Dancing With Mortality Read online

  The train arrived on time and they had five minutes to say their goodbyes. The two women hugged each other and then Ingrid kissed Harry on both cheeks, telling him to come back any time. Sabine gave Michael a long embrace and then stepped back and gave him a longer look as though she was burning him into her memory.

  ‘Before you go reindeer herding, you are to ring me and let me know everything is ok, yes? If I haven’t heard anything from you in three days from now I’m coming back.’

  ‘I will, don’t worry,’ he replied. ‘And when the story comes out in the Irish Times you’ll be the first to know. Now go.’

  He turned to Harry. ‘Thank you for coming, Harry. I’m sorry about the circumstances that brought you here. I’m glad we met though.’ The two men shook hands.

  Then they were on the train and it was pulling away, and all they could see through the frosted windows were two blurry figures waving in the snow.

  Chapter 17

  They had separate sleeping compartments for the return trip. After agreeing to meet for dinner, Harry found his compartment and slept for an hour. He woke and showered and then, feeling warmer and cleaner, he sat cross-legged on the fold down bed and stared at the blackness rushing past the window.

  He checked his phone again for messages but there were none, and he turned it off, wondering if the act of turning it on for even a short time was enough to pinpoint his location, and if so whether Jack Hudson was checking on him. If they now knew where Michael was they would certainly wonder what Harry Ellis was doing there too. He groaned inwardly at his own stupidity; he should just have left the bloody thing off. And he wondered what would happen when SIS found Michael. Would they involve the Swedish authorities and have him arrested, or did they have something more permanent in mind?

  There was a knock at the door, and he let Sabine in.

  ‘Shall we go to the dining car?’ she asked.

  ‘Sure, sit with me for a minute first.’

  They sat together on the bed. She looked at him expectantly. ‘What is it, Harry?’

  ‘How was it, seeing him again?’

  ‘It was nice.’ She paused. ‘It’s like he’s just the same, but of course we’re all older now and we aren’t the same people anymore. The anger has gone, though, I noticed that. Why do you ask?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘Curious I guess. I like him, never thought I’d say that of an ex-terrorist.’

  ‘He never considered himself a terrorist.’

  ‘Let’s not get bogged down in semantics. I should have asked him what his politics were these days.’ He laughed. ‘I’m sure he’s still staunch Republican though.’

  Sabine smiled. ‘Yes, but without the sub-machine guns. Or maybe he just doesn’t think about it now.’

  Harry got up. ‘Come on, let’s eat.’

  The dining car was filling up fast, but they got a small table to themselves. They decided on reindeer with mashed potatoes and lingonberry chutney with half a bottle of house red, and nibbled peanuts while they waited.

  ‘It’ll be morning when we get back to Stockholm,’ said Harry. ‘Still want to play at that club in the evening?’

  ‘I suppose we need to get back to Heidelberg as quickly as possible. You’re running out of holiday aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but I think I can extend my time off. Let’s stay in Stockholm tomorrow night then I’ll call the office when we get to Copenhagen.’

  ‘I won’t be bothered if I don’t play the club. There’s no guarantee of being able to fit in with whoever is there anyway. I’m just speculating really.’

  ‘No, let’s stay over. Ring Michael tomorrow night, I want to make sure he got the press release finalised before we leave Sweden.’

  ‘Ok, but what will we do all day tomorrow?’

  He grinned. ‘We’ll be tourists of course. You can get out your travel guide after dinner and work out our itinerary.’

  ‘Is that so? In that case you’re buying dinner somewhere expensive tomorrow night. I’ll list if for you so there will be no mistake. Deal?’

  He nodded. ‘Deal.’

  Stockholm seemed almost warm after the sub-zero temperatures in Kiruna. Once their luggage was back in the car they walked to Gamla Stan, the original medieval city centre. There they found churches and museums to saunter through, and after a break for lunch the itinerary moved on to the Royal Palace with its endless richly decorated reception rooms and Royal Armoury. By mid-afternoon Harry was pleading culture fatigue and was more interested in finding somewhere to stay for the night. They tried three hotels in the area before striking lucky and then it was back to the car to retrieve their cases.

