‘What do we have here?’ A woman came crawling towards him on the floor. Her curly red hair hung down over both her shoulders, making her vaguely reminiscent of a lion, prowling the savannah for its next prey.
‘Hi. Look, sorry, I’m not interested.’
‘Look alive, we have a Swede.’ She smiled and dragged her tongue across his feet. ‘Mm…’
‘Excuse me, but I mean it.’
The woman got up and untied his dressing gown, which fell to the floor when she slipped it over his shoulders. ‘Yes, I can see that. It really does look tired. So the question is what the two of you are doing here?’
‘Columbus. He’s apparently here. You haven’t seen him, by any chance?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ She got down on her knees, cupped her hand around his scrotum and started massaging it.
‘Stop.’ He pushed her hands away. ‘Have you seen him and if so, where?’
‘You don’t ask for Columbus. He asks for you.’
Fabian was contemplating how to interpret her answer when he realized that, despite his resistance, she was about to close her lips around him. Not now, he thought, and was about to push her away when another woman came up behind him, grabbed his arms and started to kiss his neck. He’d never experienced anything like it. But not now, he couldn’t. Not after everything that had happened. The moist mouth of the first one. The tongue of the other behind his ear. It didn’t matter. That wasn’t why he was there.
And yet, he was unable to resist and do what he ought to. Like a wretched animal, he was pulled ever further down towards his basest instincts and let go of one thought after another until none of them mattered any more.
Then he noticed the black downward arrow on the redhead’s lower back. Suddenly, it was just there and just as suddenly, she stood up, wrapped his robe around her and left him standing there, blood pumping as though his body was refusing to accept that it was over.
He freed himself from the woman who stood pressed against his back and followed the redhead, who disappeared with a man through a door painted the same dark green as the wall. The door opened into a long corridor and he had to dash to reach the door at the far end before it closed completely behind them.
After hanging back for a minute, he pushed it open and continued down a flight of steps that led to a room with a tiled floor and a number of other doors, one of which was closing.
If not for the distinctive buzzing sound, he wouldn’t have understood what he was looking at in the adjacent room as the crack in the door in front of him grew ever narrower. But the sound left him in no doubt. Inside, in what looked like a spa, Eric Jacobsén was leaning over a woman, halfway through tattooing his personal brand between her spread legs.
He hurried up to the door and opened it, only to be greeted by the man he’d seen enter with the redhead.
‘What are you doing here?’ The man shut the door behind him. ‘There’s nothing for you here. You should head back upstairs.’
‘My name’s Fabian Risk and I work for the Swedish police in Helsingborg.’
‘The police?’
‘I’m here to arrest Eric Jacobsén, who is suspected of murder and quite a few other things.’
‘There’s no Jacobsén here.’
‘There is, in fact. But he also goes by the name Columbus, which might ring more of a bell.’
‘Now, listen to me. Unless you want me to throw you out, you’ll turn around and—’
‘Maybe you didn’t understand me. I’m—’
‘I understood just fine!’ The man started ushering Fabian towards the stairs. ‘But until you can show me ID, you’re nothing but a stupid Swede who’s going to leave here as quickly as possible.’
‘For Pete’s sake, are you slow or something?’ Fabian said, deciding not to hurry upstairs to fetch his clothes and ID. ‘I’m a police officer!’ The risk of Jacobsén slipping away was too great. Instead, he shoved the man in the chest with both hands, pushing him back into the anteroom.
The man, who was completely unprepared, tried to resist but didn’t get a chance because Fabian managed to grab his lapels and pull his jacket up over his shoulders and all the way down to his elbows. Then he kicked the man’s legs out from under him. He collapsed on the floor, and Fabian put a knee in his back while he tied the sleeves of his jacket together.
The man was writhing around like a wounded snake when Fabian flung open the door to the spa, where Jacobsén was now about to straddle the red-headed woman who was reclining in the jacuzzi, caressing his erection.
