TheCovenant
SVEIN GUDBRANDSEN
The Covenant
Kolofon forlag
SveinGudbrandsen
Theguards
KolofonForlagAS2021 2ndedition
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ISBN978-82-300-2186-6
Coverphoto:Shutterstock
Production:KolofonForlagAS, 2021
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The material is protected under the Copyright Act. Without express consent,copying,suchasprintingandothercopying,isonlypermitted whenauthorisedbylaw(copyingforprivateuse,quotation,etc.)orby agreement with Kopinor (www.kopinor.no). Utilisation in violation of the law or agreementmay result in liability for damagesand criminal liability.
1Copenhagen, summer 1905
"Dad!There'samanoutsideourstairswhowantstotalk toyou,yes,andahorse,butit'sjustwhinnying."
The beautiful blonde-haired girl stood smiling, but a littlepuzzled,peeringintothedoorway,herfathersatin one of the house's offices reading his morning paper whileenjoyinghisregularschnappsofgoodoldDanish vintage.
"Dad!Whoareyougoingtotalktonow,inthemiddleof thesummerholidays?"
"Oh,Ihavenoidea!ButI'msureit'snotveryimportant, whatthismanwantsfromme.Ahorse,yousay?"
He stood up from the well-used, slightly worn office chair,walkedsmilinglytowardshisdaughterandlightly stroked her long braided hair that hung so beautifully down her back. He felt happy, he adored his daughter andlookedforwardtoquietdaysandholidayswithhis loved ones. Preben Elkjær had been a colonel in the RoyalGuardforfouryearsnow.Hehadchosenatypical Danishmilitaryeducation,aseveryoneinhisfamilyhad done for generations. Preben had completed his education with the very best results and had quickly risen in reputation among the elite in the Ministry of Defence. He had now been offered a job in the foreign service,whichhehadacceptedwithprideand,notleast, asenseofdutytohiscountryandking.Theplanwasthat hewouldbestationed
in Petrograd in August to strengthen ties between Denmark and Russia. Preben descendedthe four steps of the stone staircase and walked briskly towards the courtyard,whereayoungsoldieringuarduniformwas waitinginthecourtyard.
"Goodmorning,ColonelElkjær.IcomefromtheMinistry ofDefenceandhaveorderstogiveyouthisletter."
Preben accepted a sealed envelope and took the same stepsback.Heslowlysatdownonthehardstonesteps andreadthroughtheletter.Hesatforalongtimestaring outovertherose-filledgardenandsuddenlybecameten yearsolder.Theletterwassignedwiththesignatureof KingChristianIX.
"Sofie!"
His beloved wife slowly came out onto the stairs and lookedinwonderatherhusband.
"Ihavetotravel."
"Well? In the middle of the summer holidays? We're goingtoJutlandtovisitmumanddad."
"I have to go to Russia, Sofie, important things have happened.It'sconfidential,andI'mleavingtonight."
Sofiestoodlookingatherhusbandforawhile.Shethen shook her head sadly and walked back into the large family villa in one of Copenhagen's most fashionable neighbourhoods, knowing that the next few weeks wouldbedifficult,verydifficultindeed.
2Norway 13 years later, Trondheim, Christmas weekend 1918
"Bloody hell!" exclaims Chief Inspector Frank Larsen, "Christmasisaterribletime."Hereflectedonthisyear's Christmascelebrationsbeforeagainshakinghisheadin resignation. This was the second Christmas Frank was alone, he felt so terribly lonely right now and thought backtohisTanja.Thedarkbeautythathadbreathedlife intotheyoungpoliceman,thegoodyearstogether,and the brown eyes. Yes, he had fallen head over heels for thisSamigirlfromUlajoki.
FrankhadmetTanjasometimeagowhileonaroutine assignment in Sylene. Here, co-operation between the rural population and the Sami settlement was often a littledifficult.Thatevening,hehadtorescuetheyoung girlfromthe"mob"-alcohol,povertyandalackofgirls, evenrape,didn'tstandinthewayofsomeofthevillage's loose birds. Frank had hurriedly dragged the ravenblack Sami girl onto the sleigh and whipped the horse awaybeforethemobcouldgettheirhandsonher.They thendroveforanhourtowardsUlajoki,whereTanjahad grown up with her parents, grandparents and a lot of FinnishLappdogs."Itwasmainlythedogsthathadthe taskofkeepingorderinthelineofreindeer,whichthey alsomanagedinamarvellousway,"Frankreminisced.
Ulajokiwasactuallyacollectionoflichenforestsusedby theSami people for winter grazing, andthe familyhad used this grazing area for generations. When Frank
arrivedatthecamp,hewaswelcomedbyAslo,Tanja's father.Hehadbeenabletospendthenightinalavvoand received food and care like he had never experienced before. And he had fallen head over heels for this "huldra",asTrondheim'sfinestladieswouldhavecalled her.Theymarriedthefollowingyear,andTanjamoved downtoTrondheimwithFrank,andanapartmentwas boughtinthecitycentre.ItwasherethatChiefInspector Frank Larsen had lived happily ever after. Frank first worked at the main police station in Trondheim as a constable in the public order department. Most of his workinvolvedfilingandreportwritingaswellaspatrol duty.Itwasn'tthejob of hisdreams, but he washappy and gained a lot of respect as a conscientious young policeman.Hisjobinthepolicealsogavehimauthority, which meant that he never received any negative commentsabouthischoiceofspouse,eitheratworkor inhisprivatelife.Tanjahadworkedasaseamstressand enjoyed it; she had grown up with this profession and hadlearntherskillsfromgenerationsofSamipeople.
