Postcard killers

Chapter 130

They filled the car with diesel from the farm's il egal agricultural tank.

Then Jacob took the wheel.

"Where am I going?"

"Straight on until you see 'Suomi Finland' on the signs," Dessie said, putting the seat back down and stretching out.

He aimed north and emerged onto the main road again.

If the Rudolphs managed to reach Russia, he'd never see them again, that much he was sure of. Anyone with a lot of money could buy protection there, and anyone without it could disappear among the country's homeless mil ions.

He stiffened his grip on the wheel and pressed the accelerator. His head stil felt groggy from his long nap. The car was smal and sluggish, with a weirdly noisy engine. He'd never driven a diesel before.

The landscape glided past and it real y was astonishingly beautiful.

Craggy cliffs fal ing to the sea. Blue peaks rising to the north. The road wound its way along the coast, getting ever narrower and more twisted and scenic.

He was on his way toward the end of the world. The Rudolphs were on their way there, too.

Dessie's cel phone started to ring on the dashboard.

He glanced at the woman beside him. She was fast asleep, mouth open in a narrow line.

Jacob grabbed the phone and said, "Yeah?"

"We've found the left-luggage locker," Gabriel a said. "It was in the basement of the Central Station. You were right. Both of you were."

He clenched his fist in triumph.

"It contained everything you suspected: light shoes, brown wig, coat, trousers, sunglasses, Polaroid camera, a couple of packs of film, pens, stamps, postcards, eyedrops, and a real y sharp stiletto knife, as wel as some other stuff."

She fel silent.

"What?" Jacob said. "What else was there?"

His raised voice woke Dessie, and she sat herself up beside him.

"We found the passports and wal ets of al the murder victims – apart from Copenhagen and Athens and Salzburg."

He braked and stopped the car by a twenty-four-hour cafe. He was searching for words but couldn't find any.

"Your daughter's were there," Gabriel a said quietly. "I've got them on 174 the desk in front of me. Her fiance's as wel. You'l get them when you're back."

"Okay," he muttered.

"You wanted to know if any cars had been stolen in northern Sweden late yesterday, didn't you? A farmer north of Gysinge has just reported the theft of a Volvo two forty-five. A nineteen eighty-seven model, red. License number CHC four-one-one.

"A two forty-five – that's a sedan?"

"A wagon. I'm sending a text message with al the details."

He put the car in gear and looked round. They were in a smal vil age. A tractor trailer pul ed out of the parking lot just ahead of him.

"How far have you gotten?" Gabriel a asked.

Jacob pul ed out onto the road behind a gigantic lumber truck bil owing smoke.

"Halfway. Thanks for the cal," he said.

"I wish there were more I could have done," Gabriel a said quietly.

Dessie looked at him.

"Cal your cousin," Jacob said. "We have the make of the potential getaway car."

She took the phone.

The sun was just rising to the north.