The Postcard Killers

    They stopped beside a customized Toyota Land Cruiser, the latest model. Leaning against the gleaming paintwork was a giant of a man with a blond ponytail and biceps like logs.

    Dessie hurried out of the car and threw herself into his arms. The giant received her with a big grin on his face.

    A pang of jealousy hit Jacob in the solar plexus. Slowly he got out of the car and approached the enormous man holding on to Dessie. Robert’s arms were covered in clumsy tattoos. He was missing two front teeth.

    He would have been perfect, just as he was, as the leader of one of Los Angeles’ infamous motorcycle gangs.

    “So you’re the American?” he said in a thick Swedish accent, holding out his paw.

    Jacob’s hand disappeared in the iron grip of the fist.

    “Yep,” he replied. “That’s me.”

    Cousin Robert pulled him closer and lowered his voice.

    “Don’t think you can hide just because you’re from the States. If you treat Dessie badly, I’ll find you.”

    “That’s good to know,” Jacob said.

    The giant let go of Jacob’s hand.

    “We’ve been keeping an eye on the junction in Morjдrv all night,” Robert said. “They passed it half an hour ago in a red Volvo with false plates. They took the E-ten down toward Haparanda.”

    Jacob felt adrenaline explode throughout his body. This was it. The end ofthe tale, at the end of the world.

    The gangster looked at his watch, a diamond-encrusted Rolex.

    “They could be here any minute.”

Chapter 132

    TIME NEARLY STOPPED FOR Jacob.

    He checked his cheap plastic watch every minute.

    8:14, then 8:15, then 8:16.

    The early morning mist was lingering, making the landscape seem eerie, scary-looking.

    Robert’s sidekick brought them coffee, juice, and ham sandwiches, which they ate in the car. They were both very hungry.

    “How close are you two?” Jacob asked, nodding toward the enormous man leaning on his car a hundred yards away. The car sagged from his weight. Dessie was doing her best to scrape the ham off the bread.

    “Robert?” she said. “He’s my favorite cousin. His mom was in and out of prison when he was young, so he spent a lot of time with us on the farm. He’s two years younger than me, but he was always bigger and stronger than me.”

    Dessie put the sandwich down on her lap.

    “I’ve always wondered if we’re more than cousins,” she said. Jacob stopped chewing.

    “What do you mean?”

    She took a gulp of orange juice.

    “I don’t know who my dad is,” she said quietly. “My mother always said he was an Italian prince who would come and fetch us both one fine day. I have no idea what she meant.”

    She gave him a quick embarrassed look.

    “I know,” she said. “All a bit like a fairy tale. One of my uncles is probably my father, or maybe even Granddad himself.” She shivered and was silent.

    Jacob turned to look through the windshield. What could you say to something like that?

    Dessie stretched out as much as she could and looked in the rearview mirror.

    “Red car,” she said.

    Jacob adjusted the mirror so he could see for himself. Sure enough, a red car was approaching from behind.

    “It’s a Ford,” he said. “Four people. It’s not them. It’s probably not them.”

Chapter 133

    THEY SAT IN SILENCE, watching the passengers as the Ford went past on its way to the border crossing: two elderly couples, the men in the front, the women in the back.

    Dessie turned to him, hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Who was Kimmy’s mother?”

    Now it was his turn to put his sandwich down.

    “Her name’s Lucy,” he said. “We grew up together in Brooklyn. She was a singer, blues and jazz, really talented. We were both eighteen when she got pregnant. When Kimmy was three months old, she left us.”

    “Left you? To do what?”

    Jacob shrugged.

    “Live another life, I guess. Drugs, money, music… The first few years, she saw Kimmy a couple of times, but that died out. It must be fifteen years since I last saw her.”

    “Does Lucy know… about Kimmy…?”

    Jacob shook his head.

    “No. At least, I haven’t told her. I don’t know where she is. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

    “She sounds like an idiot to me.”

    “We were both young, both idiots.”

    Silence fell inside the car.

    A green VW Passat drove past.

   Jacob looked at his watch. 8:54.

    A blue Saab sped past them. They could hear the sound of rock and roll coming from the open windows. Two young males. Punk-style haircuts. Jacob looked at his watch. 8:55. He was conscious that he was doing it obsessively, but he couldn’t help it.

    Dessie’s phone rang. She listened in silence, said not a word, then turned to Jacob.

    “They’ve passed through Salmis and Vuono,” she said. “Two villages just outside this town. Still in the red Volvo. They’re almost here.”

    “Robert’s men, are they reliable?”

    Dessie nodded. “Very.”

    “I don’t want them involved at the border. I’ll take it from here.”

    She passed on the message and hung up.

Chapter 134

    NINE O’CLOCK CAME AND WENT.

    No red Volvo. No Rudolphs.