Bergman went ashore first. Nuder was next. He soon caught up and passed him, but kept looking back. He seemed hesitant. Something was wrong. Bergman had respect for Nuder’s natural instincts, brought up on an island as he was, always close to nature. He could hear from the birds if something was not right. At that moment, Bergman noticed that the birds on the islet, normally noisy at this time of early morning, were unusually quiet.
We’re not the only ones on this island, Bergman thought.
When Modin, Axman, and Bergman arrived at the cottage, Nuder was already inside. The lights were on in various rooms.
“Oh Jesus Christ Almighty!” Nuder yelled from inside.
Modin and Axman held their MP5’s at waist height and rushed in. Bergman stood on the porch trying to get a 360 degree view of the surroundings. He saw a silhouette disappearing over the ridge down toward the kayak harbor. He let go of the silhouette and went inside.
Axman and Modin were kneeling next to a woman Bergman assumed was Julia. She was lying on her back. Her throat had been slit; no doubt about that. There was blood everywhere. A pool of it had formed on the floor. Nuder was slumped in a lounger.
“She can’t have been dead long,” Modin said, fighting back the tears. He was holding her head on his knee. Axman seemed sincerely shocked. His face was as white as a sheet.
Modin was rocking back and forth with Julia’s head still on his knee. She was dead. That much was clear. There was nothing they could do for her. They had arrived just a few minutes too late.
“Who did this?” he said almost whispering.
“Someone is going to pay dearly for this,” Axman said and seemed more determined than Bergman remembered him ever to be in the past. The gentle Axman was gone; he looked more like a wild beast in search of prey.
“I saw someone out there! He was heading toward the kayak harbor,” Bergman said.
“Come on,” Axman said to Nuder.
They exchanged brief glances, then left the cottage.
• • •
Major Christer Steerback was just about to climb into Julia’s small and narrow kajak when he saw two armed men running over the ridge. One of them tripped and fell.
“Stop!” the other one yelled in the distance.
Christer Steerback got into the kayak and sat down with some difficulties. He felt the metal edge scrape a wound on the outside of his leg.
“Fucking kayak,” he hissed.
He got hold of the paddle and fumbled around.
The man rushing down the slope had the sly movements of a cat, he thought. The uneven ground did not seem to slow him down one bit. The man threw down his sub-machine gun and dove into the water. Steerback caught a glimpse of his pale young face, the turn of the body, and his smooth movements.
“Fucking Christ!”
Christer Steerback grabbed his paddle and tried to get the kayak up to speed. The paddle felt wrong; the kayak felt as if it was standing still while the paddle merely made long gashes in the surface. Foam was spurting backward, in the direction of the swimmer who was fast approaching, unstoppable.
Christer Steerback felt the swimmer take hold of the stern of the kayak. He turned round and tried to hit him with the paddle. He couldn’t—he was too fat, he was stuck. Christer Steerback saw it coming a split second before it happened. The swimmer turned the stern; the kayak capsized.
“What the hell!”
It was as if he had been shot in the head. He lost the paddle and his breath. Cold water filled his mouth and ears. His heart was pounding out its black beats.
The kayak shook in the water. Furiously, like a caught fish.
Nuder stopped running and watched at the edge of the water. He wasn’t needed. Axman was determinedly holding the kayak upside-down. Nuder could see that Axman had no intention of righting it again. He had murder in his eyes. Finally, the writhing and shaking ceased. Nuder saw how Axman continued to hold the kayak in an overturned position, then, a short while later, he pushed it out into the sound between Black Island and Grisslehamn. It glided silently away through the water. There was no life on the craft.
The paddle bobbing in the water was the only remaining sign of what had happened. Axman had drowned the man without the slightest hesitation. When Axman finally turned toward him, he still looked as determined as he had up there in the cottage. Finally, Nuder said: “Come on, let’s go up and join the others.”
He took Axman by the arm and led him up out of the cold water.