Chapter Eighteen
M?RTEN WAS DRIVING like a maniac, but he didn’t care. He was in his personal vehicle, which had no lights or sirens, and he was weaving through the traffic and speeding up the motorway as if the devil was on his tail. Which he very well could be.
His phone buzzed in its cradle on the dashboard, and M?rten stabbed a finger on the answer button. It was Jacob. “I reckon I might have a clue,” M?rten said without waiting for Jacob’s greeting. “I’m heading over to check it out now.”
“Where? Are you alone?”
“I’m driving toward a lake called L?ngn?stj?rn, about half an hour out of town.
And yes, I’m alone. Rydberg didn’t think my lead was strong enough to follow up.
” M?rten couldn’t hide his scathing tone.
“He’s still got a forensic team at my place, as well as people canvassing the area to see if anyone saw anything.
And he’s tasked Aurora and Tuckberg with looking into CCTV footage.
But it’s all happening too slowly, Jacob. ”
It’d been five hours since M?rten had returned home to find Summer missing.
Rydberg had been quick to set up a crime scene and a search area; M?rten couldn’t fault him on that.
And Tuckberg was good at his job; if there was anything to find on any of the cameras, he or Aurora would find it.
But it’d take time. And time was M?rten’s worst enemy.
He couldn’t just stand around and do nothing.
“I realize you’re anxious.” Jacob’s tone was soft. “But you shouldn’t go without backup.”
“I had no choice,” M?rten barked. “You should understand that, of all people.” M?rten was referring to the way Jacob had dropped everything when Nikki had been in trouble, going against explicit orders and boarding a plane to America just to protect her.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jacob sighed. “So, does this have something to do with Summer’s phone call? Where did you get your intel? Why does Rydberg think it’s not worth sending a team?”
M?rten had phoned Jacob soon after Summer had been cut-off mid-sentence.
Of course he’d tried to get her back. He’d rung and re-rung that number, desperate to hear her voice.
What’d happened to her? Had she just run out of reception?
Or had something more sinister befallen her?
He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
The phone she was calling from turned out to be a burner, so there was no way anyone at HQ could pinpoint its location.
It was so frustrating that he was practically yelling when Jacob answered.
Jacob had calmed him down, telling him it was a good thing she’d called; at least they knew she was still alive.
He then told M?rten that he was jumping on the next plane to Stockholm; he thought he could be of more help on the ground in Sweden.
M?rten didn’t ask if he had the FBI’s permission, because Jacob often did things whether or not he had permission, and M?rten wouldn’t have been able to stop him anyway.
A tiny part of M?rten was also relieved; having his friend and ex-partner here to help in the search would make him feel a little easier.
“It was something you said that got me thinking,” M?rten replied.
“About your use of local knowledge, local geography, local connections might be beneficial in the search, which was why you wanted to come.” M?rten heard an intake of breath on the other end of the phone, as if Jacob was about to comment, but he didn’t wait for his answer.
“I called your friend, Petar, over in Jokkmokk. I asked if he could use his Sámi connections to pinpoint a particular spot from the hints Summer gave me.” Those few precious moments he’d talked to Summer on the phone kept replaying in his mind over and over. He desperately hoped he was right.
“Okay,” Jacob replied slowly. “And Petar came back with a possibility?” There was no censure in Jacob’s tone. And while M?rten hoped he hadn’t stretched the friendship too far by contacting Petar without first consulting Jacob, he knew his ex-partner would’ve done the same thing.
M?rten had met Petar once or twice, had even stayed at his house when they’d spent a weekend out hunting moose and then got too drunk to drive home.
M?rten also knew that although Petar wasn’t a police officer, he’d be discreet.
He knew not to talk about anything Jacob or M?rten discussed with him about a case.
So, while Petar had sounded surprised to hear M?rten on the other end of the phone, he’d quickly agreed to help.
“Yes. I told him about the whooping swans flying overhead, and that she was somewhere near a small lake, perhaps even being held on an old abandoned farm. He’d said to leave it with him for a bit, and he’d ring around some people who might know something.
He got back to me an hour ago with the name of this Lake L?ngn?stj?rn.
