so she took the stairs down to ‘the beige kilometre’, as some bright spark had christened the long corridor.
Down there everything was in full swing, as usual on a Friday evening. All the holding cells were already full and a couple of tired detectives were dashing between the numerous rooms where various patrols were giving their reports. One particularly troublesome drunk, escorted by two sturdy uniformed officers, took up most of the available space in front of the duty-officer’s glass cubicle.
Friday nights, all the drinking and fighting, had doubtless been useful experience, but she didn’t exactly miss it …
One of the uniformed officers nodded in acknowledgement as she passed and she returned the greeting. On the way out to the lift she could hear his police-radio crackle into life:
‘Control to all units!
Patrol cars to Hamngatan and the NK department store …’
Nothing happened. Not that he knew exactly what he’d been expecting, but still? Surely there should have been some sort of response. After the dramatic build-up, surely some flashing warning lights or wailing sirens was the least he could expect? People running along the corridor, maybe some angry banging on the door.
But this …? A whole load of nothing.
Disappointed, big time.
He waited another minute or so, then left the room dejectedly, slouching down the stairs, and it wasn’t until he crossed the street and made it as far as the trees in Kungsträdgården that he slowly began to get it.
‘… just stopped,’ someone was saying in surprise to another passerby, pointing up at the building that HP had just come out of.
‘Isn’t it usually lit up as well?’ he heard a couple of voices ask.
Then he saw people holding up their mobiles, and soon there was a mass of people taking pictures. He looked up in the same direction, high up above the copper roof, to see what had