DuringtheFirstWorldWar,Trondheimhadgrown,and timesweregoodformostpeople.However,withalarge number of people moving in and a shortage of new housing, this also led to new social problems for the city'spopulation.Insomepartsofthecity,therewasan almost free flow of illegal services. There were illegal alcoholstallsthatpoppedupduetothenewalcoholban, orafairlyopenflowofprostitutionthatwasparticularly evidentaroundtheIlaareaofthecity.Inrecentmonths, there had also been many unexplained drowning accidentsinthecity.Inparticular,manyprostituteshad beenfounddeadinNidelven,andmanyspeculatedthat there was a killer on the loose. Naturally, this had createdfearandunrestinthecity,andpeoplecloseto...
most demanded more policemen in the streets. Frank hadbeenofferedapositioninthedetectiondepartment asaninvestigator,andwasformallyemployedtherein the autumn of 1916. Over the past year, he had distinguished himself as an extremely intelligent and skilfulpoliceofficer,whichinturnhadcontributedtohis rapidpromotiontofirstinspectorinthedepartment.
FrankfondlyrecalledhisearlieryearsinTrondheim.A police force in the modern sense did not materialise until Kristiania's constable reform in 1859. The guard corpswasabolishedandreplacedbyaconstablecorps. Like the guards, the constables were paid by the municipality, while the chief of police and the civil servantwerepaidbythestate.Theorganisationofthe policeinKristianiabecameamodelfortheotherlarge andsmalltownsinthecountryandalsoreachedthecity of Trondheim. In line with the Storting's recommendation,theTrondheimpoliceweretherefore organised into a public order department, an investigation department and a separate poor police force that carried out traditional tasks in the poor houses. The public order department was primarily responsible for the usual public order tasks, such as protecting the law and property and carrying out preventive checks. The constables had to get to know theneighbourhoodandthepeoplewell,astheywerethe public face of the city. However, the detection departmentwasresponsibleforinvestigationsandwas characterised by specialisation in the most serious crimes. This is where Chief Inspector Frank Larsen thrived, and he found it an extremely exciting job, and not least of great importance for the functioning of a modernsocietyandacitylikeTrondheim.
But all that was now history. Frank's everyday life had suddenlybeenbrutallyaltered.Heonceagaincursedthe
insidious virus that had spread death and destruction. Herememberedwhenhehadfirstreadaboutthefluin Adresseavisen, when the first men died in Kristiania. Mostlikely
theinfectionhadbeentransmittedbyboat,withthe first casesbeingharbour workers.Then pneumonia spreadlikewildfireoverthesummer,andbytheend of August the disease had spread throughout the country. He recalled with a mocking laugh that the newspaperscalleditaharmlessfashionsicknessthat gaveworkersareasontostayathome,almostlikea holiday.Butthentheflusuddenlybecamedeadly!It wasasifsomeonehadunleashedaloosedemonfrom its secret hiding place. He remembered again how Tanjafellillinlateautumn,startingwithaninnocent flu with symptoms such as high fever, intense headachesandbackandneckpain. Then came the nosebleeds,andshebledfromherrectum.Tanjathen started bleeding again, this time in her lungs and kidneys,andshestartedvomitingalotofblood.But it was an intense pulmonary disease that dealt the final blow, and Frank remembers with horror how her whole body almost turned blue within a few hours, as the lack of oxygen became clearer and clearer.TanjawasrushedtoisolationatTrondheim Hospital,butitwasonlyamatterofhoursbeforethe fierce lung disease almost snuffed out the life ofhis Tanja,agedjust22.
This had been a seriousblow tothe respected chief inspector.Theemptyliquorbottlesaiditall,heswore again and strongly disliked the holiday season that had now descended on the streets of Trondheim, which meant even more lonely hours alone. He groaned and moaned again and practically crawled down the steep basement stairs in search of his favouritedrink.
HesmiledtohimselfwhenhesawthebottlesofCaptain Morgan shining towards him. Fortunately, he had bought a new supply before the liquor ban came into force.Heopenedabottle,thenanewbottleasheslowly climbedthesamestairsandsatdowninatiredrocking chairthatalwaysstoodinthecornerofthekitchen.
Then Chief Inspector Frank Larsen gulped down the alcoholanddozedoffinthesamerockingchair.Henowfell into his deepest sleep, unaware of the tragedy that had already begun to unfold several kilometres into the windsweptmountainexpansestotheeast.
Sweden, Jamtlands lan, Christmas weekend
1918
True to tradition, Christmas carols were once again sung in the small living room of the little red house thatcouldbeseenbetweenthemountainsintheeast. Storm, aged 10, andEirik, almost15, weredelighted and could hardlywaitforthis "boring" timetocome toanend.Christmasparcels!Yes,that'swhathappens in poor families too, thought both boys as they ran between the kitchen stove and the small Christmas treeinthecornerofthelivingroom.Outside,thewind was howling at just the right strength, and 16 cold days made the Eklund family's small home feel both rawand homely. Thelogsin theold, worn-outstove were now sizzling at full speed, as if you could hear the sizzling roar of anger from the large iron pot on the stove. Christmas dinner and the festive season werefinallyapproachingforthepoorfamilybetween themountainsintheeast.
