Kari had explained to Pix that it was always either Sven or his wife who came to leave some food and a thermos of coffee. The door was quickly opened, a sack dropped in, and he or she was off again. It all took only a few seconds. When Pix had been brought in, Sven had his gun out, telling Kari to get in the far corner of the hut. Once more, his exit was swift. There had been no possibility of rushing out the door or overpowering either person at any time.
“Pix,” whispered Kari. “Someone’s coming. Get ready.”
Yes, there was the sound of a car. The engine stopped. A door slammed—one door.
Someone was fumbling with the lock and then light streamed in. Pix was momentarily blinded.
It was Sven, who was carrying a plastic bag, which he hastily set down inside the door. As he turned to leave, Kari called in a feeble voice.
“The woman. The woman you brought here is dead.”
“What!” cried Sven, rushing to where Pix lay. “This can’t be…”
As he leaned over to check, Pix let him have it full force with Faith’s superhold hair spray. He screamed and fell back. Kari was waiting with the Thermos and brought it down on his head hard, twice. The man fell to the ground. Quickly, they searched his pockets, taking his wallet, keys, matches, some coins, and a knife. There was nothing else.
They left the food. With luck, he’d be there long enough to get very hungry.
Outside, after locking the door, they fell into each other’s arms, laughing deliriously. The low stone hut had a sod roof. It looked so innocuous—a flower or two sprouting amid the grass, and a well-worn wooden door.
“We did it! It was so easy! You’re a genius, Pix!” Kari hugged her again.
Modestly, Pix said, “You were pretty handy with that thermos.” She made a mental note to write to the company, thanking them for the versatility of their product. She had almost gotten away by throwing hot coffee at Carl, and now they had gained their freedom using the handy vacuum bottle again.
“Now,” she continued, “let’s see if we can retrace his route and find the nearest police station or phone.”
“Police!” Kari’s expression changed. “No way! They’ll never believe me. We have to see this through to the end. I need to clear my name.”
“But we have Sven and they’ll arrest Carl. Inspector Marcussen will believe us.”
“The things that were in the closet are at the bottom of the fjord or hidden in some other place. Sven’s wife will miss him soon and come to investigate. They’ll deny we were ever here. Say that we’re crazy. It will be my word against Carl’s and Sven’s. They’ll probably accuse Erik, if anything. Remember, the police already think I may have killed him. And there will always be a cloud
hanging over me and my grandmother. Suspicion is a terrible thing.”
It was late in the evening, Sunday evening, and the sun still felt warm. They were alive and free, but Pix was forced to agree with Kari. It wasn’t over.
Kari drove like a woman possessed. Pix wondered whether this was her normal style or an aberration produced by the present situation. Whatever it was, she was going to have to tell the girl to slow down or neither would have a tale to tell to any grandchildren.
The first part of the trip had been less dramatic. They’d had to drive carefully to follow the marks made by Sven’s drive across the flat expanse that lay before them when they’d emerged from the hut. The hut was the only sign of civilization as far as the eye could see. Behind them, a wall of rock stretched across the horizon; its dramatic cliffs looked seamless.
“It’s Hallingskarvet,” Kari had said. “The railway lies to the south of it, across the
“And what is that?” Pix had asked, pointing straight ahead to one of the largest snowcapped mountain ranges she’d ever seen.
“Oh, that—that’s Jotunheimen, the home of the trolls and giants, but I don’t think they’ll bother us,” she added mischievously. “It’s quite far away. I’m assuming road number fifty is in that direction. If I’ve guessed wrong, we’ll know fairly soon, because there aren’t any other roads for quite a distance. But Sven had to get here easily,
and he left a good track to whatever road he did take. The ground is soft now from the snow melting in the mountains.”
After several trips, the car had indeed left a distinct path, one that traced an old route across the countryside. The grass was green, but the only wildflowers Pix saw were arctic varieties. In places, the ground was completely covered in heather, its pale lavenders and pinks adding color to the gray fields strewn with boulders.
“When we get to the main road, all we have to do is guess the right way to turn. It shouldn’t be hard. We just head west.”
“How far do you think we are from Balestrand?” Pix asked, giving herself up to the navigator.
“It’s hard to say. But we will definitely be there before morning.” They had driven on for a bit; then Kari complained: “What’s bumping against the back of my seat? Can you move it?”
Pix twisted around to look.
“It’s a suitcase. He must have planned to drop the food off and then meet Carl someplace. Damn, we didn’t think of that. They were going to pick up the Viking stuff on the last day of the tour, which is today. It would be too much to hope that Carl would have stayed on in Balestrand. I would have thought they’d meet at the farm, except Sven wouldn’t have his suitcase with him if that was the plan. I don’t think they trust each other enough to let one person go off with the silver. They’d stay together until they got their money.”
“And even without the added liability of having kept us prisoners, Carl, Sven, and his wife will have to get out of the country with the Viking silver right away. It will be too risky to stay.”
Pix agreed. “Yes, so that suggests Sven was on his way to Bergen and the ferry across the North Sea to Newcastle. Do you have any idea where they’d meet in Bergen?”
“No, but we can head straight for the ferry. Unless we can come up with a better plan.”
“Whatever we decide, there’s something we need to do as soon as possible. It’s time to call Mother.”
Kari grinned. “And
It was at this point that she saw the paved road ahead, let out a whoop, and hit the accelerator. Sven had treated himself to a brand-new BMW and it responded immediately. Pix did, too.
“Pull over and I’ll get the case. I don’t want to take my seat belt off.” She was feeling extremely middle-aged. She used to drive pretty fast herself when she was younger. Now thoughts of mortality—and wanting to know the ends of a great many stories—slowed her down.
The suitcase yielded little except for the knowledge that Sven favored boxers and was carrying his passport. He also had a framed photo of his wife and children.
“The rat!” Kari exclaimed, the needle of the speedometer quivering forward. “I bet he’s leaving them!”
“Pond scum—or fjord scum,” Pix added. Her children, she thought with a pang, would appreciate the nicety of her distinction. The suitcase, down to the box of condoms, tucked in with a flask of brandy, had all the earmarks of a future bachelor’s, including the picture of former loved ones as a sweet memory. Would he have said he was a widower or what?
“I think the future Sven had planned for himself didn’t include a wife and children, especially not the children.” She wasn’t sorry for his wife. Since Pix had arrived on the tour, so many people had been wearing so many masks, and the disguise of the happy farmer’s wife, living off the land for generations, seemed particularly repellent. She wondered if any of it was true.
“Do you think Mrs. Sven really did grow up on the farm? Was it a lie, or were her parents and grandparents at their
Kari flew around a curve in the road, disturbing some birds, which were searching for food along the side. They scattered into the air with much screeching and flapping of wings.
“I never saw anybody else, but I wouldn’t think she’d lie that way. It would be bound to get back to somebody in Vik or one of the villages nearby. She probably did grow up there and probably hated it.”
Pix thought of Sonja. She’d grown up in a tiny village, Undredal, and was definitely not going back.
