The Postcard Killers

    “What does the analysis of the website tell us?” Dessie eventually asked. Sara Hцglund leaned forward.

    “Your first assumption turned out to be correct,” she said. “The Rudolphs have set themselves up as masters of their own universe. Their project aims to integrate life, death, and art, to find the ultimate form of expression. The Society of Limitless Art is their own university. As far as we can make out, they’ve got about thirty-five followers around the world. There could be more. Other art students who share their worldview and admire their ambitions.”

    Dessie looked down at her hands. “Three other couples have taken the

    ‘exam’ that the Rudolphs provide. Hard to believe, isn’t it? So many crazies out there.”

    The pages of the website contained detailed instructions on how to pass the exam, or “graduate,” as the Rudolphs called it, in the special project of the Society of Limitless Art. By causing death in a particularly artistic way, humankind could become a creating divinity, and thus immortal. The procedure of “the Work” was described in detail, from the dialogue to be spoken when the victims were seduced, to how the champagne, eyedrops, and knife were to be used. All the postcards and Polaroid pictures had been uploaded as JPEG files onto the site. Links and PDFs of the media coverage in each of the countries were also cataloged. It seemed that the press clippings were an important part of the artwork.

    “But none of the so-called graduates have actually passed the exam,”

    Jacob said, aware of how hoarse his voice sounded. “The amateurs always messed up the murders somehow. Sometimes there was no symbolism in their choice of postcard. Or they didn’t manage to imitate famous works of art with their Polaroids.”

    No one responded; they just listened to the American now.

    “It isn’t easy to kill, no matter how motivated or focused you are,” Jacob said in a low voice. “The others have all panicked and lost their grip on the situation.”

    “Athens, Salzburg, and Copenhagen were probably carried out by different members of the group,” Sara Hцglund confirmed. “The police in each country are tracing the IP addresses of computers that accessed the site. We’ll have located them by this evening.”

    Mats Duvall stood up, holding his electronic gadget. “The perpetrator in Copenhagen has just been identified,” he said. “He’s a repeat sex offender. His DNA was on file.”

    “He’s a member,” Dessie said softly. “His user ID is Batman. ”

    “How do you know that?” Gabriella asked.

    “He graduated on Sunday,” she said. “They had a ceremony on line.”

Chapter 122

    THE MEETING BROKE UP and the members of the investigating team went back to their respective rooms. Everyone was excited about the new leads but also shocked about the Rudolphs being on the loose.

    Jacob and Dessie ended up sitting beside the coffee machine in the unofficial staff room on the fourth floor. On the table in front of them was a map of northern Europe.

    “They never go back to where a murder was committed,” Jacob said.

    “They keep moving on to new places, new countries.”

    Dessie ran her hand over the map.

    “So we can probably discount Denmark, Norway, and Germany,” she said.

    “They know things are heating up,” Jacob said. “They’ll want to lie low for a while now. So they’ll avoid any transport that involves passenger lists. They won’t pay with credit cards or anything that means they have to provide ID. So where the hell are they going, and how?”

    Dessie put both hands over the Stockholm district on the map.

    “They’re pretty much broke,” she said, “and they’re on the run.”

    “So?” Jacob said.

    “They’ll steal a car,” Dessie said. “If you’re right, they’re heading for Finland.”

    Jacob looked at the map, his finger landing on the Baltic Sea.

    “Why not a boat? It’s only a couple of inches to the Baltic states.”

    “In this country we guard our leisure craft like they were gold reserves. It’s much easier to steal a car. Then they’ll have to get up to Haparanda.”

    She indicated a point on the map where the two countries met. “That’s over a thousand kilometers from here.”

    “So they’re behaving like petty criminals again,” Jacob said.

    “There are no motorways north of Uppsala. The E-four isn’t bad, but there are speed cameras the whole way. They’ll have to drive up inland, past Ockelbo, Bollnдs, Ljusdal, nge…”

    Jacob followed her finger as it moved along the narrow, winding roads leading up the oblong country.

    “Your home territory,” he said. “When will they get to the border? How long?”

    Dessie bit her lip.

    “They’ll have to stick to the speed limit - they can’t risk getting stopped for speeding. And there’s a lot of wildlife out on those roads. Elk, deer, maybe reindeer farther north…”

    “Are there self-serve gas pumps where they can pay cash to refuel without being seen?”

    “They’re everywhere,” Dessie said.

    Jacob ran his hands through his hair.

    “We’ve got to check all cars stolen in Stockholm this morning, and any that are stolen in the north of Sweden over the next few hours.”