However,Eirikpulledonhisoldfurcoatandquickly trudgedofftowardsthewoodshed,cursingalittleat thefactthathewasalwaysgiventhisjob,butluckily Christmas dinner was soon ready and all the fun of Christmas could begin. However, he stopped after a few seconds and stood listening in the bright moonlight.Didhehearaknock?Wasitcomingfrom the woodshed? There it was again, a little knocking
sound?
Hewasnowstaringatthewoodshedilluminatedbythe bright moonlight, but he quickly calmed down and almostlaughedathimselfwhenhecouldn'tseeanything unusualupahead.Couldithavebeenananimal?Maybe mice? He didn't like the little disgusting beasts, as he called them, and groaned a little at the thought. He walkedontowardsthewoodshedandstoppedtolisten onelasttime.Allheheardnowwassilence,helaughed athimselfandfeltthehairsonthebackofhisneckcalm down.Eirikdidn'tlikethewoodshed,butitwashisjob tofetchwood,whichaccordingtohisfatherhadtobedry andoftherightsizesothatthelogswentrelativelyeasily intotheoldwoodstoveinthekitchen.Hefinallyopened thedoortothewoodshedandsuddenlychuckledasthe olddryhingesmadeahowlingscrapingsoundthatcould probablybeheardfarawayintheclearwinterevening, or so Eirik thought. He climbed onto the woodpile and searched for the driest wood, the one that was always furthestintothepile.Inotherwords,thelogsthatwere alwaysleftbehind whentheyhad tocutand stacknew wood in late autumn. It annoyed Eirik that these logs wereneverfiredup,sohesworeanoathandstretchedas farashecouldandthrewthedrylogsintothebasketbythe door.
Butjustasthethinboysteppeddownfromthewoodpile andwasonhiswayoutofthedoorwiththewoodbasket, there was a howling and eerie sound in the clear winter evening. Eirik barely had time to stop before a bright, shining light cut through the air with a howling speed. The thin boy was thrown back against the door with a thudastheaxehithimwithtremendousforce.Histhin bodyfellwithasmallcrashastheaxestrucktherootof hisneckandseveredhishead.
from the rest of his body. A small river of blood gushed down and made a strange red carpet-like pattern in the white cold snow as the boy's head slowly rolled round and stopped at the end of the woodsheddoor.
Thencamethesilence!Itwasasifyoucouldhearthat terrible things had happened in the clear moonlight againstthemountainsintheeast.
Trondheim the next morning
It sounded like a hammer blow to the head, or was it someotherkindofknockingsound?Wasitcomingfrom the front door? He laughed again as he slowly got up from the slightly tired rocking chair in the kitchenette and listened again. Yes, this time he was confident. It wasn't in his head that there was a knock, obviously there was a person or two banging on his front door earlyonChristmasDay?
Whatbloodyidiotwasthis?
FirstInspectorFrankLarsenwalkedtowardsthefront door, sleep-deprived and evena littledrunk. He half fainted and banged hard on the door frame before reaching the front door, with the result that he literallyshoutedouthiscursewhenthepainbeganto befeltinhisbody,orwasithishead?Hedidn'treally give it much thought until he shouted out his irritation.
"Yes,I'mcoming!"
First Inspector Frank Larsen finally reached the front door and slowly turned the black key in the door. The momentthedoorwasopen,thefrontdoorwasalmost ripped open and a man in dark clothing practically stormedintohisdraughtyfronthallway.
"Hey!Whothehellareyou?Youcan'tjustbargeinhere!"
Frank stood there for a few seconds, looking almost dumbfoundedatthisstrangemanstandinginthecentre ofhisfronthallway.Themanwaswearingablackcoat, high boots and a brownish hat on his head. A reddish moustache,coal-blackeyesandslightlyprotrudinglarge earsaswellasa shiny front tooth in a gold-like colour gave the face, or rather the man, a slightly odd appearance.
"IngemarSahlinhere!Investigator,orratherinspector,at theStockholmPolice."
A crooked smile appeared and a whiff of cigar smoke almostwaftedoutintothecorridor.
"What the hell brings you here? Don't you celebrate ChristmasinSweden,evennow?"
The twomen stoodstaringat eachother for a while, a tenseandalmostunrealatmospherefilledthecorridor.
"Okay, come on in! Since you're already halfway down myfronthall,whydon'tyougointothekitchen,andyou canalwaysgetachairtositon."
Frankshowedthemanintothekitchenandpulledouta worn wooden chair for him, which he always used to standontheleftsideofthekitchentabletomaximisethe viewfromthekitchenwindow,orsohethought.
SahlinstaredatFrankwithadeterminedandcertaingaze.
"Youhavetolearntotrustpeople."
"Oh,asaninvestigatoryoucanneverbetoocareful,you know,Ithoughtyouknewthattoo?Yes,sinceyouclaim toworkfortheStockholmpolice?"
