The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy) (44 page)

97

He
could see Magnus’ searching eyes trying to distinguish the cage in the dark. Magnus’ dogge
dness was impressive, but the
plan was foolproof now.
Once again, it had been confirmed that
no one could be
entrust
ed
with crucial elements of the cause
.
Ernst had let him down with his sloppiness
. Boeck would deal with him afterwards.

The shutters
had secured the set
and
he
was about to stage
a turn
ing point in Swedish history.
The
Nordic
L
and
was going to rise again.
He
adjusted the medals
on his bullet
-
proof jacket, pulled the visor down
on his helmet and saluted before fin
ally grabbing his rifle. The time had come.

98

I a
lmost jumped out of my skin as
the first shot rung through the air. Like most people in the museum, I didn’t realise what it was. It was followed by a moan. Because of the darkness it took a while to understand w
hat was going on, but when one of the body guards
sh
outed that the King was down
, everyone knew we
’d landed in a nightmare.
The security men were in total panic, with torch beams criss
-
crossing
anxiously
aro
und the body of Carl
XVI Gustaf, which was
lying on the floor covered by the blanket. It all ap
peared to happen in slow
-
motion, t
he
blood, t
he searching torches, the fear.

T
hen everything accelerated
as people started screaming and t
he bodyguard
s
shot back at Boeck’s cage. They trie
d focusing the torches on him.
Someone
even managed to
switch
on the searchlight on the
tracked
army support vehicle
standing in the middle of the hall
,
but
the bullets kept coming and Boeck immediately took
out
any light that was
directed at him.
He
was
a killing machine. Nothing was going to stop him until he was done.
The security detail stood no chance and had to retreat as more and more men fell to prey to Boeck’s hatred.
Not that there was anywhere to hide
–
we were
all
stuck in the hall. People were desperately squeezing behind screens, vehicles and other exhibited objects. The concrete statues probably offered the best protection.

T
he bodyguard
holding me down
was shot and
fell on
top of
me.
I could hear blood
splattering
onto the floor
all around
and
felt blood
on my face
, even tasting
the salt on my lips as the blood
gushed from
his wound and onto me
. I felt
his
whole
body
convulsing when
he was hit again,
probably taking a bullet
destined for me. Using the
dead
security guard’s torch
–
sparingly, because every time I switched it on a bullet followed
–
I
took cover
under the JAS Gripen fighter Jet.

At first
,
I thought
–
hoped
–
that
Boeck’s shots were
random
, defensive bullets in the dark
,
that his main and s
ole objective had been the King,
but
when they
kept com
ing at regular in
tervals
, killing and
injuring people
, it beca
me
increasingly
clear that he must have some kind of
night goggles,
which
gave him
a bird’s eye view of the entire hall
.
I thought I could feel his eyes on me.
I kept moving,
dodging his bullets,
creeping under the
cars, hiding behind the concrete statues, under IKEA furniture, behind displays
,
anything to try and
reach a position under the cage,
an angle where he c
ouldn’t see me.

People were running around bumping into each other,
hiding in or under the exhibited items,
pulling at doors, trying t
o escape. I could hear a couple attacking
a police officer, demanding that he do something. Meanwhile,
Boeck took his time
to aim, to make every bullet count
, which made the whole thing even more terrifying.
Although the police couldn’t see in the dark
,
they could see t
he sparks from his
gun and
kept
returning
fire
. The metal platform of
the cage must have protected Boeck
, because bullets could be heard ricocheting
off the metal while
he
continued shooting like
clockwork.

As long as he was shooting
,
I knew that Boeck was
still
in the cage. I also tried to locate Ernst,
but
it was impossible
with
all the noise
–
the gunfire and
everyone in shock,
screaming
. After the fate of Olof Palme and
Anna Lindh, I’d expected Scandinavians
to be prepared for the worst, b
ut even though the
bubble had burst
again
, the muse
um seemed filled with disbelief
.

