classic chivalric style. A juggler group was performing at the East Gate, and at Hastgatan Knutas was practically run over by a group of people moving through the lanes dressed in medieval garb.
He crossed Stora Torget and decided to take a stroll down to the sea. On the way he passed by Skogrand, where Aron Bjarke lived. As he neared the teacher's house, Knutas slowed down. He had a sudden impulse to visit Bjarke. He rang the bell several times, but no one came to the door. Bjarke was apparently not at home. As he stood there on the porch, Knutas's eye was caught by one of the objects on the windowsill. Among the pots and old jars stood a wooden figure that was only a hand's breadth tall. He went over to the window for a closer look and was struck by how risque it was. It was a male figure with a disproportionately large, erect penis. Knutas was sure that he'd seen it before, and he frantically searched his memory. He had the feeling that it might be important. Something fluttered past in the back of his mind, but it vanished just as quickly.
He rang the bell one last time, then waited a moment, but the house looked dark and silent inside. Again his gaze fell on the figure in the window. Somewhere he had seen that figure before.
Johan had agreed to meet the unknown seller at four in the afternoon. He felt tense all day, and he talked to Pia several times on the phone to make sure that they had everything under control. He had explained to the seller that he wasn't going to bring any money to their first meeting. It was a precautionary measure. First he wanted to see some samples of the sort of Gotland artifacts that were being offered for sale.
The camera was in the editorial office. Pia was going to get it and then bring it out to Johan in Roma so that he could practice using it. He had hardly ever filmed anything before, and he needed all the help he could get to make sure everything functioned properly. The agreement was that if Johan was satisfied with the goods, he would pay cash on Monday.
He counted on being checked out, so he had given a phony name and address. Fortunately he had a wealthy friend, who happened to be a nobleman, in Skane. This was not the first time that Johan had used his friend's identity for his job. Having his name in the Peerage Book and belonging to one of the richest families in Sweden had its advantages. Now it was just a matter of Johan playing his role well when he met with the fence.
Knutas wanted to read through the passenger lists one more time before leaving the office for the day. It was possible that, in spite of everything, he had missed Ambjornsson's name. So far he had just looked for the first syllable of his last name, but now he read through the whole list, running his index finger carefully over the names so as not to miss anything.
Suddenly he caught sight of a name he recognized. It was Aron Bjarke. The archaeology teacher had traveled from Nynashamn to Visby on Monday, August 2. That meant that Bjarke had been in Stockholm at the same time that Ambjornsson was expected home from Morocco.
With his pulse racing, Knutas looked through the names of passengers from Visby to Nynashamn. He had the lists from Sunday, August 1, but he couldn't find Bjarke's name. He phoned his contact at Destination Gotland, who had sent over the information, and asked for the lists from Saturday, July 31. That was the same day that he'd had coffee with Bjarke in his garden, which meant that he couldn't have left any earlier.
The lists were going to show up within half an hour.
Knutas leaned back in his chair to wait as thoughts whirled through his mind. Aron Bjarke was an archaeologist and a teacher at the college. That gave him a connection to both Martina and Staffan. The question still remained: What was his link to Ambjornsson? The e-mail from Destination Gotland appeared after only a few minutes, and he immediately found the name he was looking for. Bjarke had left the island by car on Saturday afternoon, July 31. Knutas raised his eyes from his computer and looked out the window. Once again he had a vague feeling that he was missing something. That annoyed him.
He wondered what Aron Bjarke could have in common with Gunnar Ambjornsson. With Staffan Mellgren there was a natural connection. Both taught archaeology, and each had been Martina Flochten's teacher.
The instant he had that thought, he realized what he had overlooked: the figure in Aron Bjarke's kitchen window. He now realized what it represented: Frey, the god of fertility in the?sir pantheon. Hence the penis. Knutas had noticed a similar idol at Mellgren's house. He picked up the phone and ordered that the figure be brought in to headquarters at once.
He didn't have time to do it himself. He was extremely anxious to get hold of Aron Bjarke.
Johan left in good time for his meeting with the seller. He had practiced using the camera all afternoon, and it was now attached to a belt around his waist. One problem was that he risked being recognized. He was pretending to be a nobleman from Skane, but the seller might have seen him on TV. Occasionally Johan's face appeared on the screen when he did live reports or stand-ups.
He decided to disguise himself behind a big pair of sunglasses and a cap to hide his dark curly hair. In the mirror he looked like a whole different person.
Traffic was heavy on the road to Visby. Lots of people were headed for the city to take part in or to watch some of the countless events that had been organized for the first day of Medieval Week. He had borrowed Emma's car and reached the indoor ice-skating rink twenty minutes before the appointed time. He felt like a regular gangster, one half of a criminal transaction. The mere thought made him feel guilty.
Johan managed to work up a good case of nerves as he waited. He gave a start when a red pickup drove up in front of him soon afterward. He discreetly slipped his hand inside his jacket to turn on the camera. The man driving the truck was also wearing dark glasses. He had gray stubble on his face and was slightly overweight. About fifty years old.
Without saying a word, he reached over and opened the passenger-side door of his vehicle. With some hesitation Johan got into the pickup.
They greeted each other briefly.
'If we're careful, we can take a look at the artifacts here, but it'll have to be quick,' said the man, speaking with a marked Gotland accent. He cast a glance out the truck windows and then looked in the rearview mirror. Maybe he was new at this game.
The seller lifted up a toolbox that was wedged between the seats. He opened the box and took out a cloth- wrapped bundle. Inside were a number of objects: a chisel, a few axe blades, several silver coins, spear points, and a circular clasp.
Johan assumed an expression that he hoped would give him the look of an expert and slowly picked up each and every artifact.
Niklas had given him some tips about the types of remarks he could make. The seller was watching him attentively.
'As I said on the phone, these are just a few samples. I have many more, but I don't know how much you're interested in.'
'Now that I see what you have, and that the goods are genuine, I could be interested in a large number of items,' said Johan.
'How much are we talking about?'
'I'd rather not go into that right now. One thing at a time. What do you want for these?'
'All of them?'
'Yes.'
'A hundred thousand kronor.'
'That's too much. I'll give you fifty.'
Niklas had warned him that he would undoubtedly be quoted too high a price, if for no other reason than to check him out.
'Ninety.'
'I can go as high as seventy-five thousand. Just to show you my goodwill on the first deal. But next time I'd appreciate it if you'd ask a reasonable price right from the start.'
'When can I get the money?'
'On Monday.'
'In cash?'
'That's what we agreed, wasn't it?'
Aron Bjarke didn't answer his home phone or his cell.
Knutas switched on his computer and looked up the personal data on Bjarke. He was born in 1961 at Visby Hospital. He went to Save High School in Visby and then studied archaeology at the University of Stockholm. For a long time he lived in Hagerstan, a suburb south of the city. Knutas confirmed that Bjarke had never married or
