“Fifteen minutes to backup,” Pasi Rannikko says tensely.
“Too late,” Joona states swiftly.
“Someone’s already in the helicopter,” Niko calls out.
“Raphael knows we have his arrest warrant and can come aboard,” Joona says.
“So do we board the ship right away?” asks Niko.
“That’s what we’ll have to do,” Joona says, giving him a quick glance.
Niko snaps a magazine into an automatic rifle that is as black as dirty oil. It’s a short-barreled Heckler amp; Koch 416.
Pasi Rannikko takes his own gun from his holster and hands it to Joona.
“Thanks,” Joona says as he quickly checks the ammunition and looks the gun over. It’s an M9A1 semiautomatic. He recognizes it as similar to the M9 used in the Gulf War, but the magazine is slightly different and there’s a fastener for a lamp and a laser scope.
Without speaking again, Pasi Rannikko aims his ship toward the aft bridge of the yacht, which is just above the waterline. As they near it, the yacht seems to rise higher and higher, almost like an apartment building. Pasi puts his engine into reverse to slow, whipping up the wake, and Niko throws fenders over the side. The hulls bang against each other and sparks fly.
Joona climbs aboard even as the boats veer away from each other. Water churns up between them. Niko jumps and Joona catches his hand; his automatic rifle bangs against the railing. They run together toward the stairs, force their way past the debris of scattered wicker chairs and old wine boxes, and race up.
Niko turns for a second to wave at Pasi Rannikko, who is roaring away from the yacht.
111
Raphael Guidi is on the bridge with his bodyguard, the one with gray hair and glasses. The navigator looks at them both with such fright as he nervously rubs his hand across his stomach over and over.
“What’s going on?” demands Raphael.
“I ordered the helicopter to get ready,” the navigator quavers. “I thought-”
“Where’s that damned police boat?”
“There,” he says pointing aft.
Close under the yacht’s afterdeck, beyond the swimming pool and the winches for the lifeboats, the gray naval boat is bumping close and churning up a wake as it reverses its engines. “The radio call… what did they say exactly?” Raphael demands.
“They said they didn’t have much time. They called for backup. They said they had an arrest warrant.”
“How can they!” Raphael howls and looks around.
Down on the helicopter pad they can see the pitot already in the cockpit. The rotors have just begun to move. And they can hear Paganini’s Caprice no. 24 being played in the dining room beneath them.
“Their backup is coming,” the navigator says, and points to a spot on the radar.
“I see. How much time do we have?” Raphael asks.
“They’re moving at about thirty-three knots, so… ten minutes?”
“No danger,” says the bodyguard, glancing at the helicopter. “We can get you and Peter out of here. Only three minutes until-”
The blond bodyguard runs onto the bridge. He’s shouting, and his face is white.
“Someone’s on board! Someone’s on the ship!” he yells.
“How many?” The gray-haired man is now totally alert.
“I only saw one. He has an automatic rifle. No special equipment.”
“Go stop him.”
“Give me a knife!” demands Raphael.
The guard pulls out a knife with a channeled gray blade. Raphael takes it and whirls on the navigator. His eyes tighten.
“Did you or did you not tell me they would wait for backup?” he screams. “You told me they would wait!”
“That’s what they said-”
“Then what are they doing here? They have nothing on me!” Raphael says. “They have absolutely nothing!”
The navigator steps back as he shakes his head. Raphael barges closer.
“Why the hell are they here if they have nothing on me?” Raphael keeps screaming. “There’s nothing-”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” the navigator screams. “I can only tell you what I heard-”
“What did you tell them?”
“Tell them? Me? I don’t understand-”
“Don’t mess with me! Just tell me what the fuck you told them!”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Coming from you, that’s strange… most unusual, very strange indeed. Don’t you think so?”
“I only listened in as I was told to, I didn’t-”
“Why don’t you confess!” Raphael roars as he leaps toward the navigator and pushes the knife deep into his belly.
There is little resistance as the knife slides through his shirt, his fat, and into his intestines. Blood is channeled past the knife and spatters on Raphael’s hand and arm and even onto his gym clothes. A confused expression comes over the navigator’s face as he tries to step backward to get away from the knife, but Raphael looks deep into his eyes.
The beautiful music still filters up from the dining room. Unbelievably rapid notes dance up and down the scale.
“It could be Axel Riessen,” the gray-haired bodyguard says abruptly. “Maybe he was bugged… maybe he’s in contact with the police…”
Raphael jerks the knife back out of the navigator’s body and throws himself down the stairs.
The navigator stands still, holding his stomach as blood drops onto his black shoes. He tries to walk, but slides to the ground instead and lies there, staring mutely at the ceiling.
Raphael’s bodyguard is running behind him, holding his rifle ready to fire as they both run down the carpeted stairs.
Axel stops playing when Raphael comes roaring in, pointing to him with the bloody knife.
“You traitor!” he roars. “You betrayed me!”
The bodyguard suddenly fires his rifle at the window, the bullets slamming through while the brass casings clatter down the stairs.
Lars Kepler
The Nightmare
112 automatic fire
Joona and Niko run up the winding stairs, past the lower deck and to the huge afterdeck. The silent ocean is like an infinite glass plate spreading in all directions. Oddly, they hear violin music. Joona tries to see what’s beyond the glass doors, but he can make out only vague shapes behind the mirrored surface. He can see only part of the dining room, but no people. The music continues feverishly. It’s as distant as a dream, sound dampened by the doors.
They pause for a few seconds and then they dash past an open area with a dump heap for a swimming pool. Silently, they run across the sunken terrace and over to the metal stairs.
Footsteps sound overhead and Niko points to the stairs. They press their bodies against the wall.
The light, playful notes are clearer now. The violinist’s work is extraordinary. Joona peeks into the enormous dining room and sees the odd arrangement of office equipment on the impressive table. He still can see no people;
