The Ice Cage — A Scandinavian Crime Thriller set in the Nordic Winter (The Baltic Trilogy) by Olivier Nilsson-Julien Page B
Authors: Olivier Nilsson-Julien
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and assumed she’d gone to her boyfriend – Bengt . Henrik was furious when I told him. I didn’t know, but it had been over with the boyfriend for ages. Henrik had let her crash in the back of the club without telling me. It’s against o ur rules, so w e had an argument and he went home. That’s the last I saw of him alive. ’
Was he telling the truth or was it a cover up? I needed to find out where Anna went and what Henrik had done about her disappearance. Thor didn’t think my father had filed a missing person’s report , but I wa nted to check anyway . It wouldn’t be his first lie . I also need ed to talk to Anna’s boyfriend. If she hadn’t been able to return to the club, she might have gone to Bengt’s place.
2 0
The police station was as silent as a library, the heavy breathing of the man behind the desk the only sign of life. He looked like a pregnant walrus with his bushy moustache and ballooning belly. Where was everyone? Was hibernation the secret to surviving the Scandina via n winter? I showed the policeman Anna’s photo. He looked at it for a good 30 seconds without blinking. I thought he’d gone into a coma and was about to prompt him out of his torpor, when he finally emerged.
‘ She’s beautiful. ’
Yes, she was, but that wasn’t my question.
‘ Have you seen her before? ’
He looked up and stared at me in silence, still stuck in his 30 - second mode.
‘ Why do you want to know? ’
‘ Henrik Sandberg is my father and he… ’
Without a word he came round the desk, walked up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. Had I said something wrong? Was he arresting me? He looked me in the eyes, shook his head and gave me a very long hug. It was probably just another of his 30 seconds , but it felt longer, much longer, l ong enough for his smell to start impregnating me . This was a man full of flavours and he was sharing them profusely . My nose was twitching right and left, not knowing where to t urn, desperately trying to source some fresh air. I really didn’t know how to react when b eing hugged by a police officer, let alone a smelly specimen. He eventually let go, took a step back and – with both hands still firmly anchored on my shoulders – pushed out a deep sigh of relief.
‘ That’s better... How do you feel? ’
The Englishman in me was aghast with embarrassment and unable to re spond. The adequate response to this man’s behaviour simply didn’t feature in my cultural heritage, nor was it what I’d come for. As for the Scandinavian in me, he wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone either. He was 10 years old and didn’t want to be embrac ed by anyone, especially not by men in uniform . I had no choice but to resort to my emergency tool box.
‘ Thanks for that. I really appreciate it. ’
Had I overdone it? For a moment it looked like he was going fo r a repeat embrace and I thought I’d never get any sensible information out of him, but I had to keep up the momentum. Given the opportunity, he seemed prepared to distribute free hugs all day, except I didn’t want them .
‘ I’m in a bit of a rush. ’
‘ Oh. That’s not good. ’
He looked deeply concerned , but I ignored that.
‘ Does the photo ring any bells? ’
The serial hugger adjusted his jumper over his stomach and went back behind the desk, where he picked up the photo and went silent for another 30 seconds. What was wrong with him?
‘ Yes. ’
‘ Yes? ’
‘ Yes. ’
‘ Yes what? ’
I was starting to reali se that I had to be blunt if I wanted to get anything out of him.
‘ He nrik Sandberg came in with this photo. ’
‘ What happened? ’
‘ He showed it to me. ’
Extracting the information was painstaking ly painful . H e eventually revealed that the photo had been circulated in the o ffice. No one had recognised the girl , but as far as I could see, the walrus was the only per son working there, so circulation might be an overstatement.
‘ How many people
Was he telling the truth or was it a cover up? I needed to find out where Anna went and what Henrik had done about her disappearance. Thor didn’t think my father had filed a missing person’s report , but I wa nted to check anyway . It wouldn’t be his first lie . I also need ed to talk to Anna’s boyfriend. If she hadn’t been able to return to the club, she might have gone to Bengt’s place.
2 0
The police station was as silent as a library, the heavy breathing of the man behind the desk the only sign of life. He looked like a pregnant walrus with his bushy moustache and ballooning belly. Where was everyone? Was hibernation the secret to surviving the Scandina via n winter? I showed the policeman Anna’s photo. He looked at it for a good 30 seconds without blinking. I thought he’d gone into a coma and was about to prompt him out of his torpor, when he finally emerged.
‘ She’s beautiful. ’
Yes, she was, but that wasn’t my question.
‘ Have you seen her before? ’
He looked up and stared at me in silence, still stuck in his 30 - second mode.
‘ Why do you want to know? ’
‘ Henrik Sandberg is my father and he… ’
Without a word he came round the desk, walked up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. Had I said something wrong? Was he arresting me? He looked me in the eyes, shook his head and gave me a very long hug. It was probably just another of his 30 seconds , but it felt longer, much longer, l ong enough for his smell to start impregnating me . This was a man full of flavours and he was sharing them profusely . My nose was twitching right and left, not knowing where to t urn, desperately trying to source some fresh air. I really didn’t know how to react when b eing hugged by a police officer, let alone a smelly specimen. He eventually let go, took a step back and – with both hands still firmly anchored on my shoulders – pushed out a deep sigh of relief.
‘ That’s better... How do you feel? ’
The Englishman in me was aghast with embarrassment and unable to re spond. The adequate response to this man’s behaviour simply didn’t feature in my cultural heritage, nor was it what I’d come for. As for the Scandinavian in me, he wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone either. He was 10 years old and didn’t want to be embrac ed by anyone, especially not by men in uniform . I had no choice but to resort to my emergency tool box.
‘ Thanks for that. I really appreciate it. ’
Had I overdone it? For a moment it looked like he was going fo r a repeat embrace and I thought I’d never get any sensible information out of him, but I had to keep up the momentum. Given the opportunity, he seemed prepared to distribute free hugs all day, except I didn’t want them .
‘ I’m in a bit of a rush. ’
‘ Oh. That’s not good. ’
He looked deeply concerned , but I ignored that.
‘ Does the photo ring any bells? ’
The serial hugger adjusted his jumper over his stomach and went back behind the desk, where he picked up the photo and went silent for another 30 seconds. What was wrong with him?
‘ Yes. ’
‘ Yes? ’
‘ Yes. ’
‘ Yes what? ’
I was starting to reali se that I had to be blunt if I wanted to get anything out of him.
‘ He nrik Sandberg came in with this photo. ’
‘ What happened? ’
‘ He showed it to me. ’
Extracting the information was painstaking ly painful . H e eventually revealed that the photo had been circulated in the o ffice. No one had recognised the girl , but as far as I could see, the walrus was the only per son working there, so circulation might be an overstatement.
‘ How many people
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