‘How did it go with the snowmobile?’
‘Look, I’m sorry about the passport. I didn’t mean to…’
‘Where did you leave it?’
Unfortunately, he didn’t mean the passport.
‘I lost it.’
‘You what?’
I explained what happened and how his uncle had saved me.
‘Do you know the location?’
‘He does.’
‘Good.’
I wasn’t sure what difference it made and I wasn’t going to ask. I’d expected to be punched, shouted at and thoroughly insulted, especially after my insinuations regarding Anna’s passport. I couldn’t help wondering how many more blows he could take before exploding in anger. I certainly hadn’t been prepared for the silent treatment, but of course it wouldn’t have changed anything if he’d shouted. The snowmobile would still have been under the ice. It was just that living in London, I was used to being on my guard, half expecting what I said or did to be used against me. I wasn’t very good at silence. I had to say something.
‘I’m really sorry. Obviously I’ll cover all the costs.’
Thor didn’t even blink. He was definitely done talking about the snowmobile now that the facts had been established. I had to stop apologising and move on.
‘Henrik went to Boeck’s church twice. Any idea why he would have returned in the middle of the night?’
Thor shook his head.
‘What do you know about Boeck?’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘What was his relation to my father?’
‘Henke took photos for him. Go to the museum and you’ll see what Boeck’s about.’
‘What do you think?’
‘A mainlander full of fancy ideas.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘I don’t care as long as I don’t have to visit any museums.’
Thor’s sulking wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had to return to the church, but how? I wasn’t going to ask Thor to lend me another snowmobile.
38
I decided to skate. At least I’d be discreeter. My father’s blades were a tight fit – like a second skin, which was ideal for skating. It would take a good hour to reach the church bay, but I knew the way now and I was taking a dry change of clothes, well wrapped in a sealed plastic bag, in case I went through the ice again. And no cotton! I borrowed a couple of base layers from my father’s expedition wardrobe. I wasn’t going to get caught out. I also took a head torch, only to be used in an emergency. I’m not quite sure what I was worrying about, as there was no tangible threat, but Anna’s disappearance didn’t reassure me.
Setting off in the moonlight, it took me a good 20 minutes to find my skating rhythm, after which I was committed to the movement and the skating totally absorbed me, until I heard the screams.
They echoed through the night and guided me to the church. It sounded like a woman. The silence carried her pain through the darkness and my instinctive reaction was to rush to her help, but I didn’t know what was ahead. So when I was around the corner from the bay, I hung the skates on a tree and cut through the peninsula on foot. I’d be too exposed skating into the bay.
As I was walking through the pines, the screaming stopped and I could hear my footsteps crackling through the night on the hardened snow. I was hoping the snow and the trees were absorbing most of the noise and that it couldn’t be heard from a distance. It was wishful thinking, because suddenly a beam of light shone through the trunks and I threw myself flat on the ground. A second beam moved past above my head, its reach constantly changing as it was cut short by the tree trunks. The beams playing the trunks reminded me of a silent string instrument, but there we no musicians. All I could hear was two men muttering to each other, then a snowmobile driving off. I lay still and didn’t dare move until long after they’d gone.
When I finally did, I walked on to the bay, hiding behind the trees as I went. Having reached the frozen water’s edge, I could see the church further down the shore, maybe 75 metres away. There was light in the windows. The easiest way to approach it would have been via the ice, but again I would be too exposed, so I took my time and continued along the shore, stopping at regular intervals to watch and listen. The two men had nearly found me, but had they heard me or had it simply been a routine check?
Without realising it, I almost walked straight into their arms again. The snow really did absorb all the sounds and I hadn’t heard a thing until I saw them smoking on the other side of a tree. I was alerted by the cigarette glow. Without it, I would have been caught. They stamped out their fags and disappeared to the back of the church, where a huge chimney was sticking up behind the little church tower. I hadn’t noticed it the first time I came to the bay.
I understood that the guards had to keep moving – it was too cold to stand still. Whatever you’re wearing at -25°C, if you don’t keep moving you’ll freeze to the bone. What I couldn’t understand was why they were there. What could they be guarding? I could hear moaning and sneaked up to a window. When I peered in I saw a man in a soldier’s uniform trying to kiss a young woman who looked like Anna. When she wouldn’t kiss him, he slapped her and a second soldier went through the same scenario, but this time he ripped her dress off and pushed her onto a table. The girl screamed with terror. I couldn’t identify the uniforms or see their faces, but one of them had a ponytail. It was difficult to tell if it was really Anna. I was too shocked to think clearly and I’d only seen her in a photo – a happy snap. I heard another male voice from the corner of the room, but couldn’t see him.
For a moment, I thought Anna had spotted me and felt her pleading look. I had to do something, but what? I stood no chance against them. I couldn’t come up with a rational solution and acted intuitively. I just wanted it to stop. I banged at the window and dived under the church. It was built on rounded rocks with gaps underneath and I crawled as far in as I could while there was still noise and agitation from inside. It didn’t take long for the torches and shouts to come out. My vision was limited to a gap the size of a small television screen alternating between darkness and flashes of torch light. The male voice barking out orders to the guards was familiar, but I couldn’t place it. When one of the guards suggested it might have been a bird, his response was immediate.
