The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy)

by Nilsson-Julien, Olivier

  ‘We just need to check your blood pressure, a routine procedure.’

  I lay down reluctantly on the examination bed, and as soon as my feet were off the ground, he turned to me, silenced gun in hand. I hadn’t seen his face properly before and he must have tucked in his ponytail, but now that I recognised Andri, I quickly slid onto the floor, shoving the bed over my head in the process. I evaded the first bullet and a second shot went off as the bed smashed onto his legs. He fell over, but managed to plug a bullet into the door post as I raced out of the room.

  82

  A police car came screeching to a halt outside the hospital as I came running out. Looking back, I could see Andri charging down the main corridor. I grabbed the police officer getting out of the squad car and pointed at Andri.

  ‘He has a gun.’

  When the police officer looked at me, I recognised the bald policeman – Ernst – and looked at him a fragment too long before making a run for it.

  ‘Hey!’

  I didn’t look back. What the fuck was he doing here?! As I was sprinting away, I realised that something was wrong – I wasn’t on the Swedish mainland as I’d expected. I was back in bloody Mariehamn where we’d started. How did that happen? In the hospital, I’d been too focused on Eva to look out the window. Same in the helicopter – I’d missed the bad weather forcing the machine to divert to Mariehamn.

  One thing was for sure. I wasn’t going to the Mariehamn police, forget that. I was knackered and wounded plus I didn’t know who to trust. All I wanted was to get back to London. As I was running, I spotted a postman on a yellow bicycle and stopped him. I grabbed the handlebars, but he held on.

  ‘LET GO!’

  I’d roared and seeing my animal eyes, he dismounted. I set off, legs pumping like pistons, totally ignoring my injured foot. I could hear police sirens approaching and needed to find a solution quickly – a hiding place. If only I could find the dog lady’s house. Maybe I would recognise the road once I got out of the town. I cycled through a pedestrian precinct, desperately scanning the surroundings for a way out. I briefly lost my pursuers, but where could I go? Watching my back, I cycled straight into a group of teenagers and fell. Letters and packages flew out of the post bags and – lo and behold – one of the kids’ white sneakers had a mark. He was aghast and about to beat me up.

  I heard the police arriving and ran like mad, skidding around the corner on the icy pavement and dashing across the street. Shrieking brakes – a car stopping in the nick of time. I had my hands on the bonnet, looking at the driver, a woman with a plaster on her nose. I’d never find out why. There was no time, as I saw the police coming rushing around the corner. The moment was frozen in time, the woman looking at me, me at her, and then I did it – I rushed to the passenger side, pulled the door open and threw myself in next to her. I really had to get out of this place. I was done with Mariehamn. All I wanted was to get out of there alive, even if it meant swimming back to London.

  ‘Drive!’

  She barked back.

  ‘Get out!’

  She pushed me and put her hand on the horn to attract the attention of passers-by. Following my eyes, she looked back and spotted the police running towards us. I had to convince her.

  ‘Help me. Trust me. Please...’

  She looked at me as if I was mad before grabbing her handbag, but I held onto it out of impulse.

  ‘Wait.’

  She pulled at her bag.

  ‘Give me your phone.’

  ‘No!’

  I snatched the bag, searched it and dug up a mobile, while she jumped out of the car. I was left sitting in the passenger seat, paralysed by the unreality of the situation. I had to pull myself together. I really needed to ring Carrie, but first I needed to get away. I locked the doors, shoved over to the driver’s seat and hit the gas just as Ernst and Andri caught up with me, bashing the back windows.

