Valhalla Gold

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

By the time they hit the fire exits the day had turned nasty. Black clouds were moving at some speed across the city, so low they almost scraped the tops of some of the higher buildings, and they were dumping a heavy, cold rain over everything.

Hawke and Scarlet scanned the road for any signs of Deprez but for a few seconds all they saw was empty, parked cars and lots of rain. Then, Scarlet saw him. “Over there in the Saab!”

Hawke followed her hand. She was pointing to an old, sky blue Saab 900 into which a soaked Marcus Deprez was climbing with great agility. The engine roared to life and its headlights illuminated the rain streaking in front of the car. Seconds later the Belgian serial killer was spinning the wheel around and driving the car out onto the road.

“Quick!” Hawke shouted.

“To the Batmobile!” Scarlet yelled.

Hawke gave her a look of disapproval and opened the locks of the Hilux with the car remote. Cairo Sloane took gallows humor to new heights — it was just how she handled the tough stuff. She’d never told him about her younger days, but he guessed that was where it all came from. Either way, now was hardly the time to ask her.

They climbed inside the truck and seconds later they were strapped in and ready to go. Hawke fired up the powerful 3.4 litre V6 and with the help of the power steering, he moved the heavy vehicle out of the parking space with ease and speed and they were soon on their way.

“Any sign of the repulsive little shit?” Scarlet said, peering through the windshield as the wipers cleared the deluge from their view.

“He’s just gone down there,” Hawke said calmly, checking his mirror for local law enforcement. He indicated a sharp right turn, which Deprez took so fast and tight he smashed into a litter bin, spraying its contents all over the junction. A man in a Wigens linen cap who was walking a nonchalant Vallhund across the road expressed serious Scandinavian disapproval as the cans and bottles and newspapers tumbled out across his path.

“He didn’t even get a fist wave!” Scarlet said.

“I suspect he thinks violence isn’t the answer.”

“And quite right too,” she replied as she checked her gun.

Looking ahead they saw the Saab was accelerating and putting more distance between them. Hawke wanted to go faster but this road was busy with pedestrians and he didn’t want to put any of them in hospital, or worse. Clearly Marcus Deprez didn’t share his concerns.

“What the hell’s he doing now?” Scarlet asked.

Hawke saw that Deprez was turning in his seat. A moment later he was leaning out of the driver’s side and aiming a gun at them. It looked like he was keeping the car steady with his other hand, but Hawke saw danger ahead. The Saab began to swerve dangerously as it snaked up the road.

“Look out, Cairo!” Hawke shouted. He pulled the wheel to the right and the Hilux skidded out of its lane. It was worth the risk. Deprez’s bullet missed and smashed into the trunk of one of the many linden trees lining the street.

“That was lucky!” Scarlet said.

“What can I say?” Hawke said with a crooked grin. “I’m faster than a speeding bullet.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes and shook her head in despair. “Tell me, Joe, how do you fit your enormous ego inside that tiny mind?”

Hawke didn’t hear the barb. Instead, he was now focussing on bringing the Hilux back into the correct lane while at the same time trying to ensure the insane Belgian killer in front of them wasn’t any luckier next time.

But he was. Deprez fired another two shots, the first striking the front fender of the truck with a metallic plink and ricocheting off into the air. The second plowed into the center of the windshield with a crunchy smacking sound.

A massive spider-fracture instantly exploded in the glass, leaving Hawke’s view of the street badly impaired, but he didn’t have to wait long for a solution. Before he could open his mouth Scarlet had started to kick the glass out of its frame.

He gave a brief smile as he watched Cairo Sloane handle the situation so coolly, and it reminded him a little of that night back in Geneva when he had watched Lea do exactly the same move.

With the windshield now spinning around on the road behind them, Hawke could once again see his target. Deprez was now back inside the Saab and in full control, speeding the old car towards a small intersection lined with high, old nineteenth century buildings.

The lights at the intersection were red, but this didn’t seem to concern Deprez who raced through them leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. Two cars smashed into one another in an attempt to avoid a collision with the speeding Saab. A third swerved away and braked sharply but the driver wasn’t quick enough to stop the car from mounting the kerb and plowing into the display window of a Cantonese restaurant.

With an angry Chinese chef screaming and waving a meat cleaver on the sidewalk behind them, Hawke guided the Hilux deftly through the broken glass and dented fenders of the accident and accelerated once again in a bid to close the gap between him and Deprez. Without that fragment of the axe handle they would never be able to find the location of Thor’s tomb, so this was a race he couldn’t afford to lose.

Staring ahead, he saw Deprez was now trying to get around a bus. The Belgian’s patience ran out fast, and he resolved the situation by driving up onto the sidewalk and smashing through the terrace tables of a small café. With the bus now between him and Hawke he pulled back in sharply and disappeared from view.

“I don’t think he likes Stockholm very much,” Scarlet said.

“I don’t think he likes people very much.”

