Anders Knutas 03 - The Inner Circle aka Unknown

by Mari Jungstedt

  "We studied it in school, of course, but that's a hundred years ago. Refresh my memory."

  "Odin is the original deity, the Almighty according to many—the most powerful of the gods, who ruled over all the other Æsir. He was also the supreme deity of the human world. He is the oldest and the wisest and lives in the fortress Valhalla. He's the god of war, but also the god of poetry, and he's the one who created the runes. Thor is Odin's son, and he's also the god of war, although he's best known as the god of thunder. Thor has a hammer called Mjölnir, and when he uses it, he produces thunder and lightning. I'm sure you know all about that. Finally, Frey is the foremost god of fertility. People worshipped him in order to obtain a good harvest, peace, sensual pleasure, and bountiful livestock."

  "What about the idea that the perpetrator may have drained his victims of their blood? Does that fit in with ancient Nordic mythology?"

  "Absolutely. The blood itself was an important part of the sacrificial rite. They would kill the animals, such as pigs, horses, and bulls, and then collect the blood in bowls. One feature of Æsir worship was that they used blood to paint idols."

  Knutas let out a long breath.

  "It all fits," he said. "The modus operandi, the emptying of the blood, all of it."

  There was just one more question he needed to ask. So far no mention of the horse's heads had reached the public, so Knutas told Malte Moberg about the two heads stuck on poles that had been left at the homes of Mellgren and Ambjörnsson.

  There was silence on the phone. It lasted so long that Knutas wondered if they'd been cut off. Then Moberg was back, and his voice had taken on a new tone.

  "What you're describing is called a nidstång—a horse's head is stuck on a pole, often made of hazelwood, and positioned outside someone's house as a threat. It has to do with a tremendously powerful magic rite, a curse that is leveled at someone. To place a nidstång constitutes a serious threat against an individual."

  "The excavation leader Staffan Mellgren was murdered a couple of days ago, after he found the nidstång at his house."

  "And the other man who received a nidstång?"

  "It's not entirely clear where he is right now," said Knutas cryptically.

  "Really? If I were you, I'd try to get hold of him as soon as possible. In addition, I'd advise you to find out quickly who among the victims' circle of acquaintances is interested in Æsir worship."

  As soon as he was through talking to Malte Moberg, Knutas called Susanna Mellgren to find out if her husband had ever shown any interest in the Æsir cult. The answer was negative. She'd never heard about anything like that. She admitted that he'd often been gone in the evenings and even on weekends without her finding out what he was doing; she'd taken it for granted that he was meeting with other women.

  Knutas received the same answer to his question about Æsir worship from Ambjörnsson's girlfriend. According to her, Ambjörnsson was an atheist.

  Knutas summoned the investigative team and reported on his phone conversation with the Stockholm historian who specialized in religion.

  "Who the hell would have thought that this had anything to do with religion?" said Kihlgård. "Although who would worship the Æsir gods in this day and age? That seems really odd."

  "Surely it's not any odder than believing in Jesus or Muhammad or anything else," objected Jacobsson. "I think it's rather cool to believe in the Æsir gods. I like the thought that there are multiple gods, and that the female deities seem to be just as important as the male ones."

  "Now is not the time to be discussing our opinions on various types of religion. We need to talk about this hot new lead that we've got. Hopefully it will help us solve this case," said Knutas impatiently. "The perp is most likely here on the island, and I'd be surprised if he's acting alone. He probably has at least one accomplice."

  "Since he seems to have experience in butchering animals or at least in handling their bodies, we've checked out all employees of the Gotland butcher shops. Unfortunately we didn't turn up anything especially interesting," Jacobsson interjected. "Or from the veterinarians or their assistants, either."

  Knutas looked discouraged. "Well, at least we know that the modus operandi of these murders was derived from something called the threefold death, and that it was part of ancient Nordic tradition. Who might conceivably have an interest in something like that?"

  "Someone who's interested in the Æsir religion and ancient Nordic mythology. The type who's a member of a group dedicated to such things," Kihlgård suggested.

  "Do we have anything like that here on Gotland? Does anyone know?" Knutas tossed out the questions. They all shook their heads.

  "I suppose this is something different from the medievalists?" Jacobsson queried. "There are lots of people who are busy putting together the medieval festival for next week, but they wouldn't be interested in the Æsir religion, would they?"

  "The Middle Ages came after the Viking Age, at the same time that the North became Christian. I think that was around 1100," said Knutas. "Still, it's possible that the two could be linked. We need to start by looking at the groups that are focused on the Æsir religion. After that somebody should also talk to the people involved with the medieval festival. Surely they have some kind of formal organization, don't they?"

  "I can look into it," Jacobsson offered.

  "I'd be happy to help," said Kihlgård. "It sounds incredibly exciting."

