After eating and refreshing, Ryker headed back to his hotel room. He was a little surprised to make it there without any further sight of either the Viking – Erling? – or Wold, or Pettersen, or any of the other people he’d already encountered through the day. He’d expected at least one of them to be watching him, following him. Perhaps that was unnecessary. It already appeared Wold had a clear idea of Ryker’s movements through the day. Was the entire area hooked up to surveilling for outsiders?
Once again he didn’t spend long in his hotel room. Boredom came easily to him, and overall he felt frustrated and dissatisfied from the day. He wanted to keep prowling because doing so was the only way he could delve deeper into the lives of the town’s inhabitants, which was the only way he was going to scratch the surface to determine what lay beneath.
Something bad. He couldn’t escape that feeling.
Was that because his ominous feelings held truth, or simply because of the way he viewed the world after so many years of seeing and dealing with the worst that society had to offer?
Darkness had descended. It came early this far north in the winter. The Italian restaurant was open and looked inviting, but it wasn’t that long since he’d last eaten. It was also a little… too nice. That wasn’t the place Ryker would find anything of interest. He spotted what looked like a bar a little further down the street. A simple swinging sign and frosted windows were the only indications of the establishment which lay beyond. That, and the two men standing smoking cigarettes outside in the cold and dark.
Ryker headed in and found the inside as he’d expected. Basic, with wood everywhere. A smell of stale sweat and beer. A bigger space than he’d imagined, perhaps, close to a dozen people inside, though they were eaten up by the mostly empty space. The clientele, like the decor, was like stepping back a few decades: all but two of the people inside were men. One of the women was the barmaid. The other was Miss Tattoos. She was sitting with a group of five men in the far corner – by far the biggest and loudest group in the place, though hardly rowdy. The yellow-and-orange coats on the backs of the chairs suggested they’d all come drinking straight from work. All from the logging site, or from the factories too?
Miss Tattoo was the first of them to look over. Soon each of them had taken at least a cursory glance in Ryker’s direction. Not outright hostility, but certainly wariness. No sign of Erling now, or anyone else Ryker had seen before.
He ordered a beer and parted company with way too much money for the drink. It did taste good, though. He took a seat at a table for two at the far side of the bar to the group, facing them so he could keep an eye on them.
He received a few more glances, mostly from the woman, though it wasn’t until the door opened that events took a more interesting turn. Viking, aka Erling. With the other man from the pickup. Plus a man that caused Ryker to initially double-take.
The wiry man from the Nissan. The one who’d spoken to Wold earlier in the day when he and his friend had hauled Henrik’s moped into their pickup.
Ryker sat back in his chair and waited. There it was. Erling looked over first. He looked seriously surprised to see Ryker. Perhaps in part because of the nonchalance in Ryker’s pose. Ryker could tell the guy clenched his jaw. The new arrivals carried on to the group at the back without a word in Ryker’s direction. Moments later Erling was at the bar, stealing a glance in Ryker’s direction every now and then. He took a tray full of beers over to his friends. They made way for him and a couple of minutes of happy but boisterous chatting and drinking followed before Viking leaned over to Miss Tattoo and whispered something in her ear, holding Ryker’s eye the whole time.
The next moment she rose to her feet, beer in hand, and wandered over to Ryker with a confident swagger and a glint in her dark eyes.
‘You want some company?’ she said, her English all the more difficult to understand because of a slur. Alcohol, Ryker assumed, but perhaps she always spoke like that.
‘Not really.’
Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, she pulled out the chair opposite Ryker and took the seat without further comment. Without her high-vis vest on, Ryker saw that her arm-displaying tank top was a severely low-cut affair that revealed yet more tattoos on her overspilling cleavage. Revealing. The way she used her arms and elbows to squeeze her chest together as she sat suggested the look was deliberately aimed to draw the attention of others. She was confident, all right. Probably very popular among her overly masculine group.
Both of them took a mouthful of beer as the silence extended.
‘A lot of people are talking about you,’ she said.
‘I’m a popular guy.’
She laughed.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘You don’t know?’
She shrugged.
