The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy) (43 page)

‘I’ve got him
.’

He did
–
I was muffled with my arm wedged up my back. After short exchanges via
earpiece and visual
contact with secur
ity men placed around the hall
, t
he
head of security
ga
ve an all clear to his men. T
he blanket was removed
from the King and his security men started moving him towards the exit,
but
the m
onarch refused to leave the opening
–
the premises had been thoroughly checked, ha
dn’t they?
He wasn’t going to quit because of some lunatic.
The show must go on. T
he
guards remained on edge
and t
he audience was
looking around
restless
ly
.
The King
smiled at the guests
, trying to reassure them, before taking
his place i
n the front row as
the Swedish na
tional anthem started playing and
the lights faded out.
The combination of the music
and the darkness
seemed
to have a calming effect on the audienc
e. They were
in
familiar territory
–
‘Du gamla, Du fria’ (Thou Ancient, Thou free)
was associated with
official
ceremon
i
es and most frequently heard at
international
ice hockey
tournaments
.
But I
still
wasn’t reassured.

95

His
vantage point
was ideal
.
Everyone would be blown away by his appearance. It would defuse any worries or unrest in the sheep who’d come to see the King.
In the past,
Carl XVI had been accused of running away at the slightest hint of a threat. It hadn
’t done anything to improve his
public image, which was why he’d started acting more boldly in recent times. Unfortunately the Bernadotte boldness
was too little too
late
–
it should have come 200 years ago when
Finland
was let down by the newly
-
adopted Swedish monarch.
The
Bernadottes’
time was up.
The King
had
better enjoy the anthem, because it was the last time he’
d hear it:

“
You rest upon memories of great olden days

When all around the world your name was honoured

I know that you are and will be the way you were

Yes, I want to live, I want to die in my
Nordic land

Yes
, I want to live, I want to die
in my Nordic land
”

W
ritten
in 1844, the lyrics conveyed
a pan
-
Scandinavian spirit
still yearning for the greatness
betrayed by the Bernadottes. The Nordic countries belonged together and
Sweden
was the
ir
spine.
The King had let h
is nation down and
yes
,
he
had lived and
he was about to die in his Nordic land
.
Two
minutes.

96

Hearing
the national anthem
in the museum
gave me the creeps. I’d always felt uncomfortable with the quasi
-
religious reaction it triggered in people. It was
probably
to do with the blind faith Swedes seemed to have in
their national symbols from the cradle to the grave.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Shut up!’

Again,
Ernst
pulled up my arm
against my back
, harder this time.
I
t felt as if it was going to break
.
He only loosened his grip
as
the hall went
silent and
spotlights suddenly revealed
a grand-looking
Boeck
standing in
the cage h
anging above the lectern
. The museum director
was wearing what must have been a 17th century military uniform
covered in
medals.
A
Swedish flag unfurled
from the cage
as he appeared
, but no
ne of this put my mind at rest
, because I knew what Boeck was about and opening exhibitions
it was not
. T
his must be a rather more sinister ritual
.
The audience
was
transfixed
and all my systems were on red alert as he spoke.

‘
Welcome
everyone
.
Welcome to the multicultural festival. Perhaps you’ve had t
ime to glance at the exhibition, in which case
you know the territory
.
’

He paused to look at the crowd and the exhibited objects before continuing.

‘
As you also
know
,
the
Swedish
Kingdom
was once a great country
. It rests upon memories of great olden days
/
w
hen all around the world its name was honoured
/ I know that it is and will be the way it was.
’

I was petrified by
Boeck
’s pronunciation of
the lyrics
. T
here was
poise,
rhythm and great emphasis on the last words of each line
quoted from the national anthem
.
It was as if his voice suddenly moved into another dimension
.
He
paused to stare at the King before resuming his speech.

‘P
ockets of greatness still remain, but
they are
mainly memories and the
decline has been continuous
for
the last
200 years
. I
t’s time to turn the tide, to return
Sweden
to the Swedes. I’d like to thank you
all
beforehand
for your contribution
. I should add that of course this opening is streamed to the internet through the museum’s night vision CCTV, the objective be
ing to ensure maximum attention
from our Nordic
l
and
.
If you wonder why we have
night vision CCTV
, it’s
because burglars tend not to switch on the lights.
Our Nordic land
must always prepare to fight th
e darkness.
’

Boeck fiddled with something in his hand
and the lights started to fade.

‘Let battle commence.’

The
hall went pitch
-
black
,
the
darkness
lasting
ominously
, while everyone was waiting, anticipating another spectacular contribution, but nothing happened.
I tried to slip out of Ernst
’s
grip
,
but he reacted instantly, pressing my arm up my back again.
This time, it really felt like it was going to snap
.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

He grabbed my throat wi
th his other hand and squeezed.

‘I’m going to kill you.’

At first I didn’t believe he
was going to strangle me on the spot
, but as his double grip on my back and throat tightened
, I was convinced
he would
and
kicked l
ike mad to free myself. In vain,
I was trapped
and t
here would be no witnesses
to my impromptu send
-
off
. I would die
in the dark. He didn’t let go and m
y only chance
was to play dead.
I did, trying to relax as much as possible to become a
dead weight in his arms. Holding my breath, I
let my head drop
, hoping
the dark would help me pull it off
, but he was a thorough thug and
I thought he’d never let go. I coul
dn’t hold my breath much longer. E
ventually
he dumped me on
the
floor and rushed
off
,
leaving me for dead
.
I couldn’t see wh
ere he’d gone
, but assumed he was
join
ing
Boeck.

Meanwhile,
the volume of the national anthem was mounting. People were agitated, panicking
.
I could hear the security men communicating frantically, their radios crackling. A man shouted that the lights didn’t work.
I knew something was about to happen and a few people had looked worried befor
e the lights went out, but I
couldn’t figure out what Boeck was
up to
.
It had thrown me that he
was in the cage
this time
.

What was he waiting for?
A
s
the da
rkne
ss persisted
, I could hear the Royal Couple
being
herd
ed towards the exit and it soon became clear that all exits had been blocked by metal shutters. There was no way out
–
Boeck had us all
locked up
in a
gigantic
cage. We were
trapped
in the hall
and all communication seemed to have been
jammed
too
, because
none of the body guards or police officers could
get through to the outside.
I crept in
the direction of the ice cage.

By now
,
e
ver
yone in the mus
eum knew
something was
seriously
wro
ng. People were banging on the metal shutters that had come down all around the building or
desperately trying
to get through on their mobiles.
Police officers shouted for everyone to stay calm
, while systematically testing all exits
and trying to access Boeck’s cage
.
By now, t
he n
ational anthem
was
blaring
and
rein
forcing
the general panic.
People had to scream
to make themselves heard.
I was convinced that Boeck
was watching us all the time. The darkness wasn’t accidental.
He’d mentioned night vision CCTV. I had to find him, s
top him.
The delay, the wait for something horrible
–
that’s all I expected from Boeck
–
was surreal. He wanted us to be in the dark, grasping for clues
, fearing the worst
. He loved being in control.
H
e’d
already
played me like a rat when I’d broken into the museum. I wasn’t going to
sit passively and
let him get away with it this time.
Feeling
my way in the
g
eneral direction of the cage, I
passed the King and his men.
I know, because one of them
blinded me with a torch,
checking who I was.

I tried to explain that the King was in real danger
, that Boeck
had told me personally that he
hated him and
wanted him eliminat
ed. The bodyguard wouldn’t listen to me and
when the head of security recognised me
as the lunatic who’
d shouted earlier,
I was
immediately
frisked and held
down
on the floor
.