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Back at police headquarters, Knutas phoned Agneta Larsvik in Stockholm. He was lucky enough to catch her between meetings.

"The part about the modus operandi," he began, "could it have something to do with a religion?"

"In what way?"

"Both Martina Flochten and Staffan Mellgren were interested in the Viking Age. They were excavating a Viking Age port area when they were murdered. The religion at that time had to do with a belief in the Æsir gods—you know, Thor and Odin and all the others. The Vikings made offerings and sacrifices and the like. That's fairly common knowledge. You said that the modus operandi was ritualistic. Could it have something to do with a belief in the Æsir gods? I mean, the way in which sacrifices were made to them?"

"I don't really know," she said hesitantly. "Unfortunately, I don't know much about the subject, but it's not out of the question. Could you hold on for a moment?"

"Of course."

Knutas heard her put down the phone and leaf through some papers in the background. A few minutes later she was back.

"Are you still there? I know someone at Stockholm University who teaches the history of religion. He specializes in ancient Nordic religion and mythology. His name is Malte Moberg, and I'm sure he could help you."

Knutas jotted down the number, and less than a minute later he had the historian on the line. He explained what he wanted to know and briefly described how the victims had been killed.

Malte Moberg spoke slowly, in a gruff, dry voice. "There's something known as the 'threefold death,' meaning that a victim's life is taken in three different ways. This way of killing has its origin in the religion of Celtic and Germanic tribes, and it was utilized for a period from 300 b.c. to a.d. 300. When the victim suffered a threefold death by hanging, stabbing, and drowning, it was thought that each was dedicated to one of three different gods."

The most important piece in the puzzle had now fallen into place. It was that simple. Knutas felt so elated that he could hardly sit still.

"What does this have to do with the ancient Nordic religion?" he asked eagerly.

"In the pre-Christian North, the offering of sacrifices was central to the religion. The creation myth of the Æsir gods begins when Ymer the giant is sacrificed to give the world a body. Odin sacrificed one of his eyes in exchange for wisdom, and himself to achieve insight into the secrets of the runes. People most often offered food and drink to the gods, but animals were also sacrificed and, in rare cases, human beings. The type of death that you're describing in these murder cases also occurred in the ancient Scandinavian religion. The threefold death was dedicated to the gods Odin, Thor, and Frey—meaning the three most powerful gods in the ancient Nordic pantheon, which was prevalent during the Viking Age. In Nordic mythology, there are three families of gods: the Æsir, the Vanir, and the Elves. The Æsir, who included Odin and Thor, were most closely associated with power and warfare; the Vanir, who included Frey, were linked to fertility. How familiar are you with ancient Nordic mythology?"

"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."

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 child. She would always be dependent on him, in one way or another. The thought appealed to him.

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.