  "Fine. Get some others to help you, too. This has to be regarded as a major lead. We need to give it top priority. This whole story started with the decapitated horse out at Petesviken in June. We're going to have to start back there and make a list of all the people who've come into the picture in some way during the investigation. Then we need to find out which of them has ties to the Æsir religion or to ancient Nordic mythology."

  WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 4

  His cover name was Viking Venture, but Johan quickly realized that the contact he'd found via the American Web site was Swedish and presumably lived on Gotland. Though it seemed very unlikely that a Got-lander would be selling ancient relics on the American market. He had been e-mailing back and forth with Viking Venture, presenting himself as an interested buyer who was prepared to pay well for Viking Age artifacts from Gotland. The contact said that he could offer quite a number of rarities that might be of interest. Johan pretended to be a collector from Skåne, and after they had exchanged e-mails a number of times, he managed to get the man who called himself Viking Venture to agree to a meeting. They decided to meet on the following Saturday at the indoor ice-skating rink, right outside Visby.

  Johan was going to try to get this seller of stolen goods on videotape, using a little camera that they had at the office. On Wednesday Pia had carefully explained to him how to use it. They agreed not to say anything to the police or to the home office back in Stockholm. This was their own project. Johan felt quite excited.

  Emma had called him at work, suggesting that they could have dinner together at her house on Saturday and invite Pia Lilja and Niklas Appelqvist. It would be their first dinner party. He interpreted this as yet another sign that Emma was starting to relent. Maybe they were finally on their way to having a real relationship. The management at Swedish TV had decided to keep the team on Gotland for a trial period in the fall, and Pia had been given the camera job. Johan was the obvious choice for reporter, since he wanted the position and had so far done a good job. He was grateful to be able to stay on the island; at least he could stop worrying about that. Besides, he had the legal right to see his child, and it was a right that he wanted to safeguard.

  One thing he was sure of. No matter what happened between him and Emma, he would never budge an inch when it came to his relationship with his daughter.

  To his great joy, he had noticed a change in Emma's attitude toward him since Elin was born. She was more loving and tended to cling to him more, daring to show her weaknesses. It was as if he had become more important now that he was the father of her chi
ld. She would always be dependent on him, in one way or another. The thought appealed to him.

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 5

  The cruise liner Nordic Star arrived from Riga, Lativa, and majestically slid into berth number eleven in Visby harbor on this Thursday morning. The city couldn't have presented a more beautiful image. The sun colored the facades with a warm, golden sheen, and the temperature had already reached sixty-eight degrees. The American tourists, who had only one day at their disposal to explore Gotland before they continued their journey to Stockholm, were delighted before even stepping off the gangway. The cathedral tower, the ring wall, and the medieval buildings looked fascinating, and a mood of enthusiastic anticipation hovered over the harbor. Ten shiny, air-conditioned tourist buses were parked in a row, ready to swallow up the hundreds of chattering tourists who came streaming off the boat. They wore shorts, T-shirts, and caps, and every single one had a camera around his or her neck. The average age was somewhere between fifty and sixty, although there were a few younger couples. Waiting on the dock, the local guides were clearly visible in their blue vests from the guide association. The buses quickly filled, and one by one they rolled out of the harbor, ready to explore the island.

  Matilda Drakenberg's bus was one of the first to leave. The guides had divided up the sightseeing tour so as not to overlap with each other. Matilda's bus was supposed to start outside the city and then proceed inward from there. First stop was the nature preserve of Högklint, just south of Visby. From there they would have a wonderful view of the city and the sea. Next would be the Botanical Gardens and a stroll inside the wall. The tour would end at the East Gate, when the tourists would be free to have lunch and go shopping on their own.

  She welcomed the visitors, and before the bus had even reached the coast road heading for Högklint, she had already started telling them about Visby's history. The tourist groups were all strangely similar. Americans were positive, full of questions, and fascinated by anything that was more than a hundred years old. When she told them that the ring wall had been built in the thirteenth century, they all looked amazed.

  The bus stopped as close to Högklint as possible. Americans were not known to be a people fond of walking, and several in the group were seriously overweight. An older man used a cane, and he seemed to have a great deal of trouble getting around.

  Mathilda was already dreading the walk through Visby's cobblestone streets. She waited until everyone was off the bus and then led the way up the little hill toward the overlook.

  When Matilda later had to recount what she saw on that morning, she had a hard time remembering the order in which everything occurred. She had a strong memory of the cheerful chatter of the group and of the man from Wisconsin who ended up walking beside her, asking a hundred questions about everything from the average income in Sweden to where Ingmar Bergman had lived on Gotland. He also wanted to know who the Swedes thought had murdered Olof Palme. There was always one of those in each group, someone who showed up and asked tons of questions in private, draining her energy. Afterward she recalled how she had tried to evade his questions, explaining to him that she would answer them later in front of the whole group, so that everyone could hear. The man didn't seem to get the message. He kept on asking questions.

  The group gathered at the top of the slope and enjoyed the magnificent view of Visby and the dramatic coastline.

