Smoke Screen

by Jorn Lier Horst

  Lone Cramer’s phone was wired up to the console. It vibrated. She picked it up, steering with one hand.

  ‘The girl is from one of the Nordic countries,’ the specialist investigator added. ‘Probably Denmark.’

  ‘Denmark?’ Blix repeated. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘There’s a light switch on the wall, on the right-hand side of the photo,’ Molt explained. ‘A round one with a type of rotary switch not used in Norway. They were common in Danish buildings in the seventies.’

  Blix felt something click as all the pieces started to fit together. In the seat next to him, Lone Cramer was snapping her fingers, trying to get his attention.

  ‘I’ll send you a report through shortly,’ Molt concluded.

  Blix thanked him, hung up and turned to Cramer, who was still on the phone.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘But keep a low profile. We don’t want anyone in there to panic.’

  She waited for a minute before nodding.

  ‘Great. Thanks.’ She hung up.

  ‘What is it?’ Blix asked. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘The emergency services just received a phone call from a residence in Horsens,’ Cramer said, pressing her foot harder on the accelerator. ‘Britt Smeplass, a Norwegian. Recognise the name?’

  ‘Yes,’ Blix answered eagerly.

  ‘She’s just called from a toilet in the house belonging to Jens-Christian Kvist and Jette Djurholm.’

  ‘She’s what?’

  ‘And she made the call with a phone registered under their daughter’s name, Caroline Djurholm. Smeplass asked us to get there as fast as possible. Ruth-Kristine Smeplass is holding the family hostage, and she has a gun.’

  ‘Is Jens-Christian there too?’

  ‘No, but there is a Norwegian journalist.’

  ‘Hang on, what? A Norwegian journalist?’

  ‘Smeplass couldn’t remember the name, and she couldn’t stay on the line any longer, said she had to get back to the others.’

  Emma, Blix thought. It couldn’t be anyone else.

  ‘We’ve instructed Smeplass to keep the call going. So we’ve got a hostage situation that could easily escalate. Britt Smeplass said her sister is out for revenge. I don’t know what for.’

  An image of a scenario began to take shape, but he still didn’t have enough details to make sense of it all.

  ‘Right then,’ he said. ‘We need to intercept Kvist before he gets home.’

  Cramer looked sideways at him and said:

  ‘I think we might be too late.’

  77

  Emma was fascinated by the pieces of the puzzle that were slowly connecting in front of her. But she still had so many questions. One of which was why hadn’t Jens-Christian Kvist left Oslo after he had detonated the first bomb?

  She asked Ruth-Kristine, who stopped to think about it.

  ‘After driving all the way down here, I asked to use their toilet before I went back home. I took one of the photos on the wall. Stole it. I hadn’t seen my daughter since she was a baby, and all of a sudden, there she was.’

  She looked away.

  ‘I also took it because I needed something to use as blackmail. I wanted to make sure that Jens-Christian actually came, and that he brought my money and my daughter. When he called me a few days before New Year’s Eve, he hadn’t even realised that the photo was gone.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘He was furious, unsurprisingly. Demanded I brought it with me when we met.’

  ‘What did you say to that?’ Emma asked.

  ‘That there was no way in hell that was happening,’ Ruth-Kristine said.

  It was starting to dawn on Emma why Ruth-Kristine’s flat had been broken into on New Year’s Day. Jens-Christian had been hunting down that photograph – the only thing that could connect him, and them, to the past.

  ‘It was a stupid thing to say,’ Ruth-Kristine carried on. ‘It just wound Jens-Christian up even more. I’m not actually sure if he’d had thought about doing what he had tried to do to me before I had taken it, but that’s why I called Sophus. I needed someone I could trust, someone who could be with me in case … someone who could…’

  She didn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘I should never have asked Nina to…’ She shook her head.

  The living room was deathly silent. Britt came back in and walked back to her seat on the sofa.

  ‘So, where is the photo now?’ Emma asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. I had it earlier. I think I left it at Britt’s house.’