  There were no adjoining rooms this time, they were separated by the length of a corridor. As they parted company, Sabine said she’d meet him again in an hour, and then he could take her to her chosen restaurant. In the meantime she would ring Michael for an update. After a shower, Harry changed into some fresh clothes and channel surfed the TV, searching unsuccessfully for something in English. He settled instead for reading several of the many pamphlets on the attractions of Stockholm that had been thoughtfully left for him by the management.

  ‘We missed the Vasa Museum,’ he said, when Sabine arrived.

  ‘Show me.’ She took the pamphlet and glanced at it. ‘I’m sure it’s very nice, but you said you’d had enough for one day.’

  ‘Yes, I did, I’m kidding you. Did you reach Michael?’

  ‘Yes, and the story goes to print in three days at most. They are leaving Kiruna tomorrow morning for at least a week, he said.’

  ‘Good. I hope this story has the desired impact. We’ll just have to wait and see.’

  The restaurant Sabine had picked was expensive even by Scandinavian standards, but she wasn’t drinking prior to playing, and Harry restricted himself to one glass of wine. By the time they’d collected the saxophone and walked to the club it was 10pm. Inside it was relatively quiet, and although there was a trio consisting of piano, bass, and drums performing, the mood of the audience was one of distraction. The music wasn’t grabbing them, not just yet anyway. It wasn’t grabbing Sabine either.

  ‘This is a little too traditional for my taste,’ she said. ‘I won’t ask them if I can sit in. Let’s have a drink and see if it improves.’

  They stayed for an hour and she didn’t hear anything to change her mind. ‘We picked the wrong night, that’s all,’ she said as they made their way back to the hotel. ‘And to be honest I don’t feel much like playing tonight anyway.’

  That surprised him. ‘Why should you not want to play?’

  ‘I don’t know, Harry, for me it’s most unusual. Maybe I’m just tired.’

  The next evening they were back in the same hotel in Vesterbro. The receptionist was the same too.

  ‘Ah,’ he exclaimed. ‘The adjoining roommates. Same again?’

  Sabine knocked very loudly before coming into his room this time.

  ‘I didn’t want to interrupt,’ she said half in jest.

  ‘I’ve left the phone off,’ he replied. ‘I’ll explain everything to Sophie when I get back.’

  Now that it was all done he felt an impatience to be back in London. Since their departure from Heidelberg his existence had assumed an air of increasing unreality, a bubble of the surreal which was now deflating like a tyre with a slow puncture. He was feeling flat and it didn’t help that he had no idea what would happen once Michael’s story got out. Maybe nothing. He tried to snap out of it.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk and find somewhere to eat. It’s an interesting neighbourhood around here, the people are quite exotic.’

  Sabine was momentarily puzzled. ‘Exotic? Oh, you mean the people on the corners in their tight skirts.’ She laughed. ‘Shall I enquire about price for you, Harry?’

  He grinned back. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’ll do it myself.’

  It was too late to call the office and extend his break, so he made a mental note to do that on the drive back tomorrow, and they we
nt out into the buzzing Vesterbro evening. She put her arm through his and smiled her mischievous smile, and he felt good. They ate fish and chips and drank beer in a crowded café, which appeared to have been taken over by good-natured Danish Hell’s Angels, then on the way back they tried to figure out which tight-skirted lady would be the most expensive. The criteria were less than scientific, length of leg and brunettes versus blondes were the vital factors. They were still undecided when they got back to the hotel and went into the bar for a nightcap.

  ‘Will you drive to the ferry, Harry? Then I’ll do the Autobahn.’

  ‘Yes, no problem.’

  ‘Thanks. Would you believe I’m still hungry? I’m just going to the bar to see if they have any peanuts.’

  Less than ten seconds later he heard her shout. ‘Harry, quick!’