  83

  I drove off with Andri and Ernst banging on the car, shouting with their faces glued to the window. I couldn’t shake them, not that they were particularly fast, but I couldn’t find the gears on the bloody car, a prehistoric, toad-like Saab with the gearstick on the steering column. I kept switching back and forth between first and third, with the car hiccupping along in the process. They were shouting at me to stop, but I finally hit second gear and took off, leaving them in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

  I focused on getting out of Mariehamn as fast as possible. But why was that truck coming straight at me? I dodged it, leaving havoc behind. I mustn’t forget to drive on the right side of the road, or I wouldn’t drive far unnoticed. I wouldn’t drive far full stop. I looked for a place to dump the car, but the whole town had been blocked off with crowd control barriers, so I couldn’t turn anywhere. What the hell was going on? What was there to control? In a small town like Mariehamn, it meant I was quickly out in the countryside, but I still didn’t know how to get to the dog lady’s house. I’d been admiring Eva’s driving and ignoring the road when we drove out there. And it had been dark. I wasn’t ready for another ice crossing yet; I needed to lay low and work out a new escape route first. Boeck knew I was back on Åland and would have men checking all ports including the airport.

  Hearing police sirens behind me again, I turned off into the woods. A police car zipped past followed by a black Jeep Cherokee. I had to keep driving even though everything hurt – the injured foot, the bruises from the beatings, the missing toe, the absent finger, the cold, the lack of sleep, the mental torture... It was all too much and I couldn’t think straight. Driving deeper into the forest, I rang Carrie on the Saab woman’s mobile. I missed her and it felt like I hadn’t talked to her in weeks. I should have called earlier, but I hadn’t had time, which was partly an excuse, as part of me felt guilty for the time spent with Eva – I felt a powerful bond with her after what we’d been through together. It had been such an intense experience and Carrie hadn’t been with me to share it. What would Carrie think if she heard about me being wanted by the Swedish police?

  There was no reply, so I left a message telling her I was done, but that I wasn’t sure yet when I’d be home. It all depended on if I could find a safe way to get off the island, but I didn’t think she needed to know that. I had to shout to make myself heard over the rattling two-stroke engine. Listening to me blaring down the phone, she would think I’d gone bonkers. I had to tell her what was going on before I wound up dead, but I couldn’t tell her I was in danger without a plan. I didn’t get the chance to finish the message.

  ‘What the..?!’

  I piled on the brakes, my head pressed against the ceiling.

  84

  There was an effing moose posted in the middle of the forest track. A crash would have killed us both, but I managed to stop the Saab only inches from its front legs. I was shaking, staring at him in shock, the full-grown moose at me. Moose were solitary beings and difficult to tame, but I remembered a man in Mariehamn who’d had one when I was a kid. He even let me ride it once and I hadn’t seen one since. This specimen had spectacular antlers. Their span must have been over two meters and it must have weighed a least a ton. Sitting there face to face with such a beast was intimidating.

  Should I see it as a sign? A reproach? I’d been shot at and thought it extraordinary, while this moose and his mates were hunted down every year without anyone worrying about their stress levels. I couldn’t help seeing my father staring at me – those brown eyes. Hadn’t the fisherman called him an ‘old moose’?

  The moose broke my apathy and I exploded in anger. What was I thinking? Of course, I couldn’t let Boeck get away with it. Eva had died saving my life. Escaping away wasn’t an option. I was furious with myself for even considering giving up after what she’d done for me. I had to finish what I’d started, in the name of Eva, my father and Anna. It was more important than ever that I did everything I could to stop Boeck. Otherwise, I would always regret it and Boeck’s victims would have died for nothing. It would all have been
in vain. It was the least I could do for my father – finish the job he started.

  I don’t know how long we stared at each other, but the moose never moved. I had to drive round him and in hindsight I wonder if it really happened, because when I looked back in the mirror there was no trace of him. I did a double-take, but he was gone for good.

  85

  Looking for a different way back to Mariehamn, I continued through the forest until I hit a gravel road. I tried to recall Eva’s smooth driving, as mine was more akin to survival mode, mainly about avoiding the ditch, but I had a good excuse – I rarely drove in London. In fact, I rarely drove full stop. And it didn’t help that the Saab was underpowered, with the non-assisted steering killing my arms, not to mention my injured foot suffering from the constant braking. I was too tense, my driving too stiff. Suddenly there was a shock, but this time it wasn’t my driving. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the black Cherokee up my arse, barging into me. It was so close that I could see the driver’s silhouette as we came through a bend – the ponytail. Why wasn’t I surprised to see Andri? I tried to control my panic and focus on the driving.

