The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy) (46 page)

I wished I’
d hit Boeck
h
arder. I wished I could say
he’d
died underwater, but
he survived
the cold, the lack of oxygen.
Evil never dies.
I did inflict some permanent damage
though
–
the blows to Boeck’s
head caused
paralysis down
the left side of his body and
I was the main witness as he was sentenced to life. H
e
swore to take re
veng
e
–
this was personal now.
Unfortunately for me
,
Finland
did
n’t have the
death penalty. Boeck
was in for a cushy life sentence and
with the softness of the
system
,
he
would probably be released
early
for
good behaviour
–
not something I was looking forward to.

The only
known
survivors among
Boeck’s henchmen were Ernst and the guard I’d
half
-
blinded with my father’s skate
. They were senten
ced to 25 years each. I was convinced
Boeck had sup
port from someone more powerful and
resourceful
,
but the
police
investigation never uncovered his n
etwork
or where he’d recruited his Eastern European mercenaries. As for my own killings,
no charges were brought against me.
I
was deemed to have acted in self
-
defence and in the interest of t
he Finnish and Swedish nations.

The Swedish King
even went so far as to award
me H.M. t
he King’s Medal for
services to the nation.
I didn’t deserve it. Yes,
I’d
contributed to saving
him
by alerting his security detail
,
but
I’d
fail
ed to
pre-empt
Boeck’s massacre.

Thor told me that
fox
es were
the only animal
s
that killed for pleas
ure.
That would make Boeck
a human fox.
When he’d k
illed all those innocent Ålanders, he’d been like a fox
in a henhouse.
And c
onsidering
the glint in his eyes when he
’d watched Anna drown and the film of my father dying, h
e must have been
ecstatic during the shooting. Just thinking about it made me sick
.
For all his talk about greatness, it had only been an excuse to kill.
It was the worst moment in Nordic history since the assassinations of Olof Palme and
Anna Lindh.

The massacre
triggered
a public debate
in
Sweden
about
monarchy and democracy
and t
he Royal family
even
put th
eir position on the line in
a referendum
,
where
90% of the population
rallied behind
the King. There was s
ympathy for the Bernadottes, none
for the devil.

Boeck’s statues were all taken apart. Half a dozen of them contained bodies. The authorities did their best to contact the families.
45 people died in the museum
and nine were critically injured.
A State funeral was held in Mariehamn for the
victims
with families and dignitaries
from around
the world.

103

When I finally resurfaced after the showdown with Boeck
, I felt gutted, raw
,
and missed the polluted
London
air.
I was desperate to get back to Carrie and our baby –girl, boy?
I’d come as close to understanding my father a
s I could. I’d gone all the way and m
y heart had
even
stopped beating when Thor had dragged
me out of the water. I
too ha
d been in the metabolic ice box.
I was on
extra time. I was an atheist, but thank God.
And Thor.

It took me days to recover and
I can barely remember my father’s funeral
.
I was still too weak, but Thor and Sven
were
there to support me
along
with Father Fredriksson. After what had happened at the museum,
no one felt inclined to speak.
It was a totally silent ceremony and t
he Mariehamn air had never been so heavy.
In hindsight
,
I realised that my father had been one of the first victims of the massacre.
His death
had
brought us closer and changed my life forever. I turned a page.

It was difficult coming back to
London
after those horrific days fighting for survival, but fortunately our baby daughter Maria sucked up most of my time, leaving little space for thinking.
T
he greatest relief was
to hear that Eva hadn’t died. Sh
e hadn’t
regained consciousness
since I’d abandoned
her at the hospital
chased by Andri, but she
wasn’t dead either
. S
he was in a coma.
A
ll her main organs except the brain had kicked in again once she’d reached normal core temperature. So there was still hope. It was important for me, as sh
e was the person I’d shared most
of the suffering with.
Part of me would die if she died.

I think Eva’s coma contributed to our decision to
move to Mariehamn.
I didn’t tell Carrie with so many words, but felt I needed to be near Eva. It was the least I could do after what she’d done for me.
It was as if I felt owed her something
, and sometimes I wondered wh
ere it would take me, u
s.
But it wasn’t just Eva,
I’d made a deep connection with Å
land and it was the ideal
place for Maria to g
row up.