  The plateau was 165 feet above the sea, and the cliffs dropped straight down to the foaming waves far below. Here the wind almost never stopped blowing. Matilda told the tourists about the ledge a short distance below the precipice that was called the Starving Goat Ledge. Goats that managed to climb down to eat the succulent grass down there were never able to get back up. Eventually they starved to death. Some of the tourists braved the steep stairs and made their way, with varying degrees of success, down to the place where the goats met their grim fate. Others chose a more comfortable alternative and made their way over to the grove of trees a short distance inland. From there they could enjoy the view in the shelter of the trees.

  Suddenly a hair-raising scream was heard. For a few seconds Matilda was afraid that someone had fallen from the precipice, but the cry had come from the grove of trees. She rushed over there—and she would never forget the sight that met her eyes.

  The naked body of a man was hanging from a tree, dangling lifelessly from a noose. Someone had used a knife to slice open his belly, and the blood had run down his legs and onto the ground. When Matilda saw his face and his wide-open eyes staring down at her, she recognized him at once.

  Twenty minutes after the call came in to police headquarters, Knutas and Jacobsson climbed out of their car at Högklint. Without uttering a word, they made their way through the crowd of agitated tourists, who had been given a sightseeing tour far beyond the usual fare. Police officers were cordoning off the area. More tourist buses had arrived, only to be stopped in the parking lot by officers who ordered them to turn around and drive off. No explanation was given. The astonished guides and their drivers did as they were told without getting any answers to their questions. Knutas heard in passing how some people were murmuring about suicide; it was not an unlikely theory. Högklint was a place that was regularly used by people wanting to kill themselves.

  As they reached the plateau, Sohlman, Wittberg, and Kihlgård came up to join them. From a distance they could see the body as it swung freely in the air with the glittering sea and the cornflower-blue sky in the background. Knutas slowly shook his head as he recognized every single sign from the previous victims.

  Gunnar Ambjörnsson had returned to Gotland.

  The murder of the Visby Social Democratic politician was the lead story all over Sweden on that Thursday. At the press conference the police held in the afternoon, reporters from the Norwegian, Finnish, and Danish press were also present. Given the large number of witnesses this time, it was impossible even to try to keep secret the macabre circumstances surrounding the murder. The air was buzzing with speculations about sects, ritual killers, and occultism, and the police were bombarded with questions about the way in which the previous murders had been committed. They had to admit that there were certain similarities, but they declined to be specific.

  Knutas felt drained after the press conference, which was the longest one he had ever attended—and it was going to get worse.

  During the afternoon, word had leaked out that Gunnar Ambjörnsson had received a horse's head stuck on a pole. Then the news that Staffan Mellgren had been subjected to the same thing before he was killed spread like a wave through the media services in Sweden. Journalists from all the national media organizations caught the first available plane to Gotland.

  After the press conference Knutas and the other members of the investigative team became unavailable—except for the much put-upon Lars Norrby, that is. In his position as police spokesperson, he had to take them on all by himself. The police realized that the intensive media attention was going to make it even harder to catch the killer.

  The investigative team, along with the NCP, began the huge task of interviewing demonstrators who were opposed to the construction project, groups interested in the Æsir religion with ties to Gotland, Ambjörnsson's political colleagues, and anyone else who in any conceivable way might have something to do with the case.

  Knutas sensed that the perpetrator was somewhere close by, partly because the places where the victims and horses' heads had been found testified to a good knowledge of the local area. He didn't think that someone from the mainland would have chosen the sites that had been used.

  The police had completely given up any thought that the murderer might be a woman. Dragging Gunnar Ambjörnsson's body up the hill at Högklint and then managing to hoist it up into a tree required a physical strength that far exceeded a normal woman's ability. If their assumption that the perpetrator was a Gotlander was right, it meant that he would have had to leave the island for Stockholm late Saturday night or early Sunday morning
in order to meet Ambjörnsson when he arrived on his connecting flight from Paris. Somehow they must have met in Stockholm, maybe even out at the airport. There were no indications that the meeting had been planned earlier, since Ambjörnsson arrived from Paris at 12:45 p.m., and the plane he had booked to Visby was supposed to leave an hour later. He would barely have had time to get his luggage, go through customs, and head over to the domestic terminal to check in.

  Someone had gone to Stockholm and most likely met Ambjörnsson when he disembarked from the plane. Would he have gone voluntarily with a stranger when he knew that he had been threatened? Hardly. So it had to be someone that he knew and trusted. This person had persuaded him to leave the airport instead of flying home. Why would he do that?

  Later Ambjörnsson had returned to Gotland, either dead or alive. They didn't yet know whether he was killed on the mainland and then transported to the island, or whether he had lost his life on Gotland. From what he could tell, Erik Sohlman thought that Ambjörnsson had been dead for at least several days. The ME was on his way by plane, so it wouldn't be long before they knew more.