Frank asked the man to wait in the kitchen for a little while. He then went up the attic stairs and into the bathroom, feeling tired and hungover. Suddenly the headache camethundering like a machine gun into his head.Hepouredwaterintoaroundwashbasinthatwas alwaysonthecounter,andalmostthrewwaterinhisface and then rubbed his eyes. He drank at least a litre of water, or at least it felt like it, from a carafethatstood nexttothewashbasin.Whatonearthwasthis?Andwhy was he doing it? As he came down the stairs, he recognisedit,cigarsmoke."Shit,"heexclaimedquietly, hedidn'tlikethesmellofcigars.Helookedtowardsthe manashecamedowntheatticstairs,thestrangerwas still sitting on the kitchen chair as he looked out the windowtowardsthestreetoutside.
"Whatisthisreallyabout?"
Frank scowled at the cigar-smoking man, who turned roundandstartedblowingsmallringsoftobaccosmoke thatslowlyrosetowardstheceiling.
"You'renotexactlyafriendofChristmas,Isee."
The crooked smile reappeared under the reddish moustachewhilethegoldtoothshonetowardsFrank.
"OK, I need help! And since you're the only one at Trondheim's investigation department who doesn't have a family and can therefore be deployed this Christmas, I've spoken to your boss Holger Holmgren. Youwillserveunderus,i.e.me.Andyoumustlearnto respectyoursuperiors,eveniftheyarefromSweden."
FrankstoodstaringatthisstrangeSwedishinspectorfor amomentbeforeshakinghisheadinresignation.
"Tellme,what'ssourgent?"
A while later
Chief inspector Frank Larsen looked with increasing uneaseathisnewboss.
"Soyou'resayingyou'reinvestigatingthemurderofthree youngSwedishboys?"
"Yes.Thesemurderswe'venowhadinSwedenhaveno sidepiece,"hesaid,clearinghisthroat,"andwehaveno ideawhythisishappening."
Frank leaned back in the old red-coloured rocking chairinthecornerofthekitchenette.
"Okay,tellmemore!"
ThemannoddedbrieflytowardsFrank.
"Four weeks ago, a 15-year-old boy was brutally stabbedandkilledinØstersund.Therewasnomotiveor clues of any significance. Two weeks ago, another boy wasbeheaded,thistimeinÅre.Samething,acompletely ordinaryboywithacompletelyordinaryfamily,andas before: no clues. The perpetrators of these predatory murders must be almost invisible, or at least they are professional killers, as we found nothing but death. Recently, a 15-year-old boy was murdered near the Norwegian border and, as before, his body was guillotinedandhisheadcut off. There isnomotive for thislatestmurdereitherandverylittleevidenceatthe crimesceneitself."
"Yousaytheywereallaroundfifteenyearsold?"
"Yes,moreorless,theremustbeaconnection?Butwe can'tfindacommonthreadhere."
"Youdidn'tfindanyweaponsortracesofthelastmurder?"
Inspector Sahlin took a final drag of his cigar and this timeblewthesmoketowardstheopenkitchenwindow, whichwasnowajar.
"Yes,wefoundablacktallleatherhat,arazor-sharpaxe andsomeskitracks.Inotherwords,lotsofskitracks,so we'reprobablydealingwithahumanbeing."
"Sowhatdoyouknowaboutthisleatherhat?"
"Noneofmycolleagueshaveseenahatlikethisbefore, soweprettymuchknownothing."
"And what brings you to Norway? To Trondheim and me,then?Whatdoyouwantmetohelpyouwith?"
Inspector Sahlin glanced out of the window, then stoppedtostudytheviewfromthewhite-paintedkitchen window before turning round and smiling at Chief InspectorFrankLarsen.
"Nicecity,Trondheim."
Later the same day
FirstInspectorFrankLarsenwalkeddownthecobbled street in wonder, thinking about what had happened. Whytakethelivesoftheseboys,andwhyhadhebeen giventheassignment?
"IthinkthenextmurderwilltakeplaceinNorway,"the Swedish inspector had said, "as all arrows point westwards towards the Norwegian border. It's as if someoneislookingforaspecificboy,becauseallthree boyshadthesamehaircolour,theywereaboutthesame height,theywereaboutthe same age,andtheyall had blueeyes.IwantyoutotraveltoStorlien,liveinthearea and be nearby to observe. But don't let anyone know thatyou'reapoliceman.Youcanstayattheguesthouse, taketherailwayuptotheborderandtalktopeople."
Strange assignment, Frank thought, and kicked an old dog turd that he almost stepped in with his left shoe. Bloodydogownerswhoneverpickupaftertheirdogs, hethoughtirritablyashewalkedatabriskpacedown the street. The cold north wind was blowing light snowflakesacrossthecobbles,almostlikesmallgrainsof sand. He suddenly realised that he was hungry, so he headed towards the Britannia Hotel in Dronningens gate, or more precisely towards the Palmehaven restaurant, which was his regular haunt, at least that's howhefelt.TheplacehadrecentlybecomeTrondheim's "insted",
andyoucouldsaythatitwasthecity'sbetter-offpeople whohungoutthere,butduringthefestiveseasonthere wasn'tmuchtochoosefrom.Mostofthesmalleateries were closed, and the festive season lay like a calm lid overthecity.
As he strolled calmly through the front door of Palmehaven,ashrillfemalevoicecalledouttohim:
"Frank!Myfavouritepoliceman."