  He rushed over to the bar. She was staring at the TV mounted on the wall. ‘It was Michael,’ she almost sobbed, ‘his picture…’

  A police official was talking to the camera. In the background he could see the flashing red lights of what looked like an ambulance. Then the camera panned across to the deep red painted house with the white verandah, and he frantically gestured at the barman to join them.

  ‘Can you translate what’s going on for me?’

  The barman, who was a young man in his twenties, gave Harry a curious look and then turned to the screen. Michael’s face appeared once more and then after another half minute of commentary it was over.

  ‘That was in Kiruna in Sweden, last evening,’ the barman began. ‘You know Kiruna?’

  Harry nodded furiously. Sabine clung to his arm, and he could feel her nails digging in to him.

  ‘The policeman said that the man you saw in the picture was shot dead late last night by someone when he answered the door. His wife is unharmed.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ breathed Harry. ‘And this bastard just walked away no doubt.’

  ‘No, this is the amazing thing.’ The young man seemed slightly in awe. ‘When he went into the house she threw a javelin from the top of the stairs. Straight through his chest but he’s still alive! They took him to Kiruna hospital. They had to trim the javelin first to get him into the ambulance.’ He almost laughed until he saw Harry’s face.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Harry. ‘Come on, Sabine, upstairs.’

  He had to almost drag her through the reception area, she was clinging to him and stumbling with the shock and crying almost soundlessly. In the end, he picked her up and carried her into the elevator and kept her that way while they went up, then the door opened and he got down the corridor to his room.

  He put her down on the bed but she refused to let go of him, so he lay down next to her, and she buried her face in his neck. He could feel the heat of her tears on him and he put his arms round her, pulling her close. He held her like that for he didn’t know how long, until the tears subsided and his heart rate returned to something close to normal.

  ‘Don’t let go of me.’ Her voice was toneless and far away.

  ‘I won’t.’ He tried to think rationally. Michael was dead; it must have been the phone call to Ireland that led them to him. They hadn’t succeeded in silencing him, the story was out there and they would be helpless to prevent it running, they knew nothing about it. But Michael couldn’t substantiate any of it personally now. Would that matter? And the man they’d sent to do the job had bungled it. If he was questioned by Swedish police, would he embarrass SIS with his answers?

  If they even suspected Harry and Sabine of being in Kiruna that could have unpleasant consequences. The conversation he’d had with Michael about the night of Natalie’s death flashed through his mind. Had he been the ‘sacrificial lamb’ that night? He couldn’t understand the callousness required to set him up like that, but it made perfect sense if you were a callous bastard like Litchfield, and given what he knew now it was the only logical explanation. He’d been used as a pawn, both then and now. He wondered if Jack Hudson had been in on the decision, and assumed he must have been. These people are so cold-blooded they won’t mind sacrificing me a second time, he thought.

  He prised Sabine’s arms from around his neck and gently lay her back on the bed. She looked blankly at the ceiling. ‘I loved him, Harry.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And Ingrid, what must she be feeling? We should go back.’

  ‘No, that’s exactly what we mustn’t do. Look at me.’ She turned her head slightly and they locked eyes. ‘We need to get you back to Germany as soon as possible. Heidelberg is probably the safest place for you now. Do you understand?’

  ‘How can you be so calm about this?’

  ‘I don’t feel calm. I think we should assume that SIS knows we’ve been in Kiruna talking to Michael. At the moment I don’t know what that means for us, but I just want you back in your own country.’

  She nodded, her eyes still on his. ‘Sure.’

  ‘It’s late. Go next door and have a shower. We’re leaving early. Do you want to sleep with me tonight? I don’t want you alone even if you are next door.’

  ‘Yes, I don’t want to be alone.’

  ‘Ok, go and shower. I’ll bring your things in here.’

  He gave her five minutes to get into the shower then transferred everything to his room. He put the ‘do not disturb’ sign outside her door and fixed the chain on the inside. Then he went to his own bathroom and took a shower. As the water cascaded over him, he thought of Ingrid and felt a surge of vicious satisfaction at the image of her impaling the man they’d sent to kill her husband.

