ICEHOTEL (29 page)

The candles were unlit and the lights were
off. I should have
realised
– why burn electricity in
an out-of-bounds building? I debated whether I should go back for a torch but,
if I asked the receptionist, his suspicions would be raised. He looked like the
type who’d report it to Hallengren. And the last thing I wanted was to be
reported to Hallengren.

As I stood, undecided, my eyes slowly
adapted. Then I saw him, at the far end of the corridor, his shape inked
against the wall. He was on tiptoe, peering at the signs. With a rapid
movement, he unzipped his suit and produced a torch. After playing the beam
over the wall, he disappeared abruptly through a curtain. It was the way to my
corridor, I
realised
then. And to Wilson’s room . . .

I followed, keeping a safe distance,
catching the last bobbing light from the torch as I rounded the corners. But
I’d miscalculated. I turned into my corridor to find that he’d vanished.

I squinted at the room numbers, counting
off the curtains to Wilson’s room. Perhaps now was the time to blaze in and
challenge Denny. Perhaps not. I was tailing someone at night in a deserted
building, which had been placed out of bounds after two people had been
murdered. Perhaps it was time to go. Perhaps even time to call Hallengren.

I was sneaking away when a flash of light
came from under the curtain. A second later, there was another. So Denny was
prepared to trample over the crime scene to get his photographs. He’d scoop his
law-abiding colleagues and make a big journalistic splash. I decided there and
then that, even if it meant a night in the Swedish cells, I was going to report
him.

There were more flashes, coming fast now.
Denny must be nearing the end. I decided to hide in my room, wait until he
left, then creep away. My hand was on the curtain when something made me
stiffen. I looked back down the tunnel-like corridor, towards the entrance from
the Locker Room, but there was nothing. Nothing but shadows. I was becoming
jittery. I pulled aside the curtain, and stepped into my room. Too late, I
remembered there was no ceiling window. The curtain fell back and I was plunged
into darkness.

I heard a soft singing. I moved the curtain
an inch and peered out. Denny was standing smiling, his teeth glinting in the
light from the torch. He stuffed something inside his snowsuit, then zipped it
up carefully. But instead of turning left towards the side door, he went right.
A strange decision; that way would take him longer. Of course. He’d thought of
everything. His intention was to exit by the back. He’d slip out and rejoin the
aurora watchers. And deny he was ever in the Icehotel.

I watched him go. At the end of the
corridor, he paused before switching off his torch. I could still make out his
form, a thickening of the darkness. Then he disappeared.

I let the curtain drop and shuffled into
the room like a blind man. My foot struck something hard. I patted the reindeer
hides and sat on the bed. What would Denny have found in Wilson’s room? Only
skins. The sleeping bag would have been removed for forensic tests, along with
Wilson’s clothes. Maybe he wanted a picture of where the millionaire had died.
He must have gone into Harry’s room, too. The double bill would earn him a nice
tidy sum. Mr
Paparazzo.
I had to
hand it to him, he had balls. If Hallengren ever found the images in his
camera, it would be Denny seeing the inside of a Swedish jail.

I’d give him another minute before leaving,
to be sure he was out of the building. I lay back on the skins and spread my
arms out, counting silently.

That was when I heard the sound.

There was no mistaking it. Someone else was
in the Icehotel.

I held my breath, straining to listen, and
I heard it again, muffled, but louder. A spasm of fear ran through my body. The
sound came from within the room. Had Denny returned? But why? And why to my
room? No, this wasn’t Denny, Denny was long gone. I
leapt
off the bed and thrust my arms out, wheeling in a circle, ready to
scream if I touched anything.

To my horror, something brushed against my
face. I jumped back and dropped to my knees, my heart racing. I had one thought
– find the curtain or I would die here, in the blackness of the Icehotel.

I felt around frantically until I found the
bed. I paused to listen. But I heard nothing over the pounding of my heart
except my ragged breathing. I crawled around the block of ice, my shoulder
rubbing against the skins, and stopped when I thought I’d be in front of the curtain.
Silently, I shifted into a crouching position and held my arms out like a
sleepwalker. Praying I wasn’t in front of a wall, I sprang forward and ran. My
hands hit the curtain. I beat it out of the way and rushed out of the room.

