registered as living with anyone. Nor did he have any children. A few years ago he had moved back to Gotland, and he now lived on Skogrand.
Aron Bjarke had one sibling, an older brother named Eskil Rondahl. Their parents had died in a fire only a year ago. Knutas remembered that fire in Hall quite well. It was quickly put out, yet two people had died. So they were Bjarke's parents. Knutas frowned at the strange coincidence. The police techs had done a thorough investigation, but the cause of the fire had never been determined.
It turned out that Bjarke's brother still lived at the family farm in Hall.
Maybe he would find Aron there.
The tension that Johan had felt before meeting the seller dissipated as he sat in his own vehicle. He felt sick to his stomach and weak in the knees. Not because the man had made a particularly frightening impression; in fact, he seemed quite timid.
For the time being, Johan pushed aside any thought of possible consequences. He turned off the camera, hoping that he'd gotten it all on film. Then he took off his dark glasses and cap.
In Grabo he picked up Niklas Appelqvist, who was carrying two bottles of good wine and a bouquet of flowers for Emma. Johan was impressed. He hadn't thought his friend would be so considerate.
When they reached the house they were met with loud music. Pia and Emma were sitting on the sofa, each of them holding a glass of wine and rocking out to Ebba Gron. It had been a long time since Johan had seen Emma looking so lively. She needed a break. Maybe her uncertainty about their relationship had a lot to do with simple fatigue.
At that instant he decided to take her on a trip, whether she wanted to go or not. It would be a surprise that he would book in advance. They would have to take Elin along, of course, but he would make all the arrangements. Emma wouldn't have to do anything except nurse the baby.
When Emma caught sight of Johan, she came dancing toward him with a mischievous smile to give him a kiss. He had a feeling that she had read his mind.
After dinner they sat down on the sofa group in the living room to look at the video. The visual quality left a lot to be desired, and the images were shaky, but they could clearly hear what was said.
Johan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the material was good enough for him to put together a TV report. Suddenly the face of the seller appeared, at first blurred, then clearer. Niklas gave a shout.
'What the hell! That's the guy from the warehouse. Eskil. Eskil something or other.'
Everyone looked at Niklas in surprise.
'I remember now. His name is Eskil Rondahl. He works at the antiquities warehouse. He's been there for ages. I'm not surprised that he could get his hands on artifacts.'
'I know who you mean!' exclaimed Johan excitedly. 'I've interviewed him about the thefts on the phone. Good Lord. That dried up, sad old man. Are you sure it's him?'
'Of course I'm sure. Everyone who studies archaeology has to take a few classes from him. He demonstrates how to handle ancient relics and archive them.'
'So that means it's an inside job. If he's selling artifacts, maybe there are others doing the same thing.'
'This is fucking insane,' Niklas said, shaking his head. 'I wonder how long he's been doing this.'
'What do you know about him?'
'Not much. He seems like an anonymous type of guy. Incredibly reserved and uptight. Hardly says a word. A real oddball, to put it bluntly.'
'Do you know whether he has a family? Or where he lives?'
'I have no idea. Although I have a hard time imagining that he'd have a family.'
'I'll check.'
Johan got up and switched on the computer in Emma's study. He searched for Eskil Rondahl in the municipal records and found his address.
'He lives in Hall. That's north of here, isn't it?'
'What's the address?' asked Niklas, who had followed Johan into the study. He was standing behind him, looking at the screen.
'It just says Sigvards, Hall.'
'I wonder where that is. Large sections of Hall are a nature preserve up along the rocky coast. There's hardly anything out there. It's desolate and barren.'
Johan glanced at his watch. It was nine fifteen.
'I'm going to drive out there.'
'Right now?'
Johan printed out the information about Eskil Rondahl.
'I'll go with you,' said Niklas resolutely.
'No, it's better if Pia comes along, so she can film things if we need it,' said Johan. 'You can stay here with Emma while we're gone.'
Pia was in high spirits as she drove, and she greatly exceeded the speed limit. She had cut back on the amount of wine she drank because she had to get up early the next day, and now she was glad that she had. They drove via Visby and then north past Lickershamn. It was still light out, and when they passed Ireviken the landscape started to change. The area looked more barren; the vegetation got scruffier. Here and there dead trees stretched their bare branches toward the sky. They searched for the place for a long time. They had to ask for directions to the farm, which they finally found at the end of the road. Darkness had begun to set in, and they didn't dare drive all the way up to the farm. As soon as it appeared from behind a hill, Pia stepped on the brakes and backed up. She parked the car a short distance away in the woods.
The farm was impressive in size but clearly in need of repair. To their surprise, they saw five or six cars parked in the yard. Eskil Rondahl apparently had visitors. Farther away a red pickup was visible, along with an old, rusty horse trailer. Pia took the small camera along, although it would have to be used indoors; it was too dark outside. Cautiously they approached the house. They had it in view when they suddenly heard the sound of a car engine behind them. Johan flinched-was there another visitor?
He was dumbfounded when he saw who got out of the car. It was Anders Knutas. He was alone, and he wasn't driving a police vehicle. Was he on the track of the thefts, too? Johan cast a quick glance at his watch. It was almost ten o'clock.
Knutas didn't seem to have noticed Johan and Pia, who were standing in the shelter of several tall bushes. When Johan stepped forward, Knutas gave a start.
'What the hell are you doing here?' he snarled. What an absurd situation. Here they stood in the dark, in the middle of a nature preserve, close to a remote farm, stupidly glaring at each other.
'I might ask you the same question,' said Johan.
'That's none of your business,' snapped Knutas. 'What's going on here?' he then asked with a nod at the parked cars.
'No idea. We just got here.'
Pia stepped into view, and Knutas greeted her.
'Now you're going to have to explain what brings the two of you out here.'
Johan briefly told Knutas how he had found the American Web site and about his meeting with the seller. When he said that the fence was Eskil Rondahl, Knutas's eyes widened.
'Not bad,' he said. He actually sounded impressed.
'But you're here for some other reason?' said Johan.
Knutas hesitated for a moment. Maybe it was the intimacy of standing there in the dark, maybe it was because he was so tired, completely worn out after everything that had happened lately-but something made him decide to tell them why he had come.
'Aron Bjarke, who's a teacher at the college, was in Stockholm when Gunnar Ambjornsson was expected home from his trip abroad. We didn't know this before, but Aron Bjarke and Eskil Rondahl are brothers. Bjarke changed his name twenty years ago when he was studying in Stockholm. Before that his name was Aron Rondahl.'
'Do the police think that Aron might be the murderer?'
'Yes. And now you've turned up a whole new aspect of the case-the thefts. We just may have the solution to the burglary at the Antiquities Room, too.'
