PONTUS MILWOKH WAS in the Star Flyer, a swing ride, spinning round and round, 250 feet above the ground. From up here, he could see not only Tivoli and every one of his potential victims, but all of Copenhagen spread out before him.
When he’d come here as a young boy, this ride hadn’t existed, so it was his first time trying it, and he had to admit he felt like the thin chains his seat was suspended from might snap at any second.
As they began to descend again, he shook his left arm and watched the dice tumble around like it was dancing, led by chance, inside the modified water bottle. So far, he had no complaints. The dice had provided a virtually perfect warm-up sequence of sub-tasks and he was starting to feel ready to up the ante.
He’d done five already. Five victims that at the moment had no idea that’s what they were. If it kept on like this, he’d run out of ricin. But he felt sure the dice had that under control.
Four – Change colour
At least it wasn’t a one. Granted, he wouldn’t have had to go home empty-handed if it had been, and sure, he’d had fun. More than fun, it had been a blast. But he was far from done and couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into his next sub-task.
He shook his arm again and let the dice jump around under the plastic dome while he climbed out of the swing and walked down the steps. This was exactly what he’d been chasing. The feeling that anything was possible. That adventures, each one bigger and more thrilling than the next, lay ahead. It was intoxicating and helped him put the difficulties he’d encountered getting in behind him.
It had been his own idea to enter the park without his gear. He’d thrown his equipment in over the fence behind The Demon, Tivoli’s largest roller coaster, and that had turned out to be ingenious. That the dice had ordered him to use the main entrance to Tivoli, rather than one of the smaller side ones, was, perhaps, not ideal.
Maybe it had just wanted to add some spice to proceedings because suddenly, someone claiming to work for the Swedish police had started chasing him and had even fired his gun. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have recognized him from his night on Öresund.
He’d never been able to figure out how they’d come so close to catching him that time. He was even more stumped today. It was impressive. Really impressive, and he had only his lucky star to thank for not having had his gear with him. He would have been arrested if he had and then he wouldn’t have got to experience any of the fun that awaited him now.
One – Red
New colour, new victims. There were so many to choose from he’d decided to pick the first one he laid eyes on, to avoid turning it into an active choice.
As soon as the guards had let him leave, he’d casually strolled over to the exit from The Demon, and in the quiet between two trains he’d hurried up the short flight of steps and jumped over the railing to a hidden patch of grass where his gear had been waiting for him next to two large bins.
In that secluded spot, he’d been able to take his time strapping on the back holster and all the belt bags without anyone noticing. When he was ready, he’d simply unlocked the gate in the red wooden fence from the inside and started the game, and since then, everything had gone like clockwork.
The boy looked to be about ten and was wearing red shorts. That was all he needed. It was almost like stalking himself on that day almost thirty years ago when he’d made his way here all by himself and had the best day of his life. Nothing, despite all his attempts and experiences, had ever compared to it.
Not until today.
There was no sign of parents. Maybe he was lost. But he didn’t seem upset, so more likely he’d been allowed to walk around by himself for an hour or two so the adults could catch a break in the sunshine.
He followed the boy into the Grand Prix, a circular room underneath the Ferris wheel where you could place bets on postmen racing round and round on their bikes. As a boy he’d loved the cycling puppets, but just like the boy in the red shorts, he’d been afraid to gamble away any of his money, and so he’d continued out the other side and walked up towards Fairy-Tale Lane.
In reality, it was called Smøgen, but to him it had always felt like stepping into a fairy-tale world. Wedged in behind the old roller coaster, it was easy to miss, but it was where all the fun stands could be found and all the best lollipops were sold. But above all, it was where you could feel like no one else knew where you were.
The boy stopped at a stand where you could shoot all kinds of animals with a laser rifle. He could remember standing in that same spot as though it were yesterday, waiting for his turn as one inebriated group after another pushed ahead of him.
He could almost feel the frustration from back then, when he’d finally screamed that it was his turn to play and yanked one of the men’s ponytails so hard he fell over. The man’s mates, who all wore leather jackets with the same patch across the back, had applauded and put him on a stool so he could finally shoot the animals.
It was happening again. As though time had glitched and was running on a loop, the little boy was waiting his turn when a group of drunk idiots pushed ahead of him. He wanted to go up to them and stab them, one by one. But sadly, it wasn’t their turn. So instead, he walked over and tapped the biggest one’s shoulder.
The man turned around and tried to focus his bleary eyes on him.
‘What do you think you’re doing, fucking Chink?’
‘The rules are there to be followed,’ he replied calmly. ‘And one of them is that everyone has to wait their turn.’
The man cleared his throat. He could hear the phlegm travelling up from his lungs to his mouth. But somewhere in his boozy haze, he must have sensed how serious the situation was, because he spat the mucus out on the pavement and stepped aside so the boy could get to the rifle.
Once his time was up and the rifle went out, he held out a twenty-kronor note so the boy could go again. But the boy shook his head, and before he could react, he’d been swallowed by the crowd.
Milwokh hurried after him and bumped into several people on his way through the milling throng. This was not part of the game. This simply couldn’t happen. He’d had several opportunities to finish the task. Instead, he’d allowed himself to get sucked into a swirl of saccharine nostalgia and been completely blinded.
He could maybe choose someone else. He saw potential victims wearing red all around him. The rules said nothing about that or how to handle the situation that had suddenly arisen. But in his heart of hearts, he knew that wasn’t the intention. The first one he saw was the one. No one else.
Then he finally spotted the red shorts again, just as they disappeared into the Fun House with its moving staircases, suspension bridges and revolving tunnels. The best thing about the Fun House was that you could stay as long as you wanted. On this occasion, however, his main concerns were the poor air quality, the loud screaming of the hordes of children and the boy.
It felt significantly smaller than the last time he was here, but it was still large enough that it could potentially take him hours to find his target.
‘Why are you following me?’
The voice behind him was more high-pitched than he’d expected, and as he turned it dawned on him that the boy might be even younger than he’d thought. Just as suddenly, fumbling around for the least implausible lie became irrelevant.
‘You remind me of myself at your age. I think that’s why.’
The boy thought about it and eventually nodded. ‘But maybe you could stop now, because I don’t like it. Not at all, actually.’
‘Absolutely,’ he said, nodding. ‘On one condition. That you let me give you a hug.’
The boy instinctively took a step back.
‘You might not be able to understand this, but I’m just here to close the circle, and when I saw you, it was like seeing myself.’
‘Do you promise to leave me alone if I let you?’ the boy said, swallowing hard.
He nodded and smiled. ‘I promise.’
‘Cross your heart?’
‘Cross my heart.’
‘Okay.’ The boy took a step forward and hugged him and a fraction of a second after the needle penetrated the cotton of his T-shirt and then the skin above his hip, he flinched.
It was over in seconds, and yet it felt like an eternity as he held the boy close for as long as it took to empty the entire syringe before allowing him to run off.