by Samuel Bjork
Why doesn’t anyone come?
Help me.
Please.
Miriam had barely registered the door opening before the feather-clad young man appeared in front of her with his gun raised and something in his other hand.
‘There has been a change of plan.’
‘What?’ Miriam mumbled, refusing to let the warmth from her kitchen at home disappear from her mind’s eye.
‘Get up,’ the man said, giving her a kick to rouse her.
She slowly sat up, tightening the blanket around her more.
‘There has been a change of plan,’ the young man with the dark eyes repeated. ‘I knew I should have gone with the other one. You’re no good, and now everything is ruined.’
Miriam slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. An outstretched arm holding the gun, and something being waved in the air. A blonde wig.
‘But there’s still time for this,’ the man with the black eyes told her. ‘Try this on.’
Miriam did not know what he meant.
‘Put it on, I want to see how it looks.’
‘Jacob, please,’ Miriam pleaded, but she did not even know if the words had passed her lips.
‘Put it on,’ the man sneered, thrusting the wig at her. ‘I underestimated them. A photograph? Me? Can you imagine how they found that?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Miriam murmured, still not knowing if the words had left her lips.
‘Put it on,’ the feather-clad creature ordered her again.
She nodded cautiously and slipped the wig slowly over her head. The young man looked at her sideways.
‘You look like her.’ He smiled. ‘That’s good. Then it wasn’t a waste after all.’
Miriam tried saying something, but she was unable to.
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ the man said. ‘I’ll be fine. I admit it’s a little early – after all, they’ve paid for three months – but that’s not a problem as long as we get to do what we have to, don’t you agree?’
‘What … are you going to do to me?’ Miriam stuttered, and this time she must have spoken out loud, because the feather-clad young man reacted and looked at her curiously.
‘I’m going to kill you. What did you think I was going to do?’
Miriam was dumbstruck.
‘I was going to wait but now that they’ve put my picture on the Internet, it’s better that we get it done as quickly as possible, before anyone gets here.’ The young man with the feathers smiled faintly. ‘Come on.’
And he stroked her wig carefully. ‘I’ve made everything ready outside.’
Chapter 77
Mia Krüger eased her way out of the Volvo and produced her gun from its arm holster. Fortunately, she had come prepared this time. She had driven out here on a hunch. Jim Fuglesang’s house. The photographs. His rambling during the interview. Four white rocks. A red boat. An abandoned house across a dark lake. Jacob Marstrander’s hiding place. How could it be otherwise. It had to be the place. But …
Miriam?
What was she doing here?
Miriam Munch?
With Jacob Marstrander?
What the hell was going on?
Mia crouched, making herself as small as possible, and moved along the side of the car, never taking her eyes off the door of the dilapidated house in front of her.
Smoke rising from the chimney. But still no sign of life inside. Mia stayed low while looking for somewhere she could get a mobile signal. A small hill. Anything. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, gripping her Glock firmly in the other hand, but nothing.
No signal.
Again she cursed all those mobile-phone providers’ advertisements that filled the airwaves with their claims about unbeatable coverage. Scantily clad girls on mountain tops, smiling boys waterskiing off shore – where was the signal when she bloody needed it? She held up her phone again, but still nothing.
Damn.
She spotted an elevation not far away and quietly made her way up it, still not taking her eyes off the door to the old house.
A few more steps, and then her iPhone finally flashed. Coverage. No – signal lost again. Yes, there it was. No, crap …
She pressed Munch’s number.
No.
Ludvig’s.
Damn.
Then, suddenly, she got through.
‘Grønlie speaking.’
‘It’s Mia,’ Mia whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Hello?’ Ludvig Grønlie said, far away.
‘Can you hear me?’ Mia said, as loud as she dared.
‘Mia? Is that you? Are you there? Holger is—’
‘Forget Holger,’ Mia whispered hoarsely as Grønlie disappeared again. ‘I’ve found Marstrander. And, for some reason, Miriam is here. You have to—’
‘Hello?’ Grønlie said again.
‘Can you hear what I’m saying, Ludvig?’
‘Are you there, Mia?’
‘Yes, I bloody well am. GPS me, for Christ’s sake, track my phone. I’ve found him. Marstrander. I’m sure of it. And for some reason—’
‘Mia? I’m losing you,’ Grønlie said, far away again.
‘Just GPS me, Ludvig. Did you hear that? Find me. I’ve—’
‘Hello?’
‘Ludvig?’
‘Are you there, Mia?
Mia swore loudly and so failed to hear the frozen heather crack behind her.
‘Did you get that, Ludvig?’
‘Hello, Mia …?’
‘Find me, Ludvig. GPS me,’ Mia said desperately, and managed to turn just as the feathered hand swiped through the air towards her face.
She raised her hands instinctively to protect herself. Against whatever was coming. A shadow of something. Metal against her cold fingers desperately trying to shield her head.