The Ålanders were hoping that
their bit of
Scandinavia
was intact. They
still
lived in denial. They couldn’t any longer. T
he fairy tale was
over.
This
nightmare
was real and
happening
in Mariehamn
,
a
t
the
heart of the Åland archipelag
o,
one of the
most idyllic of places
in the Nordic countries
.
The realisation was terrifying and
the
initial disbelief
emblematic of the Nordic
disillusion. It could happen
to them, us
–
I was
an Ålander
too.

I’d failed. I’d set out to stop an assassination, but ended up witnessing a massacre. I was disgusted
–
all the previous deaths,
my killings,
runnin
g and chasing had been in vain.

99

T
he
shooting
stopped,
but
I wasn’t sure why. Had
Boeck
been hit? I would believe
it
when
I saw it with my own eyes. He’d planned this
mass execution
–
because that’s what it was
–
down
to
the very last detail and wouldn’t have le
ft anything to chance. Besides
,
he was on his
home turf, so h
e was
bound to have an escape route.

Suddenly
,
I thought
I could hear a faint buzzi
ng sound, an electric engine? It must be Boeck
moving the cage. Was
he looking for
a better shooting angle or
preparing
to run away?
I was de
sperate to grab him, stop him
–
kill
him.
He wasn’t going to get out of this, not if I could he
lp it.

I followed the faint sound of what I thought was the
moving
cage. Fumbling in the dark, I
could hear it
descending
, because the
engine
emitted
a deep
er sound
after a brief stop
–
a
s if changing
into
a
lower gear
.
But where were
the police?
Had Boeck
really managed to kill them all?

As I approached, the
engine noise
became louder and there
was even some very faint
daylight
. It
looked like it
was
coming
from
the water
behind the submarine,
but
I couldn’t quite work out
the source
.
The buzzing sound had stopped and I still
could
n’t see the cage. When I paused
to listen, I
finally
saw the cage being lowered into the water. It went so smoothly that I
wouldn’t have seen
it if it weren’t for the light
from the water
.
It was almost ghost
-
like and
I
didn’t hear
it
submerging
because of
all the running and panicking
in the museum. But
the cage
was there and I was sure it
wasn’t a figment of
my imagination.
Inside it,
I’d seen the silhouette of
a man in
full
diving gear
. That was it
–
Boeck’s escape
route. He was going to swim out of the museum.
I should have known. I’d seen a diving suit hanging in the cage when I first came to museum. I had to stop him.

1
0
0

I
shouted at the top of my lungs.

‘OVER HERE! HE’S…’

Before I could finish my sentence, a rubber arm came round my throat and locked into a death grip. I was suffocating
. A
ll that was left of my shouting was
a fading gargle.
I couldn’t see who it was, only distinguish
an oxygen bottle
and
some kind of fan being
dumped on the floor next to me, but
in spite of the strong smell of rubber
there was no mistaking the
sickly
pong
–
Ernst
.
H
e put his head against mine
as he squeezed my throat
and
whispered into my ear.

‘Sleep tight, Magnus.’

He was going to kill me and then take the same way out as Boeck.
Although
I was doing
my utmost
to get out of
his grip,
my flapping and kicking made no difference.
I
gave it
my
all
, but h
e wasn’t going to give me a second
chance.
This time h
e wasn’t going to leave me for dead until I’d truly taken my last breath.
He was
rock
solid and
I was
about to pass out if I didn’t get any air soon.
I tried
knee
ing
him in the crotch but couldn’t reach.
His lock was to
o
tight and
his
body held firmly
against mine.
I tri
ed knocking my head against his, but he only head
butted me back
even harder
. I couldn’t bear the idea of e
nding
in
a
cloud of
cheap aftershave
. In a last desperate attempt at survival, I turned and bit
his
nose as hard as I could
. I
couldn’t see in the dark
, but
felt a pie
ce coming off and spa
t it out
.
He groaned with pain and had to
let go of me
.
I immed
iately picked up the oxygen bot
tle and whacked him on the head
.
I kept h
itting him until I was sure he
wouldn’t come after me again
.