–
The halogen beam of the Mercedes’s headlights cut through the darkness, announcing Snap’s arrival almost a full minute before the car rolled up in front of the house.
Boy listened to the rummaging downstairs: shoes flipped off in the hall, briefcase dumped on the floor, a bit of food prepared in the kitchen, and then finally the ascent up the stairs.
Snap entered the bedroom with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other, closing the door behind him with his knee.
“How’s your day been, darling?” he said, placing his supper on the bedside table, then turned to the chair next to the bed and began to undress. “Mine wasn’t exactly sublime. I told Brage-Schmidt on the phone about René’s crazy behavior this morning, so now he’s in for it.” He laughed as he turned to look at her in his underpants, halfway into his pajama top. “What are you watching? Have you fallen into a trance?”
He smiled and gazed at her, head tilted slightly to the side in puzzlement over her lack of interest in his arrival.
“Are you angry? I said I wouldn’t be back until late. And why have you got the windows wide-open, it’s freezing in here,” he said, going round to the other side of the bed. He had just buttoned his pajamas when his eyes met Boy’s.
The shock sent him recoiling backward. Boy had never seen anyone so frightened.
“Mind you don’t fall,” Boy said. Snap sat down heavily at the foot of the bed, his mouth agape, lips quivering as his breathing went haywire.
“Who are you?” he stammered, then turned to look at his wife.
Another jolt shook his entire body.
A minute or two later, when the human wreck finally backed away from his wife’s corpse, he tried to look the black man in the eyes.
“Are you one of Brage-Schmidt’s boy soldiers? How come you speak Danish?” And when Boy didn’t answer, Snap began to tremble. “Who sent you? Not Brage-Schmidt, he’d never do a thing like that, why should he? He knows I can keep my mouth shut.”
Boy’s lips curled in a faint smile. Snap apparently found it provoking.
“What the hell are you smiling for? You can just tell me what you want. A million? Ten million? I can give you ten.”
Boy shook his head. “I only want your signature, then I’ll leave.”
Snap was bewildered. His entire being protested against that utterance. His arms fluttered and his head bobbed up and down.
A signature? His astonishment shone like a neon sign. The man had just killed his wife, and now all he wanted was a signature?
Boy produced his folded sheet of paper and placed it on the dresser in front of Teis Snap, the blank half facing up.
“Just sign here.” He pointed to the empty white of the paper.
“What’s on the other side? I won’t sign until I’ve seen it.”
Boy stood up calmly and adjusted his jacket. “Sign here or else you end up like your wife. I’ll count to ten. One, two, three, four”-he produced a ballpoint pen from his inside pocket and handed it to Snap-“five, six, seven…”
Snap took the pen.
“What did you do to her?” he stuttered, on the verge of breaking down in tears.
“Sign,” Boy replied, indicating the empty sheet of paper. And Snap signed. His hand trembled as he drew the pen unsteadily across the page, exactly as if he were signing his own suicide note.
“Thank you,” said Boy. “And now I want you to give me the Curaçao stocks. Then I’ll leave.”
“You said-”
“Give me the stocks. I know Lisa brought the certificates home with her in her suitcase. And now the suitcase is empty.”
“How do you know that? Brage-Schmidt is the only person who knew. Did he tell you? Is he behind this, the bastard?”
“Give me the shares and continue to live. Your wife broke her neck. She fell down the stairs. If that’s what you tell the police, they’ll believe you.”
Snap began to weep uncontrollably. It was not a good sign. People breaking down in situations like this meant you never knew if they were capable of making a rational decision. Right now, acting rationally meant fighting for one’s life.
“Give me the certificates. Where are they? I’ve been through the whole house. Is there a hidden safe somewhere?”
Snap shook his head. “What makes you think I can tell you where Lisa put them? How am I supposed to know?”
“Because if you don’t tell me right now, you will suffer. And believe me, I know how.”
He took a deep breath. “And my guarantee? How do I know you won’t…” And then he began to sob again.
“Because you know the power of money better than most. That’s how.”
Snap lifted his head and quickly wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. His professional persona had been challenged. Of course he knew the power of money. And just now the two of them were in the midst of negotiating.
“I want to speak to Brage-Schmidt,” he said.
Boy pulled his mobile from his pocket and pressed the number. “I’ll put the call through as soon as you tell me where the shares are. A little give and take, yes? He’s waiting for me to phone.”
Snap was livid now. The thought of having been stabbed in the back by his associate made him clench his fists until his knuckles showed white. For a moment it looked like he was about to lunge at the intruder, but that was fine with Boy. Ten broken fingers would probably make the man more cooperative.
“Where are the shares?” he asked again.
Snap jabbed a finger toward the dresser. “They’ve been right next to you the whole time, you son of a bitch.”
Boy drew the dresser’s floral curtain aside and exposed a drawer. He pulled it open, and there lay the share certificates, neatly bound together with a piece of wool.
At the same moment, Snap threw himself at Boy with a scream, fists pummeling.
It was the last thing he did.
–
When Boy pulled in to his usual parking space he sat for a while in the car, staring at the raindrops that shimmered as they dispersed on the windshield. These strangely gentle Danish spring showers were something he would think back on with sadness when the black rain clouds opened up in a downpour on the edge of the Rwenzori Mountains where he intended to settle.
Now there were but hours until he was on his way. The thought filled him with satisfaction. He’d got what he had come to Karrebæksminde for. The suicide note lay on the dresser and the shares were in the briefcase at his side. It was a perfect allocation.
He smiled as he picked up the briefcase and climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him, then entered Brage-Schmidt’s residence by the back door as usual.
Making sure as always not to be seen.
34
The first thing Rose did when she eventually turned up around mid-morning was to slap a parking ticket down on Carl’s desk.
“Ha-ha,” Assad laughed. “How can a person get a parking ticket when they don’t have a car, then? This is something only you could do, Rose.”
She gave a shrug.
“I found it in my bag about an hour ago when I was looking for my bus pass. I’ve no idea how it got there or how long I’ve had it.”
Carl hesitated before speaking. There was no getting around the fact that yesterday’s meltdown had done something to their relationship that was hard to just ignore.
“About yesterday, Rose… I’d like to say thanks.”
Total silence filled the room. It wasn’t that she appeared moved, more like she found that sort of comment wholly out of place at work.
“OK,” she said, and ran her hand through her hair a couple of times. It was disheveled enough already for Carl’s taste. “So you’re feeling better now, are you?”