Supposedly it’s one of the main areas where the swans have a nesting site outside of Lule?. ”
“Pardon the pun, but are you sure he didn’t send you on a wild goose chase?” Jacob asked. “There could be plenty of whooping swan nesting sites nearby.”
“Yes, I know.” M?rten was almost stumbling over his words as his excitement grew.
“But he also said that a rumor has been passing around the Sámi grapevine of someone squatting on the old Nilsson farm, which has been empty for over a decade. Of lights shining in windows late at night and of a car parked at the back of the house over the past few days. The report came from one of your reindeer herders, who’s been camping near the lake for the last week with his small herd. ”
M?rten almost held his breath as he waited for Jacob’s answer. If he didn’t think there was merit in the information, M?rten would start second-guessing himself.
“Right,” Jacob said, taking time to digest the news.
Because of his Sámi heritage, Jacob would know even better than M?rten that many of the native Laplanders still lived a semi-nomadic lifestyle.
They’d been given free rein to graze their reindeer without restriction across state-owned as well as privately owned land.
And their social network was extra-strong to keep the nomadic community linked.
Rydberg had scoffed at the idea M?rten would put faith in the rumor mill of the native people.
That he was grasping at straws, jumping at shadows, wanting to find clues where there were none.
Like most Swedish city-born people, he had a distinct lack of understanding of the Sámi’s culture and how fiercely protective they were of their heritage.
But through spending time with Jacob and his family, M?rten had come to value their close connection with the country.
They understood the rivers and the lakes, the mountains and the grasslands better than anybody else.
And they would see small nuances where the metropolitan cops might not.
He desperately hoped Jacob would read between the lines and agree with his choice to take matters into his own hands.
“It’s a bit of a stretch,” Jacob mused. “But I can see why you want to follow it up. I probably would too,” he added.
M?rten let out a relieved breath. He would’ve gone anyway, even if Jacob had said it was a bad idea, but now he had renewed faith.
“But I still think you should talk Rydberg into sending someone out with you,” Jacob continued.
Aurora would’ve jumped at the chance to come with him if he’d asked.
But he didn’t want to stick around for the extra twenty minutes it’d take for her to arrive at his cottage, so he’d gone by himself.
“If I find anything, I’ll call it in,” M?rten hedged.
They both knew that wasn’t an ideal situation, as help would be half an hour or more away.
And they both knew he wouldn’t wait for backup before he went in. Especially if Summer was in trouble.
“Just promise you won’t do anything stupid,” Jacob said with a sigh.
M?rten ignored him, saying instead, “Tell me you’ve got some good news.
You called me, remember?” The FBI had access to resources that the Swedish police did not.
He was hoping by some miracle that Jacob’s team might be about to crack the whole EIC terrorist group wide open.
M?rten anticipated that if his hunch was correct, he was on track to finding and arresting Tyrone, but if the FBI had cornered other members of the group, then they could be interrogating them right now, getting answers and information as to Tyrone’s plans.
Even where he was holding Summer if M?rten’s hunch was all wrong.
“Oh, ah…” Jacob hesitated, and M?rten tensed. “That’s the reason I was phoning. We’ve just taken a good look at the CCTV footage, and it’s… Ah…not actually Tyrone who flew to Sweden.”
What the fuck? M?rten slowed his car and then pulled over onto the edge of the road. This wasn’t a conversation he should have while he was driving. So many questions crowded his mind.
“How can you be sure?” he insisted.
“Because the man who boarded the plane under Tyrone’s name was white,” Jacob replied simply.
“Holy fuck,” M?rten swore. Anger and confusion warred in his chest. If it wasn’t Tyrone, who was it?
“How could you have let this slip through the cracks?” he demanded. What a monumental stuff up. But then, understanding of Tyrone’s rationale flooded in. “A white guy would’ve been less obvious entering Sweden; that’s why Tyrone chose another one of his lackeys, right?”
“Exactly,” Jacob said, already way ahead of M?rten. “It took us a while to find this guy on the camera footage, because of course we were looking for a Black man. Now we’ve pinpointed him, we think he’s one of the two other integral members of the EIC.”
That’d make sense, M?rten thought, but didn’t interrupt. Maybe he was the other guy in Summer’s photos.