‘Hi, Eric. Remember me? Or do you prefer Columbus?’ Fabian said on his way in, as the woman who had just been tattooed got up and left the room.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jacobsén said, while the redhead carried on as though nothing was happening.
‘Maybe the name Molly Wessman rings a bell? Or how about Vera Brahe or any of the other women you’ve been spying on?’
Jacobsén grabbed the woman’s titian locks roughly and pushed her away. ‘I think you’d better leave now.’
‘But we—’
‘Another time. Come on. Off with you.’
The woman sighed, climbed out of the jacuzzi and walked unhurriedly towards the door without casting Fabian so much as a glance. The door closed behind her and at the same time a fist hit him so hard in the stomach the air was knocked out of his lungs and he doubled over in pain.
When he could breathe again, Jacobsén was already on his way out. ‘Stop,’ Fabian shouted, then, braced against the pain, he rushed after Jacobsén and shoved him forward hard enough to make him smack his face against the door.
It was far from an elegant strategy, but the crunching sound of Jacobsén’s nose and the blood dripping down on the white tiled floor indicated it had at least been effective.
He had absolutely no experience of fighting, but he knew instinctively he couldn’t just stand around and wait for Jacobsén to recover, so with pain searing his chest with every heartbeat, he hooked his arm around Jacobsén’s neck and pulled him backwards into the room.
Jacobsén, who was surprisingly strong, fought back and managed to get in quite a few hits, despite the awkward angle. Fabian endured blow after blow to his head before managing to force his opponent down on to the floor.
But in the end, lactic acid overwhelmed him and when Jacobsén managed to wrap his legs around him and roll them both over, he was at an undeniable disadvantage. The blow to his temple a moment later made everything go dark, and when he snapped back in a few seconds later, he couldn’t understand where he was, until he saw Jacobsén’s broken nose about a foot above him, blood dripping from it on to the surface of the water.
He tried to get out of the jacuzzi, but the hand around his throat forced him further down. At that point, fear sank its claws into him for real. Soon, he would start to suck water into his lungs. Was Jacobsén going to kill him? Until then, Fabian hadn’t even considered that. Running was one thing. But killing a police officer?
On the other hand, there were no witnesses, and probably enough drugs floating around to make it look like an overdose. Besides, Jacobsén was there under a false name and had quite possibly prepared an alibi. But it would never be enough. His colleagues in Helsingborg would see through it and arrest him the moment he set foot in Sweden.
The lack of oxygen was making his lungs burn, and for the first time in his life, he could feel himself contemplate just giving up. He probably would have, too, had it not been for the round metal disc he could feel against his fingertips on the edge of the jacuzzi.
A gentle push on the perforated circle was enough to start the massage jets, which turned the water frothy with air bubbles. Having nothing to lose, he opened his mouth and sucked the air in.
It worked, though he breathed in quite a bit of water too, which made him cough and suck in even more water. Then the hand around his throat suddenly let go and disappeared.
A second later, Fabian resurfaced and saw Jacobsén on the floor w
ith two SWAT officers on top of him.
‘Wow!’ Kim Sleizner exclaimed as he entered the room. ‘Wowee wow-wow-wow! I have to say, it’s not every day you see two men having such a good time together. That’s what I call true love.’ Sleizner smiled broadly and held out a hand to help Fabian out of the jacuzzi. ‘I apologize for not waiting for your signal. I’m only human, and who doesn’t want to go to a party like this one?’ He winked and threw him a dry robe.
83
The wooden exterior had clearly not been looked after properly for years. The ends of the boards were dry as a bone and absorbed the petrol like sponges. The wood was dry again within a minute, which meant it took four five-litre cans to drench the façade on all four sides. But that wasn’t the problem. There were three more in the car if need be.
What she was running out of was time.