The corridor stretched endlessly in either
direction. I’d never make it. I’d have to hide. I ran into Harry’s room,
holding the curtain down behind me to stop it swinging. The ceiling window cast
a strange light over the objects in the room, coating them with silver. I looked
around swiftly. The only hiding place was behind the bed, but I had no
intention of lying on the floor. As I backed away, my stomach cramping with
fear, I collided with something hard: the statue of Pan, his manic leer faintly
visible in the dim light. I squeezed into the niche behind him and flattened
myself against the wall.

From the back of the alcove, the curtain
wasn’t visible but its weak reflection smeared the wall opposite like a
bloodstain. I waited, counting the minutes, my body tense. I was beginning to
think it was safe to leave, when I heard the slow swishing of footsteps in
snow. He was in the corridor immediately outside. Numb with fear, I pressed my
body deeper into the alcove.

I listened, holding my breath. The
footsteps were dying away. Relief flooded through me. He’d gone. He’d have left
the Icehotel by now, even reached the Excelsior. But, to be on the safe side, I
would leave by the back and join the aurora watchers. I slid out from the
alcove, and was squeezing past the statue when, in the half-light from the
ceiling window, I saw the bloodstain ripple and gently dissolve. The curtain
was drawn back and a black-suited figure lumbered into the room.

He was huge, twice Denny’s size. His hood
was over his head, his face hidden beneath a ski mask. He paused, moving his
head purposefully like a grizzly bear looking for its kill. I slipped back
behind the statue, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The figure lurched towards the bed. As he
swung his arms, I caught the glint of metal. I felt myself grow cold as though
the blood had drained from me. He was holding an ice-
axe
, not by the handle, but near the top where the shaft meets the
blade. He pawed at the jumbled heap of skins, sifting through them and hurling
them to the ground. If I didn’t think quickly, I wouldn’t leave the Icehotel
alive. I had one chance: he might not see me – dressed in a white suit and
hood, I was camouflaged against the snow. And his movements were sluggish. With
luck, I might outrun him.

He
leant
forward to
look behind the bed. I crept out of the alcove. With my back against the wall,
I sidled towards the curtain. But as I reached it, I overbalanced and fell,
jarring my knee so badly that I cried out. The figure straightened.

God knows how – I was exhausted by fear – I
struggled to my feet and, ignoring the pain in my knee, ran thrashing through
the curtain. I bolted down the corridor in a blind panic. If I could find one
of the doors, I didn’t care which, I would be safe. I would scream my lungs out
the moment I was outside.

But he’d been quick. I heard him pounding
behind me. I tore through the maze of corridors, searching desperately until I
found the double doors. Without pausing to fumble for the handles, I rammed my
body into them. They swung open, banging off the outside walls and slamming
back against my shoulders. Panting heavily, the blood thundering in my ears, I
ran out into the night.

To the left was the great curve of the Ice
Theatre;
I’d exited by the back. I rushed onto the frozen river, my
breaths coming in huge gulps, my knee an agony. As I sped past the wall of ice
blocks, I heard a deep bellow behind me. A metallic taste filled my mouth. The
dark figure was close. In a second, he’d reach me. I was sobbing now, my throat
and lungs on fire, my breath streaming in a white
vapour.
I summoned all my strength and ran on, no longer caring where I was
going.

Suddenly, the ground gave way and I fell,
still running, into water. I flailed my arms, thrashing blindly at the ice, and
felt a sharp stab of pain as my face scraped against something hard. The sky
disappeared and silence enveloped me. My descent slowed, then stopped
altogether, leaving me suspended in a murky alien world. A second later, the
icy water seeped through my suit and I gasped, drawing water into my lungs.
Cold ripped through my chest. I tried to swim to the surface, kicking, beating
my arms, willing myself to move upwards, but my legs were held in a vice.
Exhausted, I let my body go limp.

