Three Dog Night (42 page)

He held up one finger.

‘The only possible witness was Felix Gomez, but she was traumatised and suffering from amnesia,' he said. ‘For a while we did treat her as a suspect, but what did she stand to gain? After all, she'd lost her child and come very close to dying herself.'

Bank kept his gaze fixed on Anna Bagger, who stared stubbornly back at him.

‘The case has gone cold recently, but it certainly hasn't been shelved. We kept hoping Felix Gomez would start remembering. In other words, we were hoping for some developments.'

Anna Bagger twisted a strand of her fringe tightly around a finger, but said nothing. She was angry, Mark thought. Piqued, but also angry. Primarily with herself, because her honour was at stake. But she was also irritated with Bank, who could have done more to look into Erik Gomez and possibly contacted her about the case, which she hadn't known about for very good reasons: until a few weeks ago she had been working as a detective in Esbjerg.

‘But something happened yesterday,' Bank said. ‘Felix Gomez had a meeting with the Air Accident Investigation Board at the SOK HQ in Brabrand.'

Bank nodded to Arthur Sand, who stood up, went over to the whiteboard and took up position in front of the gathering with his hands behind his back. He had a remarkably gentle voice which contrasted with his officer-like physique.

‘For a long time Felix couldn't remember anything about the accident,' Sand said. ‘I don't think she wanted to, which is understandable. I had a couple of meetings with her which left us none the wiser. Yesterday, however, was different.'

He turned to the whiteboard.

‘May I?'

He found a dry wipe marker on the table and wrote up some numbers. Mark read: 56° 15° 62° N 011°34' 22E.

Sand put down the marker and turned to face the officers.

‘This is a location in the Kattegat. And it's close to the spot where Erik Gomez's helicopter crashed. It's a place called Lille Lysegrund. Not deep. Roughly ten metres. On a clear day you'd be able to see a shipwreck at the bottom from a helicopter.'

Mark's pulse soared. A treasure at the bottom of the sea. Both the Poles and Gry's colleague, Helle, had spoken about it. Was that what Erik Gomez had been looking for?

Sand sat down again and Erling Bank resumed his report. It was clear that the two of them had worked closely on the investigation.

‘Felix Gomez thought she recognised Ramses Bilal when she and Boutrup found his body on the cliff. A few days later her memory started coming back and she recalled that her husband had met Ramses on two occasions.'

The mobile, Mark thought. That's why she took the mobile. Everything was beginning to make sense.

Bank continued: ‘Our investigation now suggests that both Ramses Bilal and Erik Gomez were part of a drugs ring led by a man called Kenneth Krøll, also known as Grimme. Their last operation failed because the police received a tip-off. Grimme was sent to prison, as was the courier who had collected the drugs in Poland. They couldn't charge him with dealing, but they could with being an accessory in connection with an earlier raid on a security depot.'

Bank's foot bobbed up and down.

‘We now have reason to believe that the courier, whose name was Brian, had time to scuttle his boat containing the drugs before he was arrested. He was clearly hoping to retrieve them once he was released from prison. Only he never was. He was diagnosed with cancer and then died in hospital.'

He paused and ran his eye across the audience. Sand resumed: ‘Yesterday Felix suggested that other people could be looking for the coordinates.'

From his chair he pointed to the numbers he had written on the whiteboard.

‘She had found these numbers inside a briefcase her husband had handed in to a lost property office. She thinks he was given the coordinates by Ramses Bilal, who had switched sides in the conflict between the criminals.'

He made an apologetic gesture with one hand.

‘She was nervous when we met,' he said. ‘I regret that I didn't get her police protection immediately. But she wasn't alone. A man accompanied her to the meeting and had been expected to pick her up afterwards.'

He nodded to Anna Bagger.

‘She introduced me to him when I met her at reception.'

Anna Bagger cleared her throat.

‘Peter Boutrup,' she told everyone. ‘Our friend from the cliff. Previously convicted of manslaughter. He was released in September two thousand and eight after serving four years in Horsens.'

‘Boutrup. Peter.'