  I pushed the old toad to the max, but the Jeep was way more powerful and 40 years younger. I kept blocking Andri’s attempts to overtake, so he nudged me from behind again, trying frantically to force me off the road, but the old Saab’s reliable front wheel drive saved me. Realising he wouldn’t be able to out-drive me, he started shooting and I was nearly hit several times, but the twists and turns made it difficult to aim. He couldn’t find a good angle to get at me or the tyres and tried bashing me again, but the Saab stayed glued to the narrow road and my confidence grew. Maybe I’d be able to hold him off until Mariehamn. It would certainly be harder for him to shoot at me in a busy street, not that I was convinced that there was such a thing in Mariehamn. Saying that, the town had actually been blocked off when I drove out. Something was up. It must be the multicultural festival mentioned on television, the festival opened by the King… and held at Boeck’s museum, in spite of Boeck hating everything multicultural, or maybe precisely for that reason.

  That must be it – Boeck’s ultimate opportunity. Killing the King would be mad, but Boeck was completely insane. It made perfect sense after what he’d said about Bernadotte being at the root of the Swedish decline. Besides, it was all I had to go on and if I was wrong, the best place to find him would still be the museum. I couldn’t believe this was a coincidence. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d initiated the multicultural festival. As a host, he was in an ideal position to prepare an attack. He’d talked to me about hitting Sweden at the top of the establishment and the head of state was the ultimate symbol of Swedish power. I put the local radio on in case they’d say something about the festival opening.

  I needed to keep Andri behind me and ended up overdoing it when I saw the oncoming truck. I spotted it too late, because I was so focused on covering my back and too distracted by thoughts about the multicultural festival. Trying to avoid the collision, I rolled out of the bend and closed my eyes as the Saab flew into the ditch. Praying was becoming a habit.

  86

  The last announcement on the radio as the car crashed was that the King would be opening the multicultural festival at 12 noon – in half an hour. It was unlikely I would get there in time with the Saab wedged upside down in a ditch with all doors blocked. I could open the windows, but there was nowhere to go, only ditch walls on both sides. I would have to tunnel into the frozen snow and I knew how hard that would be after trying to dig into the snow when I’d locked myself out of the car, not to mention attempting to bury the snowmobile driver. And this time I didn’t even have a spade, nor did I have the time or space to build a bonfire to thaw the soil. If only the car-lighter had been a blow-torch. Like when I’d locked myself out of the car, the only solution was to smash the windscreen – in the knowledge that Andri would be waiting outside to finish me off.

  I unclipped my seat belt and immediately crashed onto my head. I hated this bloody car. I turned around in the small space to sit on the ceiling. It was difficult to see clearly – hardly any daylight trickled through. I got into position to kick in the windscreen, but didn’t have anything to push off from, as the seats were hanging upside down and ending halfway down my back. I tried kicking, but all I achieved was shoe prints on the glass. I needed a tool, something sharp to make the first dent. I removed a headrest and tried using the metal pins, but the head cushion made it impossible to hack with any power. In the end, I kicked off the gear stick, wedged its sharp end between the glass and the frame. Once I’d managed to get the gear stick through a corner, I bent the frame and chipped away at the glass before finally kicking the windscreen to smithereens.

  87

  The first thing I saw when I crawled out was Andri talking on his mobile. I scrambled back as his first bullet shattered what was left of the windscreen. I was cornered, but not ready to give up. While Andri kept firing at the car, I started digging frantically into the side wall, hacking with the gear stick. Tunnelling seemed the only possible escape, until I heard something above. It must have been Andri standing on the car. It rocked and there was a trickling sound, followed by a sharp smell – petrol dripping down from the carpet above my head. He was pouring it onto the car and I did everything I could to dodge it.

