The Dangerous Game (3 page)

The photographer Markus Sandberg was driving; she sat next to him in the passenger seat. There were two other people in the rental car: Maria, the make-up artist, and Hugo, the stylist, who were both going to work on the photo shoot, which was expected to last three days. They were quietly talking in the back seat and seemed to be completely absorbed in their conversation.

So much the better. That meant Jenny could enjoy the company of her companion in the front seat. As often as she dared, she let her eyes rest on Markus. She couldn’t believe how attractive he was, so mature, so worldly. He was one of the fashion industry’s most sought-after photographers and a favourite of the agencies. He’d travelled the globe with all the most famous models and stylists, working for the best magazines. He was nicely suntanned, with several small tattoos on his muscular arms and a silver bracelet on one lean wrist. He had a dark stubble on his cheeks, full lips, and intense, deep-blue eyes. His hair was thick and almost black, with no hint of thinning, even though he was close to forty. But that was hard to believe. Jenny thought he looked much younger. Maybe thirty at most. Markus was careful about maintaining his appearance. He worked out at the gym, shaved only enough to be fashionable, and spent a lot of time in front of the mirror styling his hair. ‘I’ve devoted my whole life to appearances,’ he’d cynically explained when she teased him about being so vain. ‘Both professionally and in my personal life. If I don’t take care of how I look, what would I take care of? It’s the only thing I know how to do – making myself and other people look our best. Beauty is my great passion in life.’

At first glance, the clothes he wore seemed casual and thrown together, as if everything he’d put on just happened to look right. A scarf wrapped around his neck, a pair of jeans faded in the proper places, a seemingly simple print shirt. But, on closer inspection, his clothing turned out to be from one of the foremost designer labels. He looked fabulous even with no clothes at all, she thought, longing for night-time, when they would share a bed. Markus had insisted on staying in one of the separate cabins that belonged to the hotel and were intended for guests who wanted to be left in peace. Personally, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about the arrangement. It didn’t sound especially appealing. Markus had told her that the cabins had been built at some distance from each other and about a kilometre from the hotel itself. They were barely visible because of the surrounding shrubbery and trees. They had no electricity or running water, with only paraffin lamps for light and wood stoves for heat. She had promised to sleep there with Markus. The one positive thing was that it would be easy for her to slip out, spend the night in the cabin, and then return to her room in the hotel early in the morning without being seen.

So far, their relationship was a secret. She wondered how long it would be before they could show their love openly. Markus was a bachelor, and he had no children. When the other models talked about him, they always claimed that he’d stay single for ever. They also pathetically agreed that he was completely unreliable. In the past, he’d photographed girls for various men’s magazines, and he’d developed a reputation for constantly changing girlfriends. At first, Jenny had been bothered by the fact that he’d taken nude photographs, but now she no longer cared. Everybody had to start somewhere, after all. Although she did try to avoid looking at his old photos of those girls with the big boobs. The models looked like they were eager to have sex with the photographer at any moment. She’d also felt a bit shy in the beginning, since he was so used to seeing such shapely women naked. She was embarrassed, and that made it hard for her to relax when she was with him. But he’d managed to convince her that none of that mattered; it belonged to his past, and he wasn’t proud of that work. Plus, she was more beautiful than any other woman. So she had decided to ignore all the spiteful gossip about Markus. Including the fact that he had never had a serious relationship with any woman.

She studied his handsome profile. Maybe it was simply because he’d never met the right person. In her mind, Jenny pictured the two of them sitting together on the veranda of a huge luxury hotel near the sea with several little children playing around them. What if she was the one to finally snare him? She laughed at the thought.

‘What’s so funny?’

Markus’s eyes were smiling behind his sunglasses. A dimple appeared in his unshaven cheek.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing at all.’

