Mia Krüger awoke with a jolt and sat upright in her bed.
Someone was in her house.
She had no idea how she’d ended up upstairs, she did not remember getting undressed or going to bed, but that was irrelevant right now. There was someone in the house. She could hear noises coming from the kitchen. Bottles being taken out of a cupboard and put on the floor. She slipped out of bed, pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt, stuck her hand inside her underwear drawer, and pulled out her gun, a small Glock 17. Mia Krüger did not like guns, but she was not an idiot either. She tiptoed barefoot from the bedroom, opened the window in the passage, and crept onto the small roof. Shaking the remnants of sleep from her body, Mia tucked the gun into her waistband, leaped off the roof, and landed as soft as a cat in the grass.
Who the hell could it be? Out here? In her house? About as far from civilization as it was possible to get? She edged around the corner and glanced quickly through the living-room window. No one there. She continued steadily toward the back door, which also had a small window—no one inside. Carefully she pushed open the door and waited in the doorway for a few seconds before she tiptoed into the hall. She positioned herself by the entrance to the living room with her back against the wall and took a deep breath before she went in, still with her pistol held out in front of her.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
Holger Munch was sitting on the sofa with his feet on the table, smiling at her.
“You idiot.” Mia sighed. “I could have shot you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Munch grinned and got up. “I’m not much of a target.”
He patted his stomach and laughed briefly. Mia placed the gun on the windowsill and went over to give her old colleague a hug. It was not until then that she realized that she was cold, that she was not wearing any shoes and wasn’t properly dressed, and that the pills from last night had yet to leave her system. Her instinct had taken over. Provided her with strength she did not have. She collapsed on the sofa and wrapped herself in a throw.
“Are you okay?”
Mia nodded.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. Did I scare you?”
“A little,” Mia conceded.
“Sorry,” Munch apologized. “I’ve made some tea, do you want some? I would have made coffee, but I have no idea how to work that spaceship of yours.”
Mia smiled. She had not seen her colleague for a long time, but their banter was the same. “Tea would be good.”
“Two seconds.” Munch returned her smile and disappeared into the kitchen.
Mia glanced sideways at the thick file lying on the table. She did not have a telephone, Internet, or access to newspapers, but it wasn’t difficult to work out that something had happened in the outside world. Something important. So important that Holger Munch had gotten onto a plane, into a car, and then onto a boat to talk to her.
“Do we go straight to business, or do you want to do small talk first?” Munch set the teacup on the table in front of her.
“No more cases for me, Holger.” Mia shook her head and sipped her tea.
“No, I know, I know.” Munch heaved a sigh as he slumped down on one of the spindle-back chairs. “That’s why you’re hiding out here, I get it. Not even a cell phone? You’re difficult to track down.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Mia said drily.
“I get it, I get it.” Munch heaved another sigh. “Do you want me to leave right now?”
“No, you can stay for a while.”
Suddenly Mia felt uncertain. Of two minds. Up until now she had felt resolved and determined. She rummaged around her pocket but could find no more pills. Not that she wanted some, not with Holger Munch there, but a drink would have been welcome.
“So what do you think?” Munch asked, and tilted his head a little.
“What do I think about what?”
“Are you going to take a peek at it?” He nodded toward the file on the table between them.
“I think I’ll pass,” Mia said, tightening the throw around her.
“Okay,” Munch said, and took out his phone. He entered the number of the young man with the messy hair. “Munch speaking, can you pick me up, please? I’m done out here.”
Mia Krüger shook her head. He had not changed. He knew exactly how to get his way. “You’re an idiot.”
Munch covered the microphone with his hand. “What did you say?”
“All right, all right. I’ll take a quick look at it, but that’s it. Okay?”
“Forget about picking me up. I’ll call you later.” Munch ended the call and edged his chair nearer the table. “So how do we play it?” he asked, placing his hand on the file.
“I want a pair of socks and a thick sweater. You’ll find everything in my bedroom. And then I want a drink. There’s a bottle of cognac in the cupboard below the kitchen counter.”
“Have you started drinking?” Munch said as he got up. “That’s unlike you.”
“And if you can keep quiet, that would be great,” Mia said, and opened the file on the table in front of her.
It contained about twenty-five photographs and a crime-scene report. Mia Krüger spread the photographs across the table.
“What do you think? First impression?” Munch called out from the kitchen.
“I can see why you’ve come,” Mia said quietly.
Munch returned, put the drink on the floor beside her, and disappeared again. “Take as long as you need. I’ll fetch anything you want, and then I’ll go down and look at the sea, all right?”
Mia did not hear what he said. She had already shut out the world. She took a large gulp of her drink, exhaled deeply, and began studying the photographs.