The nightmare experience
had given me the urge
to do something more meaningful.
I quit my BBC accountancy job to begin something completely different. Writing this sto
ry was a step in that direction. It confirmed
the confrontation with Boeck
as a
turning point in my life. It
also
brought
me closer to my father and I
learned to look diffe
rently at people and nature. I
learned to appreciate life.

But I soon realised the stupidity of giving up something I was good at, something that could support my family. So I became a freelance accounta
nt
,
work
ing
remotely for British clients while learning the local
tax
system
.
It meant that
I could
still
spend
lots of
quality
time with Carrie
and Maria.

I promised Carrie
not
to get involved in any more
l
ife
-
threatening investigations, but
I never told her
in detail
about the crossing with Eva
. I
t was
too painful.
I felt guilty
about the closeness
. I kept having nightmares and
should have told Carrie
. Not telling only made it worse. She would have understood and i
t had to come out at
some point, but I just didn’t know how to put it
. I thought telling Carrie
would destroy something we had. I was wrong. By not speaking I started the erosion. This was something I would come to regret.
I felt close to Eva, I cared for her, whereas Carrie didn’t
feel anything for her
,
especially
as I wouldn
’t tell her
why I cared
.
I didn’t share my feelings and as a consequence Carrie
thought I wasted too much time visiting Eva.
She said that i
nstead of sitting there in th
e hospital an
hour a day staring at a vegetable
,
I should
spend more time with Maria.
Even if she was still in a coma, Eva was already starting to drive a wedge between us.

I should have sensed that it was unhealthy for my relationship with Carrie
. If
Eva ever came out of the coma
, a reaction would be inevitable
.
New tensions and attractions would develop. Carrie was right
–
I acted as if Eva was
a
close friend or relative
,
when
in fact
I’d only met her for a couple of day
s
.
Was I turning her into more than she was?
I couldn’t help thinking that Eva
had
activated a side of me
that
thrived on danger and
that risked emerging ag
a
in if she came out of the coma.

I thought I’d done it. I thought I’d resumed a normal life, but I hadn’t. Finding my father
’s book of portraits
at the yacht club reminded me
again
of what had happened. I couldn’t stop looking at the faces
of the refugees
. I would stare
apathetically
for hours. Was it the knowledge that most of them had suffered a horrible death
in Boeck’s ice cage
?
Was it because they reminded me of the men I’d killed?
Was it their smiles, the wrinkles? Was it my father’s eye? The way they’d looked into his? They all looked so alive
–
so real
–
and I couldn’t stop going back t
o them, not until Thor and I
made a trip to visit Anna’s
parents
on the
Black Sea
. They told us about her dreams. We told t
hem about my father. It helped.

Ackno
w
le
d
gements

First of all, apologies to the
Å
landers for inflicting
such
fictional
violence
up
on your gorgeous
archipelago.
I ha
ve also taken some
liberties
with
the
geography and the facts of local life
.
Let’s call it
poetic
license. But I
hope
that the book
still
shows
why no one shou
l
d miss a chance to visit the wonderful world of
Å
land
.

A special
tack
to the Marieha
mn tourist office and to Peter at
the youth hostel in E
c
kerö
for their anecdotes and
advice.
I’ll be back for more.

Infinite
thanks
to the people who read the manuscript and gave
me feedback –
Rosalind Me
ndel, Mark Hayhurst, Sue Jones
, Rebecca Servadio and especially my agent Sonia Land for all the constructive comments.

And to
Lindsay
for your ultra stimulation.
I couldn’t have completed the journey without your support and sharp sense of character.

About
t
h
e
auth
or

Olivier
Nilsson-Julien
is a film and television writer,
cycling
journalist, film lecturer and translator. The Ice Cage is hi
s
first novel.
He
loves skating
on Dutch canals
, swimming in
Swedish
lakes and
grinding
up
French
mountain roads. A member of the Writers’ Guild of Great Britain, he lives in
North London
with his
wife and children.