Erling Bank, still standing by the whiteboard, turned the name over in his mouth like a twist of chewing tobacco. ‘We looked into him shortly after his release. He was suspected of that murder in Østergade. They found his DNA at the crime scene. It was Wagner's case.'

‘But he was eliminated,' Mark interjected to clarify.

Erling Bank's nods could have been interpreted in so many ways.

Anna Bagger asked: ‘Does that mean Boutrup was the last person to see Felix Gomez? Apart from Sand?'

‘Plus the receptionist at SOK,' Sand added helpfully. ‘She remembers that Felix, after her meeting with me, bought a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine and waited for about an hour and that she also made some phone calls.'

Sand looked genuinely upset. Erling Bank said: ‘Felix arranged with her mother to be, and I quote, “there in fifteen minutes”. But she never arrived. Her parents then contacted us.'

Anna Bagger got up again.

‘We're dealing with three urgent issues here. Number one: Felix Gomez.'

She looked at Erling Bank. ‘You've already initiated a search in the area around SOK and at her parents' flat in Brabrand?'

He nodded. Anna continued her summary: ‘Obviously we need to organise a local search. Her house has to be checked for clues. But we must
also
– and this is the second issue – locate Boutrup.'

She held up two fingers and held her index finger.

‘Boutrup is the key to Felix, that's my clear understanding. The two of them have been seen together on several occasions. It would suggest they know each other better than we've been led to believe. And then there's the third issue.'

She grabbed her middle finger and held it up. ‘The coordinates. We need to find out as quickly as possible what's out there. If someone has kidnapped Felix, we must assume they know the coordinates by now. They're bound to mount their own expedition shortly.'

Mark looked out of the window. The snow was falling again, thick and heavy, after a couple of hours of sunshine. He couldn't think of worse conditions for a diving operation, but at least the wind wasn't up.

‘We've dismissed the divers. So who can do it?' Martin Nielsen asked.

‘What about the local girl?'

Anna Bagger looked at Arthur Sand. ‘You said it was only ten metres deep. Surely we don't need a whole team?'

Sand shook his head.

‘One diver should do it. The coastguard has a boat moored in Grenå. If you can get a diver, I can get you a boat.'

Anna Bagger's eyes landed on Mark.

‘Do you have any idea where we should look for Boutrup?'

He shook his head. ‘I don't know any more than you do.'

‘He has contacts in Århus, doesn't he? A mother? Wasn't he brought up in Ry?'

Erling Bank nodded. Anna Bagger selected six detectives.

‘You two go to Boutrup's house. The rest of you go to Århus and Ry. Check out anywhere he might be: family, friends, ex-colleagues.'

She turned to Mark.

‘Do you know where the diver is?'

‘I know where she lives.'

‘Then I want you to find her and go with her in the boat to find that location. We need everyone available today.'

‘There's one more thing,' Bank said. ‘I mentioned the gang leader, Grimme.'

Everyone looked at him.

‘He's on day release today. And he's gone missing.'

F
ROM HIS POSITION
on top of the scout hut, Peter took aim with the gun he had taken from Boxer Nose. Grimme was lying in the snow, stained red now with the blood from his arm. The guard who had been at the front was sitting against a tree, groaning. The sky was growing darker, and ice crystals glinted around them.

‘So Cato double-crossed me,' Peter said.

Grimme bared his teeth in a forced grin.

‘Who says it was Cato? You've got to be careful with the company you keep, Peter.'

Peter's thoughts went into a whirl and landed somewhere he didn't care for. He pushed aside the image of Miriam.

‘Where's Felix?'

‘Go fuck yourself!'

The gang leader's hand crept slowly through the snow to the spot where he had dropped his gun. It was half under the car. Peter's shot whipped up the snow and the bullet ricocheted off the car. Grimme snatched back his hand.

‘The first shot was for Felix,' Peter said. ‘The next is for Stinger.'

Grimme snorted.

‘You haven't got a clue what's going on. You fuckwit.'

Peter fired again. The bullet glanced off Grimme's boot and his leg jerked.

‘I'm not used to your weapons,' Peter said. ‘Wonder what I'll hit next time.'