  ‘I sent it to Christer,’ Britt said.

  Ruth-Kristine glared at her sister. ‘You did what?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure how honest you were being when you told me you wanted to make up for all you had done. I took it to give it to the police. But I changed my mind. Instead, I put it in the prison post box, with Christer’s name on the envelope.’

  Ruth-Kristine stood there, gaping at her.

  ‘But … he’ll show the police!’ she roared at last. ‘Then they’ll know that Patricia is alive!’

  Britt shrugged. ‘You’ve hidden the truth from that man for ten years,’ she said. ‘You, all of you, have been deceiving us – everyone. He deserves to know that his daughter is alive. Why do you think I came with you, paid for your trip? To help you commit yet another crime?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s time you sort this out. The three of you.’

  ‘So you didn’t know your sister had a gun with her then?’ Emma asked.

  Britt shook her head. ‘I had no idea she was planning on taking everyone hostage either. I trusted her. Thought that for once she’d actually decided to do the right thing, but…’ She gestured as if it were obvious.

  Ruth-Kristine looked lost for words.

  ‘What happens now?’ Patricia asked. ‘What is it you want, exactly? Why are you here?’

  Ruth-Kristine continued to stare into space for a while, before she lifted her chin, looked at Patricia and pulled the gun out of her waistband, holding it firmly against the side of her thigh.

  Patricia gasped. Jette stiffened.

  In the same moment, they heard the slamming of a car door on the drive. Ruth-Kristine turned her head at the sound.

  ‘I’m here to wait for your father,’ she said. ‘And I think that might be him now.’

  78

  Ruth-Kristine raised a finger to her lips, over-exaggerating the motion, making sure that everyone in the living room had seen it. She tightened her grip on the gun. Her knuckles whitened.

  Patricia slid off the chair and next to Jette on the sofa. Jette looked desperately like she wanted to hold a protective arm around her, but daren’t. Britt Smeplass leant forwards and rested her elbows on her knees, unable to keep her legs still.

  Emma tried to control her breathing.

  ‘Is he not coming in?’ Britt asked.

  ‘He might be in the garage,’ Jette said quietly.

  Outside the entrance, they could hear the sound of footsteps, some fumbling at the door. A key in the lock. A handle creaking, the door opening. Other than that, it was silent. No ‘hi, I’m home’, no question to see if anyone was there. Ruth-Kristine aimed the gun at the hallway door as it started to open slowly.

  Jens-Christian Kvist stepped inside.

  Emma studied him. A man of average height, with only a few traces of hair left on his head, sporting a light beard. He stood there, leaning forwards slightly, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, but not exactly surprised about the situation he now found himself in. He made eye contact with Emma and held it for a few seconds, most likely wondering who she was and what she was doing there. But he didn’t say anything.

  Emma felt a rage burning deep within her. This was the man who had murdered Kasper, who had taken the lives of several others in Oslo. She fought the urge to charge at him, attack him.

  ‘I thought I told you to leave,’ he said calmly, looking at Jette. ‘Take Caroline and go to your mother’s.’

&nbs
p; ‘I was going to,’ Jette said with a bowed head. ‘But I didn’t get the chance.’

  Jens-Christian Kvist took a few steps towards her.

  ‘She is wanted by the police in Norway,’ he said, pointing at Ruth-Kristine. ‘Missing. It wasn’t that difficult to work out that she would turn up here, was it?’

  He jerked his head towards their daughter. ‘That she would come here. For her.’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  ‘Yes, but what? I told you to get out of here!’

  ‘They arrived almost immediately after you called.’ She nodded to Britt and Ruth-Kristine.

  ‘And Caroline had already left for Malene’s. For a sleepover.’

  Kvist snorted and shook his head. Ruth-Kristine looked unsure of what to say, how to proceed.

  ‘And now you’re going to kill me, is that it?’ Kvist asked, gesturing wildly with his left hand. ‘Going to get your revenge?’

  His right hand remained inside his jacket pocket. He had something in there, Emma realised, shuffling away slightly. A weapon, perhaps. It wouldn’t be impossible. He could have picked something up in the garage before he came in.

