A twisted smile plays across his lips. He barks something to his bodyguards, and together they turn to head up the stairs.
Peter watches Axel loosen the strings. The violin creaks. The dry sound of Axel’s fingers brushing against the instrument vibrates through the sensitive sound box. Axel carefully adjusts the bridge a fraction and then tightens the strings again.
“Did that work?” asks Peter.
“Of course,” Axel says as he tunes the strings. “Try it now and see.”
“Thanks,” Peter says.
Axel is sharply aware of Peter’s cell phone on the table behind him as he says, “Start again. You’ve just finished the first run, and next comes the pizzicato movement.”
“I feel embarrassed,” Peter says, and turns away.
Axel leans back on the table, reaching behind him, finding the phone and trying to pick it up. It slides around a little on the smooth surface.
Peter has his back to Axel. He’s lifting the violin to his shoulder and setting the bow to the strings.
Axel manages to get the phone in his fingers and keeps it hidden in his hand as he moves slightly to one side.
Peter draws the bow in only one note. Then he stops. He turns around and looks past Axel.
“Hey, wasn’t my phone there?”
Axel lets the phone slide out of his hand before he turns and picks it up.
“Do I have any messages?” Peter asks.
Axel glances at the telephone. There is full coverage, even though they’re out at sea. He realizes that the ship must have satellite transmission.
“No messages,” he says, and puts the phone back down.
“Thanks.”
Axel remains next to the table as Peter begins again to play Caprice no. 24. It’s much too slow, and more and more out of rhythm.
Peter has some talent and it’s easy to tell he’s practiced a great deal, but this piece is beyond him. Still, the sound of the Amati is so wonderful that Axel would have enjoyed listening even if a small child plucked the strings.
Peter plows through the music but he’s finally so lost he stops. He tries again. Axel decides he will try for the phone again and saunters to one side. He doesn’t have enough time as Peter hits a false note, stops playing, and turns back to Axel.
“This is very hard,” he exclaims. But he’s ready to try again.
He starts, but it’s still all wrong.
“It’s not working,” he says as he lowers the violin.
“Keep your third finger on the A string. It’s easier to reach-”
“Can’t you just show me?”
Axel looks at the phone on the table. A reflection from the sun sparkles outside and Axel turns toward the panoramic window. The sea has become remarkably calm and smooth. He can hear thudding sounds from the engine room, a constant noise he’s surprised to notice now.
Peter hands Axel the violin. Axel puts it to his shoulder, tightens the bow slightly, and then starts the piece from the very beginning. Its flowing, sorrowful introduction pours at high speed into the room. The Amati’s voice is not strong, but it is wonderfully soft and clear. Paganini’s music sings out, circling in higher and higher reaches as one melody chases another.
“Oh my God,” Peter whispers.
The voice changes to sound in a hissing prestissimo. It’s playfully beautiful and at the same time filled with difficult fingerings and quick jumps between octaves.
The music already lives in Axel’s mind. All he has to do is let it out. Not every note is perfect, but his fingers instinctively know the way and dance quickly over the fingerboard and the strings.
Vaguely he hears Raphael yelling something from the captain’s bridge and there’s a thud overhead that shakes the crystal chandelier. Axel continues to play-the quivering notes are like sparks of sunlight over the sea.
Steps come thudding down the staircase. When Axel sees Raphael with sweat pouring down his face and a bloody military knife in his hand, he stops playing
abruptly. The gray-haired bodyguard runs behind Raphael with his rifle up and ready. It’s a Belgian Fabrique Nationale SCAR.
110
Joona Linna is next to Pasi Rannikko and peering through a pair of binoculars. The first mate stands beside them. They all watch the enormous luxury yacht now dead in the water before them. It rocks slightly although the wind has died down. The flag of Italy droops. There’s no movement on the ship, as if all aboard are suspended in Sleeping Beauty’s hundred-year sleep. Whitecaps have disappeared from the surface of the Baltic Sea, and it is so calm the smooth water mirrors the light blue sky.
The cell phone rings in Joona’s pocket. He hands the binoculars to Niko and answers.
“We have a witness!” Saga is screaming on the other end. “The girl saw everything! Axel Riessen has definitely been kidnapped. The prosecutor has already issued a warrant-you can go on board and search for him!”
“Good work!” Joona says.
Pasi Rannikko looks at Joona expectantly as he puts his phone away.
“We have the authority to arrest Raphael Guidi,” Joona says. “He’s accused of kidnapping.”
“I’ll radio FNS Hanko,” Pasi Rannikko says, and rushes up to the communication radio on the bridge.
“They’ll be here in twenty minutes,” Niko says excitedly.
“Request for backup,” Pasi Rannikko says into the microphone. “We have an arrest warrant to board Raphael Guidi’s boat and take him in… Roger, that’s correct… Yes, but hurry! Top speed!”
Joona has the binoculars again and sweeps his gaze along the white stairs from their platform on the deck, past belowdecks, and then back up to the afterdeck with its closed umbrellas. He tries to get a glimpse through a set of overwide windows but they are too black. He follows the railing and then back up the next set of stairs onto the large terrace.
Shimmering hot air filters through vents on the roof of the captain’s bridge. Joona swings his binoculars back to the black windows and stops. He thought he saw movement behind the glass. Something white is hurrying along behind the panes. For a second it looks like a huge wing, bent feathers pressed against the glass.
The next moment, it appears to be cloth or white plastic.
Joona blinks to clear his vision and looks again to find himself staring into a face lifting its own binoculars.
The steel door to the captain’s bridge slams open, and a blond man runs out and jumps down the stairs to race across the foredeck.
These are the first people Joona has seen on the yacht.
The second man is dressed in black. He hurries to the helicopter pad and unfastens the lines around the helicopter’s base. He opens the door to the cockpit.
“They’ve listened in on our radio,” Joona says.
“We’ll change channels,” Pasi Rannikko calls back.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Joona says. “They’re not going to stay. They’re going to try to get away on the helicopter.”
He hands the binoculars to Niko.