  There definitely wouldn’t be enough time for digging now, unless I wanted to be carbonised. It was him or me and I knew I was taking a big risk, but if I didn’t I would be dead within seconds. I had to act before him, take him by surprise. I took the car lighter and pressed it against the petrol-soaked carpet above, which lit up with a WOOF as I scrambled out of the car while the fire followed the petrol to the source – Andri. I’ve never crawled so quickly, and when I came out, he was in flames, rolling in the snow, trying to put out the fire – a taste of his own medicine. He’d ditched the petrol can, but the Jeep was still standing.

  88

  He’d considered using a hit man, but he had to do it himself. It was a matter of principle and demanded total personal commitment. Although he was tense, he was savouring every second building up to it, soaking up the atmosphere while running through everything in his mind for the umpteenth time; visualising, doing the countdown in his head, anticipating the reactions and finally… completing the mission.

  It wasn’t the first time he took on a challenge at this level. Exactly two decades earlier he’d executed a similar operation to perfection. The police had never identified the real perpetrator and never would, unless he decided to tell them. But he would only do so when the time was ripe, when it was to his full advantage. He’d done that operation on his own and it had been a more intimate affair, but it had confirmed that he could do whatever he set out to do. The repercussions had forever affected the course of the nation and given him the confidence to move on to a more complex target.

  All that remained was the finishing touch. He had to look the part. Everything had been washed, ironed and polished to perfection. His was a uniform with a 21st century upgrade – bullet-proof fabric. The Russian tailors had done an immaculate job with the fitting. Based in St. Petersburg, they’d made uniforms for the Russian military since the time of Peter the Great. It was the ultimate reference on that side of the Baltic, where a sloppy cut would usually cost a tailor his life.

  89

  Driving Andri’s car helped me re-focus on my mission – stopping the assassination of the King. I had to be prepared for the worst and assume that this was the threat. I did my utmost to block out the images of Andri’s flaming figure rolling in the snow and tried to think about nice things instead, like what I would do when I returned to London. But it was impossible. But all I could see was a dying Eva on life support and Andri who’d been burning alive when I’d put my foot on the gas and left him behind. Every time my eyes strayed back to the mirror, he reappeared. It felt as if I was being made to pay for what I’d done.

  I’d killed again. I was drained, fin
ished, shaking, in tears, hysterical – everything, but I had to keep going. I’ve never driven so fast. I didn’t care about danger. I was terrorised. I’d escaped Andri, but felt more persecuted than ever. Now the fear and the cold came from the inside – I was a zombie, a wreck with eyes locked on the horizon. I kept checking my watch. It was something to hang onto and it still worked, in spite of everything I’d been through. It was a present from Carrie, a macho watch with more functions than I would need in a lifetime, but it did what it said on the tin. It had been exposed to extreme conditions, Baltic water, even been nicked by a bullet. It must have been Boeck and his men when they chased us across the ice, but I hadn’t realised in the tumult of the action. It still ticked and looking at the watch properly for the first time in days, I understood where the soreness in my wrist had come from. The watch had saved me from injury and reminded me of what Carrie meant to me. I tried ringing her again, but there was no answer. I kept trying and eventually a woman picked up – the midwife.

  When I finally got Carrie on the line she was in labour, panting. She hadn’t received my message and had been frantically calling my mobile, which was swimming with the herrings at the bottom of the Baltic Sea. When was I coming home? I told her I was sorry, I missed her and wouldn’t be long. Then the fucking phone ran out of battery. I was missing the birth of our child. What for? I’d rather be with Carrie, that’s where I belonged, but I had to do this for the people killed by Boeck – for my father, Anna, Eva, for our child’s grandfather. I owed it to them all. There was no point feeling sorry for myself. I was lucky to have Carrie and she was with me all the time. I hadn’t chosen this. It had attacked me, viciously, like a lethal virus. I was only trying to get out of it, exterminate it.