The Dangerous Game (18 page)

As Knutas tended to his errands, thoughts of the investigation whirled through his mind. Almost a month had passed since the attempt on Markus Sandberg’s life. The photographer was still in a coma, in critical condition. He would probably not be able to tell the police anything for the foreseeable future. According to the doctors, he was going to need several more operations. As for Sandberg’s parents and siblings, it turned out that they had very little knowledge about his activities. His contact with his family had been sporadic at best. They celebrated Christmas and various birthdays together, but that seemed to have been the extent of his involvement with them. They had never heard him mention Diana Sierra or Jenny Levin. The police had also interviewed Diana. She was not suspected of committing the attack, since she’d been on a photo shoot in the Bahamas at the time of the assault on Furillen. But she still could have been responsible for initiating it.

Test results had come in from the crime lab. They showed that the blood found on the boat and on the clothing had come from Markus Sandberg and from another, not-yet-identified individual who was not in any police records. But the blood analysis proved without a doubt that the person in question was a man, not a woman. When it came to the earring that had been found, its story remained a mystery.

The police had followed up on the phone conversation that had been traced to the Grand Hotel. It turned out that the information they’d received from the receptionist was correct. The hotel had hosted a fashion show on that day, and Jenny Levin was one of the models. Markus Sandberg had also been present, taking photographs. The police had talked to everyone who had participated in the show, but no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. And that was as far as they’d got with the investigation.

It might be worthwhile to interview Marita Ahonen, thought Knutas. No one in Sandberg’s family had ever heard of her either. But the agency staff knew all about her love affair with Markus and how deeply it had affected the young Marita. Everybody thought it was tragic, and they sympathized with the Finnish girl, but they hadn’t kept in touch with her after she’d returned to Finland last year. The police were having a hard time tracking her down. She didn’t seem to have a permanent address, and she’d cut off ties with her mother. Her father was dead, and she was an only child. The search for her was ongoing.

When Knutas had finally made all his purchases and was headed back to Östercentrum, he saw a couple coming towards him. They hadn’t yet noticed him, possibly because they only had eyes for each other. The man was tall and slim with gel on his hair. He looked to be in his forties and wore rather trendy clothes, including yellow corduroy trousers and a green jacket. He’d wrapped a scarf around his neck several times. He was walking arm in arm with the petite woman at his side. She was staring up at him with adoring eyes, and they were both laughing. Suddenly they stopped, and the man leaned down to take the face of the slender woman in both hands. Then he kissed her. She pressed her face against his chest, and he put his arms around her, pulling her so close that she almost disappeared.

Neither of them saw Knutas as he passed on the other side of the street. He didn’t know what he would have done if Karin had noticed him. His eyes stung, and his knees felt wobbly.

He was at a complete loss.

THE FERRY WAS
just about to depart from Visby harbour. The three black towers of the cathedral were barely visible through the heavy snowfall. The forecast was for colder weather. It had also been snowing in Stockholm for the past several days, and there was every indication that they would have a white Christmas. As usual, the boat was packed with passengers. The spacious parking area on the dock had been crowded with cars, several horse trailers and quite a few long-distance lorries. Johan Berg couldn’t comprehend where all the traffic had come from. It was almost as bad as in the summer.

Johan and his family hurried upstairs to the restaurant to get a good seat next to the window. They had reserved deckchairs, as they always did, but it was actually easier with the children to stay in the restaurant, which had a play area they liked.

‘Do you want to eat right now?’ asked Johan, putting Anton in a high-chair he’d managed to grab. They were much in demand on these ferries.

‘Sure. That’s probably a good idea. It’s going to get crowded later on.’

They were lucky enough to have been among the first to drive on board.

‘Could you go and stand in the queue?’

Emma was unpacking felt-tip pens, drawing paper, activity books and various plastic toys so that Elin and Anton could keep themselves amused for the few minutes it would take her to go over and have a look at the menu. There usually wasn’t much of a selection: spaghetti with meat sauce, pan-fried fish with boiled potatoes and remoulade, or the day’s vegetarian dish. The quality of the food was about the same as in a school cafeteria. And she was sick and tired of that. She might as well just have an open shrimp sandwich. Although these days the restaurant did offer a gourmet option. That might be good.

