‘I don’t think you should go in there,’ Carl warned, when Assad headed into the cylinder. ‘If someone comes we’ll have no place to hide.’

But Assad wasn’t listening. He had his sights set on the large targets at the far end.

‘What is this then, Carl?’ he called out, beside one of the targets.

Carl glanced over his shoulder. There was no cause for alarm behind him, so he went to see what Assad was talking about.

‘Is that an arrow, or what?’ his partner wanted to know, indicating a metal rod that had bored its way through the centre of the target.

‘Yes,’ Carl said. ‘It’s a bolt. The kind used with crossbows.’

Assad looked at him, confused. ‘What did you say just there, Carl? With what? Crossbows?’

Carl sighed. ‘A crossbow is a bow that’s loaded in a special way. It shoots with tremendous force.’

‘OK. I can see that. And it’s precise, Carl?’

‘Yes, very precise.’

When they turned around, they knew they’d walked into a trap.

Down at the other end stood Torsten Florin, his legs spread, and behind him Ulrik Dybbøl Jensen and Ditlev Pram. Pram was holding a loaded crossbow, aimed directly at them.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Carl thought. He shouted: ‘Get behind the targets, Assad! Now!’

He drew his pistol from his shoulder holster in one fluid movement and aimed it at the group of men at the same instant Ditlev fired a bolt.

Carl heard Assad hurl himself behind a target, just as the bolt rammed Carl’s right shoulder and his pistol hit the gravel.

Strangely, it didn’t hurt. All he knew was that he’d been flung backwards half a yard and was now pinned to one of the targets, with only the bolt’s fletching visible in his bleeding wound.

‘Gentlemen,’ Florin said, ‘why are you putting us in this situation? What are we going to do with you?’

Carl tried to force his beating heart into a calmer rhythm. They had pulled the bolt out and sprayed a solution into the wound, which nearly made him faint, but at least it stopped the bleeding, more or less.

It was a dire situation. The three men were not to be swayed.

Meanwhile, Assad was fuming at how they’d been forced back into the hall and down on to the floor with their backs against one of the cages.

‘Don’t you realize what happens when you do something like this to police officers in action?’ he yelled.

Carl carefully nudged Assad’s foot. It quietened him for a moment.

‘It’s very simple,’ Carl said, each word pounding throughout his upper body. ‘You let us go now. Then we’ll see what happens next. You don’t have anything to gain by threatening us or holding us hostage.’

‘I see!’ It was Pram. He still held the crossbow ready in his hand. If only he would point it the other way. ‘We’re not stupid. We know you suspect us of having committed murder. You’ve named several incidents. You’ve contacted our solicitor. You’ve found a connection between Finn Aalbæk and me. You think you know everything about us, and suddenly some so-called truth emerges.’ He came closer and positioned his leather boots in front of Carl’s feet. ‘But that truth involves more than just us three. If you’re lucky enough to convince people that your suspicions are correct, thousands will lose their livelihood. Nothing’s simple, Carl Mørck.’

He pointed round the hall. ‘A vast number of assets will be frozen. Neither we nor anyone else wants that. So I repeat Torsten’s question: what are we to do with you?’

‘We have to make it very clean,’ said the big man, Ulrik Dybbøl Jensen, in a quivering voice, his pupils enormous. There was no mistaking what he meant. But Torsten Florin was hesitating, Carl could tell. Hesitating and thinking.

‘How about we give each of you a million kroner and let you go? Just like that. As soon as you drop the case, the money’s yours. What do you say?’

Of course they had to say yes. What else could they do? The alternative certainly wasn’t much fun to think about.

Carl looked over at Assad, who nodded. Wise man.

‘And you, Mørck? Are you as amenable as Mustafa here?’ asked Florin.

Carl gave him a hard look. Then he, too, nodded.

‘But I am sensing that it’s not enough. So we’ll double the amount. Two million to each of you for your silence. We’ll do it discreetly. Are we agreed?’

They both nodded.

‘There’s just one thing I need to have clarified. I want an honest answer. I’ll know if you’re lying, and then there will be no deal. You got it?’

He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Why did you mention a couple on Langeland to me this morning? Kåre Bruno I can understand, but the couple? What does that have to do with us?’

‘Meticulous investigation,’ Carl said. ‘We have a man at headquarters who’s followed cases like this for years.’

‘That has nothing to do with us,’ asserted Florin.

‘You wanted an honest answer. Meticulous investigation is the answer,’ repeated Carl. ‘The character of the assault, the location, the method, the time frame. It all fits with you.’

It was at this point that the gang remembered what it was capable of.

‘Answer me!’ Ditlev Pram shouted, slamming the shaft of the crossbow into Carl’s wound.

He didn’t even manage to scream before his throat contracted in pain. Then Ditlev struck again. And again.

‘Answer me!’ Exactly why do you think we’re connected to the assault on Langeland?’ Pram yelled.

He was about to hit Carl even harder when Assad put a stop to it.

‘Kimmie had the one earring,’ he exclaimed. ‘It matched the other one found on Langeland. She had it in a box, in which there were other things from your assaults. I guess you know that.’

If Carl had had any strength left in his body he would have made it crystal clear to Assad to keep his mouth shut.

Now it was too late.

They both recognized it in Florin’s face at the same moment. Everything the three men feared had suddenly become reality. There was evidence against them. Concrete evidence.

‘I take it there are others at police headquarters who know of this box? Where is it now?’

Carl said nothing. He just looked around.

From where they sat, it was about ten yards to the gate. From there to the edge of the woods was at least an additional fifty yards. Through the woods was almost another mile, and behind them loomed Gribskov Forest. That would be the best hiding place. But it was just too far away, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, around them that could serve as a weapon. Two men with crossbows stood over them. What could they do?

Absolutely nothing.

‘We’ve got to do it here and now, and do it clean,’ Dybbøl Jensen sniffled. ‘I’ll say it again: we can’t trust these two. They aren’t like the others we bought off.’

At this Pram and Florin’s heads turned slowly towards their friend. Not smart to let that slip out, their faces clearly said.

As the three men conferred, Assad and Carl exchanged glances. Assad apologized, and Carl forgave him. What the hell did it matter if Assad made a little mistake when their deaths were being decided at this very moment by three thoroughly unscrupulous men?

‘OK, we’ll do it, but we don’t have much time. The others will be here in five minutes,’ Florin said.

And with no further ado, Dybbøl Jensen and Pram threw themselves at Carl, while Florin covered them at a few yards’ distance with his crossbow. Carl was taken totally unawares by their efficiency.

They placed gaffer tape over his mouth, pulled his hands behind his back, and taped them, too. Then they yanked his head back and stretched the tape over his eyes. He twisted a bit so the tape caught on his eyelids and pulled them up a fraction. It was through this narrow slit that he saw how Assad began protesting violently a moment later, kicking and punching so one of the men fell to the ground with a hard thump. It was Dybbøl Jensen, he could see, now completely paralysed by a karate chop to the neck. Florin tossed aside his crossbow and came to Ulrik’s aid. And while the two were busy subduing Assad, Carl got up and began running towards the light coming from the entrance.