Part 48 (1/2)

I know that. Who else?

No one. She has no idea what he is after and how she should respond. Should she pretend to be confident? Friendly? Pathetic?

Zigic is already irritated. You will tell me! Who are they? And what do they want! Or else, no deal.

Ive no idea what youre talking about. I work for the DCIG and n.o.body else.

He stares as if wanting to see straight through her. Her words only seem to make everything worse. What? Malene, do you want me to believe you sent that e-mail all on your own?

I havent sent any e-mail.

Iben cannot understand why she didnt instantly recognize Mirko Zigic. He looks exactly like the man in the old family photos unearthed by Interpol. Through a mutual friend, Iben had got hold of the photos from an information officer in the DCIGs British counterpart. The pictures were accompanied by a video and doc.u.ments about his parents and younger siblings. His family had also made statements, swearing that Mirko couldnt have been the executioner and torturer of the Serbian camps. He was kindness itself, they insisted. They must have gotten him mixed up with someone else. It was impossible that he could have built up his own section in the Serb Mafia.

The video was a grainy black-and-white copy of CCTV footage from a Munich burger bar. As far as Interpol was concerned, it was the last time Zigic had been spotted. Poor-quality images showed him, a tall man with long blond hair, having an argument with one of the counter staff about his change, or something like that. Then Zigic jumps over the counter. He grabs the other mans head, bends his neck back, and pushes the handle of a white plastic fork up one of his nostrils. By driving the fork home, Zigic caused so much brain damage that the man died almost instantly.

The camera records Zigic jumping back and calmly leaving the bar before anyone understood what had happened. Since then, no one has seen him.

Iben picks up a strong smell of male genitals. She cant be sure if its coming from him or whether her mind is still malfunctioning.

He smiles when he notices her looking around at the men he has posted. Why make such a fuss about an ordinary Danish office worker?

He answers without being asked. I take no chances, Malene. Youve been a very smart girl.

A pause, and he goes on. Id like to handle this peacefully. We will do a deal with you and your bosses. But if you and your people wont play along, Ill defend myself with force. And I can promise you wont like that at all.

Okay. Lets talk.

Thats better. Youre being sensible. Now tell me who you work for.

A bus halts. Zigic edges forward, just enough to ease himself between Iben and the bus. She has no doubt what would happen if she tried to board it with the other pa.s.sengers.

She watches as the lovers in their long coats, the teenage girl, and a few others disappear into the warm yellow light of the bus. The doors close with a loud sucking noise and the bus pulls away, leaving Iben and Zigic standing in the stench of diesel fumes.

I work alone.

He laughs out loud. Thats good. You wont tell me who youre acting for. I think I like you. But you must know Im not stupid. I know what youre saying isnt true. If it were true, I would kill you right here. And you know that too, Malene; you have guts.

As if she has pa.s.sed some kind of test, he grins at her. She tries to smile back.

Yes. I suppose so.

She observes how the skin on his face is oddly lifeless. It is exactly as Ljiljana Peric described it: carved in wax. In a horrible way it seems somehow to fit the way he smells. She looks down the dark street. No one is around now except his men.

I appreciate it that none of my men has been charged. Thats good and I understand. You want to do a deal.

Iben doesnt have a clue what he is talking about. Obviously, if she has any chance of getting out of this, she must remain calm and tough. She can do it. She is able to stand still, without trembling; she is able to look him in the eye. Im pleased you think so.

But you know what we want from you.

Well, no it could be quite a few different things.

He winks. Come on then. Lets go to your apartment and start your computer. And well see whats in it.

He signals to his men, turns, and starts to usher Iben in the direction of Malenes apartment.

All I need is to get my list of addresses back, along with my diary and all the backup copies. Please. Then youll be free to go.

As they walk, everything Iben has learned runs through her mind. He apparently believes that Malene got hold of a computer disk that contained not only his address book but also information that would indict everyone whose name appears in it. Without their support, Zigic will no longer be able to escape the clutches of the War Crimes Tribunal. He will wait for the file as long as he believes that she has it. But as soon as he realizes the truth, he will kill her. Shes well aware that he has raped and mutilated hundreds of victims until they told him everything they knew.

Its only a hundred feet from the bus stop to the entrance of Malenes building. The man in the denim outfit is posted outside to keep guard.

Iben has her keys ready, but the man in the pilots jacket wants to show off to his boss. He has already slipped the lock and opened the door to Malenes apartment by the time Iben and Zigic reach the landing.

What if Malene is in there? Perhaps she didnt want to let Iben in earlier. Iben would like to call out a warning to give Malene a chance to run down the back stairs, but theres no way. Besides, if shes at home, they will kill Iben at once and spare Malene.

Iben holds her breath, waiting for Malenes voice. What if she shouts out, Iben! You cant just let yourself in! You shouldve handed the keys back ages ago! Zigic would demand to see their IDs, and the next moment hed get rid of Iben. He wouldnt use a gun, thats for sure. Something quiet: a plastic fork, a piece of string, his bare hands.

Pilot Jacket goes in first. Zigic gives Iben a push and follows.

The men dont inspect the apartment with their pistols drawn, the way they always do in American films. Instead they wander from room to room, completely at ease but examining everything thoroughly, while keeping an expert eye out for a possible attack. Their movements are silent but coordinated, and within a minute or two their inspection is complete. They have checked all cupboards, corners, and recesses, switched on the necessary lights, and drawn the curtains. Its as if they had practiced house searches from early childhood, Iben thinks, and now they do them as easily as telling the time or tying their shoelaces.

Luckily the apartment is empty, but Malene might just have popped down to the kiosk or the corner shop. Perhaps sh.e.l.l show up in a few minutes?

Malenes bulletin board hangs on the wall in the hallway. Iben walks on the other side of Zigic and talks to him so h.e.l.l look away from it toward her. Four photos of Iben used to be pinned on the board, but when she discreetly glances over Zigics shoulder, the pictures of her arent there anymore. Instead there are photos of Malene with Rasmus, which she had originally removed when Rasmus left her.

In the living room Zigic turns to her. First, prove to me that you have the disk. Then well talk about what you want.

What makes you think its here? Im not that stupid. Ive kept copies elsewhere. I need to have the money first. And then you get your disk.

I understand that. How much do you want?

Ive been told to say one million euros.

Thats not a problem.

Iben would dearly like to say, Good, lets go get the cash now. Better not.

Zigic is smiling in a way that in another man might be charming, almost fresh.

Come on now, Malene! Show me. I know you have it here.

Thats not true.

Of course you have a copy on this computer.

Iben doesnt answer. She tries to look confident.

Zigic is starting to lose patience. Please turn on your computer.