She turned to look out of the window again. It was wonderful to come out here after the hectic fashion week in Stockholm. What a contrast to the noise of the big city. Right now, they were passing the abandoned limestone quarry where water had formed lakes in the huge pits. Far below, she could see the hotel, which looked so small and insignificant from this distance. The Hotel Fabriken had been built on the grounds of a former limestone factory. It stood in the middle of an expansive gravel-covered lot, surrounded by pyramid-like heaps of crushed limestone. A few factory buildings remained, reminding visitors of the industrial operations that had once been carried out on the property. Still present were an old stone crusher, a warehouse and the solidly constructed wharf that stretched out into the water, from which ships loaded with limestone had headed out to sea in the old days. In the middle of everything stood a caravan shaped like an egg, with shiny aluminium panelling. It looked out of place, like some sort of vessel that had just landed from outer space. She wondered if it was available for hotel guests.

An efficiently run business had operated on this site into the early seventies. After that, the military had largely taken over the land, and for the next twenty years or so Furillen had been a restricted area of Gotland, and foreigners were not permitted access. By now, most of the barbed wire had been removed, and the old radar stations remained as memorials to a bygone era.

When she was a child, Jenny had sometimes come out to the peninsula with her parents. They would take hikes in the barren landscape, walk along the deserted shoreline, or pick strawberries in the woods. Her mother knew a secret place where they could always find plenty of berries.

Now Jenny had returned for a completely different purpose. Who would have believed that the next time she set foot on the peninsula it would be as a celebrated fashion model?

A year ago, she’d been discovered by a scout from one of the biggest modelling agencies in Stockholm. She’d gone to the city with her family, and the scout had stopped her on the street to ask if she’d be willing to pose for some fashion photos. Feeling both surprised and flattered, she’d gone with him to the agency office and had auditioned during a photo shoot that very afternoon. The next day, the scout had phoned to invite Jenny back to the agency along with her parents, since at the time she was under eighteen. Her mother and father were impressed by the agency and its intentions, so they gave their permission, and with that the matter was settled.

Jenny quickly became popular, and it wasn’t long before her diary was fully booked. Since the modelling was going so well, she quit school after Christmas and started working full time. She travelled to Milan, Paris and New York, each photo session more successful than the last. Everyone seemed to appreciate her unique look. She was soon a well-known Swedish name within the international fashion world. And after being photographed for the cover of the Italian edition of
Vogue
, which was the most prestigious magazine of all, she became one of Europe’s top models. The money poured in, and the amounts were greater than she could have ever imagined.

Now she was sitting here in this car, on her way to an exclusive photo shoot with one of Sweden’s foremost photographers. Not to mention that she was in a romantic relationship with him. Markus had stressed that they needed to be cautious at first. It was a sensitive matter, since he’d recently broken up with a model from the same agency, and she seemed to be having a hard time accepting the fact that she needed to let him go. Diana would sometimes phone in the middle of the night, and he would have long-drawn-out conversations with her. So things weren’t exactly without complications at the moment. Markus thought that if they made their romance public, Diana, who was very temperamental, might hit the roof. It was better to wait.

Now the road was heading down a steep slope. Again Jenny turned to look at Markus. Of course she could be patient.

‘
I CAN’T BELIEVE
it’s that late!’

Karin Jacobsson threw off the blanket and climbed out of the big double bed. She was naked, and her short dark hair stuck out in all directions.

‘What?’

Her companion sat up, looking startled. He squinted at the glare when she turned on the ceiling light.

‘I can’t understand how I could have overslept. That never happens!’

Karin kept on grumbling as she dashed for the bathroom. He couldn’t help casting an admiring glance at her lean, supple body before the door closed behind her.

‘Could you make some coffee?’ she called. ‘I’ve got to have a cup or I’ll die.’

The next second he heard the shower go on. How could anybody move so fast? She was like a little ferret, he thought as he plodded off to the kitchen. An extremely sexy ferret.

Five minutes later they were sitting across from each other in Janne Widén’s big, bright kitchen in Terra Nova, a residential neighbourhood outside Visby. It was on this very street that they’d first met, six months earlier.