‘Mia?’
Her phone was no longer in her hand. There was the swooshing sound of an object hurtling through the air towards her once again, with even greater force this time; she could just about make out a sneer in the shadows as her hand yielded, metal against skin and bone.
Cold.
She heard the sound.
There was someone down in the yard.
Of her fingers breaking.
Miriam.
Before the pain came.
With her hands tied.
Blood running from her temple, over her eyes, into her mouth.
Blindfolded. Wearing a blonde wig.
Her phone lay in the heather somewhere, still talking, still calling her name.
‘Mia, are you there?’
Don’t be scared, Miriam.
The heavy metal swiped through the air again.
I’ll take care of you.
For the third time.
It’ll be all right, Miriam.
But then.
For the fourth time.
She was no longer able to stay awake.
Chapter 78
A constant stream of tears was flowing down the young woman’s face and Holger Munch had no idea how to make her stop crying.
Shut up.
More than anything, this was what he wanted to say.
Shut up, for God’s sake, and tell me what happened.
‘Julie,’ Munch said calmly, smiling at the young woman. ‘It’s fine. Just calm down. We’ll find them very soon.’
‘But I didn’t know,’ the young woman sobbed.
‘Of course, you didn’t, Julie. It’s not your fault, but it’s important that you tell us everything you do know, OK? So if you’re able, if you can manage it, do you think you can …? Please try to remember anything that might help us.’
Curry and Kim Kolsø looked like two question marks at the back of the room, but they wisely said nothing.
‘It went wrong,’ Julie sobbed, finally producing something reminiscent of a complete sentence.
‘What went wrong?’ Munch said, patting her hand gently.
‘The entire raid,’ Julie said, looking prop
erly at him for the first time since they had arrived at her flat in Møllergata.
‘So Miriam was with you?’
‘What?’
‘At the animal raid? She took part?’
‘Yes,’ the young woman nodded, glancing furtively at the two investigators leaning against the wall behind him.
‘Why?’ Munch said, but realized instantly that it was the wrong question.
‘What do you mean?’ Julie said.
‘Jacob Marstrander,’ Munch said in a soothing voice, patting her hand again. ‘All I’m asking is how you know each other. How does Miriam know this Jacob?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean?’ Julie said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
‘I’m just wondering,’ Munch said, as patiently as he could manage, ‘because I’ve never heard him mentioned – well, as one of her friends – and I …’
‘Ziggy,’ Julie said tentatively.
‘Ziggy?’ Munch asked.
‘Ziggy Simonsen. Do you know him?’
‘No.’
‘He was the one who said that … well … he’s a friend of Jacob’s. You know who Ziggy is, don’t you? Or maybe she hasn’t said anything?’
Julie Vik looked at him now, and hesitated.
‘Yes, yes …’ Munch said.
‘You don’t know, do you?’
‘Yes, yes, I …’
‘She said she was going to tell you,’ Julie said, wiping her face on the sleeve of her jumper. ‘Did she not tell you?’
Munch glanced quickly over his shoulder at Curry and Kim Kolsø, who nodded.
A new name.
Ziggy Simonsen.
Curry took out his mobile and left the room.
‘What was she going to tell me?’ Munch ventured carefully, stroking the young woman’s arm.
The tears had stopped now, and she looked at him almost with interest.
‘About her and Ziggy?’ Julie said. ‘She hasn’t told you?’
‘No,’ Munch said softly as his mobile started ringing in his pocket.
‘Then I don’t think I should say anything either,’ the young woman said, looking down again.
‘Julie,’ Munch urged her.
His phone rang again.
‘I don’t know,’ Julie said, the tears starting to flow again.
‘Tell me what you know,’ Munch said, more firmly than he had intended. ‘Jacob and Miriam know one another. And both of them are missing. You can understand that this is important information for us, can’t you?’
Another ring tone, no longer from his pocket but elsewhere in the room.
‘Yes, but I …’ The young woman looked up at him.
‘Holger,’ Kim said behind him, but Munch waved him away.
‘Miriam and Jacob. Do you know where they are?’
‘Holger,’ Kim said again, but Munch ignored him.
‘I just—’
‘Munch,’ Kim said, putting his hand on his shoulder this time.
‘What?’ Munch hissed irritably, as Kim Kolsø handed him his phone.
‘Holger?’
Ludvig Grønlie’s voice in his ear suddenly.
‘What?’ Munch grunted.
‘Mia,’ Ludvig said.
‘What about her?’
‘She’s found them.’
‘What?’
‘Miriam. And Marstrander.’
‘What are you saying …?’
‘We know where they are.’
‘Who?’
‘Holger? Do you understand what I’m saying? We’ve found them.’
Munch shot to his feet. ‘How?’
‘Mia’s mobile. She called me and asked me to GPS her; she saw them, she’s found them. Holger. We have them. We have a specific location. Hurum. That’s where they are, Holger. We’ve found them.’
