CHAPTER 6

Henrik's alarm rang around seven, Saga was already up, her inner clock still set on prison time; with a bathroom only they had to take turns, anyway long before eight they were all at the hotel breakfast.
Henrik started filling his dish when he noticed his women were observing him.
"Don't you want breakfast?"
"I never had it in hotel before." Saga admitted.
"But you're back from a journey, you stayed in hotels."
She was nervous, he could feel it; he read her so easily. More than ever now.
"I had coffee only, breakfast was extra charged. And I don't like to eat in public."
"Dad, I'm hungry." Between two fires, Henrik took a long breath. Away from home, they relied on him.
"This is a buffet, you can pick up what you want, try everything."
They both seemed still unsure of how to behave, so Henrik handed Astrid an empty dish.
"Just follow me. Astrid, this is yours, we pass along the table and you tell me what you prefer."
Saga copied their gestures, carefully observing how Henrik choose from bowls and large plates; automatically, she took also a slice of cheesecake, getting a questioning look from him.
"What's wrong?"
"You don't like cheese in a cake."
"I''ll put it back."
"No! Once you got it…"
Henrik cut his tongue, his intention not to make her unease; she still missed those basic social skills so natural for him. "It don't mind, I'll eat it."
They sat at a table with a wiev of the garden, Astrid devoured her cereal bowl in silence, Henrik happy she wanted to eat.
"This buffet system is a waste of food." Saga stated.
"Maybe, but variety suites people's tastes."
"How do they know the amount to offer?"
"They see the number of guests and the average choices. It's the buffet system."
"So if each drinks two glasses of juice, a yogurth, .."
"Yes, more or less."
Henrik let Saga's brain elaborate the logic of buffet and sipped peacefully his coffee.

They headed North, Saga had marked on the map the area where John connected the phone to the cells. Henrik drove and Saga controlled the road.
Astrid was watching the landscape, an endless sequel of green pines and white snow, scattered cabins, very small villages, a main road and few intersections for communities Saga said could remain isolated in winter.
Astrid world had been limited to a village for such a long time that everything was so new and fascinating.
She took photos with her phone and when they stopped at a coffee shop she took out pencils and paper to draw.
Henrik and Saga were again concentrated on the search.
She heard them the previous evening, low voices, muffled moans and a rythmic creaking of the bed that lasted for a while, then silence.
They were making love, she was sure, dad changed, since Saga was back there was a difference in his smile, more tender, more loving toward the two women he was travelling with.
"Turn right next crossing, there is a high frequence a few kilometres from here. It seems there is a small village."
Virnel, the smallest village of the day, Henrik slowed down then Saga saw the sign of a helicopter base; following that direction the woods suddenly reduced and a large space came into view.
They arrived at a concrete modern building, a police sign on it.
They rang the bell, Saga took off her badge and the service orders Linn and Mads had signed.
A woman sat at a large desk with a big radio station on her left. On her uniform pocket the name Josefine Mortens.
"Colleagues from south! What a surprise! Would you like some coffee? Tea?"
Saga's first impulse was to refuse, but Henrik agreed and so she thought it was better to let him do some small talk. The colleague probably was used to long lonely shifts.
While Josefine prepared four cups, she told that the base was used mainly for emergency in a large area, there were various landing point always ready, scattered in the region.
After a coffee surprisingly good, Saga turned to their case.
"We need to know if this area is used for some illegal traffics. Furs, gold, people."
"It's an huge area."
"We know," Henrik added, " but we saw a strange frequency of phone contacts around here. It seems the user of this phone comes here quite often and when here activates it."
"I can ask my colleagues, especially Morten, he's the veteran."
The call with Morten was difficult for Saga to understand, they spoke in a local dialect and she resigned to wait until it ended.
"Morten says there is a place not so far, probably used as a storage, nobody lived there so we never get them in action. We try to monitor but it's too secluded and we're a few."
"Can we go there?"
"Yes. I don't think you'll get something relevant but you can try."
"We have two other areas to investigate further."
"If you wait half an hour I'll will go with you, as soon as I got change."
Saga turned to Henrik who nodded, better be friendly with the colleagues in such an isolated place.

