-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Gone Missing in Sweden: A “Police Procedural” Mystery.
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
twonines
LIMERICUS
Perhaps it was all the hanging about ----
M
montycrusto
Guest
It seems Barb is getting the hang
Of evading this criminal gang.
If caught, she is fated
To be tied up and crated,
And shipped off to Kim in Pyongyang.
Of evading this criminal gang.
If caught, she is fated
To be tied up and crated,
And shipped off to Kim in Pyongyang.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
The pursuers pursued! Brilliant tactics, that can be applied endlessly on an island!
Marketing this brand of booze : "Supports your local police!"
And her first name is an additional help!
So, the story is getting international proportions! Bulldozer vs. Kim!
Chapter 23. Sunday, May 15, 15:55. Onboard the Swedish Coast Guard (Kustbevakning) vessel “Gotland”, near the island Langö.
“Everything is in place. I’m giving the go signal now!” announced Bulldozer Olson, with excitement in his voice to the small group of onlookers gathered around him on the bridge of the ‘Gotland’. “This should be truly beautiful …over in a matter of minutes … perfectly planned … poetry in motion … so watch closely!”
Gun Thorell and Bertil Hansson gazed off in the direction of the landing barge with its load of amphibious assault vehicles as it began to ply it’s way toward the rocky coast of Benny Andersson’s private island.
Fintväder showed his disinterested disdain for the whole affair by choosing the moment to extract a toothpick from his shirt pocket and begin to pick at something lodged in his teeth.
Waving his hand to a group of sailors crouched on the Coast Guard cutter’s forward deck, Bulldozer signaled for them to launch the two surveillance drones. Images from the drones’ onboard cameras appeared almost instantly on special monitors mounted on the cutter’s bridge. One showed the beach area where the amphibious vehicles were projected to land. A second zoomed in on the home of Benny Anderson, which appeared peacefully quiet. There was no sign of anyone or anything moving about. A third camera offered a close-up overhead view of the landing barge, packed with amphibious vehicles, body-armor-clad SÄPO assault teams, and three packs of eager attack dogs. A fourth camera offered a wide-angle view of the entire scene.
“Where’s the nearest loo?” asked Fintväder, in another pointed show of indifference.
Bulldozer chose to ignore him.
“Nevermind, I’ll find it.”
“Old goat really ought to be put out to pasture,” muttered Bulldozer in disgust as Fintväder wandered off in search of one.
Meanwhile, out on the water, things suddenly began to go wrong. The landing barge had come to a sudden halt, having managed to ground itself on a huge glacial boulder hidden beneath the surface of the water. Unable to dislodge itself, the barge lowered its gate and prematurely launched its three amphibious vehicles, two of which promptly began to sink, leaving their SWAT team passengers floundering about in deep water while the attack dogs swam for shore.
The third amphib, though, appeared to be staying afloat and making good progress towards the beach.
“Nice start,” commented Hansson drily.
“No wonder Fintväder left to find the loo,” mused Gun.
“Minor setback,” snapped Bulldozer, voice laden with irritation.
Meanwhile, the signal from one of the overhead drones went dead as the thing got itself tangled in the large flag that every self-respecting Swedish islander flies from a tall white flagpole standing somewhere between the house or cabin and the beach.
“Redundancy is the name of the game,” explained Bulldozer, referring with a sweep of his hand to the images on the monitor from the second drone.
“Especially when incompetence is sure to be a factor.” chirped Gun.
Hansson barely managed to suppress his snigger.
Bulldozer was notably grim and silent.
“Ready to call it off yet?” drawled Fintväder sardonically as he rejoined the group … a remark that earned him a hostile glare from Bulldozer.
Meanwhile the swimming attack dogs had reached the beach and set off baying and howling for the main house. And the surviving amphib had come close enough to disgorge its SWAT team along with the rest of the dogs.
There was still no sign of life within or outside the house.”
“Team 2 reporting in,” crackled a voice patched into the cutter’s intercom. “We’re ashore!”
“Excellent!” boomed Bulldozer. “Secure a perimeter around the house. We don’t want our man to escape.”
“Yessir!”
They watched as the SWAT teams from the sunken amphibs finally made it to shore and joined in on the encircling maneuver.