Helitupandsmiledattheblondebeauty.
"Amanda!Whatonearthareyoudoinghere?"
Amanda was a journalist at Adresseavisen, she had a noseforsniffingoutgoodstoriesandhadhelpedFrank inacoupleofpreviouscases.Amandawas27yearsold, herlongblondehairwaspinnedupinatop,andasmall butmodernwhiteknittedhatwavedontopofherhead, whichFrankfoundalmostcomical.Butasayoungand liberatedwoman,Amandalikedtochallengetraditional andoldprejudices,andshelovedthenewandmodern timesthathadopenedupforwomennow.Shehadmade a meteoric career as a journalist, she was fearless and knewhowtospeakupaboutthingsthatseemedunfair. ShewasnowleaningoverthetableandFrankcouldn't helpbutnoticethecleavage,thebrightblueeyesandthe bright red lipstick that lit up her face like a beautiful sunset. Frankwassuddenlytaken abackfor a moment andquicklylookedaway.
"Sit down, I want to hear what the best-looking policeman in town is doing this festive season, and I'll buyyouacoffee."
Palmehaven, a little later
"Andyouhavenoideawhytheseboyswerekilled?It's absolutelyhorrible."
"Yes, as I understand it, there are no clues to put your fingeron,theonlythingtheSwedishinvestigatorsfound wasatallblackleatherhat,asharpaxeandalotofski tracks."
AmandaraisedhereyebrowsandlookedexcitedlyatFrank.
"Aleatherhat?Whatdoyoumean?"
"Oh,I'msureit'snotanimportantdetail,wouldyoulike toseeaphotographofsuchahat?"
"Ofcourse!"AmandasmiledatFrank.
Sheeagerlygrabbedthephotographoutofthechief inspector'shandandsatthereforalongtime, scrutinisingtheslightlyblurredphotograph.
"Thisisnoordinaryleatherhat,"shesaid confidently.Franklookedatherquestioningly.
"Thisisamilitaryhat,aRussianoneusedbytheCossacks."
"Bywhomdidyousay?"
Amandasmiledtriumphantlyatthechiefinspector.
"Icantellyoualittleaboutthehat,butthenIwant yourwholestory."
Thechalk-whitesmilebeamedatFrankandhecouldn't helpbutstartlaughing.Actually,hehadlongbeenalittle captivatedbythissmart-mouthedbeauty.Heshookhis headinslightexasperation.
"Deal, I'll give you more details when I know more." He smiledslowlyasheglancedbackatherslyly.
AmandasmiledatFrankasshetuckedherlongblonde hair behind her left ear, something she almost always did for one reason or another, without giving it much thought.
"ThesehatsarewornbytheCossacks,theyareRussians, oractuallythat'snotentirelytrueeither.Theyoriginally livedinthesouthofRussia,towardstheUralMountains intheeast,butlatertheyalsospreadtowardsthePolish Empire in the west. The Cossacks are Slavs, and they have been a force in Tsarist Russia for hundreds of years. They hadtheir heyday in the 17th century, they had a form of self-government in Tsarist Russia for a while, they are good fighters and even have their own military armies, you've probably heard or read about them?"
"Yes,butfeelfreetotellmemore."
"Inrecentyears,TsaristRussiahastreatedthembadly, andthegovernmenthasnowbeenpartiallydissolvedby the Romanov family. Tsar Nikolai divided this part of Russia into military districts, and during the last war theywerelefttotheirowndeviceswithoutmuchhelp."
"Sotheyweren'tveryfondoftheTsar?"
"No,youcanbesureofthat,Frank,butnowthingshave actually got worse for them. Since the Reds came to power,theCossackshavelostallsenseofindependence. After the revolution in October, there is talk of people being deported, disappearances and executions taking place all over the country. As you know, the Romanov family also disappeared; rumour has it that they were putunderhousearrestorworse.Butno-onehasfound anyremainsortracesofthefamily,sowecanonlyhope thattheyhavesurvived.
Red Party leader Vladimir Ilyich Lenin is now Russia's new ruler, leading the state of the Russian Socialist FederativeSovietRepublic."
FranklookedfascinatedatAmanda.
"Iunderstand,butrevolutionsalsogivehopeforchange. The Russian revolution is also a hope for all Russian peoples. Let's hope it's a good one for all minorities in Russia."
Frank smiled and saw a slightly serious and thinking youngjournalistsittingontheoppositesideofthetable.
"So what else do you know about Russia's new ruler Lenin,Amanda?"
"Oh, not much, but he was born in 1870 in Simbirsk, whichliesintheeastoftheEuropeanpartofRussia,on the banks of the Volga River. He is a lawyer by profession and is what you might call a revolutionary Marxist theorist. He is married to a Russian woman named Nadezhda Krupskaya. After using a number of pseudonyms,in1902hetookthenameLenin,whichis derived from the Lena River in Siberia where the Tsar executedanumberofstrikingworkersduringhisreign."
"Isee,adeterminedman,then."
Franksmiledandwasgreetedbyaseductivewhitesmile.
"Thanksforthehistorylesson,Amanda."
"You'rewelcome.Whydon'tIfindoutabitmoreabout theseCossacks,andmaybewecanmeetagaininaday ortwohereatPalmehaven?"