  Ruth-Kristine didn’t seem to have noticed.

  ‘You killed my best friend,’ she sneered. ‘You tried to kill me.’

  Kvist glanced quickly at Patricia, who was staring off into the distance. Paralysed. Scared.

  ‘Have you…?’ Kvist indicated her.

  ‘I’ve told her everything, yes.’

  He waited for a moment.

  ‘So what’s your next step, once you’ve killed me? Go on the run for the rest of your life?’ He shook his head. ‘You won’t even make it out of the country. And then you’ll end up in prison too, just like the guy you got to kidnap your daughter. Have you even given that a thought? He’s been arrested now, by the way. I’m assuming it’s him, anyway.’

  ‘None of that matters,’ Ruth-Kristine said. ‘My life is already over. It’s probably only a matter of time before Christer…’

  She stopped and shook her head.

  ‘My life has been a living hell for as long as I can remember. I’ve often thought about ending it, just for some peace and quiet.’

  ‘Ruth-Kristine…’

  ‘It’s true,’ Ruth-Kristine said, turning to face her sister. ‘I have been so close, so many times.’

  ‘Why not take all this to the grave with you then?’ Kvist asked arrogantly. ‘So the rest of us can carry on, live our lives, happily, together. As a family.’

  He looked over at Emma momentarily, who understood that there was no place for her or Britt in such a scenario.

  Jette made an almost inaudible sound. ‘Happy,’ she scoffed. ‘You think we’re happy? After all that happened since we lost Caroline?’

  ‘Since you lost Caroline,’ Kvist said.

  Jette shook her head, as if they had had this discussion too many times before.

  ‘And now you’ve murdered…’ She stopped herself, remembering that Patricia was beside her. ‘You think we could just carry on like normal after … after…’ Jette couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  ‘What should I have done then? Keep paying up every year? Paying and paying and paying? We would never be free of her. This was the only way, and you know it. You knew what I was going to Oslo to do.’

  ‘No,’ Jette said firmly. ‘I did not know that. We never spoke about it.’

  ‘Yes we did,’ he argued.

  ‘I don’t remember that.’

  Emma wasn’t sure who to believe, but that didn’t matter right now. They were at an impasse, and everything depended on what Ruth-Kristine was planning to do with that gun. What Kvist was plotting.

  Emma tried to make her own plan. Time was running out. She could try to creep closer to the front door, but then she would have to pass Kvist.

  But there was no other way out.

  ‘Do you think you’re the only one with a weapon?’ Kvist asked, looking at Ruth-Kristine.

  The remark made her take a swift step back and glance quickly at her sister, but she kept the gun pointed at him.

  ‘Do you think you’re the only one who came prepared?’

  Ever so slowly, Kvist removed his hand from his jacket pocket and presented them with the object he had been holding on to the entire time. A hand grenade.

  79

  Lone Cramer held her foot firmly on the accelerator, blue lights on, but no siren. The other drivers moved obediently onto the hard shoulder.

  Blix called Kovic and updated her on the hostage situation.

  ‘Jens-Christian and Jette have a daughter the same age as Patricia,’ he said. ‘I think the remains we found in Undrumsåsen may belong to her. It’s all starting to come together.’

  ‘The girl in the photo…’ Kovic began, but stopped that line of thought. ‘This is insane.’

  ‘Emma Ramm is in there too,’ Blix continued. ‘She’s one of the hostages.’

  ‘How has she managed that?’

  ‘No idea,’ Blix answered. ‘I thought she was in Denmark for Kasper, with his family.’

  ‘How are the Danes responding?’ Kovic asked.

  ‘We’re about three to four minutes away,’ Blix explained. ‘They’ve got police stationed there already, assessing the situation as it unfolds. I’ll call you as soon as I know more,’ he finished.