Now they were on Narvavägen, a tree-lined boulevard channelling much of Östermalm south to Djurgården, a large island in the center of the city covered in beautiful parkland.

“Where’s the numbnuts going?” Hawke asked.

“Nowhere clever,” Scarlet said, glancing at her iPhone. “According to the map, that’s an island with only one way on or off, at least by car.”

“So he’s driven into a dead end?”

“Maybe, but a bloody big dead end. We can still lose him — plus it looks like there’s a foot-bridge back to the mainland at the other end of the island if he really gets desperate.”

Hawke drove the Hilux over the Djurgårdsbron, the three lane bridge which connected the island to Östermalm and slowed as a tram glided past down the middle of the road. He could still see Deprez and the old Saab, but he was accelerating away and trying to use the tram for cover.

“He’s heading up there,” Hawke said, pointing up a gentle incline in the road ahead of them. He accelerated as they passed the Nordic Museum, a vast building in the Danish renaissance style which resembled a cathedral more than a museum and housed the country’s cultural history.

Deprez followed the incline around to the right and then suddenly accelerated out of view on the other side of the hill’s brow. Hawke floored the throttle and the mighty Hilux soon made the top of the rise, only just in time to see the Saab skidding around to the right and disappearing into a side street.

“Don’t lose him, Joe!”

“I was just considering stopping for a latte but now you’ve said that I’ll speed up.”

Hawke took the corner at speed and was confronted by a crowd of angry and confused people waving their fists at Deprez’s blue Saab. He slowed and weaved through them. The road twisted around to the left and Hawke increased power to the engine in another bid to close the gap between them and the Belgian.

Hawke kept his eyes fixed on the Saab. “Any idea where he’s going, Cairo?”

“Looks like there are a couple of amusement parks on the island,” Scarlet said, checking her phone.

“What a shame we never packed a lunch.”

“You’re so funny, but…ooh — there’s an Abba Museum here!” Scarlet said in shock.

“I think we have more important things to worry about right now.”

“I know that, Joe. I must remember to tell Ryan, that’s all.”

Hawke gave her a look and they got back to business.

Deprez raced past the entrance to the Gröna Lund Amusement Park and continued further along the enormous island. Gröna Lund Amusement Park was built on the south-western tip of the island back in the 1880s by a German named Jacob Schultheiss. It was the oldest amusement park in Sweden with well over a million visitors per year.

“Doesn’t look like he’s going in there today,” Hawke said.

“Bugger — I was looking forward to that.”

Hawke continued his pursuit of the man as he drove over the tramlines in the center of the road and watched up ahead as Deprez then braked hard and brought the old Saab to a sharp stop not far from the entrance to the Funland Amusement Park, a newer and smaller park further along the southern coast of the island. He clambered out the car and slipped into the crowd, still carrying the axe handle.

“Looks like you’re going to get your day at the fair after all,” said Hawke.

Scarlet pointed her phone at the Saab. “Yes! He’s going into Funland!”

“And trying to lose us in the crowd,” Hawke said, sighing. Everywhere he looked he saw men, women and children milling about in their raincoats, many carrying umbrellas. He gave an appreciative nod — he liked people who weren’t afraid of a bit of weather.

Scarlet checked her gun once more and slid it inside her holster out of sight. “He’s obviously rattled or he’d never have come in here in the first place.”

Hawke shook his head. “It’s not that. He knows this city about as well as we do — he’s lost and looking for any way out he can get.”

“He’s got a way out, all right,” she said, tapping the gun under her jacket.

They leaped from the Hilux and sprinted into the bustling crowd. Deprez crossed a large car park and disappeared into some trees up ahead.

Hawke and Scarlet followed closely, doing their best not to panic the people around them.

Looking ahead they saw Deprez was now moving into the main part of the park.

Hawke didn’t know how many of those were repeat-visitors, but he guessed not many of those present today would be in a hurry to return to Funland.

They watched as the serial killer pushed his way through the crowd, weaving deeper into the park as he went. The axe handle fragment under his arm was attracting a few looks here and there, but thankfully his gun seemed to be out of sight — more for his benefit than anything else. People screaming and pointing at him was hardly conducive to a successful escape.

Deprez moved deeper into the park and was now in a street lined with small wooden houses. They were decorated with flashing light bulbs and promised all the fun of the fair, but the Belgian had something else on his mind: evasion. He scanned the area for an escape route and saw his chance — a building with a wooden fascia and the words Kärleks Tunneln — the tunnel of love.

“Why’s he going in there?” Scarlet asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to give you a hint.”

A withering glance came his way but he never saw it. He was too busy focussing on the hunt. They moved through the crowd and went inside the Tunnel of Love.

In the darkness, Scarlet pulled her weapon and moved the slider to put a bullet in the chamber. “I hope they don’t have to rename this place the Tunnel of Blood after we’re finished.”

Hawke hoped so too, and the two of them moved into the darkness.