"Fine,wecandothat,yes. "
Amanda blushed and felt a flush of warmth in her cheeks.
Frank had to laugh at her youthful demeanour, but he likedit.Helikedhereyes,helikedthewayshelaughed, andapullwentthroughhisstomach,givinghimdesires hehadn'tfeltinawhile.Thiswomanwasthawinghim out, and he wanted to touch her, desire her and make love to her. However, he pulled himself together as he looked towards Amanda and waved at the waiter standingbehindthebarattheendoftherestaurant.
"We'll have two more cups, and preferably a Captain Morganwithourcoffee."
The blonde-haired journalist smiled in time with the white patches of snow that bombarded the window outside,andshefeltveryhappy, shefinallysucceeded, and nodded contentedly towards the chief inspector withabigsmileonherface.
Next day
The small black leather suitcase was packed. Frank looked at his suitcase and memories of travelling with Tanja to Paris, Berlin and Copenhagen came flooding back. A feelingofemptinessand sadness crept into his body,sohehardlyheardthegentleknockonhisdoor.
"Hello!"
Ayoungboyshoutedoutbyhisstairs.
"MessagefromHolmgren."
Frank smiled, his private postman Fredrik was as persistentasever.Thatboyisgoingtoberichoneday, hethought,andhandedhimapieceofcrownasathank you.Frankpulledonhiswintercoat,tiedascarfaround hisneckandstrolleddowntowardsthepolicestation.
HisbossHolgerHolmgrenhadaskedhimtocome.
Once inside the station, he caught a whiff of freshly brewed tea. Holmgren had to have freshly brewed tea every day, Frank smiled a little sheepishly at that, but that was his business, he thought quietly. Holmgren smiled at Frank and took a firm grip on his chief inspector.HolgerHolmgrenhadbeenapoliceofficerfor most of his adult life, the last 13 years as head of the detection department. He was an incredibly skilful policeman, he was smart, and he was a great tactician witha
nose and flair for unravelling and solving the cases he became involved in. Frank wondered, could someone like his boss be born a police officer, are such things genetic? He quailed, however, when Holmgren asked whathehaddoneovertheChristmasweekend.
"Haven'tyouheard?"
FranklookedinsurpriseatHolmgren.
"Whatdoyoumean?"Hismouthsuddenlybecamemore serious,andhestoodlookingathispupil,whomheliked tocallFrank.
"My suitcase is packed and I'm travelling to Storlien today."Frankwentontotalkabouthisnewassignment.
"Yes,Iunderstoodthatthiswasclearedwithyou?This inspectorSahlintoldmeso,"heexclaimedwonderingly.
"Sahlin? Who is that? I haven't spoken to a Swedish investigatorthisChristmas!"
Frankstiffenedandacoldchillrandownhisspine,orat leastitfeltthatway.
"Butwhohasbeentomyhouse,Holmgren?"
Later the same day
Afterashortbriefingwithhisboss,Frankhadgonehome, histrip to Storlien had been postponed, and he slowly strolledhome,verypensive.Oncehome,hesatdownat the kitchentable andsummarisedhisdaysofar.What concretethingsdidhehave?Hehadtoassumethatthe murderswerereal,things
The last murder at the border had already been confirmedbySwedishpolice.
ThisInspectorSahlinhadsoughthimout,why?Andwho was he? And how did he know who Frank was and wherehelived?Itmustalsobeassumedthatablackhat, an axe and ski tracks had been found at the murder scene. If what Amanda had said was true, this could mean that foreigners were behind it, perhaps from Russia?Inanycase,itcouldnotberuledout.Themore he tried to describe Sahlin, the more uncertain he became.Cigarsmoke,a reddishmoustache,athickface, protruding eyes, gold teeth, these black boots and his accent, as he spoke Swedish in a slightly imperfect manner. Frank sat for a long time looking out of the kitchen window while he could see light snowflakes almost dancing outside the kitchen window. Suddenly he saw something strange! Behind the curtains on the windowsill,behindahalf-burnttallowcandle,layahalfsmoked cigar. He picked it up and studied it well and long, it looked expensive? Well, this is the only thing I have,maybethiscanleadmealittlefurther?hethought. Where could it have been bought? The brand? There couldn't be that many people in Trondheim who sold these?Heputthecigarinasmallwoodenboxthatheput inthepocketofhiscoat.Onceagainhestoodlookingout ofthewindowtowardsthestreetoutside,knowingthat the next few days would be eventful, very eventful indeed.
Chief Inspector Frank Larsen woke up early. A small gust of wind blew the curtains open and a cold wind blewthroughtheroom.Hehadn'tsleptwell,ashehad been lying in bed brooding. There had to be a reason why this Sahlin had come to him, but why? Yes, it annoyed him to no end! He became more and more interestedintalkingtothismanagain.Hefinallygotup andwentintothebathroomandwashedhimself,should heshave?No,hedidn'twantto.Frankhimselfthought he looked more manly with three days. He laughed at himself as he looked into the mirror hanging on the slightly faded wooden wall. He then ran his hand over hisstubbleandnoddedtohimself,hewasready.
Hearrivedatthepolicestationingoodtime.Therewere five of them spread around "the round table", as Holmgren liked to call it. The room was used for briefings and was only used when special events had occurred.
