Stockholm Shadows...

Jack flipped away his half smoked Royal into the gutter, the rain was pounding the street, and the water swept the used cigarette with the rest of the garbage. The droning voice of the Governmental sponsored advertiser spewed forth more and more propaganda. Stockholm was a strange place, a mixture of old medieval built houses, to modern high-rise buildings. Gigantic neon signs lit the skies of the more grungy and crowded part of town, the southern part.

The streets were packed with cars and trucks, all honking and shouting pedestrians and street peddlers. There were only one lane without any traffic, and Jack wondered why, but then he found out why. Three MP Armoured Personnel Carriers came screaming down the road, heading for some emergency somewhere. They used the lane that seemed reserved for military traffic.

Jack moved on down the street. passing the same shop as he has passed for the last three days. He had his orders to check for a red lamp in the window, when the meeting was to take place. Glancing at his reflection in the window, he saw that the "shadow" provided to him by the Scandinavian Government was still on his tail. Every visitor to Scandinavia went through some screening, and some of them warranted a guide, or shadow. Jack obviously was such a case.

Walking towards the nearest subway station, he picked up a copy of the Seattle Tribune from a screamsheet machine. Slotting his credstick, and pressing the right button, he got the much censored edition. All foreign news agencies had to go through a screening by the Royal Censor Board, in the Ministry of Information. Jack had done this routine for three days now. Then he saw it, the signal, a red lamp in the window of the small curiosity shop. Now he only to continue down to the subway, and locate his contact.

A steady stream of citizens went underground, or came up from it. Almost everybody carried the typical pastel coloured rainponcho. It was obviously a useful thing here in Scandinavia, with all the acid rain falling down. now he had only to find a man with a black and white briefcase. Then he saw him, a nervous looking suit with blond hair and a rolled up rainponcho on his arm. Now it was time for the vanishing trick. Following the suit with the briefcase through the checkpoint, he walked slowly, as if reading the screamsheet. He had done this sometime before, noticing that his shadow was further behind him, and running for the trains before the doors shut sometimes left the shadow behind. He was going for it now, this time for real.

He noticed that the suit stepped on a northbound train, and also that the train attendant said something in Scandinavian, while a signal sounded. The doors was about to close. Just before they did, Jack looked up, and rushed the last bit in through the same doors as the suit had taken, and he left the shadow behind as the train left.

The train was filled with people, metahumans and norms, suits and proles alike. One thing that struck Jack as he stood in the rattling train, going north. And that was that there seemed to be no racial bias at all, for Scandinavians, that is. Foreigners were seen with great suspicion, and it has been close that the government voted for a special symbol that the foreigners had to wear in full view. But so far, that law has not gained enough support.

Jack just needed to do one more thing, to get his orders from the Contact. Jack had scouted the route before, and knew that there were surveillance cameras onboard. Therefore they had to do the switch very subtly. Jack stood behind the suit, and gently tapped his shoulder. The nervous suit nodded slightly, and Jack let his hand brush up on the inner pocket of the suit, and swiftly snatched his wallet, and placed it in his own. In case of anybody watching this, they would suppose that that Jack was just a pickpocket. this were to be the only time that Jack would meet his contact, at least in person.

Jack knew that a new shadow would arrive at the next station, so he had only a short time to make the transfer. as the train came screaming into the station, Jack moved with the crowd pouring out in the picturesque little Old City. This was the only part of town with the small scaled buildings from the Swedish Medieval era. Very narrow and winding streets intersected the island that this part of town occupied. Jack walked up from the subway station, and walked into the bustling commercial community of small souvenir shops and food stalls. Jack spotted his new shadow, a nondescript man with an air of menace around him. The other pedestrians avoided him, as if they could sense his purpose.

They both walked through the crowded streets, and Jack stopped at the city square, and ordered a carton of wok. He picked up his credstick, and paid for the dish. He knew that his identity was noticed in the central visitor computer network, along with his taste of newspaper, food taste, or whatever was being purchased. Along with the daily report from the shadow, his file grew by the days he spent here, and if enough suspected activities were noted, he would be called in for questioning.

They came up to the Royal Castle as the Royal Horse Guard came parading with a music corps playing martial music and a line of tourists watching, cameras whirring, and flags waving. not many of them knew that the King lived in another castle, further west of Stockholm, at the castle Drottningholm. The Stockholm Castle was now mostly the seat of the Military High Command, and the Commandant of the Garrison of Stockholm.