But then video coverage of the operation ceased as the surviving drone suddenly developed a mind of its own … and deserted to a nearby island beach where a large group of young people were partying on its beachfront. Some were sunbathing while others were engaged in recreationally operating drones of their own. The SÄPOdrone appeared to be attracted to the partygoers’ drones as though it was heeding a mating call, sweeping in low over the nude sunbathers and engaging in what looked like a series of spirited aerial acrobatics.
“Smart drone,” giggled Gun.
“Can hardly blame it, can you?” deadpanned Hansson.
“Perimeter secured,” crackled the voice on the intercom.
“Good. Move inside. Tear gas canisters through the windows. Batter down the doors if necessary. I’m coming ashore now. I want Benny alive, and take care not to harm the Moore woman!” directed Bulldozer.
“Yessir.”
Ten minutes later the Coast Guard cutter’s launch had put Bulldozer’s party ashore.
The operation had concluded by then. The house stood silent. A number of its windows had been shattered by tear gas canisters. The front door stood ajar. Three people … two men and a woman could be seen kneeling on the lawn, their hands cuffed behind their backs. A number of SÄPO men were standing awkwardly about. The attack dogs were sprawled on the ground licking and scratching themselves as any idle dog might do.
“Did you get him?” shouted Bulldozer as he strode up the hill, his trouser legs and shoes soaking wet from his MacArthuresque insistence on gallantly wading the last few meters to shore rather than waiting for the cutter’s launch to pull into the property’s boat dock.
“No, he’s not here,” responded one of the SWAT team leaders.
“Then who are these people?”
“The gardener, the chauffeur, and a cleaning maid. They tell us Benny Anderson is in Copenhagen attending a car dealers’ convention.”
Fintväder couldn’t stand it anymore and began to laugh so hard he appeared to be crying.
Hansson said, more diplomatically, “tough luck, Bulldozer.”
Gun went over to see that the three detainees were immediately released.
Bulldozer stomped off in a rage, managing in the process to step on the tail of one of the attack dogs, who took immediate offense and bit him in the butt.
TBC
“Everything is in place. I’m giving the go signal now!” announced Bulldozer Olson, with excitement in his voice to the small group of onlookers gathered around him on the bridge of the ‘Gotland’. “This should be truly beautiful …over in a matter of minutes … perfectly planned … poetry in motion … so watch closely!”
Gun Thorell and Bertil Hansson gazed off in the direction of the landing barge with its load of amphibious assault vehicles as it began to ply it’s way toward the rocky coast of Benny Andersson’s private island.
Fintväder showed his disinterested disdain for the whole affair by choosing the moment to extract a toothpick from his shirt pocket and begin to pick at something lodged in his teeth.
Waving his hand to a group of sailors crouched on the Coast Guard cutter’s forward deck, Bulldozer signaled for them to launch the two surveillance drones. Images from the drones’ onboard cameras appeared almost instantly on special monitors mounted on the cutter’s bridge. One showed the beach area where the amphibious vehicles were projected to land. A second zoomed in on the home of Benny Anderson, which appeared peacefully quiet. There was no sign of anyone or anything moving about. A third camera offered a close-up overhead view of the landing barge, packed with amphibious vehicles, body-armor-clad SÄPO assault teams, and three packs of eager attack dogs. A fourth camera offered a wide-angle view of the entire scene.
“Where’s the nearest loo?” asked Fintväder, in another pointed show of indifference.
Bulldozer chose to ignore him.
“Nevermind, I’ll find it.”
“Old goat really ought to be put out to pasture,” muttered Bulldozer in disgust as Fintväder wandered off in search of one.
Meanwhile, out on the water, things suddenly began to go wrong. The landing barge had come to a sudden halt, having managed to ground itself on a huge glacial boulder hidden beneath the surface of the water. Unable to dislodge itself, the barge lowered its gate and prematurely launched its three amphibious vehicles, two of which promptly began to sink, leaving their SWAT team passengers floundering about in deep water while the attack dogs swam for shore.
The third amphib, though, appeared to be staying afloat and making good progress towards the beach.
“Nice start,” commented Hansson drily.
“No wonder Fintväder left to find the loo,” mused Gun.
“Minor setback,” snapped Bulldozer, voice laden with irritation.
Meanwhile, the signal from one of the overhead drones went dead as the thing got itself tangled in the large flag that every self-respecting Swedish islander flies from a tall white flagpole standing somewhere between the house or cabin and the beach.
“Redundancy is the name of the game,” explained Bulldozer, referring with a sweep of his hand to the images on the monitor from the second drone.