Present were: Holger Holmgren, Martin Berg, whom Frankregardedasabald,grumpyoldmanwhoalways thought he was the ladies' centre of attention. Then there was Marianne Holt, everyone's Marianne, who wasaverygoodinvestigator,orsoFrankthought.Then there was Marit Holm, who was the office's typist; she took notes on the typewriter extremely quickly and accurately. In addition, she had as clever a mind as anyone,accordingtoFrank,butforsomereasonshewas oftengiventheleasttrustedandunimportantjobs.
"Morning!"
HolgerHolmgrenthankedeveryoneforcomingtowork soquicklyinthemiddleoftheChristmasholidays.
"As you may have heard, there have been several gruesomemurdersinSweden,mostrecentlywhena15year-old boy was almost guillotined near the border with Norway. There have also been several similar murdersinSwedenofteenageboys.OnChristmasDay, FrankwasapproachedbyacertainSwedishinvestigator called Ingemar Sahlin, who was asked to travel to Storlien. Frank was to talk to people there and be presentinthearea,andSahlinbelievedthatitwasvery likelythattherewouldbemoremurders,thenextonein Norway. In retrospect, it turns out that this Sahlin is definitelynotapoliceofficer."Wehavealreadychecked with Stockholm and no investigator has been sent to Norway. However, they can confirm all three previous murders and several of the details given to Frank are correct. However, the Swedish police are very keen to keep this under wraps, they have investigators on the caseandtheywantmoredetailsaboutthisSahlin."We willofcoursegivethemtheinformationwehave,butat thispointweknowlittleornothing.Thefactsarethatall theboysarethesameage,theyarearound15yearsold, theyhavelight-colouredhairandtheyallhaveblueeyes. Soit'stemptingtoseethisincontext,andtheSwedish policewereofthesameopinion.Theyalsobelievedthat therewasastrongpossibilitythatthiswasascammer, astheyhadnotleakedinformationaboutthecasetothe Swedishpress.Thequestionis:Whatdowedo?"
Awidespreadsilencefilledtheroom.
"We are waiting. We simply have to wait for another murder. And if it happens in Norway, is it our investigation,ourcaseandourproblem?"
Everyone looked towards Martin Berg, who stared back unmoved.
"Yes,Iseeit,Martin.Butifwedon'tsendFranktowards theborderareaandStorlien,thisSahlinwillrealisethat we've called his bluff, and then we could lose the only smallleadwehave."
They nodded affirmatively back to Holmgren. Frank stoodupandwalkedslowlytothewindowthatlooked outontoabusycitystreetbelowthestation,helooked into the glass window for a moment before slowly turningtowardstheroundtable.
"I'mtravelling.Martinisrightabouttheinvestigation,we havenolegalrighttointerfereinaSwedishinvestigation, atleastiftheydon'taskusforassistance.ButIcantravel anddosomesnooping,theremustbeareasonwhyIwas contacted? At the same time, I'm quite curious and a littlepissedoffatthisSahlin,whojustbrokedownthe dooratmyhouse."
Helookedoutoverthecrowd,whoweresittingquietly andlookingathimalmostscrutinisingly.
"IagreewithFrank,heshouldtraveltoStorlien.There mustbeareasonwhyhecametoseeyou?Andthathe had such in-depth information about these murders in Sweden.Ifyoufindanyinformation,theSwedishpolice willbehappytohelp?"
HolmbergnoddedapprovinglytowardsMarianneHolt.
"Iagreewithyouthere,Marianne,andaslongasFrank thinksit'sokaytotravelnow,inthemiddleofthefestive season, maybe we've decided? Marit? What do you think?"
You could still hear the typewriter thundering around the room,MaritHolmsmiledgentlybeforefinallystoppingand
lookingup.ShenoddedtoFrank.
"Oh,that'sultimatelyuptoFranktodecide,Ithink,butif IknowFrank,wewon'tbeabletostophimanyway."
"No,you'reawisewoman,Marit."Frankstartedlaughingout loud.
"Bytheway,wehaveanothertrack!"
Frankthentookoutawoodenboxfromhisjacketpocket, openeditandheldthehalf-smokedcigarupintheairand slowlylookedtowardsMaritHolmwithasmallsmile.
"Canyoufindoutmoreaboutthis?"
Marit Holm glanced slowly round the table and looked back at Frank in wonder as the box was placed in her hands, she nodded briefly and carefully placed it in her bag.Shefeltalittleannoyedthatshealwaysgotthesejobs that nobody else wanted. But most of all, Marit Holm didn'tlikethefactthattheytookherforgranted,thatshe was a bit second-rate among the investigators. But as always,shehidherirritationverywell.
"Ofcourse,Frank,I'llcontactKristianiaandaskfortheir help."
Therewasanew,slightlyhesitantsilenceintheovalroom asHolmbergstoodupandlookedoutovertheaudience.
"Great!ThenweallagreethatFrankwilltraveltoStorlien assoonashecan.Shouldanysituationsarise,you'llhave tocallthenearestswitchboard.I'dliketowishtherestof youaMerryChristmas,andyou'llhavetoexcuseme,but I'vegotacoupleofotherthingstotakecareof."
