Mystery | The Trap | Chapter 10

Updated: Jan 7

The sky shifted slowly from the classic pink industrial color and started to fade above Oslo. The Brander was watching the Villa carefully through the scope of his rifle. The curtains were still blocking view and there had been no movements outside the villa in the garden for the last six hours. A blond woman had been outside picking flowers. She was pretty and well shaped he noticed. Although the Brander was drawn mainly to his own sex, he was not completely immune to the opposite sex. He paused and looked at his watch. The golden Omega Seamaster showed quarter past eleven. The watch had been a gift from the mafia underboss Kuznetsov and should be able to handle three hundred meters depth. The Brander had taken it down to a hundred meters below sea level and the watch had shown no weakness in the experiment. He looked at it again. It was a piece of art and he let his index finger follow the perfect lines of the watch and he marveled at the exquisite craftmanship that had gone in to making the it. Then his attention turned back to the Martin villa. It was the small forest behind the villa that had caught his attention. The five meter high fence that went around the the big property, seemed to be lower behind the villa. The big house had been built on a slanting ground and this must be the reason for the slight difference in height he gathered. The main building was first constructed in the 1940's and had undergone massive renovations during the last eighty years. John Martin had then demolished the old villa and designed the big Mansion that now was situated in the downhill slope. The Cabin he had called it. Only a rich bastard could come up with a name like that. The Brander spat in disgust. He also wanted a great fortune and killing this rich asshole was a pretty good start to expand his own capital.

The two meter high hedge was starting to turn green again after the brutal winter's departure. He turned his scope downwards and concentrated on the car entrance. Martin had designed a tunnel entrance for vehicles that seemed to run from the small side road that sprung from Wildenvey bakken, one of the main roads in the area and it continued underground all the way up to the Villa. The Brander suspected that there was a main elevator system that ran thought the house. He had not been able to secure any updated blue prints of the building and had to rely on the intel he gathered as he went along. There was a helipad on top of the building and a red chopper was barely visible because of the fading light. He decided to relocate and get a closer look. He took off the black eyepatch and threw it carelessly away. The open hole where his left eye had been before Martin had destroyed it was almost totally black. The infection had left the color permanently, the doctors had told him.

The Brander relived the scene in his head again. The look in Martins face, the pain when his eye had been crushed. He had underestimated the old man. He would not make this mistake again. John Martin was going to suffer like he had never suffered before. Then The Brander would kill the rest of his family. And he would brand them. He could picture their skin burning and their screams. They all screamed when he used the frost brander. It was an art he had developed. The Brander took pride in inflicting raw pain on his victims. But he needed to get the information he need from Martin first. Parysh had been crystal clear about the importance of gaining the information he needed. The Brander would not kill John Martin before he reveals the secret location of the labs. The Brander got dressed, picked up his gear that was packed hours in advance, left his hotel room and went downstairs. The motorcycle he had rented was waiting at the front of the hotel. It was a Kawasaki Ninja H2R Motorcycle Model and the powerful engine roared. He shifted the settings on the bike, changed gears and kept the speed of the bike slow. He did not want to attract unnecessary attention to himself. While waiting for the green light at the main intersection he kept an eye on the traffic. It was Friday night and Oslo was already booming. Party's were happening all around the city. Drunk kids in expensive Tesla's passed him and shouted obscenities. Holmekollen was not a big area and he decided to drive all the way up into the woods behind the villa. He had not spotted any surveillance or security at the mansion, which puzzled him. But he was sure John Martin was protected. The news of his escape from Amsterdam had baffled The Brander. Parysh had informed him of the presence of the CIA. Martin had friends in high places. The Brander also knew his daughter was trained in military combat and owned a security company. A quick internet search had proved that this woman had to be handled with caution. The Brander had seen her blue Porsche 911 arriving and recognized her face. Very attractive woman, but her face had some of the same defined lines as her father. She looked like a bitch. The Brander hated women like that. He turned his attention to the GPS. Almost there. Minutes later he arrived at the designated area and hid the bike behind a huge pile of brown shrubbery. After reassembling the rifle and changing clothes The Brander picked up the rest of the gear and started moving. The forest was more dense than he had thought and it made his progress slow at first, but then it opened up into a small clearing. He drank water and ate a small snack. After the clearing he hid quickly behind a tree. A jogger was taking a break and breathing heavily only fifty meters to his right. The man was stretching out. The headset covered his ears. He was wearing a yellow jump suit. Soon the jogger started moving again and disappeared in the opposite direction of where the Brander was headed. The Brander did not move for three more minutes and listened intently. No other people seemed to be around. He was finally satisfied and continued slowly. The elevation had shifted and he was now walking downwards. He did not follow any main path. The Norwegians are sporty people and he knew there could be other joggers literally anywhere. He was dressed in regular black cami pants and wore a black hooded jacket. The Sham Spectron glassed had been modified and showed infra red and also had several heat signature settings. He had brought a Glock G17 too.