‘James,’ Ryker said.
She looked a little confused by that. So clearly she’d already heard the name Carl Logan, one way or another. She didn’t question the discrepancy.
‘I’m Sonja.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Sonja.’
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
‘Is there another bar I should be in?’
‘There’s one in the hotel.’
‘The guesthouse?’
She laughed. ‘No. Not that one. The one by the water. That’s where most visitors stay. This bar is… more local. But I meant, why are you here, in our town, at all?’
‘I’ve been asked that a lot of times today.’
‘You were spying on us earlier.’
‘I was?’
‘You shouldn’t.’
‘Because?’
‘Because it’s not very nice. And because next time you do, it won’t be me who comes to talk to you.’
Ryker flicked his gaze over her shoulder and, as if on cue, Erling glanced.
‘You know,’ Ryker said, ‘the more people around here who talk to me like this, the more determined I am to stick around and find out what’s going on. So thanks.’
He lifted his glass in a toast to that. She didn’t reciprocate.
‘You could come and join us,’ Sonja said. ‘Tell us all about you.’
‘You really want me to?’
‘I think if we got enough beer in you…’
‘I’m not a big drinker.’
‘Even better,’ she said with a wink.
‘I think I’m happier over here. But you’re welcome to stay and keep me company.’
‘Yeah? And why am I so welcome?’ A sneaky smile on her face now. ‘Would you be so keen if Erling was sitting here instead?’
She looked over her shoulder again.
‘Actually, he looks like an interesting chap.’
A questioning flicker on her face. Perhaps she hadn’t understood the colloquial term.
The look was gone in a flash and replaced with something altogether more sultry. At least that was what Ryker thought she’d intended, though honestly, he couldn’t have been less interested in her.
She opened her mouth to say something else but then stopped when the door to the bar opened. Both she and Ryker glanced over. Two men walked in. In the space of a couple of seconds, the room went noticeably quieter. A far greater reaction than when Ryker had arrived.
One of the new arrivals was tall and slim with silver hair. The other was a bulldog of a man, all muscle and mottled skin and a face that looked like it had seen several hundred rounds in the ring. Locals? Ryker didn’t think so. But he also didn’t feel they were unknowns. Something about the amplified tension in the room suggested otherwise.
Without saying a word, Sonja grabbed her drink, got to her feet, and scuttled back to Erling and their comrades.
The newcomers moved over to the bar. Neither took a seat as they ordered a drink. Two neat whiskies, Ryker noted. Slowly the silence turned to a muted hush. Erling got to his feet. Did everything to avoid Ryker’s eye now as he moved over to the bar. Silver Fox paid him no attention at all as Erling leaned over and spoke quietly to Bulldog. Then Bulldog turned and spoke – relayed? – to Silver Fox, who in turn responded to Bulldog. All very odd. Clearly, Erling wasn’t worthy of the tall man’s attention. Finally, the message was passed back to Erling whose face turned sour before he retreated back to his seat.
Moments later the two new arrivals had downed their drinks and were heading to the exit. Ryker received the quickest flash of a look from the deadpan Bulldog as the two men left. No sooner had they gone and Sonja was back standing over Ryker’s table. No drink now. Her coat was in her hand.
‘You need to come with us,’ she said.
‘I do?’
Behind her four of the other men, Erling included, were on their feet putting their coats on. Only a couple of men remained sitting, faces glum as they shook their heads and grumbled to each other.
‘Come on,’ she said, her tone hardly inviting.
‘To where?’
‘Just get off your ass and come with me.’
Ryker sat back in his seat.
Erling stormed over.
‘You’re aggravating the wrong people,’ he snarled. ‘Outside. Now.’
With that he and his friends stormed out, leaving Sonja hanging over Ryker, her arms folded in defiance. He picked up his drink and drained the glass dry.
‘Please. You don’t really have an option. There are some people you just don’t say no to.’
He guessed she was right about that. And honestly? He was intrigued as to exactly what was about to happen.
One thing he knew for sure: as always, his instincts for finding trouble were second to none.
He grabbed his coat and got to his feet.