Jack patted his pocket, where the stolen wallet was, and he moved it to his secured PocketSafe™ in his inner jacket pocket, and locked it. In this crowd, pickpockets were a nuisance. Jack also knew from the translated propaganda, that the crime level was very low in the Scandinavian Federation, at least the part not supplied by the government themselves. Military dictatorship often led to lesser criminal levels, as the punishment often were more severe.

Jack was interrupted from his musings, when he saw a local MP officer with his goons single him out for a shakedown. Jack stowed away any thoughts of illegal activity, should any of the feared Mage Cops be in the team. Those creepy types was rumoured to be able to read the thoughts of their victims. Jack looked at them without any show of interest, but he saw none of the bells and whistles of that cop.

The officer approached Jack with an extended hand. He had removed his black leather glove, and Jack wondered if this was one of the officers with the dreaded lie-detector implant.. Jack had his invisible SecuriGlove™ on both hands, just in case. The officer said something in his strange sing-song language. When Jack did not respond, he changed to a heavily accented English.

"Your papers please."

Jack picked up his credstick, the one with his Id, visa, passport, health certificate, and Scandinavian Banking partner, a must for any entrance to the fair country. He gave it to the officer, who slotted it in a chipreader at his belt. He also took Jack’s hand in his, as he prepared to ask some questions.

"Your name is Jack Straker, a citizen of UCAS, right? What is your purpose of visit to the glorious Scandinavian Federation?"

Jack answered. "Yeah, I’m from Seattle. I work for Pacific Securities. I’m just here for pleasure."

The officer did not register anything through the galvanic shielded glove, but made no mention of it. "What do you do in your company? Have you met any dissidents while you stayed here?"

Jack almost winced at the clumsy attempt to trap him. "I work in damage assessment, and what dissidents are you talking about? I thought this country was free of any subversive activity."

The officer twitched, and silently cursed in his native tongue. He knew Jack had a glove on the hand, to protect him from the lie-detector. he forced a smile. "But of course, it is just that we would like to know if there are any beggars or citizens in distress somewhere within our borders, so that we could help them."

Jack smiled, as he got the credstick back "But of course."

Jack flinched as a commotion happened behind him. He turned around, and saw a poor guy with the back of his head blown out by a cortex bomb. The MP walked over to the victim, and left the foreigner for a more interesting target.

Jack walked away, glad to be out of their clutches for this time. The brain bombed victim must have been a former ‘student’ at one of the Governmental Re-education Camps. Either he escaped somehow, or he was released with a condition he did not fulfil. Guess he tried to shield himself from the activation signal, and only got this far. Well, better leave the area, or he might be suspected to meet the fragged-up dissident.

Jack went down to the subway station, the best way to travel within the city. The shadow was at his heals as he went through the checkpoint, adding further data to his growing file. Running onto a northbound train, he managed to evade the shadow once again. In the crowded carriage, he made his way into a corner, one with a dead-angle from the surveillance camera, and there, in the occurring light-outs, he removed his wig and moustache, and turned his jacket inside out. The offending disguise kit was stuffed in a plastic bag, and dumped under a bench. As the train thundered in on Stockholm Centralstation, he followed the crowd out of the carriage, and he quickly dodged over to another northbound train, on another line.

After a series of quick switches of trains, buses and brisk walks, he was sure to loose any shadow. In a Pancake bar, he brought up his ‘new’ wallet, and paid for a portion. He also noticed his new address, and a key to the door. He also noticed a key to a deposit box at the train station. He took a bus to the address, and walked inside.

The flat was in the northern suburbs, in Sollentuna, and he walked into a modern apartment, with all the gear that belonged to a citizen in the TechnoTown. A chipreader, a deck, an entertainment system, and all the modern appliances possible was included. He ignored the flashy stuff, and sat down to read his objectives from a chip in a chip carrier.

He quickly scanned the contents, and memorised the mission objectives. His mission, should he accept it, would be to make a datasteal on the Scandinavian Military Software Centre in Linköping. A computer algorithm with which the Mars Probe communicate with the Space Centre in Kiruna was the prime target. It was of utmost importance that the copying of the file was not to be detected, or everything would be in vain. Secondary targets, and possibly the smokescreen was the new targeting algorithm for the advanced version of the "Sabeltand-2 SAM" that was being produced right now in Karlskoga.

Jack picked up the phone, attached the scrambler, and dialled the answering service he used for these drop-off missions. These answering services were located in countries with very strict privacy policy, for a price, and by using one he knew that the ScanFed spooks would be busy tracking down the recipients of the call. All his team members subscribed to the same service, and it would end when they picked up the message. Jack spoke the go-code and the code for the next meeting place, and then hung up.

The game was afoot.

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