  Sabine was in bed when he came out of the bathroom. He went over to the adjoining door and made sure it was locked, and gave his own entrance door the same treatment he’d given hers. He rang down to reception and asked for a wake up call at 6am and then he joined her.

  ‘Try to sleep,’ he said, turning off the lights.

  ‘I want you to hold me.’

  She cried softly for a while and he stroked her back through her t-shirt as she lay with her head on his chest. He found the action strangely calming and thought she did too as he felt her breathing gradually deepen into sleep. He was still stroking her back at intervals and staring at the ceiling an hour later, but soon after that his racing mind decelerated, called time, and let him drift into a dreamless slumber.

  They had no appetite for breakfast the following morning and could stomach only coffee, and by 7am they were on the road. It was late afternoon when they arrived back at Panorama Strasse. Sabine had spent the first part of the journey to the ferry silently staring out the window, and Harry was too preoccupied dealing with the shock he’d suppressed the previous evening to make a sensible attempt at conversation. When they swopped the driving duties near Hamburg he felt edgy and realised he was becoming paranoid. He was checking the occupants of every car that overtook them and turning around at frequent intervals to see what was behind. Sabine caught the tension in him and when he did try to talk she snapped at him in irritation. As a consequence they both arrived feeling exhausted.

  ‘I’ll see what’s in the fridge,’ she said once the car was unloaded and they were back inside the flat.

  ‘Do you have anything to drink?’

  She looked at him for a second, but made no comment. ‘Wait,’ she said.

  She brought him a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. ‘I’m going to cook. Open that for me please.’ She went back into the kitchen and a minute later he could hear the sound of vegetables being chopped. He opened the bottle then joined her. She gestured at the two wine glasses she had ready on the worktop, and he poured.

  ‘You need to relax, Harry, you’re making me nervous.’

  ‘Yes, I know, sorry.’ He took a large sip of wine. ‘Damn, I forgot to call the office. Oh, the hell with it.’ He topped up his glass. ‘Can I put some music on?’

  ‘Help yourself.’

  He took the bottle with him and, after a cursory look through the CDs, settled for Miles Davis. He retreated to the sofa and let the mu
sic and the wine slowly unwind his tension. After ten minutes Sabine came in.

  ‘Vegetable stew, it will take an hour or so.’ She looked at the wine bottle. ‘You’re getting through that quickly.’

  ‘I’d like another if you don’t mind. Don’t worry, I’m a happy drunk.’

  ‘Take it slowly then. You can be happy, just not speechless.’

  The wine was making itself felt, no doubt due to the fact they hadn’t stopped for lunch, or bothered with breakfast. Sabine found a second bottle and kept it within easy reach.

  ‘I’m rationing you till the meal is ready.’ She poured herself a glass.

  ‘Who’s rationing you?’

  ‘I don’t need rationing, I have perfect self control.’ For the first time that day he saw a hint of a smile.

  When the meal was served they both found their appetites had returned with a vengeance. ‘I should have made more,’ said Sabine. She brought in the casserole pot and spooned the remainder onto Harry’s plate. ‘Finish it.’ He held up the empty wine bottle enquiringly. She said nothing, just took it from him and went back to the kitchen, returning with a fresh one.

  ‘You know I have no idea where to get a copy of the Irish Times in London,’ he said. ‘Must be somewhere in the City that sells it.’

  ‘When are you going back?’

  ‘I should really go to Frankfurt and get a flight tomorrow.’

  ‘Are we safe, Harry?’

  ‘I think you are. Where I’m concerned I’m not sure what to think. Theoretically, I’m no threat to anyone. Just overreaction on my part, that’s all.’

  ‘Keep in contact with me, won’t you?’

  ‘I will, don’t worry. Once this story has broken we will have a better idea of where we stand. I’ll be calling you every day.’

  ‘I’m going to wash up.’

  He finished the dregs of the wine while she was away.