I sprang back, my heart lurching. They were coming into the tower

The lawyer Aaron Vandenberg’s voice drifted up to my hiding place. “You got a timescale for that, son?” “They’re doing an autopsy.” A brief silence. “Our passports are still being held by the police. We’re allowed to go to Kiruna and on the excursions, but nowhere else.” “Says who?”

“The cop, Hallengren.”

“Forget him.”

“He’s not some peach-fuzzed rookie, Aaron. He’s sharp. Watch yourself when you speak to him.”

A thick laugh. “There ain’t a cop alive who can outsmart me. I’ve not been the Bibby lawyer all these years for nothing. This guy had better not jerk me around if he knows what’s good for him.” A pause. “So is there anything else, or are we done here?” “There’s a problem with the diary.”

“Well, that came right out of left field. What sort of a problem?”

“The cops found pages torn out.”

“Did they, by God. Which particular pages?” “All the ones from last week. Aaron, they may ask you about them, as your signature is on most of the memos.”

“The Swedish Education Minister has copies of those pages too. The cops will find them soon enough if they’re as smart as you say. And there’s nothing there that will remotely interest them.”

Destroyed

“But it’s the entry on the final day that would interest them, Aaron.”

“I’m assuming that page was torn out along with the others. My guess is it’s been destroyed too.”

“Only a fool would keep it.” A pause, heavy with meaning. “And the copy?”

“It’s in a safe place, son.” A harsh laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Which leaves us with only one thing we haven’t talked about, Marcellus.”

“Like?”

“Like – how shall I put it? – my remuneration.” “You’ll get your remuneration. Once I know how much there is.”

“You know I’ve never been one for playing the long game. But for you, son, I can wait.” A pause. “Now, that’s a weird thing and no mistake.” “What?”

“On the altar.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“I thought you said you’d been on the tour. And what’s in there, through that door?” “A tower. There used to be bells or something.”

A rustling, followed by more creaking. “So can you get up the tower?” “Sure.”

“Fancy a climb? Now, don’t look at me like that. I’ve no designs on you. Right now, we need each other. You could say we’re a mutual assurance company.” The rustling grew louder, followed by footsteps.

I sprang back, my heart lurching. They were coming into the tower. I hadn’t a clue what they’d been talking about, but I suspected they wouldn’t be best pleased to discover they’d been overheard.

I glanced at the steps. If I climbed to the top, they might think I’d been there all the while. But they’d be through the door before I made it halfway. There was only one thing to do.

I slipped behind the door and pressed myself against the wall, hoping they’d leave the door open to let the warmth in. A second later, I heard their voices. “There’s nothing here, son. Let’s go.”

“Wait. There, at the back.”

“Ah yes, steps. Shall we?”

The footsteps moved further into the tower. To my horror, I felt the door moving. In a second, they’d see me. “Leave it open, son.”

“Why?”

“We won’t see a goddamn thing otherwise.”

Groaning

There was a sudden groaning of wood, followed by heavy thuds. They were climbing. After a minute that felt like an hour, I crept out and padded softly down the nave.

Halfway to the door, I remembered the loud creak. If they heard it, they’d be down like a shot. Even if I succeeded in making it to the road, they’d still see me.

I tiptoed back and climbed over the rail. I crouched behind the altar. A few seconds later, I heard footsteps.

“Not without a torch, son. It ain’t safe. Anyway, I’m not sure those steps will take your weight. The wood looks a bit flaky. C’mon, I need a drink.”

The sound of footsteps faded. The front door creaked open. I counted to one hundred, then stole out from behind the altar.

I left the church, intending to walk slowly, out of sight of the men, but then remembered my conversation with Jane. I swerved right, towards the forest. Near the trees were the path’s red markers, visible despite the recent snowfall. If what Jane had told me was correct, I should arrive at the Excelsior before Marcellus and Aaron.

The going was surprisingly easy. I ducked under low-hanging branches, hearing tiny rustlings in the undergrowth and the dull thump of snow hitting ground. The forest grew lighter and I soon found myself at the back of the Excelsior.

I slipped round to the front where the courtesy bus was waiting. I boarded and settled myself in the back. As we moved off, I turned to look through the rear window. Marcellus and Aaron had reached the circus statues.

As the bus bumped along the road to Kiruna, I rehearsed in my mind what I would say, going over Marcellus’s conversation with Aaron so as not to forget it.

The police station was a modest single-storey building on the outskirts of town, its walls a regulation steel grey.

The impression it gave was that the only thing that engaged the occupants was petty crime.

Forced a smile

The interior was painted in pastel shades of blue and yellow and smelt of floor polish. One wall was covered with posters. The more recent ones obscured those underneath, rendering them unreadable, as if the sole intention was to leave no inch of paintwork showing.

A row of moulded plastic chairs stood against the opposite wall, blue alternating with yellow in a way that I found almost frivolous.

A young fair-haired man dressed in the familiar blue uniform was typing rapidly at a keyboard. He stopped and watched me approach.

“Do you speak English?” I said.

“Of course. How may I help you?”

“Is Inspector Hallengren in?”

He sat back. “He is certainly in.”

I forced a smile, hoping this wasn’t going to be hard work. “And is he busy just now?”

He tapped a couple of keys. “He is free.”

“May I speak with him?”

“I will check. What is your name, please?” “Margaret Stewart.”

He spoke into the phone in rapid Swedish, then listened intently, his shoulders straightening. For a second, I thought he was going to jump to his feet and click his heels.

More on Monday. Icehotel, available on Amazon Kindle, is Hania Allen’s debut novel. Her second book, The Polish Detective (Constable, £8.99), is the first in her new series featuring DS Dania Gorska and is set in Dundee.