Johan went first, taking a place in the queue that had already formed. It’s almost like being in Ikea, he thought. Practical, child-friendly and no surprises. There were kids everywhere. Many families had already found seats and were unpacking lunches they’d brought along: sandwiches, thermoses and jars of baby food. Not everyone wanted to buy food in the restaurant. Many Gotland residents went to Stockholm to do their Christmas shopping, so they chose to save their money for buying gifts.

Johan was looking forward to going home. That was how he still thought of the city, even though he’d been living on Gotland for several years now, and his family was there. But, in his heart, Stockholm was still home. They were on their way to visit Johan’s mother, who lived in the suburb of Rönninge, to celebrate Christmas with her. They planned to stay about a week, and he was looking forward to it. Not just because he’d get to see his mother, with whom he stayed in close contact, but because his four brothers would be there as well. Somewhat reluctantly, he’d assumed the role of family patriarch after his father had passed away a few years ago. Everyone seemed to turn to him, maybe because he was the eldest of the brothers. This morning, Johan had talked to his best friend, Andreas, who was among those he missed most. They were going to spend a whole evening in town together, have dinner and visit a few of his favourite hang-outs in the Södermalm district. Johan couldn’t think of anything he would enjoy more. Part of him would always long to be back in Stockholm.

He said hello to a few acquaintances and watched Visby disappear through the window. There was something about this stretch of water between Gotland and the mainland. In reality, the distance wasn’t very great. The trip took less than three hours by ferry. Yet it felt like a long voyage. The crossing almost had an inexplicably exotic feel to it, this passage over the sea. Maybe that was why so many mainlanders loved going to Gotland in the summer. It felt like they were truly getting away, almost like going to another country.

They finished eating their food, which was not much of a culinary experience, but everyone ended up feeling full and content. Then Elin took Anton over to the play area, where a Christmas elf was reading stories to the children. Johan checked the paperback display and bought a detective novel entitled
Unseen
. The plot sounded exciting, so it would do just fine. Emma bought coffee and several magazines. Jenny Levin was on the cover of one of them.

‘She looks amazing, but nothing like she does in real life,’ murmured Emma.

‘What do Tina and Fredrik think about her modelling career?’ asked Johan as he skimmed the blurb on the back of his book.

‘They’re thrilled for her, of course.’

‘But aren’t they the least bit nervous that she might get involved in bad situations? I mean, with dirty old men, drugs, that sort of thing?’

‘I suppose so. But Jenny is a strong girl who has her feet on the ground. She can take care of herself. She’s always been very independent. I think she can handle just about anything.’

‘What about Markus Sandberg? It sounds like he was just using her.’

‘Okay, that was a mistake. But even Jenny is entitled to make a few wrong choices once in a while. Good God, the girl is only nineteen.’

‘Exactly.’

‘What do you mean?’

Johan stirred his coffee.

‘I don’t know. I was just thinking that there may be other things about Jenny that we don’t know.’

‘Like what? And why are we talking about this now? This is the first time we’ve been on holiday together in I don’t know how long. Let’s drop it, okay? You’re not a policeman.’

‘Aren’t you interested in finding out what happened? It’s your friend’s daughter who’s ended up in the middle of the whole thing.’

‘Of course I want to know.’

Emma reached across the table to take his hand.

‘But you’re not planning to do any work over Christmas, are you?’ Johan paused before answering. They’d had a rough autumn. The kids had been sick, and the daily routines had seemed particularly dreary. So they really needed a holiday and a chance to relax. He’d already told the children everything they were going to do: go sledding, build a snow cave, make a snowman and snow lanterns. Go skating and cross-country skiing along the wonderful trails near their grandmother’s house.

