The Killing 3 (50 page)

The doctor looked puzzled.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘You shouldn’t be alone . . .’

‘Eva wasn’t. Your son came this morning. He’s been here the whole time.’ She smiled. ‘He really helped. Nice lad though . . .’ She laughed. ‘I thought
he might pass out when I said he could cut the cord. He managed it, mind.’

She went a couple of doors down, beckoned Lund to follow.

‘Go in if you like.’

Through the window, Eva on the bed, a baby in her arms. Mark next to her, holding a tiny hand. He touched Eva’s hair, kissed her.

‘They both did brilliantly,’ the doctor added. ‘The baby’s fine. No problems.’

She held out her hand.

‘Congratulations. You’re a grandmother.’ Her bleeper went. ‘Sorry.’ She nodded at the room. ‘Stay as long as you want.’

Alone Lund watched, unseen behind the glass. Saw Mark take the little girl in his arms, a look of pride and wonder on his young face.

Six years ago a surly kid turning into a surly teenager. Now a father. A good one too. She was sure that would be the case.

And he’d found his own way here. Without her help. In spite of her. Lund knew she could leave and they’d never see. But she’d walked out on him so many times before.

Hand on the door, deep breath. A smile, not forced, one of joy.

As she was about to walk in her phone rang.

‘Lund? They said I had one phone call. You’re it.’

A voice she’d never forget. Calm. Rational. Controlling.

‘Loke.’

‘I’m willing to take a risk. If you promise my daughter’s killer will be punished I’ll show you where Emilie Zeuthen is.’

‘You know I will.’

‘Then come and get me.’

She walked away from the door, tried to control her temper.

‘Make this easy for us just this once, will you? Tell me where she is and—’

‘No,’ Rantzau interrupted. ‘I make the conditions. I lead the way. Take it or leave it.’

Nothing was ever simple with this man.

‘I can’t make that call.’

‘Then find someone who can. There are no other options.’ He paused for effect. ‘You need to do this now, Lund. Time’s running out. You don’t want to pick up a body,
do you?’

There was a sound. Other voices. Then Borch came on the line.

‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘He’s up to something.’

Through the window she watched them. Mark still had the baby in his arms, eyes on nothing but the tiny bundle. Eva’s hand on his.

‘On my way,’ she said.

Zeuthen read the printout the PA had found, asked where Kornerup was. Found him in the basement garage, getting back from an appointment.

‘What the hell were you doing checking up on this case in Jutland two years ago?’

He scattered the pages on the bonnet of the black Mercedes.

‘I’ve just read the files from the archive,’ Zeuthen said. ‘You wanted to be kept informed. Why?’

The look on Kornerup’s face told him the temporary truce between them was over.

‘Why are you digging up the past, Robert? There’s nothing that concerns you there.’

Zeuthen jabbed a finger at him.

‘You were looking—’

‘I’m more than happy to go upstairs and discuss this if you wish. There was the possibility one of our sailors was involved . . .’

‘Don’t lie to me! They weren’t even charged. So why were you interested?’

Kornerup folded his arms and leaned back against the car.

‘I’m the CEO of this company. Your father wasn’t long in the grave. It was my job—’

‘You thought Reinhardt was involved?’

A snort of disgust.

‘Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.’

Zeuthen took the collar of his coat.

‘I want to know what you’ve been up to. This is my daughter’s life we’re talking about. If I find you’ve protected Reinhardt—’

‘The only person I’ve protected is you! I promised your father. He knew you weren’t up to it. The crisis. Negotiations with the government. We needed him, not you. And since he
wasn’t there I acted as he would in the circumstances.’

‘I want to know—’

‘If you doubt Reinhardt ask him to his face. He’s served this company and your family all his life.’

Kornerup nodded down the garage, to a tall figure standing by the lift.

‘I think he’s owed that, don’t you?’ he said and brushed past.

Niels Reinhardt glanced at Zeuthen, then looked away. The cuts and bruises on his face were still livid. Yet he was immaculate again. White shirt. Dark tie. He walked over, the ever-present
servant.

‘I should have told you Kornerup was informed about the Jutland case, Robert. It was simply because our sailors were involved. I was the one who passed him the file. That’s why my
name’s there. I’m sorry. What with everything . . . it slipped my mind.’

Zeuthen nodded, said nothing.

