Yrsa Sigurdardottir - Last Rituals

"The bike was noticeable because he used it a lot. Winter, summer, autumn, and spring. He didn't have a driver's license, so he didn't have much choice. And he wasn't the most considerate of people about storing it awaythat weekend he'd left it resting on the woman's stroller. She remembers it well because she had to move it to get the stroller out."

Matthew cleared his throat. "If Hugi stole the key for the security system, I presume a code or PIN number went with it. How could Hugi guess that?"

"That's exactly what we wanted to know," Markus replied. "When Harald's friends were questioned it turned out that he had told the number to all of them."

Thora looked at him in disbelief. "Who do you expect to believe that? Why on earth would he do that?"

"It seems the number amused him. He was allocated 0666, which apparently appealed to him because of his strange obsession with devil worship."

"Actually it was an obsession with magic and has nothing to do with the devil," Matthew said. Then he quickly changed the subject to avoid a long discussion on the nature of magic. "You might be able to tell us one thing. We came across a printout from Harald's e-mail, a short note sent to a certain Mal. Did you find out anything about that?"

The officer looked blank. "I must admit I don't remember that. We went through hundreds of documents. If you want I can look it up and let you know."

Thora outlined the e-mail to him, even though she did not expect to gain much from the police on this point. Markus would surely have remembered if it had produced anything. He promised to check whether steps had been taken to identify the recipient, but played down the importance of whatever it was that Harald thought he had found at last. "He must mean some girl he was chasing after, that sort of thing," he said. "But to change the subject, are you going to stay on this case much longer?" He looked at Thora and Matthew in turn.

"As long as is necessary," Matthew said, frowning. "I'm still not convinced you're holding the right manin spite of what you said. Of course, I might be wrong."

The officer gave a faint smile. "We'd be grateful if you let us keep tabs on you, as the investigation is still ongoing. We don't want any clashes and it would be better if we could cooperate."

Thora seized her opportunity. "We've received some of the case documents, but by no means all of them. I sent you a letter, which will probably arrive tomorrow, asking to have all the documents handed over on behalf of the familydo you see any objection?"

Markus shrugged. "Not as such, but it's not my decision. It's an unusual request but I still expect a positive answer. It could take some time to gather it all together. Of course, we'll try" A knock on the door interrupted him. "Come in," he called, and the door opened. A young female officer stood in the doorway with a cardboard box in her arms. A black computer was sticking out of the top.

"Here's the computer you asked for," the young woman said, walking in. She put the box on the desk and took out a transparent folder with a piece of paper inside. "The monitor's down in reception; it's coming straight out of storage because we didn't need it. Actually it was quite stupid to take it along in the first place," she said rather self-importantly to her colleague. "It might be worth pointing out to the teams who search houses that although the documents appear on the monitor, they aren't literally there. They're all in the computer and they come up on any screen." She tapped the top of the computer.

Markus did not appear too pleased at being told off by the young woman in front of Thora and Matthew. He glared at her. "Thank you for that information." He took the folder from her and took out the piece of paper. "Can you sign this receipt, please?" he said to Matthew. "The other papers that were removed are in there too."

"What papers?" asked Thora. "Why weren't they returned with the others?"

"They were papers that we felt deserved a close examination. In fact they revealed nothing. I don't know if you'll find anything juicy in there, but I doubt it." He stood up to indicate that the conversation was over.

Thora and Matthew stood up and Matthew picked up the box after signing the receipt. "Don't forget the monitor," said the female officer, smiling at Thora. Thora returned her smile and assured her they would take it.

They walked out to the car, Thora with the monitor in her arms and Matthew carrying the box. Thora pulled out the wad of documents before getting into the passenger seat. She flicked through them quickly while Matthew started the car.

"What the hell is this?" she said in amazement, turning to Matthew.

Thora was holding a small tan leather wallet that she had taken out of the middle of the wad of papers. The wallet was fastened with straps and she had undone them to examine the contents. The leather was still as soft as a glove to the touch, even though it was probably old. It was at least sixty years old, judging from the insignia printed on it: "NHG 1947." But it was the contents rather than the wallet itself that caused her surprise. "What can this be?" she asked, glancing curiously at Matthew. She pointed to some old letters that were revealed when the wallet was openedancient letters, in fact, because judging from their appearance and script they were much older than their container.

Matthew regarded the wallet in astonishment. "Was that among the papers in the box?"

"Yes," Thora said, thumbing through the uppermost letters to count them. She was startled by a wordless howl as Matthew snatched the wallet from her.

"Are you crazy?" he shouted, closing the wallet and flipping the straps back over it in a rush, rather clumsily because of the steering wheel and the cramped seating in the front of the car.

Thora watched his efforts in bewilderment without saying a word. When Matthew had closed the wallet he placed it carefully in the backseat. Then he wriggled out of his coat and covered the wallet with it, making sure that the lining and not the damp outside touched it. "Shouldn't we move the car?" asked Thora to break the silence. It was half backed out of the parking space, jutting into the street.

Matthew grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and exhaled heavily. "Excuse my behavior. I didn't expect to see those letters in some crummy cardboard box from the police." He backed out into the street and drove away.

"What are they, if I may ask?" Thora said.

"They're very old letters from Harald's grandfather's collection, some of the most valuable ones. Actually they're priceless, and I can't understand why Harald sent them to Iceland. I'm certain the insurance company thinks they're still in the bank vault, as they had agreed." Matthew adjusted the rearview mirror to keep an eye on his precious cargo. "A nobleman from Innsbruck wrote them in 1485. They describe Heinrich Kramer's campaign against witches in the city, before witch hunts became widespread."

"Who was Heinrich Kramer again?" Thora knew she ought to recognize the name but simply drew a blank.

"One of the two authors of The Witches' Hammer ," Matthew replied. "He was the chief inquisitor in several regions that now mostly belong to Germanydoubtless a warped personality, he had a particular grudge against women. As well as chasing imaginary witches he persecuted Jews and blasphemers, in fact almost any group that was an easy target."

Thora remembered the article she had read on the Internet. "Yes, right." Then she added in surprise: "So are these letters about him?"

"Yes," Matthew said. "He went to Innsbruck. Maybe he came and saw, but he definitely didn't conquer. It started well for himhe launched an inquisition using extreme violence and torture, and the suspects, fifty-seven women, were not allowed any legal defense. The local clerics and secular authorities were appalled at the trials. Kramer made such a show about the alleged witches' sexual activities that the bishop was outraged and banished him from the city. The women he had detained were released but they were in a sorry state after persistent torture. The letters describe his treatment of the scribe's wife. As you can imagine, it doesn't make particularly pleasant reading."