Postcard killers

Chapter 120

A box had appeared against a gray background, with the message Log in!

Dessie typed "sola" for Society of Limitless Art in the box and pressed Enter. The screen flickered.

Sorry – wrong password.

"I didn't think it would be that easy," she said.

Suddenly an idea came into Jacob's head. There was a key with no lock in the report. Here was a lock but no key.

"We could be onto something here," he said. "Try 'Rudolph.' Maybe it is that easy."

Sorry – wrong password.

Jacob stared at Dessie. He remembered the last conversation he'd had with Lyndon Crebbs: What if there are other kil ers? What if the Rudolphs have inspired copycats?

He heard his own reply echo in his head: If there are more kil ers, they have to be working together.

"If the Rudolphs have got an accomplice," Jacob said slowly, "then they need some way of contacting him, them, whoever it is. Could they be using this site to communicate with one another?"

Dessie tried a hundred other possibilities. Again and again:

Sorry – wrong password.

"We're lucky the site is stil letting us try new ones. Most sites wil block you after three tries," Dessie said.

"Where are the postcards?" Jacob asked.

Dessie reached for her knapsack on the floor beside the bed. She tipped out the copies, letting them fan across the bed.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Let's try al the words on the cards," Jacob said. "What's this one here?"

He picked up a photograph he hadn't seen before. It was of two dead or seriously wounded people in a room that showed clear evidence of a struggle.

"That's the picture from Salzburg," she said. "I spoke to the reporter. She mailed it to me."

Dessie tried word after word: "Rome," "Paris," "Madrid," "Athens."

Sorry – wrong password.

"What are these numbers?" Jacob asked, pointing at the back of the Salzburg envelope.

"The phone number of a pizzeria in Vienna. The reporter already checked it. Nothing to do with the case," Dessie said.

Next she went through al the sites on the postcards: "Tivoli,"

"Coliseum," Las Ventas."

Jacob picked out the pictures from Copenhagen and Oslo.

Oslo was done by the Rudolphs.

Copenhagen was the copycat.

"What if they've got a password that isn't a word but something else?" he said.

Dessie looked at him intently.

"When would you need that information?" Jacob asked. "When are you most in need of instructions? The moment you're about to carry out your task, wouldn't you say?"

Dessie stared at him. "I don't know, I've never been a murderer. I've been tempted a couple of times."

"Where would you write the password you need to get your instructions for the kil s? On the nearest thing available maybe?"

He picked up the copy of the back of the envelope from Salzburg.

"The Rudolphs had an alibi for the murders in Austria," he said. "So that must have been carried out by their accomplice. Try these numbers."

Dessie picked up the laptop again and careful y typed in the nine numbers.

She pressed Enter.

The screen flickered.

A new image appeared.

"Holy fucking Christ," Dessie said.