“Especially when incompetence is sure to be a factor.” chirped Gun.
Hansson barely managed to suppress his snigger.
Bulldozer was notably grim and silent.
“Ready to call it off yet?” drawled Fintväder sardonically as he rejoined the group … a remark that earned him a hostile glare from Bulldozer.
Meanwhile the swimming attack dogs had reached the beach and set off baying and howling for the main house. And the surviving amphib had come close enough to disgorge its SWAT team along with the rest of the dogs.
There was still no sign of life within or outside the house.”
“Team 2 reporting in,” crackled a voice patched into the cutter’s intercom. “We’re ashore!”
“Excellent!” boomed Bulldozer. “Secure a perimeter around the house. We don’t want our man to escape.”
“Yessir!”
They watched as the SWAT teams from the sunken amphibs finally made it to shore and joined in on the encircling maneuver.
But then video coverage of the operation ceased as the surviving drone suddenly developed a mind of its own … and deserted to a nearby island beach where a large group of young people were partying on its beachfront. Some were sunbathing while others were engaged in recreationally operating drones of their own. The SÄPOdrone appeared to be attracted to the partygoers’ drones as though it was heeding a mating call, sweeping in low over the nude sunbathers and engaging in what looked like a series of spirited aerial acrobatics.
“Smart drone,” giggled Gun.
“Can hardly blame it, can you?” deadpanned Hansson.
“Perimeter secured,” crackled the voice on the intercom.
“Good. Move inside. Tear gas canisters through the windows. Batter down the doors if necessary. I’m coming ashore now. I want Benny alive, and take care not to harm the Moore woman!” directed Bulldozer.
“Yessir.”
Ten minutes later the Coast Guard cutter’s launch had put Bulldozer’s party ashore.
The operation had concluded by then. The house stood silent. A number of its windows had been shattered by tear gas canisters. The front door stood ajar. Three people … two men and a woman could be seen kneeling on the lawn, their hands cuffed behind their backs. A number of SÄPO men were standing awkwardly about. The attack dogs were sprawled on the ground licking and scratching themselves as any idle dog might do.
“Did you get him?” shouted Bulldozer as he strode up the hill, his trouser legs and shoes soaking wet from his MacArthuresque insistence on gallantly wading the last few meters to shore rather than waiting for the cutter’s launch to pull into the property’s boat dock.
“No, he’s not here,” responded one of the SWAT team leaders.
“Then who are these people?”
“The gardener, the chauffeur, and a cleaning maid. They tell us Benny Anderson is in Copenhagen attending a car dealers’ convention.”
Fintväder couldn’t stand it anymore and began to laugh so hard he appeared to be crying.
Hansson said, more diplomatically, “tough luck, Bulldozer.”
Gun went over to see that the three detainees were immediately released.
Bulldozer stomped off in a rage, managing in the process to step on the tail of one of the attack dogs, who took immediate offense and bit him in the butt.
TBC
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chaste AND supportive ... the consummate professional!
Seems like too many 'Swedish Chefs' cooking the plan here ... or maybe the redoubtable 'dozer' isn't as much of a bull as he thought!
Wonderful narrative Barb ... Will Ms Moore end up in Chinese hands, back in the hands of Benny or rescued and returned into the caring arms of her own father
I am looking forward to finding out
M
montycrusto
Guest
Wasn’t that one of the hobbits in Lord of the Rings?
M
montycrusto
Guest
The Bulldozer’s big rescue op,
Is a clusterfuck, SNAFU, and flop.
With egg on his face,
He’s now known, back at base,
As the “Bull in a China Shop”
Is a clusterfuck, SNAFU, and flop.
With egg on his face,
He’s now known, back at base,
As the “Bull in a China Shop”
With this post, Loxoru demonstrates why I stick to Riesling … limit: two glasses.Time to bring Merri Sherrywater into action!
Or was it Water Merrisherry?
Or Sherry Watermerri!?
Bloody Akvavit!
M
montycrusto
Guest
Yes but can you still count to two after drinking the first glass?
Yes but can you still count to two after drinking the first glass?
Oh ye of little faith!
Should have used the Arkansas Water Patrol... Their boats don't sink.
M
montycrusto
Guest
That was a big selling point on the Titanic too
It is true!!! how do you think they round up so many blue-state women toThat was a big selling point on the Titanic too