The Brander mainly used stealth during jobs. He was also a top marksman with rifles. But he usually did not resort to heavy firearms. They attracted too much attention for his liking. He had fitted the silencer to the revolver earlier and it was still one of his favorite fire arms. It was a simple gun, entirely made of plastic. Even the magazine was plastic. The gun held eighteen 9mm cartridges and The Brander had brought enough ammo. He carried this in a holster around his waist. He was looking for a better sniper's nest from a elevated spot. After looking for a while he recognized a rock formation that might suffice. The tall rocks leaned on two solid pine trees. By his estimation the villa was now one hundred at fifty meters away. If Martin had security, The Brander was getting dangerously close. He climbed the big rocks and finally settled six meters above the ground. The natural elevation of the terrain gave him additional height. It was a small plateau but the space was enough for him to stretch out into the classic sniper stance. The branches from the big pine tree in front of him added natural camouflage. He adjusted his position and slowly relaxed his breathing. His left arm rested on a rubber plate he had brought for stability and the hood covered a large part of his face. On this side of the villa some of the curtains were not completely closed. There was light inside two windows at the fourth floor and from time to time shadows revealed someone moving. It was now two man and the animals in the forest were making their presence known. The smell of the Norwegian summer was in the air and the temperature was still warm. The Brander now had to make a difficult choice. He was on a time schedule and needed results. Should he advance on the villa or not? Oslo was John Martin's home turf and if The Brander tried to take him out during daytime it would certainly involve a higher risk. The Covid-19 had also made people more alert than usual and The Brander could not risk detection in this country. His personal arms dealer in Oslo had suggested a bomb but The Brander had quickly dismissed the idea. Too risky and too loud. No, he had to do this the old fashion way. That meant hunting his pray and wait for a window where the target would get sloppy. John Martin had proved he was not to be trifled with. The Brander had quickly evolved into a new style of shooting after loosing his eye. The main problem proved to be the depth of his vision but after weeks of practice, his sight had improved and his balance shifted. He could now hit targets from eight hundred meters away with ease. The Brander made his choice. After waiting one more hour, he descended from the rocks and started to crawl towards the wall. He had brought his climbing claws and would scale the wall fast. He was sure it was not powered with electricity and he had not seen any dogs in the main yard while scoping out the area either. The ground was cold but he continued to crawl forward. When he was only ten meters from the wall he paused and waited for ten minutes. He could not detect any sound or movement from behind the tall fence. Like a panther, The Brander sprang into motion. He flexed the muscles in his legs and jumped from a tall rock and landed midway up on the five meter tall fence. It did not make any sound at the impact and he moved swiftly upwards and then jumped over the edge and landed as smooth as a cat. He had made it inside. Now he had to move fast but with caution. He knew that there were two ways to enter the Villa from ground level. The garden doors were large and the glass was bullet proof. The main entrance was not an option. But there was one window at the fourth floor that he had noticed was half way open. He did not hesitate but scaled the left side of the big veranda and continued upwards from the French balcony. He had not made any noise at all. He took a break and relaxed the muscles in his arms. All was quiet. He then continued and managed to grab the upper veranda case and continued upwards. The Brander reflected during his climb that he had been strangely lucky. The house was built in pine and this made the climb easy. Had it been built with a rock foundation? It would certainly have proved more problematic. Martin must be confident in that no one ever tries to attack him in his own home. This false arrogance would be his downfall. The security in this place was ridiculous. All the better for him. The Brander smiled. This error in Martin's judgement made The Brander's job much easier.

