be able to turn if anyone had the misguided idea to try to actually sail it. Barbara put two fat Danish coins into an automat and was rewarded with a small bag of fish fodder. As soon as they heard the click from the automat, the fish in the lake surged forward so that the water literally boiled with their huge writhing bodies. The sight turned his gut, he wasn’t quite sure why. At that moment, the phone finally rang.
“I just got home,” said the man at the other end. “There is no sign of the goods or the money. Nor of the person I sent to do the trade.”
Bitch. Swine.
“I delivered,” he said, with as much calm as he could muster. “Now you must pay.”
The man was silent for a while. Then he said:
“When you give me what I paid for, you will get the rest of the money.”
Jučas was struggling both with his temper and his English vocabulary. Only Barbara’s hand on his arm made it possible to win at least one of those battles.
“You sent the woman. If she don’t do what you say, is not my problem.”
Again, the silence. Even longer, this time.
“She took a company car,” the Dane finally said. “We have GPS tracking on all of them. If I tell you where she is, will you go and get her? She must have either the money or the goods, or both. Or she must know where they are. Bring her back to me.”
“Is not what we agreed,” said Jučas through clenched teeth. He wanted his money, and he wanted to get out of this stinking, stupidly expensive country where even the fish were fat.
“Ten thousand dollars extra,” said the man promptly. “To get the money and the goods, and bring her back.”
The screaming from the roller coaster was getting on his nerves. But ten thousand dollars was ten thousand dollars.
“Okay,” he said. “You tell me where she is.”
NINA WRAPPED THE blanket more tightly about the boy, picked him up, and left Allan’s office with the skinny body in her arms. He felt feather light compared to Anton, but of course Anton was no longer a toddler. He went to school. He was a big boy now.
She was careful to make sure that the lock on the main door of the practice clicked behind her. The parking lot, thank God, was still empty. She levered the body carefully into the back seat and closed the door with a soft push. It was 6:44.
“What do I do now?” she muttered, then caught herself with some irritation. Talking to herself now. Not cool. She hadn’t done that much since she started secondary school and had had to leave that and other childish habits behind if she wanted to survive socially. But sometimes, under pressure, it came back. It seemed to help her concentrate.
She started the car and let it roll down the graveled drive. Her hands were shaking again. She noted it with the same detached interest she would have awarded a rare bird at her bird feeder. She had to lock her fingers around the rim of the steering wheel to stop the annoying quiver that spread through her arms, then her palms to the tips of her fingers.
Karin had not returned any of her calls. Nor had Morten. Nor had there been any sign of police or other authorities. The last would of course have been unlikely, but the sense of being hunted would not leave her. It just didn’t seem right that she could be driving around for hours with a three-year-old boy who wasn’t hers. Somebody had to be missing him—someone other than the furious man at the railway station.
Nina turned up the volume of the car radio to be ready to catch the news. It was 6:46 according to the display on her mobile. She slowed slightly and regained enough control of her fingers to tap out Karin’s number once more.
After seven long rings, there was, finally, an answer.
“Hello?”
Karin’s voice sounded both hopeful and reserved.
Nina took a deep breath. It would be so easy for Karin to cut the connection if Nina came on too strongly. She had to be careful. Had to coax Karin into giving the answers she needed.
“Karin.”
Nina softened her tone persuasively. Like she did when Anton was in the grip of one of his nightmares—gently, gently.
“Karin, it’s Nina. I have the boy with me here in the car. He is okay.”
Silence. Then a long hiccoughing breath and a