Detective Inspector Huss: A Huss Investigation set in Sweden, Vol. 1 (56 page)

Birgitta asked, “Do we dare turn on our flashlights?”

“It’s probably not dangerous out here. But point them at the ground. By the way, please hand me the telescope, Fredrik.”

Irene strapped on the night-vision telescope. She could see the caretaker’s house; a bit farther away a long, low stable was visible. She saw no activity in the house. There was a light in the stable windows.

“All quiet. We’ll head up the road. It’s easier to walk on,” Irene decided.

They went as fast as they could. With some satisfaction Irene noticed that her two younger colleagues were panting a little when they passed the caretaker’s house. For safety’s sake they had turned off their flash-lights. They didn’t see a soul; only the outside light was on.

An icy cold north wind swept over the pastures, but their brisk pace kept them warm. The smell of salt and rotten seaweed was palpable, but there was also a distinct odor of horse manure. The distant roar of the sea and the whine of the wind were all they could hear. They stopped to catch their breath and plan a strategy. Before them loomed something that could have been a towering cliff. But Irene knew that it was the von Knechts’ summer residence, designed by a famous Finnish architect. It was Jonny who had provided that information. He had also told her the architect’s name, but she had forgotten it. Not important.

In a low voice she said, “About a hundred meters straight ahead is the von Knechts’ little summer compound. To get to Henrik’s cabin you have to follow the road to the left, around the big house. To the right the road ends at a small cliff. The sea goes into a little cove down below. So we’ll go to the left. Use your flashlights, since it’s pitch black here, but remember to point the beam down. Stay off the road; walk on the grass and use the bushes for cover. We don’t know if Shorty has gone inside the big house or where he might be. By the way, was he alone in the car?”

Birgitta hesitated with her answer. “I honestly don’t know. His car windows are completely dark. It’s almost impossible to see in.”

“Then we have to keep in mind that he may have had somebody with him in the car. It’s about a hundred meters to Henrik’s place. There are two identical houses right near each other, about thirty meters apart. I’m not sure which one is Henrik’s, but I think Jonny pointed to the one on the right. The one closer to the boat docks. I suggest we spread out and approach the house from three directions. I’m unarmed. Someone with a weapon should take the windows and doors in front. It’s important that we get inside fast.”

As she had expected, Fredrik said briskly, “I’ll take them.”

“Good. Birgitta, you take the side of the house facing the big house and the back. I’ll take the side toward the sea. But we’ll start by checking out the lay of the land. We’ll stop when we get past the big house. Then I’ll look through the telescope and see if there’s anything suspicious around Henrik’s house. Starting now we have to talk as quietly as we can. When we get close to Henrik’s house, we need absolute silence.”

She sensed rather than saw that her two colleagues nodded in the dark. The light from their flashlights was pointed at the ground. They started walking toward the dark house; one by one they moved off the road. Irene felt her shoes sinking into the wet lawn; it was slippery and hard to walk. The splashing and sloshing of their hasty steps was drowned out by the angry slap of the sea against the rocks. The wind was a lot stronger out here on the spit and the roar was deafening. It bit fiercely at their earlobes and made their eyes water.

Irene turned the corner around the end of the big house at a good clip, but stopped short. Birgitta almost ran into her back. Taken by surprise, she snapped, “Yikes! What is it?”

Irene didn’t answer but just pointed. A few meters in front of them a large white car was parked. There was no doubt that it was Shorty’s Ford Mondeo. Irene darted behind the corner of the house and pulled Birgitta with her. She whispered in her ear, “There might be someone sitting in the car. Wait, I’ll see if I can make out anything with the telescope.”

But everything looked calm, with not a movement to be seen. Crouching down, they stole toward the rear of the car. Birgitta pulled open a back door and aimed her pistol inside the vehicle as Irene switched on her flashlight and shone it through the window on the opposite side. Empty. They each gave a sigh of relief.

Irene could just see Fredrik a short distance ahead. She put the telescope to her eye and saw him sneaking rapidly between the low bushes. He hadn’t gone up toward the big house, but instead circled around to approach Henrik’s cabin from the front. A good plan; this way he would have cover from trees and bushes all the way up to the house. It made it easier to use the flashlight. But he had missed the Mondeo. It wasn’t possible for one person to see everything.