Having studied the farm from afar for an hour and a half, she knew the recent fires had resulted in increased security. Partly in the shape of two dogs, which were running around loose, partly in the shape of one and sometimes up to three security guards, who did a lap around the building every fifteen to twenty minutes.
The dogs had been surprisingly easy to deal with. They’d happily scarfed down a piece of meat laced with Propavan each and wouldn’t be waking up until the fire department was wrapping up the salvage and overhaul. The security guards were a different story. They could come out at any moment and realize something was wrong.
*
The orange flame of her lighter caressed the petrol-soaked wood. But for some reason, the wall was refusing to burn. At least, not as quickly as you might imagine it would after being doused with all that petrol.
She could hear the security guards coming out now, calling the dogs in the night. How long it would take them to find the dogs – and, by extension, her – was impossible to say.
It took two full minutes for the fire to start to spread. Slowly at first, then faster and faster like a quiet fuse along the underside of the façade and then off around the corners.
As the flames climbed higher along the walls, the security guards started screaming at the people inside the building. Less than a minute later, the whole barn was ablaze and the panic inside was a fact.
Apart from a few scantily dressed women, most of the people dashing out of the building were long-haired men with beards, tattoos and frayed denim waistcoats. Some of them were drunk and staggered through. Others threw themselves on the ground and rolled back and forth to put out the fire on their clothes. They were all completely unprepared for gunfire.
Lilja fired one shot and then another. One bullet ripped open the leg of the big man with the Terminator tattoo. The other shattered the kneecap of the man behind him. Both fell to the ground, screaming in pain. She didn’t lower her weapon and walk up to them until people had stopped emerging from the inferno.
‘Fucking Jew cunt,’ the tattooed man hissed. ‘You’re dead, get it. So fucking dead.’
Lilja walked up to him, squatted down and studied his bleeding leg in silence. The blood-soaked trousers, the smaller entry wound on the front of his thigh and the bigger on the back.
‘You think you know what we do to little police cunts like you,’ he continued. ‘But you have no idea. No fucking idea.’
She held his gaze without a word and stood up, let her empty magazine fall to the ground and pushed another one in. Then she turned to the others. ‘You know my name and you know where I live. Some of you have been there, riding your motorbikes around on my lawn, and some of you have broken into my house and spray-painted my walls while I was asleep. It stops now!’
‘What makes you think it will ever stop, fucking Jew freak?’ the tattooed man growled. ‘Your hell hasn’t even started.’
‘I don’t know if the rest of you heard, but your little Terminator friend over here had a question. He wondered why you should leave me alone. And that’s a fair question, especially since I just burned down your little clubhouse. But I happen to be convinced you’re the arsonists behind some of this year’s fires at various refugee centres!’
‘You can’t prove that,’ someone shouted.
‘That’s true. We’ve had so much on our plate, we simply haven’t had the time to check if the tyre tracks match any of yours. But you know what? As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter whether they match or not. I actually don’t give a shit, since whatever happens, I’m going to make sure they match! And if not that, then something else. A fingerprint in the wrong place, or maybe one of these?’ She bent down and pulled out a few of the tattooed man’s long hairs and held them up. ‘I’m holding in my hand enough evidence to send you down ten times over! Any further questions on that?’
The sirens and flashing blue lights of the fire department, who had received an alarm from an anonymous caller twenty minutes earlier, were approaching. Lilja turned back to her car, climbed in behind the wheel and drove off down the tree-lined road with adrenaline pumping through her veins. At the same time, the video she’d emailed to every news desk in the country, showing Landertz doing a Nazi salute, was already well on its way to going viral.
84
‘It’s no bother.’ Kim Sleizner beamed as though trying to outshine the rising sun, which had already magicked away the mist over the sound. ‘We’ll just keep him here until one of you people come to pick him up. Deal?’
Fabian nodded. ‘Absolutely. Tuvesson tells me a transport is already on its way.’