The wooden shack appeared unused for a long time. A single room, a canopy, no recent traces in the snow. Henrik moved the soft layer on the surface with a foot to see if there were traces in the ice part under. He doubted how much could be stored into it.
Saga took pictures, hoping John could find something. Henrik approached what seemed a bench, made with a piece of a fallen tree, close to two rusty oil barrels and some cellophane covering what seemed a mound of rubbish or sawed woods,
It was impossible to lift it up alone so he walked around it, noticing some garbage, the cover of a snack and orange peels.
He took the items back to the car and Saga examined them.
"It's Russian. This changes prospective."
She turned to Josefine.
"Have you considered Russian links?"
"Morten once tried to investigate with colleagues of… but he got nothing. Some eastern trucks do drive up here but we never had troubles with them."
Saga leaned on the back seat to speak to Astrid.
"Did ever Frank talk about Russia at the village?"
"No."
"Did you saw cyrillic newspapers or letters or anything in that language? "
Negative answer.
"Do you know how Russian alphabet it?"
"I'm not stupid!"
Saga turned to Henrik a little quicker than necessary, her gaze low.
Astrid's reaction told her she had been too harsh. The way the girl answered made Saga think about how young kids could be hurt too easily.
"We report Mads and ask him about cases involving eastern people."
"Where is still cyrillic used?" Henrik asked.
"Former URSS, except the three Baltic republics, Bulgaria, Serbia..."
"Ok, ok, I got it, we can focus when we'll know where the snack is sold."
Henrik leaned a little on Saga, whispering in her ear.
"Astrid reacted at your words."
"Yes, I have to apologize. Astrid, get out of the car for a minute."

Every step is a risk. Every meter away from the cabins a goal.
I am tired to walk in the snow, hidden by the trees and the mounds of ice and fresh snow along the main road. I try to hear in advance whatever sound and if a car is approaching I dive into the white mattress around me.
Two cars in about an hour walk.
I find a path parallel to the road and follow it as much as I can, the snow is pressed and I can walk faster.
If only there are more sections like that.
I want to reach the first village before dark, so I can try to go further. I'm afraid to sleep there, because my absence would be noticed and Ole sure has started the search.
I try to use sprigs to erase my footsteps for the first kilometer, then it becomes too hard to keep an arm behind my back, holding the sprig.
There was a strange wooden painting in a cabin, a family with words written in a strange alphabet and golden lights over their heads. The child held a cross in his little hands and I imagined it was young Jesus.
I ask him the courage to go on. It is painful, I'm tired but I have to continue. I want to find my sister again or reunite with mom and dad in heaven. I am ready to die in my attempt.
The first house of the village come in sight just when I am afraid I have wrong calculated the distances.
I lower my hat and turn inside out my coat, hoping nobody from the cabins is there looking for me. I see a small restaurant, strong is the temptation to stop and ask for help. My mind is repeating over and over just a word.
Police.

I can go on. I have to go on.
A torch is safe in my pockets, it is an hazard to use it in the incoming darkness, I try to avoid it, I eat the last piece of chocolate and drink from the bottle, increasing the frequency of my steps.
Like a force from another world is pushing me forward.
I heard a sound and froze, then I see them, a deer and her little one, crossing the road. The deer stops for a moment and stares at me.
My mother's face come to mind, just for a second, telling me to go on, so I continue. Faster, I forget everything else until I hear a bell ring and see across the woods the white walls of a church. I run from the church to the police station, whose blue light shine like a star in the late afternoon darkness.
A tall man in blue uniform opens the door when I knock and let me enter.
I am in a large room, with three desks under the windows and four chairs against a wall.
"I am Anna Sabroe." I say, holding up my wrist with the bracelet. "I've been kept prisoner, I've got a sister in Malmo."
The man seems surprised by my words, he turns around one of the desks, calling someone named Jorgen from another room.
"Come here! The Danish missing girl is here. You won't believe!"
Missing girl? I am reported already missed and Ole is looking for me?
Not Ole, not Frank. Ole kept me here! Frank had my sister but he was bad.
I shout my rage full lungs.
"No, no!"
"Don't worry." The man says, then he prints something and makes me look at it.
He tells me Danish police wants me; Denmark is home.
I see myself in the sheet, aged 5 and now, above the photos in capital letters the words "missing since 2009".
"Call Umea immediately", orders Jorgen.

Mads' son had barely time to lay his hockey training bag on the kitchen floor when his father told him to get the service car from the garage and prepare for a long drive; sometimes being under command of his own father had its negative aspects.
"It's an emergency, you drive, I have to make calls."
"I wanted to eat after training." A feeble protest.
"There's no time, grab something, you'll eat in the car."
They lit the blue light and headed northwest at fast speed.
The first two calls were service calls, talking again with Jorgen and informing his vice of the developments of the case.
Then he took a long breath, looked at his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt a rush of love for his grown up boy, so like him, kind and joyful and policeman, too.
"I'm so proud of you, you know it, don't you?"
He got a strange look in reply. His moments of endearment were few, especially with his son.
"What's up, dad?"
"I just remembered how you and your sisters are important for me. This call is difficult, it could be a false trace and a family get a big delusion."
"The missing girl?"
"Yes, the father got a blow with the empty grave, I hope it's really her."