She directed her telescope at Henrik’s cabin. There was a faint light in the windows. From that angle she could only see in through the window on the gable side. That was clearly the kitchen. No one was visible. She decided to try to reach her position by making a wider circle. It was extremely difficult to walk in the dark. There was a constant risk of tripping or falling. She swiftly followed in Fredrik’s tracks. He gave her a hasty wave when she passed his position. It was strategically correct, behind a big boulder about ten meters from the illuminated window to the left of the front door. She stopped and cast an eye at the window. It was too high; she still couldn’t see inside.

Her heart was pumping faster now. There was no sign of life inside the house, but she knew that Shorty was there. Her nostrils widened, and all her senses were on alert. She could smell the scent. A slight metallic taste in her mouth confirmed what she already knew. The hunt was on.

Cautiously she crept out on the slick rocks and looked up at the deck. The columns supporting the deck facing the sea were almost three meters tall. But that was the way she had to go. There was no stairway down to the rocks; you had to go through the house to get out onto the large deck. It certainly must give one “a genuine feeling of a ship’s deck.” Irene grimaced in the darkness.

The columns were made of granite blocks, cemented together. The mortar joints weren’t wide enough to afford purchase for fingers or toes. Under the deck lay a little upside-down dinghy. Even though it was small, it weighed a lot. Irene groaned as she slowly shoved and dragged it into position. She paused. Had anyone in the house heard her? But there was only the sea and the roar of the wind, and she was grateful for the cover it gave her. It was time to test whether her idea would work. The boat was now standing vertically, its bottom against the column. The bow pointed up, and the stern was securely propped against heavy stones. It probably wouldn’t slip. She climbed up the stern and then farther up onto the little thwart. The last part was trickier. She put her right foot on the tip of the bow, grabbed hold of the bars of the deck railing, and was just about to kick off and lift herself up when a voice made her stop.

“Look up!”

She froze. Was it just the wind whining in her ears? As always she obeyed the voice. Balancing on one foot she peered through the bars toward the big glass doors leading to the house from the deck. The whole wall consisted of sliding glass doors. She could see a faint light farther inside the house, but the room adjacent to the deck was dark. A faint movement could be seen in one of the side curtains. Were her hyperalert senses playing a trick on her? The cold wind whipped around her jeans-clad legs, and the foot she was resting her weight on started to go to sleep. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. With infinite care she began to maneuver the telescope up to her eye.

Her breathing stopped and the roar of the sea and the wind disappeared.
He can’t see you! He can’t see you! You see him in the telescope, but he can’t see you!
Good thing the telescope hung on its cord around her neck; otherwise she would have dropped it onto the rocks below. The curly hair over his shoulders. The shiny leather jacket with all the rivets; the enormous, compact body. And the satanic grin on his lips. Hoffa Strömberg stood gazing out into the darkness across the deck and the sea.

Only her face had been above the floor of the deck. She was peeking between the bars. He couldn’t have seen her. Yet she felt residual fear from Billdal well up from the black hole inside her. The hole she thought she had sealed up forever.

Shaking, she climbed back down and collapsed on the frigid rock. She couldn’t give in to the fear. She took a few deep breaths, closed her eyes, and tried to look inward and find the Point, when something began to claw urgently at her consciousness. At first she tried to shut it out, but suddenly she was totally present in the wintry wind. Her eyes opened and looked out into the darkness. The ice-cold wind whipped tears into her eyes. A desperate scream was faintly audible from inside the house.

It didn’t take her long to climb up the dinghy this time. She positioned herself on the bow with one foot and looked between the bars through the telescope. Hoffa had turned his back to the deck. He, too, was listening, facing into the house. His next maneuver was very odd. To Irene’s astonishment he slipped behind the curtain, still with his back to the deck. He stood quite motionless. Irene could see movement inside the house. Without thinking, she hoisted herself up and threw herself swiftly over the railing. She crouched, stock-still. After a few seconds she carefully pulled out the telescope and looked at the place where Hoffa had been standing. He hadn’t moved. She cautiously stood and looked straight into the house. The illumination came from the ceiling light in the hall. She could see Fredrik in profile standing in the middle of the hall, with his pistol held in a two-handed grip and his arms out straight. He was aiming at someone who stood in front of him, out of her line of sight.