‘My grandma used to say that when a bird hits a window, someone you know is about to die. You wouldn’t want that to be you, would you? You’d better find that ‘bird’ very quickly.’
I recognised Boeck’s voice. He was in on it. He’d fooled me with his smart appearance. I had to get help. I couldn’t crawl backwards, so I continued to the other side of the church and peered out. Everything seemed to have gone quiet, but I couldn’t take any risks. I rolled over to the shadow of a pine tree a good 20 metres from the church and waited. There was still no sign of anyone having spotted me, so I carried on to the next tree and kept going, stopping behind every trunk to check I wasn’t being followed. I got all the way to my skates hanging on the tree. As I was taking them down, I heard something behind me and turned to face the two guards stepping out from behind another tree. Their faces were covered. All I could see was their eyes locked on me. They looked like wolves ready to jump. I froze, terrified after what I’d witnessed in the church.
‘Come with us.’
The guard had spoken with what I guessed was a Russian accent, but he could have been from any former Soviet republic.
‘I have to get back.’
A dumb reply, but I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. I suspected their intentions were unfriendly and there were two of them. The second man pulled a gun or was about to. It was difficult to distinguish in the dark, but he reached for what looked like a holster. I acted impulsively with the only weapon I had – the laced-together skates. Holding one skate, I swung the other at the man with the gun. The blade hit him right in the eye, causing him to howl with pain. The other man fumbled for his gun, a major challenge with mitte
ns and frozen fingers. I had no time to lose and did my best ever Olympian hammer thrower impression as I swung the skate for the second time. It hit his body but his thick winter coat took the bulk of the shock. I started running through the woods.
I didn’t look back. If he was destined to catch me, he would, but he didn’t need my help to do it. I could hear him running in the snow behind me. All I could do was to keep going, pulsing through the snow in the hope that I’d be faster than him. I was running for my life. At least I was lighter. He looked like he must have been at least 100 kilos. I was just above 80 and tried to choose the toughest terrain to work to my advantage.
I waded through a dark pine forest, ploughing my way up hills and through deep snow, miles away from any rescue, let alone a police station. Every step I sank deeper into the snow, not to mention the twigs and branches poking my eyes out, with the pain of my lost toe adding to the agony. I was pouring with sweat, my heart beating at double speed. Had my father been through this? Had he seen what I’d seen? I was exhausted and didn’t know how long I’d been running, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t, because that would mean giving up. If I listened to my body, I wouldn’t get anywhere.
This was about taking the pain, suffering through it, but I really thought I’d never make it. I wasn’t even sure I was going in the right direction – away from the church. For all I knew, I might be going in circles. After a while, everything started looking the same – forest, ice, forest, ice… in eternity. I was running from island to island, forest to forest. I kept telling myself that I was doing it for my father and for Anna. If it was her I’d seen she needed all the support she could get. Eventually I dared look over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see my follower any more. Where was he? I doubted he’d given up and gone for a pint.
I tried to figure out where I was, but didn’t have a clue. I was completely lost. The night sky was clear and I knew how to locate the polar star, but not how to navigate with it.
39
Knowing where I was likely to end up, he must have taken a short cut and hidden in the shadow of the large pine tree. He shoved me violently in the back as I passed, making me land face first in the snow. When he approached me gun in hand, it was desperate measures. There was no time to think. I just scooped up as much snow as I could and threw it at him, which forced him to shoot blindly into the snow screen.
I had gained a second to figure out a way to delay my death. He’d missed with his first shot because I’d rolled away, but he wouldn’t miss a second time. I had an idea and quickly crawled under the pine tree as he fired again. He came after me through the low-hanging branches covered in snow, chasing me around the tree, but I was faster and he couldn’t get a clear shot. He had to stop to catch his breath. It was a small victory – I couldn’t hide behind the tree forever.
When he set after me again, I decided to take him by surprise and attack him. I sprinted to catch up with him from behind, lunging to catch his legs in a rugby tackle. I made him trip over and jumped onto his back, kicking the gun out of his hand. I was frantic, terrified, this was life or death, him or me, no prisoners. When I picked up the gun, he turned to punch me, but I held onto the gun and as he pulled me down and rolled over me, I squeezed the trigger and shot him in the stomach, again and again until I ran out of bullets. I stared at his body in the ensuing silence – I’d killed a man, before stumbling off in the snow. It couldn’t be me covered in blood splatter, but this was no time for dithering. I had to keep going for my father. I walked on like a zombie without looking back.
40
I finally arrived at a main road, soaking wet, bedraggled and covered in blood. I was a total mess with too much going on in my head, unable to shake the image of the man lying in the snow holding his stomach. All I could see was blood – everything was red. I had to get to the police, but there were no cars, so I walked and walked. The wounds from my missing finger and toe were hurting and I fell over several times, bruising my knees. I was a wreck.