‘I’d do anything to get Emilie back home,’ Reinhardt added. ‘I hope you know that.’

The phone rang in Zeuthen’s pocket.

Maja, excited, tense.

‘He’s talking to them, Robert. He says he’ll show them where Emilie is.’

‘Where?’

‘They don’t know. They’re on their way to the airport.’

Zeuthen snapped his fingers at Reinhardt, threw him the car keys.

‘I’ll talk to Brix,’ he said. ‘Stay by the phone. I’ll get back as soon as I can.’

Ten past eight, Kastrup. Brix had approved the helicopter charter. A white AS365 Dauphin.

Five hundred and fifty kilometres to Stavanger in Norway. Flight time one hour and forty-five minutes. Local police to meet them on arrival.

Rantzau went in the back on his own, cuffed and shackled. She sat on the bench ahead, across from Borch. Seat belt. Safety briefing from the pilot. The sound of the engine, the steady rush of
the rotor blades. The Dauphin lifted from the black asphalt, rose over the lights of Kastrup, flew into the cold, damp night.

Just before ten Ruth Hedeby came down for a briefing with Brix. Dyhring was with her.

‘Where are they going?’ she asked.

‘Stavanger.’

‘I know that. But where exactly?’

‘Once I have the details I’ll give you a full briefing.’

The bitter smile.

‘Upstairs want it now. How do we know the girl’s in Norway?’

Brix picked up his notes.

‘He says he shipped her there in a container. He told Lund he’d prepared it for his own escape. It looks plausible.’

Hedeby stared at him.

‘Plausible? Is that the best you’ve got? So she’s not inside this tank like he said?’

Brix was getting bored with this.

‘He says she’s in the tank, inside the container. That way nobody can hear her if she starts yelling. If—’

‘Well find the bloody container then!’

‘We’re looking. But there are hundreds of them shipped to Norway over the past few days. Some have landed. Some are in transit elsewhere. Some still en route.’

She waved a hand at him.

‘You’ve got nothing, have you? You’ve chartered a helicopter. Sent Lund and Borch out of Danish jurisdiction with a murderer? All on the promise that we’ll find his
daughter’s killer?’

‘We will,’ Brix insisted. ‘What would you have done in the circumstances?’

Dyhring shook his head.

‘Loke Rantzau doesn’t believe in your investigation. He hasn’t from the start. It’s just one more game . . .’

Hedeby ordered him into the adjoining empty office, leaving the PET man to make a call.

‘You need to understand the situation, Lennart. Mogens Rank just held a press conference. He hauled us over the coals. Lund’s been a disaster throughout and you’ve let her do
whatever she wanted.’

‘When I asked you what you’d have done differently . . .’

‘I wouldn’t have pissed off every last person along the way. I’ve got Zeeland and the government on our backs. Whether Hartmann wins the election or not we’re screwed
unless we get that kid back safely.’

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said, ‘Hard as this may be for you to understand, Ruth, that isn’t why we’re looking for her.’

Brix went back to the office. She vanished into a huddle with Dyhring. Juncker was moaning that he hadn’t been included in the trip to Norway.

‘You’ll get a helicopter ride one day,’ Brix grumbled.

‘It’s not about the bloody helicopter! Here I am going through Zeeland personnel files . . .’

‘What?’

‘Something Lund asked for,’ Juncker explained.

‘Did you get hold of Robert Zeuthen as I asked?’

‘I can’t find him . . . I could still fly up there—’

‘What do you mean you can’t find him?’

Juncker stopped, thought about something.

‘I mean he wouldn’t get back to me when I left messages. That helicopter—’

‘For God’s sake, Asbjørn. Forget the helicopter.’

The young detective was flicking through his notes. He passed Brix the flight details, pointed to the fine print on the bottom of the charter order.

‘You know who owns the company, don’t you?’ Juncker asked.

Towards the end of the flight her phone rang.

‘Where are you?’ Eva asked. ‘It sounds like—’

‘I’m working. How’s the baby?’

A squeal of delight.

‘Forty-four centimetres and three thousand five hundred grams. And she’s got all her fingers and toes. She’s beautiful. When are you—?’

‘And Mark was there.’

‘Yeah. He’s been really sweet. He’s holding her now. Do you want to talk to him?’

The pilot was signalling at her to cut the call. The landing pad was ahead. They were going down.

‘I’ve got to go. I’ll be home tomorrow. Send me a picture of her.’