With infinite care she began to move toward Hoffa. Not because she knew what he was going to do, but driven by an instinct not to let him out of her sight. She was completely unprepared and almost screamed when she stubbed her toe on something hard. It hurt like hell. But it made only a low thud. She had kicked the heavy foundation of a patio umbrella. For several long seconds she stood motionless, on alert. Now she was so close that she could see him behind the curtain. No more than two meters separated them. But he was totally concentrating on what was happening inside the house. She was conscious of more movement in the hall. Birgitta came through the door, also with her weapon drawn. While Fredrik maintained his position, Birgitta headed for the room adjacent to the deck. She stopped in the doorway, felt along the doorjamb, and found the light switch. Light flooded the room from an elegant crystal chandelier over a dining room table.

Hoffa was suddenly visible in sharp relief against the white curtain. But the fabric of the curtain was heavy, so as to keep out the bright western sun in the summertime. Birgitta looked around without noticing the man behind the curtain. But Irene saw him. She watched him very slowly draw a knife from a sheath that was strapped to his thigh. A strip of light shone on the long, wide blade. A hunting knife for big game.

Afterward she didn’t know where her strength had come from. Without wasting time to think, she bent down and took a firm grip on the base of the umbrella. She heaved it up to her chest, took a few steps forward, and threw it with all her might against the glass wall behind Hoffa. With an earsplitting crash the door exploded.

Birgitta screamed, but stopped as soon as Irene yelled, “Don’t shoot! It’s me!”

Birgitta hurried toward the door, found the key hanging on the inside, and unlocked it with shaky hands.

Hoffa lay in a big pool of blood. It was spreading with disquieting speed. A large piece of glass was sticking up from a gash in the side of his neck. Dark blood pumped out of the wound.

“Fredrik! Are you okay? Is everything under control?” Irene yelled toward the hall without taking her eyes off the man in the pool of blood. Her demon was about to die. Revenge was being exacted. Why did she feel no triumph?

“Everything’s under control. I’ve got the drop on Shorty. But Henrik von Knecht needs an ambulance. Fast!”

Hoffa did too. Mechanically she yanked the curtain down from the other side of the glass door and went over to him. He yammered weakly when she carefully raised his head. She shoved the curtain under his neck and tied it. It was a clumsy and loose-fitting bandage, but it was all she could do for him at the moment. Fredrik was still positioned to shoot as she went to him. She stood next to him, turned her head, and saw the same scene he did.

In the middle of the room stood Shorty with his hands in the air and his palms turned toward the viewers. Blood was running down them. His face was expressionless, and the look he gave Irene was utterly uninterested. Only his lower jaw churned, as if he were chewing gum slowly. Across the double bed lay Henrik von Knecht. Or more precisely, she assumed it must be Henrik. The bedspread had once been white, but now it was so soaked in blood that it could have passed for a red batik. Henrik’s face was swollen. With each breath he took, bright red bubbles came out of his mouth, and his naked body was covered with crimson swellings from blows and kicks.

Irene had seen plenty during her years of service, but this had to be the worst. A crazed beating, verging on slaughter. With a shudder she remembered how the murdered fourteen-year-old John had looked after the skinheads’ senseless shower of kicks and blows. In the world of movies and videos, after murderous attacks, the heroes just shake it off, get up, and keep fighting. In reality the victims never get up again. They die. Anyone could see that Henrik von Knecht was dying.

Irene and Fredrik approached Shorty. Without revealing how she felt, Irene said, “Turn around! Head against the wall, spread your legs, and hands behind your back. If you don’t obey, it’d be our pleasure to shoot your balls off!”

Still expressionless, he turned around and obeyed the command. This wasn’t his first arrest; he knew when it was time to give up. These cops wouldn’t hesitate, so it would be stupid to give them a reason. He preferred to keep his balls for a while longer.