After the adrenaline had kicked in, his body was filled with a strange heat. His mind was clear, his thoughts focused. He jumped down from the roof and walked closer with the gun muzzle pointing at Grimme's head, which recoiled further and further until it banged into the bumper. For the first time, Peter could see his bête noir at point-blank range. He had wanted to get Grimme in his sights so often. Revenge was tempting. But it led nowhere.

‘You coward,' Peter snarled. ‘Ramses was easy meat. Easy to get rid of. Let me see how you face up to an equal.'

He gestured with the gun. Grimme's mouth moved twice before a sound came out.

‘It wasn't us,' the biker said.

‘Then who was it?'

Even before he got the answer, he knew it was true. Grimme's tongue and palate struggled to meet and the name was slurred.

‘Lily.'

‘Lily double-crossed you? And she killed Stinger?'

Grimme grunted in the affirmative.

‘And Nina Bjerre and Tora?'

Grimme ignored him.

‘Tell me about Red,' Peter said.

‘Who?'

‘Red. Mogens Røjel. You were at a young offender's institution with him. You carved your names into the big tree by Lange Lake. Where is he?'

‘How should I know?'

‘He's your hired gun in Operation Lily. He's got Felix now. Where?'

Grimme muttered something.

‘Louder!'

‘I don't know anything about that.'

‘What do you want with her?'

‘She knows the coordinates.'

‘What else?'

‘Her husband was a greedy twat.'

‘She didn't know anything,' Peter lied. ‘She doesn't remember anything. Where does Red take his victims?'

‘I don't know.'

‘You're lying.'

‘It's always best not to know too much. You know how it is.'

Peter got up and walked over to Grimme. His scarred face leered up at him.

Peter put a bullet into a tyre, causing it to explode. The air pressure shifted Grimme's hair. Something changed in the gang leader.

‘You haven't got it in you,' he hissed. ‘Not when it comes to the crunch.'

Peter gripped the gun. His finger tightened around the trigger, then he released it. He was back in the forest with Manfred.

‘Go on, shoot me,' Grimme said. ‘Be a man, press the fucking trigger and get it over with.'

Grimme was right. It would be over in a split second and the world would be a better place. Peter's neck tensed and he tried to relax his muscles. He took one step back. Grimme supported himself on his good hand and tried to struggle to his feet.

‘Don't move.'

‘Or what?' Grimme grinned at him, but a movement behind Peter made him shift his focus.

Peter turned as a thick piece of wood hit him in the kidney. Boxer Nose raised his arm for a second crack.

‘Just so you know,' he grunted, as the blow hit Peter in the back and sent him flying. ‘Your little stunt at the hospital failed. We got that bitch Anja the next day.'

Peter fell just as Grimme reached for his gun. The pain was unbearable. Peter blindly rolled on to his stomach and fired. Two shots cut through the silence of the forest. The second made a hole in Grimme's forehead. Peter fired again: into the air where Boxer Nose was towering over him like a raging bear. The man and the weapon hit the ground at the same time, the man clutching his side. He was alive, but stayed down.

Peter's body was on fire. Grimme's bullet had hit him in the arm. He could see the hole and saw the white leather of the jacket turning red. He looked at the three men. The guard at the front of the hut was still leaning against a tree, groggy after the rifle shot that had shattered the windscreen. Grimme was dead. Boxer Nose was slumped in a foetal position, his chest heaving. Peter strode over to him and opened his jacket. The shot had hit him in the side. He went back to Grimme's body and pulled off his jacket and sweater. He tied the sweater around Boxer Nose's injury as tightly as he could, dragged him inside the scout hut and covered him with Grimme's jacket.

‘Lie very still. I'll call an ambulance.'

After ringing 112, he found a rope in the scout hut which he used to tie the other guard to the tree. Then he walked back through the forest.

When he was back in his car and about to start the engine, his mobile rang. It was Matti: ‘Heard about Cato?'

‘What about him?'

‘Grimme's men beat the shit out of him. Everything's broken that can be broken. Word is they wanted something from him.'

‘Did they get it?'

‘He put up one hell of a fight.'