  A few minutes later, Lone Cramer pulled up behind one of the many police cars parked along the road leading to Engtoften 9. Blix waited at the car as she took the lead. She spent the first few minutes receiving updates. More and more uniformed police officers appeared at the scene around them. All armed. Two ambulances had parked as close to the property as was deemed safe. Blix feared how this might end. With that many hostages, there was a lot that could go wrong.

  Cramer joined Blix at the car again.

  ‘That’s Kvist’s car,’ she said, pointing to a dirty SUV in front of the garage.

  ‘We’ve tried calling him, but he’s not answering,’ she continued. ‘Britt Smeplass stayed on the call when she returned to the living room. We can hear what’s going on in there, but it’s a bad line. Sounds like she’s got the phone in a pocket.’

  ‘The curtains are drawn too,’ Blix commented.

  ‘Yes, we’re completely blind, but we have some sound to go off at least.’

  She pointed to a large panel van that had Incident Commander printed across the side, indicating where the current one-way communication was being monitored.

  ‘You’ve tried calling the other phones in the house as well?’

  ‘Yes. Neither Jette Djurholm nor Emma Ramm are answering.’

  Blix cursed inwardly. He wanted to go in, involuntarily took a few steps closer to the house, but stopped, ran his hand through his hair, and remained where he was.

  ‘Let’s get in,’ Cramer said, nodding at the van.

  80

  Kvist held the grenade out in front of him. He had inserted his finger into the ring attached to the safety pin. Emma didn’t know much about explosives, but she did know that a little jerk was all it would take for that pin to come loose. If he dropped the grenade, they would have no more than three, maybe four seconds to find cover. In a living room like this, there wasn’t much to hide behind. One of the sofas, the coffee table, the armchair. The table seemed solid. Solid enough to take the edge off the explosion.

  ‘Dad,’ Patricia said, her voice trembling. ‘What are you doing?’

  Kvist didn’t answer her, just stared at Ruth-Kristine.

  ‘Go ahead, shoot,’ he told her. ‘Get your revenge. But you’ll take everyone else down with you. Including Caroline.’

  ‘Her name is not Caroline.’

  He snorted. ‘You gave up the right to be her mother years ago,’ Kvist spat. ‘What you have suddenly decided now, means nothing.’

  Ruth-Kristine looked somewhat disconcerted. Caught off guard.

  Thoughts raced through Emma’s head. She could see no way to resolve the situation, but she st
ood up anyway. Ruth-Kristine and Jens-Christian Kvist both glared at her. Emma locked her eyes on his and shut everything else out, even as she felt the fury raging inside of her. The fear coursed through her body, making her legs numb and her breathing irregular.

  Still, she spoke: ‘Haven’t you two caused enough damage?’ Her voice quaked. She crossed the floor to stand between them.

  Ruth-Kristine’s gun was aimed right at her. Kvist still had the grenade in his hand, as if he were readying himself to yank the pin out at any moment. His eyes were dark and expressionless.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ he asked, looking at her disdainfully. ‘And what are you doing in my house?’

  ‘My name is Emma Ramm,’ she said. She took a step towards him, an intense sense of defiance overwhelming her. ‘I had a boyfriend called Kasper Bjerringbo,’ she continued. ‘Do you know where he was on New Year’s Eve? He was just a few feet away from that bin you planted the bomb in.’

  Emma’s story didn’t seem to have bothered him in the slightest.

  ‘So you’re here for revenge too?’

  The thought had made a muscle in his cheek spasm, the corner of his mouth curved upwards into a faint smile.

  ‘We can solve this, Jens-Christian,’ Jette Djurholm interrupted. Her voice was quiet, resigned. ‘Let’s just try to end this in a civilised manner. Accept our punishment…’

  ‘Shut up,’ Kvist shot back, without looking at her. ‘Continue, Emma Ramm,’ he said, now with a wry smile. ‘What’s your plan? Are you going to attack me? Try and take this?’ He shook the hand the grenade was in ever so slightly.

  ‘Think about it,’ Emma pleaded, unable to stop her voice from shaking. ‘You are already responsible for the loss of so many lives. No one else has to die.’