‘Well, that’s great, just terrific!’ Sleizner said in his best Swedish. ‘You just take him back to Sweden and help us keep Denmark clean. You’re happy, we’re happy. Terrific!’ Sleizner laughed and held out his hand.
Fabian allowed himself a smile and shook his hand. ‘And once again, thanks for all your help. I honestly don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t turned up.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ Sleizner shrugged and spread his free hand while still pumping Fabian’s with the other. ‘We do what we can to help one another, don’t we?’
Fabian nodded and tried to let go of Sleizner’s hand, but Sleizner held on tight and kept shaking.
‘It would probably work out either way, I reckon. What is it they say? Love and quarrel go hand in hand.’ Sleizner chuckled and shook Fabian’s hand as though he was never going to let go.
‘All right, then, it’s about time for me to be on my way,’ Fabian said in his best Danish. ‘As you say, we want to keep Denmark clean.’
They both laughed stiffly.
‘Hey, now that I think about it, there was one other thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘Dunja Hougaard.’ Sleizner stopped shaking Fabian’s hand but still wouldn’t let him have it back.
‘Yes?’
‘I may be wrong about this, but I had the impression the two of you liked each other?’
‘Yes.’ Fabian nodded. ‘Dunja was, if I’m being honest, the only one who helped us out from your side; she was pivotal to solving that case a few years ago. Also, she saved my son’s life. So, yes, that’s correct.’
‘Good. I figured as much. And as I’m sure you understand, there’s a reason things turned out the way they did back then. But, hey, water under the bridge. I help you and you help me, and at this moment, I need her new address and phone number. Not a big deal. Just her address and phone number. Then I’ll let you be on your way.’ Sleizner chuckled again and resumed his hand-shaking.
‘I’m sorry.’
Sleizner stiffened. ‘Excuse me? I’m not sure I follow.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have that information.’ Fabian pulled his hand out of Sleizner’s grasp. ‘So I’m afraid I can’t help you.’ He shrugged to underscore his words, but felt like it had the opposite effect to what he’d intended.
‘So you’re standing here, telling me that you haven’t heard from Dunja in the past month?’
Fabian thought about the cryptic email informing him of Theodor’s involvement with the Smiley Gang, and ho
w it must have come from Dunja. But even though Sleizner had just helped him arrest Jacobsén, he was the last person in the world he would ever trust, so he decided to shake his head.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t even know she’d moved and changed her number.’
Sleizner stared Fabian right in the eye. ‘I don’t know why, but something tells me that can’t be right.’
‘I’m sorry, Kim, but it is. And I really do have to go.’
‘I’ll be properly cross if it turns out you’re lying to me. Especially after everything I’ve done for you.’
‘Hold on a minute. Are you accusing me of lying?’
‘Of course not. I’m not accusing anyone. I’m just saying I’d be very cross. And believe me. The last thing you want is to cross me.’
85
Somehow, everything seemed new and different when he pulled out the old marble icosahedron and warmed it in his hand. At first, he hadn’t been sure he was even worthy to take it out. It wasn’t at all a given, and the situation he was currently in had been impossible to foresee.
But as ever, he’d been able to ask one of his six-sided dice, and it had given him unambiguous permission to take out the twenty-sided one to see if there would be a new mission and if so, when.
He released the dice, letting it fall through the air and land on the green felt. But as though it were having a hard time deciding which of its many sides to land on, it kept rolling for an unusually long time.
Every time so far, he’d dreaded rolling a one. The only number that could stop his little pastime. But today, he felt differently. He’d decided he would accept the outcome if he rolled a one. It’s not that he was sated, but he definitely wasn’t as ravenous as he had been.
It had been an extraordinary journey, offering both peaks and troughs, disappointments and pure, unadulterated euphoria. From time to time, he’d thought the dice was dead wrong, that it expected too many things at once, that it had made things unnecessarily complicated or that it had been both mean and unfair. But in hindsight, he could see it had in fact outperformed his wildest expectations and been right every single time.
Motive X Page 41