‘I’m not planning to do any work, sweetheart,’ he said then. ‘Of course not. We’re going to take it easy, enjoy Christmas, and not think about anything but ourselves.’

‘Good,’ said Emma, squeezing his hand.

THE AGENCY’S TRADITIONAL
Christmas party was held in a private flat on Stureplan, which was the centre of Stockholm’s nightlife. The flat was directly across from one of the city’s hippest clubs, and after dinner the plan was for everyone to go there. Jenny arrived with the agency boss, which caused quite a few people to raise their eyebrows in surprise. Robert Ek was a married man, but known for having affairs. His wife happened to be away, so she couldn’t attend the party. Would Jenny be the next in a long line of young models whom Ek had exploited over the years?

The nightclub had promptly announced on its website that the famous modelling agency Fashion for Life was holding its annual party on the premises that evening. Models always enticed people to come to a venue, and it lent the club a higher profile. The agency had several hundred models in its stable, but only the top fifty had been invited to the party, along with the most prominent photographers, stylists, clients and other influential people in the Stockholm fashion world, including designers, journalists and several of the most important fashion bloggers.

Glasses of chilled champagne were served before dinner, and Ek took the opportunity to bid everyone welcome. He stepped up on to a podium to speak to the elegantly clad guests.

‘We can look back on a tremendously successful year, both here in Sweden and in the international arena,’ he began with great satisfaction. ‘Our models have appeared on the covers of some of the world’s most prestigious magazines. They opened the most important shows during haute couture week in Paris, and they were first on the catwalk at the big Victoria’s Secret show in New York, just to name a few examples. First and foremost, I’d like to thank all the models who are here tonight. In different ways, they have each contributed to the agency’s amazing success during the past year. I also want to thank all the stylists, photographers, clients, and everyone else who is part of the fashion world in our beautiful city. You are all incredibly important to the agency, and I hope you know that. I would also like to take a moment to direct our thoughts to our most prominent photographer, Markus Sandberg, who is still recovering in hospital after the attack he suffered on Gotland last month. For all of you who are wondering how he’s doing, I can tell you that, for the most part, Markus’s condition remains unchanged. But he will undergo more surgery, and we are naturally hoping that he will make a full recovery so that eventually he’ll be able to return to working with us. Let’s all drink a toast to Markus Sandberg.’

Everyone raised their glasses and fixed their eyes on Robert Ek. The only sound in the room was the light clinking of glasses at the bar. After the toast, Ek continued in a noticeably more cheerful tone of voice.

‘This year, I would like to focus on one person, in particular, who has achieved acclaim that is largely without parallel in the history of our agency. She is a farmer’s daughter, from a village on Gotland. During a visit to Stockholm, she was discovered by our scout Isabelle. She had never thought about entering the modelling profession but, by now, during her second season, she has been in more than sixty fashion shows, she has opened Valentino’s show in Paris, and she has been on the cover of the Italian edition of
Vogue
. I can also reveal that she recently signed a contract with H&M to take part in their Christmas advertising campaign next year, which means she will be on billboards all over the world.’

A ripple of excitement passed through the audience. Ek paused for effect.

‘So let’s all drink a toast to Jenny Levin.’

He motioned for Jenny to come up to the podium as everyone applauded. She was completely unprepared for such attention and hardly had a chance to gather her thoughts before she found herself standing in the spotlight next to her boss, who coaxed her towards the microphone.

She managed to ramble off a brief thank-you speech, thinking that she clearly hadn’t expressed herself very well, but everyone smiled and again raised their glasses, to drink a toast to her. At that moment she noticed someone she had never met, although she recognized her at once. Markus’s former girlfriend Diana was standing nearby, wearing a fabulous creation. The glint in her eye competed with the sequins on her dress, and suddenly Jenny felt an icy gust sweep through the warm and festive room. She stepped off the podium and quickly downed the rest of her champagne. Desperate for more, she snatched another glass from a tray carried by a passing waiter. Several of Jenny’s modelling friends came over to congratulate her. Luckily, not everyone was the jealous type.