The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy) (39 page)

I’d killed her.

All I’d been through since arriving on Åland
flickered past in my hea
d
–
Anna and now Eva on the cusp
, locking myself out of the car, the helicopter exploding, killing the snowmobile driver with a spade...
M
ore had happened in the last 48 hours than in my whole
life previously
.
I was completely drained and
just wanted to sit down
, do nothing.

‘
Your foot!
’

I’d completely forgotten the doctor. A puddle of blood surrounded my injured foot. The wound had opened again
and
I
was reminded
of the pain.
It was as if
the shock of
Eva’s death had opened the wou
nd again.

‘
We need to have a look at that.
’

As the doctor
cleaned my wound
–
her name was
Kerstin
Larsson
, I
can still see the name on her badge
–
she tried
to reassure me, telling me
that of course
she couldn’t promise anything, but every year th
ere were miraculous recoveries.
A child had even survived after spending 40 minutes under the ice. T
here was still a slight
chance
Eva could
make it. S
he was in that infamous ‘metabolic ice box’ Boeck had talked about, with
the main organs temporarily on hold.

‘Nobody is dead until they’re warm and dead.’

I didn’t really c
are whether she was warm, cold or in the box
.
Dead
was dead and
I wasn’t sure what
Dr
Larsson
thought she was doing giving me false hope
when it was obvious
the only life
going on
i
n that
room
was
the
beat of the
life
support machines.
When Boeck had resuscitated Anna he’d done it immediately, whereas Eva had been cold for almost 24 hours.
And she was injured.
The odds were stacked against her and I didn’t believe in miracles.

My
wound was finally dressed
, but
Dr
Larsson
told me that as
i
t was on the ankle and in
constant movement,
t
he healing would take a long
time, unless I kept still
, which was unlikely
.
I
thanked her and
promised to
be more careful next t
ime a
gun was aimed at me. She didn’
t flinch when I mentioned the gun
, which should have
alerted me,
as no one had asked about the bullet wound,
but all I could think of was Eva. And Boeck
–
my main and only priority was to
deal with him
, t
he man who’d killed his own stepdaughter.
There was nothing more I could do at the hospital. I had to stop him. But
Dr Larsson
asked me to wait.

‘
For what?
’

‘
Formalities, w
on’t take long.
’

I didn’t want to wait. Cleaning
the wound had taken long enough;
f
irst Dr
Larsson
could
n’t find the right disinfectant (was there such a thing as a ‘wrong’ disinfectant?);
t
hen she’d
had to fetch
bandage from another ward. Were they tr
ying to keep me in the hospital? Had they called the police?
It w
ouldn’t have surprised me, considering Eva’s
gun
shot wound.
If
that was the case it was fine
–
I would tell the pol
ice what happened.
It was probably the best solution anyway.
I wasn’t cut out
for this.
I’d just been about to go after Boeck again, but
I wasn’t an action hero and it would be irresponsible, verging on stupid to pre
tend I was, especially with Carrie
waiting back in
London
. W
e had a life
, a family for which
I had to do the right thing. Only the police could
stop Boeck.
Only they knew how to d
eal with a murderer of his ilk.
I decided to sit down and wait for the hospital to finish whatever they wanted
from
me. My action hero days were over.

8
1

My name was called just as I’d
sat down
in the waiting room
. That was quick at least.

‘Magnus Sandberg?’

I looked
up. It was a different doctor.

‘
Please follow me.
’

He
addressed
me
without even
bothering to look
at
me. I only saw him from behind
,
which confirmed my impression
that Swedes weren’t always the mo
st graceful
of
soci
al beings, but
judging from his voice
this
one
seemed
old enough to have a medical degree
at least
. I followed him to an examination room, where he leafed through s
ome papers with his back to me.

‘
If you can just lie down.
’

I was about to follow instructions, when I realised th
ere must be a misunderstanding
,
as m
y
wound had already been dressed.