The police station was closed. I’d been lucky the first time. They were only open two hours a day in wintertime. All I had now was a mobile number. Brilliant! I didn’t even have a bloody phone and the main street was deserted, the café closed. I ran back to my father’s house.
When I got through on the phone, I recognised the voice of the police woman who’d saved my life, Eva Mikaelsson. She seemed to be the only police officer on the island. She must have been watching telly – I could hear a laughter track in the background.
‘This is the police?’
‘Yes. How can I help?’
‘It’s Magnus Sandberg. I saw a woman being molested.’
‘Can you say that again?’
‘They were going to rape her!’
‘Calm down, what exactly did you see?’
‘It was at the wooden church. She was being attacked by two men.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘I was peeping through a window.’
‘You saw this through a window?’
‘I think it was Anna, the woman my father was looking for. They’ll kill her.’
‘They’re making a film.’
‘It was for real!’
‘It’s meant to look real. They re-enact historical scenes for the exhibition. Didn’t you see the camera?’
‘There was no camera.’
‘Did you see lighting?’
I started to doubt. I’d heard a voice from a corner, but I hadn’t been able to see anyone. Boeck had come out when they were looking for me, so he must have been standing there.
‘Boeck was there.’
‘It’s his job.’
‘There were armed guards. Why would there be guards?’
‘Maybe the insurance company demands it.’
I hadn’t seen much worth stealing and not many suspicious passers-by either for that sake – except me. I almost told her I’d killed one of the men in self-defence, but decided to wait – she was making me doubt. Maybe she was right about the guards being legit. That would mean I’d killed a man who was just trying to do his job. How would I have reacted if I’d been a guard and found someone snooping around? What about someone swinging a pair of skates at me when I asked him to follow me? Looking back, I realised I’d actually been the first to resort to violence. Could it have been an ordinary film shoot? Had I killed out of misplaced paranoia? This was insane.
‘We can’t intervene every time there is violence on a film shoot... Your reaction tells me they’re doing a good job. You’ve lost your father and you’re emotional. You shouldn’t spend your nights roaming the ice.’
I was lost. All my instincts had been on red alert, but maybe I’d been fooled by the circumstances. My fears were creating a reality that wasn’t there and I needed reassurance.
‘Do you know Boeck?’
‘Everyone knows him. He’s not the type to organise gang rapes. Everyone would know.’
‘I heard him barking orders, threatening to kill a man if he didn’t find me.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘I heard him.’
‘Sure you couldn’t have misheard him?’
‘I recognised his voice.’
‘He would never…’
‘But I swear…’
‘You really need to go to bed.’
There was absolutely no way I was going to sleep, let alone sit still, after what I’d seen, or thought I’d seen Anna subjected to and after what I’d done to those two guards. I was terrified, in a state of complete shock and expected Boeck to turn up any second to make me pay for the deaths of his men. Everything kept going round in my head. Although Boeck had denied it, he knew Anna. Plus the church was one of the last places my father visited and revisited. It must mean something, but did it mean it was related to his death?
Looking at the GPS, it seemed to be the last place he’d gone, except for the odd photos of Sven’s and Thor’s places. Boeck had said my father worked for him and I needed to chec
k out the museum to see if I could find out more about their connection. The museum was the only significant location in my father’s life that I still hadn’t visited. I wanted to know for sure that Eva was right – that I was definitely overreacting. I grabbed a torch, but before going I remembered to give Carrie a ring. I didn’t want to tell her what was going on, only that I missed her. My caIl woke her up.
‘I love you.’
She mumbled something back. I could hear the warmth in the bed and wished I could crawl through the phone cable to join her. Her voice triggered her smell and all my senses simulated her presence. I felt her.
‘Sorry.’
‘Mmmmmm.’
I wasn’t sure if I was sorry for waking her up, for not being with her or for not telling her what was happening. Probably all three.
41
I didn’t know what to expect from a ‘national’ museum on a Finnish island that wanted to be Swedish. The museum was housed in a stunning and seemingly modest-sized building on the waterfront. On that night, the moonlight accentuated the art deco-inspired wood architecture. The entrance was discreet, but the interior much larger, with a gigantic hall expanding into the rock as far as I could see through the closed glass doors.
This was outside regular opening hours. I couldn’t imagine a museum in the middle of the Baltic Sea bristling with alarms, but why was I even considering a break-in? I reminded myself that I had to do this, because the police wouldn’t listen to me and because I had to know. I simply couldn’t accept murdering a man for no good reason. I could have slept on it and come back the next morning to ask Boeck face to face. That’s what I should have done, but this was too urgent.
I used one of the recycling bins standing outside the museum to break a small window behind the reception desk. I stopped to listen for any reaction, but there wasn’t the faintest of squeaks in the night. I cleared out all the glass before opening the window and climbing in. I put the curtain back neatly in the hope that the break wouldn’t be noticed at first sight, but with temperatures around -20°C the draft was likely to make itself felt.
The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy) Page 9