Fynn is right. I do want to arrive there and save the girl. Sven’s a monster. I still remember the last time we had to clean up after him. The thought of that sight churns my stomach. But, he always manages to get away somehow. Well, not this time.
“Like I said, keep dreaming, Prince Charming.”
With those words, we both stay silent for the rest of the journey. We reach the abandoned building easily. We find the broken phone inside. Fynn picks up the biggest piece, then smells it.
“They were here an hour ago.”
“Can we track them?”
I sniff the air, but a childhood fire accident rendered my sense of smell almost non-existent. Still, I occasionally try, just for the heck of it. However, I get nothing.
I turn to Fynn. His nostrils are flaring, his lips are half parted. His pupils are widening, barely noticeably. He’ll catch the scent. He always does. I follow him outside, and he stops on a small patch of gravel, surrounded by unmowed grass. It’s the dead of night, but the tire tracks are clearly visible when Fynn flashes a light onto the ground.
“The girl left this place alive,” he informs me, and a huge burden falls off my shoulders. But, that doesn’t mean she’ll arrive alive. Dammit. Fynn’s negativity always tries to get to me.
Sometimes, it’s hard to stay positive around him, but those of us who have gone through thick and thin with him, know this and accept this. I guess we all had some shit in our childhood that shaped us into the obnoxious men we are today. But, now's not the time to go down memory lane and plan on righting wrongs that may not even be made right. Now is the time to save a girl from a monster, like the story went in those good old fairy tales.
Fynn doesn’t say anything else. He heads over to the car, and hops into the driver’s seat. I ride shotgun this time. It’s always faster
that way. He knows where we’re going, so it’s easier to have him drive, rather than him giving me instructions.
The road we’re taking is dark. The trees are looming over the narrow dirt road, and there is a sense of impending doom. That’s at least, what I expect Fynn to say, to lighten up the mood, but he’s silent, and that is the unsettling part. He usually has some snarky comment to make, expressing the worst case scenario, and how we should all be ready for it. But, there’s none of that now. He is focused on the road; his hands are keeping a firm grasp on the steering wheel. Not even the radio is on.
“We getting close?” I ask, unable to stand the silence any longer.
Fynn doesn’t reply immediately. Just nods a moment later.
“You think Sven’s alone?” I ask again.
“Not unless he’s the stupidest idiot I’ve ever met,” Fynn replies. “And, we both know Sven. He’s many things, and idiot isn’t one of them.”
Fynn’s got a point. The last place was just a ruse. He took the girl there, knowing we’d be tailing him. This other location is where the showdown will take place. I can feel it in my bones, just like I can feel it that the girl is alive. She must be. Otherwise, Hugo won’t be making the deal. Like Fynn said, Sven’s no idiot. Keeping the girl alive is what keeps this exchange possible.
“What do you think he needs it for?” I ask once more, but this is more of a rhetorical question I’m asking myself.
Still, Fynn replies. “What do you think he needs it for?” Slightly cynical. Slightly making you feel like you should know better than ask such stupid questions. Classic Fynn.
“I’m surprised he even knows it’s been in Hugo’s possession all this time,” I just continue, shrugging off his comment, which I’ve gotten used to. “I mean, we also didn’t know it.”
“We’re small shits in the grand scheme of things,” Fynn explains his view. “Only big players knew this info.”
“Since when is Sven a big-time player?”
“Since he probably works for one.”
And with that, I see Fynn turn left and park underneath a big, weeping willow tree, which hid us from plain sight. Making as little sound as possible, we get out of the car, crouching behind the tree. Fynn points at a nearby lodge. It looks abandoned, but not dilapidated. There are no cars around it. We see no people either.
“Is this really the place?” I make the mistake of asking this question.
Fynn just gives me a look that tells me all I need to know. If he says the girl is there, she’s there. Dead or alive.
“So, how do we do this?” I whisper.
“Need to go around, see in the back,” he replies, surveying the lodge. “The girl is here. Her scent is unmistakable. But, Sven knows how to mask his. So, all I can smell is her. Be ready for anything.”
“Always am,” I grin in the dark.
We do as he instructed. We check the back, and it all looks clear. I’m not sure which one of us is more confused, but we keep on going. He burst in through the back door, and the first thing we hear is whimpering coming from one of the corners. Fynn rushes over there, while I switch on the lights.