‘Sure,’ Eva said. ‘I think she just woke up.’

Over the racket of the helicopter Lund could just make out a high-pitched cry.

She looked at her messages. Found the one from Brix and showed it to Rantzau.

‘This is confirmation we’re investigating your daughter’s case. We’re checking traffic cameras on the main road. Going through border records . . .’

He was back in the green sailing jacket he’d worn at Zeeland. Glanced at the email, unmoved.

‘Does Zeuthen know we’ve left Copenhagen?’

‘The parents are being kept informed,’ Lund said. ‘I’ll keep you updated about everything that happens in Louise’s case. You know the deal, Loke. Let’s get
Emilie now.’

He nodded. Then after a while said, ‘We need to go for a drive.’

‘Where?’ Borch wanted to know. ‘Around Stavanger?’

‘Bit further than that.’ He nodded at the window, the sea marked by street lights along the waterfront. ‘Up the coast.’

‘Wait,’ Borch said. ‘You sent the container here and then shipped it somewhere else?’

Rantzau looked at Lund.

‘He catches on quickly, doesn’t he? If you do as I say I’ll lead you to the girl.’

Borch shook a fist in his face.

‘Drop this shit and tell us where the container is.’

Rantzau closed his eyes, leaned back on the seat. Looked asleep. Lund’s phone rang again. She looked at the screen. Still no picture.

‘We’ve a problem,’ Brix said. ‘Zeuthen found out where you were going. That helicopter firm belongs to him. One of his planes just landed in Stavanger ahead of
you.’

They were coming down. She looked out of the window. A single executive jet was parked near the helipad. Nearby was a fleet of police vehicles, blue lights flashing.

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Keep him away from Rantzau. But keep him happy.’

Not long after they were down Borch went to talk to the Norwegian police.

Thirty seconds. That was all it took. Then Robert Zeuthen strode up, winter jacket, open-necked shirt, Niels Reinhardt in overcoat, suit and tie behind him.

He looked at Rantzau. Rantzau at him. Then they led the man in shackles to the back of a secure van.

‘What did he say, Lund?’ Zeuthen asked. ‘Where is she?’

‘We’re going up the coast. I need you to wait here. We’ll bring Emilie straight back.’

‘Screw that!’ Zeuthen yelled. ‘She had two days’ air and you wasted one of them pestering Niels here.’

‘We’re on top of this . . .’

Zeuthen shook his head.

‘Do you want me to call Troels Hartmann? See what he says? We know this area. We can help.’

‘We’ll stay in the background,’ Reinhardt added.

‘I’m going to be there, Lund,’ Zeuthen said. ‘Best get used to it.’

Borch was back, shaking his head.

‘I need you to follow instructions, Robert,’ Lund said. ‘Get in my way and you’re gone.’

‘Whatever you say,’ Zeuthen answered and told Reinhardt to get them a car.

Maja had brought Carl to the office. He was playing with his cars on the table while the security officers tried to track ship movements around Stavanger. It seemed impossible.
Thousands of fjords, most of them navigable with small docks scattered everywhere.

Then Kornerup came in. A man she’d never liked.

‘Any news?’ he asked.

‘Not yet. I need to go home for a while. Carl’s bedtime. We need a helicopter and a doctor on standby in Stavanger for when they find Emilie.’

Kornerup nodded.

‘Of course. I looked at some of the work Rantzau did for us. He was in Norway regularly, putting in IT systems and security networks. He must know the coast and the fjords very
well.’

She looked at him.

‘Have you told the police?’

‘We will, Maja. Don’t worry.’

It needed saying.

‘I suppose there are plenty of places to hide someone there. Empty buildings. Old boatyards. Now you’ve moved so much out to Asia.’

He stifled a smile.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve offended you somehow. We’re doing everything we—’

‘Carl!’ she cried. ‘Come on. Let’s go home.’

‘The board and I are putting pressure on the government to get Emilie back home,’ Kornerup added.

She shook her head, told Carl to put his toys away.

‘When this is over I’ll make sure we look at your security,’ he promised. ‘The kids in particular.’

‘You’re fired, aren’t you?’

He did smile then.

‘It was a misunderstanding. I assure—’

‘You couldn’t care less about us. All that matters . . .’ She glanced round the flashy office. ‘. . . is this. Zeeland. Money. Power. Greed.’