‘Get me a helicopter,’ Munch said, already heading for the door.
‘What?’ Grønlie said.
‘We’re on our way. Get me a fucking helicopter. NOW! We’ll be there in three minutes.’
Chapter 79
The pain in her hand was almost unbearable. She didn’t know how long she had been unconscious.
Mia Krüger opened her eyes and staggered to her feet; she instinctively held her left arm close to her chest and tried to work out where she was. The cold. The frosty ground. Her body protested, but she forced herself upright nevertheless. Stood swaying with her head bowed while reality slowly came back to her.
Miriam.
Mia had followed Jim Fuglesang’s cryptic references. The photographs. The four white stones. The red boat. Found the derelict house. And she had not realized what she had stumbled across until it was too late. Jacob Marstrander. And Miriam had been there? No mobile coverage. Too irritated by that to be careful. He had attacked from behind. Invisible blows to her head. Thank God she had managed to raise her arm.
Damn.
Mia took a step forwards but quickly learned that she was not in control. Her head tried to tell her something, but her body refused to listen. She tripped, landed on the frozen heather and felt fresh pain shoot through her. He had broken her hand. She was unable to move her arm. And her eye – she could not see out of her left eye because of the blood. She could taste blood.
Amateur.
Slowly, she got to her feet again and stood dazed and confused on the barren ground in an attempt to pull herself together.
Her gun?
Mia was on the verge of blacking out, but she was starting to remember now. The blows to her head. She had managed to protect her head with her left hand, which was why it no longer worked.
She took a few faltering steps, not knowing in which direction to move. The Glock? Had he taken her gun?
Miriam.
He had abducted her. The feather-clad young man.
What the …?
She tripped again, fell face first into the heather, but managed yet again to get back on her feet. She stuffed her left hand inside her jacket. All her fingers broken. It had shielded her against the blows. It was the reason she was still alive. How long had she been unconscious?
Mia slipped her right hand inside the lining of her trousers and pressed her eyes shut in an attempt to clear the blood. Left, no. But her right one, yes, she could see now. She knew where she was. Her Glock 17. He had taken it, he must have done, because she could not see it anywhere – but then her mood improved when she felt the metal of a barrel tucked into the waistband of her trousers.
The small one. Her Glock 26. She had been in the middle of nowhere before, she had felt vulnerable then and there was no way on earth she had been going to allow that to happen again, so she had brought two weapons this time. Mia pulled out the gun, and finally got a vague sense of where she was. The house. The car. A path leading further into the forest.
Jacob Marstrander.
Mia tucked her left hand further inside the leather jacket, suppressing the pain, and started walking in the direction she guessed they would have taken.
What the hell was Miriam doing out here?
The grey, derelict house.
The door was now wide open.
So, not inside.
The path leading to the lake.
Back to Fuglesang’s house.
No.
The path.
Mia flicked off the safety catch on the Glock and gripped the gun hard, as her legs finally obeyed her brain and allowed her to walk towards the forest clearing behind the house, where the two of them were likely to have headed.
How long had she been unconscious?
A few hundred metres further on she resisted a sudden urge to throw up. Everything inside her wanted out. She had to lean against a tree.
The right way, Mia.
Just do it.
She managed to hold it in and staggered on, getting steadier with each step. They had to still be there, somewhere in the forest, his body covered in feathers, Miriam blindfolded and with her hands tied. Mia was holding the Glock in front of her, forcing
her feet to carry her forward when, suddenly, she spotted them.
The clearing in between the trees.
Miriam kneeling.
In front of something …?
Mia could not see clearly, and yet she knew what it was.
A place of sacrifice.
Candles in a pentagram. Feathers on the ground.
No.
Mia quickly looked about her, realizing she could go no further. He would see her if she continued straight on. She made a quick decision, veered from the path and stayed close to the trees on the edge of the clearing.
An open space.
He was doing something.
She had no clothes on.
There was something around her neck.
Miriam was kneeling in the clearing, naked, with her hands tied.
Mia moved carefully between the trees to get a better look. She raised her Glock, but her hand was trembling. The barrel was pointing just as much at Miriam as at the animal in the feathers.
Shit.
What was he doing now?
She crept a little closer.
The clearing was not large. Mia looked around, finally got her brain to work enough to give her the full picture. There was the path on which she had arrived. A semicircle of trees behind which she was now hiding. On the horizon behind Miriam – Mia had to blink in order to make the perspective work –
A sheer drop.
He had built a place of sacrifice in a clearing, right on the edge of a precipice.
No.
Mia crept softly between the trees. At last, her body seemed to respond fully to her brain. Her left eye was glued shut with what she took to be blood from her head wound, but it made no difference now, because she was able to move again. Her body and her brain were working together. She made her way through the heather, each step taking her closer, as the feather-clad young man stood up, walked behind Miriam and grabbed hold of something.