I peered up through the spiral of water and
saw a pale light far above. Giant figures swam into my vision – the circus
statues and chess pieces, the Knight Templar. And Denny, his eyes wide with
fright, bubbles streaming from his open mouth. They tumbled heavily towards me,
performing huge somersaults before taking up position in a circle. From
somewhere far away, I watched myself drifting in the water, Denny and the ice
statues jigging and reeling furiously around me. An eternity later, the silence
was broken by a roaring that I felt rather than heard. I made a last desperate
attempt to save myself, wriggling feebly, trying to free my legs. The water
turned red, my vision
tunnelled,
and then it faded
altogether.

‘Miss Stewart. Miss Stewart!’

I opened my eyes into an unfamiliar world, everything a
blur, like seeing through somebody else’s glasses. A faraway voice was calling,
insistent. It was familiar, but I couldn’t identify it. My face hurt and there
was a dull ache in my knee. I tried to move, but the pain in my head worsened,
shooting bright lights which left firework trails before my eyes. My eyelids
drooped and I drifted back into a fitful sleep.

It seemed only minutes later when I woke again. The world
was back in focus. My knee ached, but the pain in my head was gone.

An open suitcase sat on the table, its contents scattered.
Clothes lay untidily over the armchair; others were crumpled on the carpet. The
mess was all too familiar – I was in my room in the Excelsior.

Something near the door caught my eye: a chair with damp
clothes hanging over the back, the carpet underneath stained dark. I lifted my
head. Amongst the clothes was a white snowsuit. In an instant, I remembered
everything – Denny and the Icehotel, running onto the river, falling through
the ice. And the figure with the ice-axe. Fear closed round my throat,
threatening to choke me, and I sank gasping against the pillow.

‘Miss Stewart.’ The voice again. ‘How are you feeling?’

He was sitting near the door, his long legs stretched out.

‘The back of my throat’s on fire,’ I said hoarsely.

‘I am sorry, we had to pump out the water quickly. The
paramedic may have been a little rough.’

I swallowed experimentally, wincing at the wave of pain.

Hallengren poured from a flask. ‘Drink this.’ He handed me a
mug.

I realised only then that I was naked under the bedclothes.
I clamped the sheet across my chest and struggled to a sitting position. The
towel around my head unwound, and damp hair fell in a tangled mass over my
shoulders.

The drink was hot lingonberry juice, with honey added. I
sipped carefully, ignoring the burning sensation in my throat. ‘Is it still
night, Inspector?’

He poured a drink for himself. ‘It is nearly 1.00am.’

I’d been unconscious for an hour. It felt longer.

I studied him over the rim of the mug. He was unshaven, his
eyes red. And without his uniform; he wore faded jeans and a purple crew-neck.
He would have been asleep when they called him. Alone, I wondered?

‘How long have you been here?’ I said.

‘Since s
hor
tly after you
were pulled out, just after midnight
.
’ He
paused. ‘The hospital is on the other side of Kiruna. We thought it best to
bring you here rather than risk a journey in a poorly-heated ambulance. The
paramedics assured me that what you needed most was warmth and rest.’

‘And I’ve been asleep all this time?’ It was a ridiculous
question, but I wanted to hear him tell me he’d been in the room with me.

‘You woke only once.’ He smiled, arching an eyebrow. ‘This
is the second time in twenty-four hours that I find myself in your bedroom,
Miss Stewart.’ When I said nothing, he added, ‘So, do you think you could
answer a few questions? Or would you prefer it if I returned in the morning?’

‘No, please don’t go,’ I said, too quickly. ‘Now will be
fine.’

He held my gaze briefly, then pulled a notebook from the black
snowsuit at his feet. ‘Let us start with the reason you were in the Icehotel.’

‘How did you know I was in the Icehotel?’ I said faintly.

‘I did not. You told me just now.’

I ran a hand over my face. God, what an idiot I was.

His voice was hard. ‘You knew it was off limits, so what
were you doing there?’