Inthenextmoment,Holmberghaddisappeared,andone byone theyall disappearedfrom the oval room,leaving Frank sitting alone in the room. He actually liked this office,itwas
likeaveryspecialatmospherehere.Yes,heactuallyfelt peaceofmindinhere,iftherewassuchathing?Thenhe thought again of Sahlin and of the journey to Storlien, whichwouldbringhimonceagaintooldfamiliarplaces. So he sat and reminisced while new tragic things happenedinthemountainstotheeast.
3rd Christmas Day afternoon
Theoldsteamlocomotivehowledandscreamedloudly from the brakes when it arrived at Hell station, where Frank had to change trains. Hell! Frank laughed to himself, maybe he was going to Hell, and almost stumbled into the new passenger carriage that would takehimfurtheruptowardsStorlienandthemountains intheeast.
He thought again of his Tanja and his time at Ulajoki. Shouldhe visitthe winter camp? He hadn'tbeen there sinceTanjadiedandfeltamoralobligationtosayhello tohisoldin-laws.Helookedatthesnow-coveredfields upthe valleyandalmost dozedoffin the blackleather chair when he came round. On the neighbouring seat weretwooldnewspapersfromlastweek,hiseyeshad accidentallylandedonthefrontpageofoneofthem,and ablurryphotographcaughthiseye.Theslightlyblurred imagenowshonetowardshimlikeaclearsummersun. Hehadseenthemaninthephotographbefore,theman inthenewspaperreportwaswithoutadoubtthisSahlin. The photograph was taken at Storlien guesthouse, where the owner wasbeinginterviewedin connection with the growing tourist industry in the area. But at a table behind the proprietor, Sahlin was chatting to another man, a person Frank now also recognised and knewverywell.
The man was Aslo, his Sami father-in-law. Frank felt himself getting hot and even more confused, but a
thought began to take shape. This couldn't be a coincidence, he himself or someone in his family was somehowa pieceofthispuzzle. Hesuddenlygota bad feeling about this, his gut used to tell him about such things. There were so many loose ends and things he stilldidn'tunderstand,butheknewonething.Hehadto talk to his father-in-lawAslo as soon as possible when he arrived in Storlien. A trip to Ulajoki, the family's wintercamp,wasnownotjustamoraldutyandawish, itwasanabsolutenecessity.
Trondheim, same afternoon
Amandawalkedhomequickly,havingspentmostofthe day at work at Adresseavisen doing her usual journalistic tasks. Normally it was quiet during the festiveseason,asmanyofthejournalistswerenormally offwork,butlatelyithadbeenbusy.Thepopulationand pretty much the entire city of Trondheim were upset about all the prostitutes who had been found dead in Nidelven, so the story was in full swing, which meant thatmostoftheeditorialstaffhadbeenatworkthatday too.Otherwise,therewasabitofgossipatwork,atleast that'showAmandafelt.
Ithadstartedtosnowagain,shewascoldandalittletired. She felt a sense of longing and reminisced about last summer, about the long, bright summer evenings, often withaglassofwineinasmalloutdoorrestaurant.Shehad tosmileatherself,shedidn'tlikewinter.Cometothinkof it,she'dneverdonethateither,hadshe?Couldthereason be her childhood and upbringing? After all, she wasn't used to dark winter evenings and freezing cold. Her thoughts flew back for a moment to the paradise of her childhood, with its large rose-filled gardens and warm summerdaysathomeinCopenhagen.Shesmiledatherself again,shookherheadslightlyandpulledthecollarofher winter coat tighter. She felt even colder and therefore walked faster up the steep slopes of upper Møllenberg, wheresherentedacosyapartmentonthesecondfloorof anoldapartmentbuilding.Thethoughtssuddenlychanged
character,andshebegantothinkaboutherconversation withChiefInspectorFrankLarsenatPalmehaven.Shehad hadhereyeonhimforquitesometimenow,shehadbeen excited, warm and perhaps a little infatuated? Yes, she knew herself all too well, she really was in love withthis man. It wasn't just his physique and his looks that she liked.Sheknewalltoowellwhichmensheusedtofallfor, those with authority. Amanda had long admired Frank Larsen, he was a rising star, and that had many advantages. She just had to find a common thread in his case.Frankhadshownheraphotographofahat,aCossack hat, what else could she find out about Cossacks and perhaps Russians? Perhaps she could read up a little on theTsar,TsarNicholasII,asitwasstillsometimebefore shewasduetomeetFrank.Amandaranthelastbithome, shelaughedconfidentlyandknewthatthenextdaywould bespentinthelibrary.Russianhistorywasthetheme,and she smiled even more broadly, her chalk-white teeth almostglowinginthedarkwinterevening.
Little did she realise the man who had followed her this evening, the man who had seen and followed her daily routines,andwhohadbeenwatchingherforawhile.The man grinned almost a little triumphantly as the chewing tobacco spilled out of his smelly face. He quickly jotted down her address and stopped when he saw her lock herselfinanoldapartmentblockandappearinoneofthe windowsonthesecondfloor.Hestoodlikethatforawhile, looking at the apartment block and its surroundings, noddinginsatisfactionwhenhesawthesteepslopebehind theapartmentblockstretchingalmostuptothewindows onthesecondfloor.Helookedaroundandwalkedslowly towardstheoldtownhouse,thenhebegantoclimbupthe steepslopeasheonceagainspathisdailychewingtobacco outontothewhitesnow-coveredground.