Karin tapped in Knutas’s number on her mobile. As usual, he answered at once.

‘Listen, I’ve overslept,’ she said. ‘Yes, really. No, but it’s true. Once in a while even I have to … Okay, okay, never mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Oh, is that right? So there’s no hurry? Not really, but … So I can take my time? That’s great. See you later, then. Okay? I’ll get there when I get there. What? No, nothing special … Just a little tired. Mmm. No, it’s no problem.’

She ended the conversation and looked at her new lover who was sitting across the table. She smiled, showing the gap between her two front teeth. When she spoke the tone of her voice had completely changed.

‘So. The meeting with the county police commissioner was cancelled. I’ve got nothing on my schedule until lunchtime.’

‘What luck! And all I have to do is stay here and pack.’

‘What time does your plane leave?’

‘Six o’clock. Then I change planes in Stockholm. And that plane leaves at eight thirty tonight.’

‘I can drive you to the airport.’

Janne was going to Spain for a week with one of Sweden’s most famous pop singers to take some PR photos. He poured more coffee into Karin’s cup.

‘He sure asks a lot of questions, by the way. Your boss, I mean.’

‘Oh, he was just surprised. He and I always used to be the first ones to arrive at the station in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever overslept before. Not once in the fifteen years I’ve been on the force.’

‘That’s incredible! You’re so bloody disciplined. I have to say that it’s liberating to know that even you can muck things up once in a while, my little Miss Perfect.’

‘Cut it out,’ she said, smiling. ‘Just because I like things to be neat and tidy. And, besides, I have to set a good example.’

Karin Jacobsson was the assistant superintendent of the criminal police in Visby and the closest colleague of Detective Superintendent Anders Knutas. They were good friends and had worked together for many years, but they almost never socialized outside working hours.

The autumn had been relatively calm, with no major incidents; everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly. To be honest, Karin had been doing her job more or less on autopilot. For the first time in ages she’d met a man with whom she felt comfortable, and now she’d even fallen in love with him. So she wanted to spend as much time with Janne as possible. As if that wasn’t enough, she’d also taken steps to renew contact with her daughter, Hanna, whom she’d given up at birth for adoption. And their relationship had its complications.

When she’d eaten the last bite of toast, Janne stood up. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he picked her up and carried her back into the bedroom.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, laughing.

‘It’s only nine o’clock. We need to make the most of the time before I leave. And you said you don’t have anything until lunch, right?’

THE INTERIOR OF
the hotel was designed in an austere, modernist style that presented a stunning contrast to the details remaining from its factory days. They entered a lobby with a gleaming stone floor and a ten-metre-high ceiling. A lovely blonde woman standing behind a small counter built into the wall welcomed them and handed out the room keys. Then they each went off in a different direction. Markus was going to scout photo locations with Sebastian, the art director. Jenny barely had time to drop her things in her room before she had to head to make-up. Every minute counted.

Two hours later, she was ready for the photo shoot, for which she would model ten different outfits. Markus was waiting for her in the main lounge, where he would take the first pictures. As luck would have it, at the moment there were no other guests staying at the hotel, so they could work in peace.

It was a large grey room that seemed to exude quiet harmony. The furniture consisted of severe-looking steel-framed armchairs upholstered in a leaden-grey woollen fabric, low concrete tables, stainless-steel lamps, and white leather sofas. Black curtains, white limestone walls. A beautiful shimmer of light flooded the room from one wall that was covered from floor to ceiling with little glass cubes. Outdoors, a few scraggly pine trees were visible on the rocky shore, and beyond was the sea – dark, foaming, and at the moment inhospitable. Along the walls of the room stood heavy log benches with sheepskins in various hues of grey. In one corner of the bright room a black bicycle had been parked; in another stood a big fan on wheels. A large TV was fastened to the wall. From the ceiling hung an overhead crane with long chains, recalling a time when the building had housed a factory.