Postcard killers

Chapter 126

During the day, three cars had been stolen in the Stockholm region.

An almost-new Toyota from the suburb of Vikingshil. A Range Rover out in Hasselby garden suburb, at the end of the underground network. An old Mercedes from a parking garage beneath the Gal erian shopping center in the middle of the city.

"The Merc makes sense, right?" Jacob said. "They wouldn't take the underground al the way out to the suburbs just to get a car."

He picked up the map again.

"So now they're driving north. That's how Dessie and I figure it," he said.

"They might even have changed cars by now. I would have. They're traveling on minor roads and heading for Haparanda. They're sticking close to the speed limit. So they should get there early tomorrow morning, at the latest."

Mats Duval looked skeptical. "That's just speculation," he said. "There's nothing to prove that they'd choose that particular route, or even that mode of 168 transport. We don't know anything for certain."

Dessie watched Jacob stand up. He was making an effort not to attack anything, or anyone.

"You've got to reinforce the border crossings in the north," he said.

"What's the name of that river right on the border? The Torne River?"

"We can't al ocate manpower simply on the strength of guesswork," Mats Duval said, closing up his electronic gadget, a sign that the conversation was over.

At that, Jacob stormed out of the room, closely fol owed by Dessie.

"Jacob…," she began, taking hold of his arm. "Stop. Look at me."

He spun around, standing right next to her.

"The Swedish police are never going to catch them," he said in a low voice. "I can't let them get away again. I can't do that!"

Dessie looked into his eyes.

"No," she said. "You can't."

"When's the next flight to Haparanda?" Jacob asked.

She took out her cel and cal ed the twenty-four-hour travel desk at Aftonposten.

The closest airport was in Lulea, and the last flight that evening was an SAS plane, leaving Arlanda at 9:10.

She looked at her watch.

It was nine o'clock exactly.

The airport was forty-five kilometers away.

The first plane the next morning was a Norwegian Air Shuttle, due to leave at 6:55.

"We can be in Lulea at 8:20," Dessie said. "Then we have to rent a car and drive up to the border. It's another hundred and thirty kilometers away."

Jacob stared at her.

"Do you know any police up there? Or some customs officer who can keep an eye on things until we get there?"

"No," she said, "but I can cal Robert. He lives in Kalix. It's a forty-fiveminute drive from the border."

"Robert?"

She smiled, a smile that was almost a grimace.

"My criminal cousin. The big one who protected me when I was a kid.

And even now."

Jacob ran his fingers through his hair and paced quickly around the coffee machine.

"How long would it take to drive up there?" he asked. "If we leave now."

She looked at her watch again.

"If we go for it, and the road isn't ful of trailers and lumber trucks, we'l be there by six."

He slapped the wal with his hand, nearly putting a hole in it. 169 "That's not good enough," he said.

"If Robert keeps an eye on things, they won't get through," she said. "A blue Mercedes, registration TKG two-nine-seven, wasn't it?"

He looked at her, fire in his eyes.

"Have you got access to a car?"

"No," she said, "but I've got a bicycle."

She waved her American Express card.

"We'l rent one, you idiot."