Postcard killers

"Your daughter's were there," Gabriel a said quietly. "I've got them on 174 the desk in front of me. Her fiance's as wel. You'l get them when you're back."

"Okay," he muttered.

"You wanted to know if any cars had been stolen in northern Sweden late yesterday, didn't you? A farmer north of Gysinge has just reported the theft of a Volvo two forty-five. A nineteen eighty-seven model, red. License number CHC four-one-one.

"A two forty-five – that's a sedan?"

"A wagon. I'm sending a text message with al the details."

He put the car in gear and looked round. They were in a smal vil age. A tractor trailer pul ed out of the parking lot just ahead of him.

"How far have you gotten?" Gabriel a asked.

Jacob pul ed out onto the road behind a gigantic lumber truck bil owing smoke.

"Halfway. Thanks for the cal," he said.

"I wish there were more I could have done," Gabriel a said quietly.

Dessie looked at him.

"Cal your cousin," Jacob said. "We have the make of the potential getaway car."

She took the phone.

The sun was just rising to the north.

Chapter 131

The forest grew thicker after Ornskoldsvik, and signs of habitation thi

In the town of Byske, the jet lag struck him like a sudden fog. The last traces of his ability to judge distances abandoned him and he woke Dessie to take over at the wheel.

Even with the sun in his eyes, he fel into a restless sleep.

Kimmy was there with him.

She looked like she had when she set off for Rome. She had on her new winter coat and her yel ow wool y hat. So beautiful and talented.

Jacob could see she was upset, crying. She was standing in a glass box, banging her fists against the transparent wal s and cal ing for him, cal ing for her dad. He tried to answer, but she couldn't hear him.

Kimmy! he shouted in the dream. I'm here! I'm coming!

"Jacob?"

He woke with a start.

"What?" he said.

"You were shouting. Having a bad dream."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes hard with his fists.

The car had stopped. They were on the outskirts of a town.

On the left was a large warehouse, and on the right, a long row of office buildings. It was ful daylight, a dul sort of light, filtered through a thin cloud cover. The landscape was flat and bare, not like anything he'd ever seen before.

"Where are we?"

"The bridge over to the Fi

Robert's a bit closer, on the other side of the rotary. Nothing came through during the night. No red Volvo. No young couple."

He blinked and looked around.

"This is Haparanda?"

"Kyl a."

He looked at her, confused.

"Fi

She started the car and drove toward a large rotary with what was practical y a smal forest at its center.

"He's got men watching al the bridges across the river, and a couple at the main harbors for smal boats. No one's seen anything. Robert's men are vigilant."

"Thank god for organized crime," Jacob said.

"Robert's rough, but he's a good guy."

A huge building with an immense parking lot spread out to the left of the car.

"What the hel is that?" he asked.

"That's the most northerly IKEA in the world. And there's Robert!"

They stopped beside a customized Toyota Land Cruiser, the latest model.

Leaning against the gleaming paintwork was a giant of a man with a blond ponytail and biceps like logs.

Dessie hurried out of the car and threw herself into his arms. The giant received her with a big grin on his face.

A pang of jealousy hit Jacob in the solar plexus. Slowly he got out of the car and approached the enormous man holding on to Dessie.

Robert's arms were covered in clumsy tattoos. He was missing two front teeth.

He would have been perfect, just as he was, as the leader of one of Los Angeles' infamous motorcycle gangs.

"So you're the American?" he said in a thick Swedish accent, holding out his paw.

Jacob's hand disappeared in the iron grip of the fist.

"Yep," he replied. "That's me."

Cousin Robert pul ed him closer and lowered his voice.

"Don't think you can hide just because you're from the States. If you treat Dessie badly, I'l find you."

"That's good to know," Jacob said.

The giant let go of Jacob's hand.

"We've been keeping an eye on the junction in Morjarv al night," Robert said. "They passed it half an hour ago in a red Volvo with false plates. They took the E-ten down toward Haparanda."

Jacob felt adrenaline explode throughout his body. This was it. The end of the tale, at the end of the world.

The gangster looked at his watch, a diamond-encrusted Rolex.

"They could be here any minute."

Chapter 132

Time nearly stopped for Jacob.

He checked his cheap plastic watch every minute. 8:14, then 8:15, then 8:16.

The early morning mist was lingering, making the landscape seem eerie, scary-looking.

Robert's sidekick brought them coffee, juice, and ham sandwiches, which they ate in the car. They were both very hungry.

"How close are you two?" Jacob asked, nodding toward the enormous man leaning on his car a hundred yards away. The car sagged from his weight.

Dessie was doing her best to scrape the ham off the bread.

"Robert?" she said. "He's my favorite cousin. His mom was in and out of prison when he was young, so he spent a lot of time with us on the farm. He's two years younger than me, but he was always bigger and stronger than me."

Dessie put the sandwich down on her lap.

"I've always wondered if we're more than cousins," she said.

Jacob stopped chewing.

"What do you mean?"

She took a gulp of orange juice.

"I don't know who my dad is," she said quietly. "My mother always said he was an Italian prince who would come and fetch us both one fine day. I have no idea what she meant."

She gave him a quick embarrassed look.

"I know," she said. "Al a bit like a fairy tale. One of my uncles is probably my father, or maybe even Granddad himself." She shivered and was silent.

Jacob turned to look through the windshield. What could you say to something like that?

Dessie stretched out as much as she could and looked in the rearview mirror.

"Red car," she said.

Jacob adjusted the mirror so he could see for himself. Sure enough, a red car was approaching from behind.

"It's a Ford," he said. "Four people. It's not them. It's probably not them."