He reached the designated floor and advanced in silence towards the window. He had been correct in his assumptions. It was open. He leaned in and grabbed the handle and lifted it upwards. It slid open smoothly and The Brander climbed into the house. He was now standing in a large bedroom. The only source of light was a small lamp on the left nightstand that had been left on. The bed was neatly done and the room was tidy. The Brander advanced slowly towards the bedroom door. He gripped the door handle and peaked out into the hallway outside. No security. He exited the bedroom, closed the door neatly and proceeded through the corridor. The Brander's instincts told him that something was off. This had been too easy. But he could not turn back now. He would rely on the element of surprise. It had served him well on earlier jobs in the past. The house was beautiful and every element was carefully crafted. The hallway opened up and became a lounge that was as big as any he had seen in any hotel. The walls decorated in cool grey and the floor was all brushed local wood. It was a panoramic roof made of glass. The Brander looked straight up into the sky. The stars were shining like diamonds and the moon was larger than usual. A big Pixel sofa group was the main feature in the lounge and a bar that looked industrial was engraved as a natural part of the enormous room. He looked behind the bar and discovered the huge industrial kitchen.

A Hippodrome d'Hermes coffee table was perfectly positioned by the lush sofa. The Brander had to locate the master bedroom but John Martin might not even be there. The big windows looked even larger on the inside. There was an elevator in the lounge. It seemed that there were no stairs between the floors in the house. Very much like a hotel, Should he risk taking the elevator? He did not have a choice. He had to continue. He entered the elevator. There were seven floors in all. He decided to take the elevator all the way down to the sub level. The elevator was swift and effective. On arrival the doors opened and a blinding light hit his single eye with full force. The Brander dived out of the elevator and drew his Glock and fired but it was too late. Strong arms grabbed his neck and his arms were quickly subdued. His legs got kicked away under him and The Brander fell on his back. The rifle on his back crashed into the floor. Someone grabbed his legs and The Brander was in a helpless position with his head crammed down towards the hard floor. The Glock was removed by experienced hands and the rifle removed. He was searched expertly. Then something hard smashed into the back of his head. He was falling inside himself. Endlessly floating in red. A thick caramel shaped oil was exploding and oozed up and down. He slowly climbed the liquid into nowhere. Then suddenly. Pain. More pain than he could bear. He screamed when the pain became unbearable and he kept on screaming. Then a familiar voice spoke. Welcome to my cabin you motherfucker! The Brander strained his eye to see. It was John Martin. The old man looked at him with ice cold contempt. Behind him his daughter was holding something. His blood froze. It was his Brander. Martin followed his single gaze. Yes you ugly motherfucker. Think about that concept. The Brander being branded. Give me that, Martin snapped to his daughter. Lela gave it to him. Strip him clean of clothes and turn him over. Three men lifted The Brander who fought with all his might but the men held him with ease. They were warriors, handpicked for this peculiar job and soon they had spread his legs. Then iron chains were added around his ankles. They were strapped so tight that the edges tore into his flesh and he started bleeding. The Brander's body was lean and very white. The muscles stood out in his back and legs. He had very little body hair. His penis was small and limp and his balls very red. John Martin turned the apparatus on. He then jammed it deep into the captive's anus and kept on pushing it further until it seemed to be stuck. The Brander was shouting obscenities towards Martin. You will die. I will kill you old man. John Martin kicked the naked man in his balls. Then he turned the Branding iron on and watched as the Brander was fried from the inside. The smell was horrible and blood started pumping out of his ass, It poured out of the man's mouth. How does it feel, you piece of shit? Martin motioned for the ceiling fan to be turned on. It was done by the head of the security team. The Branding iron in Martin's hand was still turning the man's intestines into yellow. Put the body into that grill. Martin pointed to the big multi grill he had recently purchased. Lela went over and turned the grill on. The grill was eight meters long and the lid was the biggest she had seen in her life. Ok dad. It's ready. She cocked a finger to her team. The big men carried the dying man over and dropped him into the grill. The Brander was not dead but the pain was beyond anything he had ever felt. He could not scream anymore. His body was collapsing on him. Martin used a app on his iPhone that was directly connected to the grill system. The lid closed silently. The old man then started the grill. It tenderized the loins of The Brander and he was slowly grilled all the way down to ashes. Three days later Parysh Tambein received a package. It was filled with The Brander's last ashes. There was a note added that read: I am afraid I grilled him a bit too hard!