‘
But I’m fine.
’

‘
We
just
need to check yo
u
r blood pressure, a
routine
procedure.
’

I lay down reluctantly
on the examinat
ion bed
,
and a
s soon as my feet were off the
ground, he turned to me
,
silenced gun in hand
. I hadn’
t seen his face properly before
and he
must have tucked in his
pony
tail, but now that I recognised Andri,
I quickly
slid onto the floor, shoving
the bed
over
my head in the process.
I evaded the first bullet and a
second shot went
off as
the bed smashed
onto his legs
. He
fell over, but managed to plug a bullet
into the door post as I
raced out of the
room.

82

A police car
came screeching
to a halt outside
the hospital as I came running
out. Looking back, I could
see Andri charging
down the main corridor. I
grabbed
the police officer getting out of the squad car and pointed at
Andri.

‘
He has a gun.
’

When the police officer looked at me
,
I recognised
the bald policeman
–
Ernst
–
and looked at him a frag
ment too long before making a run for it
.

‘Hey
!
’

I didn’t look back. What the fuck was he doing here?!
As I was sprinting away,
I realised
that
something was wrong
–
I wasn’t
on the Swedish mainland
as I’d expected
.
I was back in bloody
Mariehamn
where we’d started.
How did that happen?
In the hospital,
I’d been too focused on Eva to look out the window.
Same in the helicopter – I’d missed the bad weather forcing the machine to divert to Mariehamn.

One thing was for sure.
I wasn’t going to the
Mariehamn police, f
orget that.
I
was knackered and wounded
plus
I didn’t know who to trust.
All I wanted was to get back to
London
.
As I was
running
,
I spotted a postman on a yellow bicycle and stopped him. I grabbed the handl
ebars, but he held on.

‘
LET GO!
’

I’d roared
and s
eeing my animal eyes, he dismounted.
I set off,
legs pumping like pistons,
totally i
gnoring my injured foot. I could
hear
police sirens approaching and
needed to find a solution q
uickly
–
a hiding place
. If only I could find the dog
lady’s house.
Maybe I would recognise the road once I got out of the town.
I cycled
through a pedestrian precinct
,
desperately scanning the surroundings for a way out. I briefly lost my pursuers, but w
here could I go?
Watching my
back, I cycled straight into a group of teenagers and fell. Letters and pack
ages flew out of the post bags and
–
lo and behold
–
o
ne of the
kids’ white sneaker
s
had a mark. He was aghast
and a
bout to beat me up.

I heard the po
lice arriving and ran like mad, skidding
around
the corner on the icy pavement and dashing across the street.
Shrieking brakes
–
a car stopping
in the nick of time. I had my hands on th
e bonnet, looking at the driver, a
woman with a plaster on her nose. I’d never find out why.
There was no time, as
I saw the police coming rushing
around the corner
. The moment was frozen in time,
t
he
woman looking at me, me at her,
and
t
hen I
did it
–
I
rushed to the passenger sid
e, pulled the door open and
threw myself
in
next to her.
I really had to get out of this place. I was done with Mariehamn. All I wanted was to get out of there alive, even if it meant swimming back to
London
.

‘
Drive!
’

She barked back.

‘
Get out!
’

She pushed me and put her hand on the horn to attract the attention of
passers
-
by.
Following my eyes, she
looked back and s
potted the police running
towards us
.
I had to convince her.

‘
Help me. Trust me. Please
..
.
’

She looked at me as if I was
mad before grabbing her handbag, but
I held onto it
out of
impulse.

‘
Wait.
’

She pulled at her b
ag.

‘
Give me your phone.
’

‘
No!
’

I snatched the bag, s
earched it and dug up a mobile, while she jumped out of the car.
I was left sitting in the passenger seat, paralysed by
the
unreality of the situation.
I had to pull myself together. I
really
needed to ring Carrie
, but f
irst I needed to get away. I locked the doors, shoved over to the driver’s seat and hit the
gas just as Ernst
and Andri
caught up with me, bashing the back window
s
.