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hour.
    Knutas leaned back in his chair to wait as thoughts whirled through his mind. Aron Bjarke was an archaeologist and a teacher at the college. That gave him a connection to both Martina and Staffan. The question still remained: What was his link to Ambjörnsson? The e-mail from Destination Gotland appeared after only a few minutes, and he immediately found the name he was looking for. Bjarke had left the island by car on Saturday afternoon, July 31. Knutas raised his eyes from his computer and looked out the window. Once again he had a vague feeling that he was missing something. That annoyed him.
    He wondered what Aron Bjarke could have in common with Gunnar Ambjörnsson. With Staffan Mellgren there was a natural connection. Both taught archaeology, and each had been Martina Flochten’s teacher.
    The instant he had that thought, he realized what he had overlooked: the figure in Aron Bjarke’s kitchen window. He now realized what it represented: Frey, the god of fertility in the Æsir pantheon. Hence the penis. Knutas had noticed a similar idol at Mellgren’s house. He picked up the phone and ordered that the figure be brought in to headquarters at once.
    He didn’t have time to do it himself. He was extremely anxious to get hold of Aron Bjarke.

 
    Johan left in good time for his meeting with the seller. He had practiced using the camera all afternoon, and it was now attached to a belt around his waist. One problem was that he risked being recognized. He was pretending to be a nobleman from Skåne, but the seller might have seen him on TV. Occasionally Johan’s face appeared on the screen when he did live reports or stand-ups.
    He decided to disguise himself behind a big pair of sunglasses and a cap to hide his dark curly hair. In the mirror he looked like a whole different person.
    Traffic was heavy on the road to Visby. Lots of people were headed for the city to take part in or to watch some of the countless events that had been organized for the first day of Medieval Week. He had borrowed Emma’s car and reached the indoor ice-skating rink twenty minutes before the appointed time. He felt like a regular gangster, one half of a criminal transaction. The mere thought made him feel guilty.
    Johan managed to work up a good case of nerves as he waited. He gave a start when a red pickup drove up in front of him soon afterward. He discreetly slipped his hand inside his jacket to turn on the camera. The man driving the truck was also wearing dark glasses. He had gray stubble on his face and was slightly overweight. About fifty years old.
    Without saying a word, he reached over and opened the passenger-side door of his vehicle. With some hesitation Johan got into the pickup.
    They greeted each other briefly.
    “If we’re careful, we can take a look at the artifacts here, but it’ll have to be quick,” said the man, speaking with a marked Gotland accent. He cast a glance out the truck windows and then looked in the rearview mirror. Maybe he was new at this game.
    The seller lifted up a toolbox that was wedged between the seats. He opened the box and took out a cloth-wrapped bundle. Inside were a number of objects: a chisel, a few axe blades, several silver coins, spear points, and a circular clasp.
    Johan assumed an expression that he hoped would give him the look of an expert and slowly picked up each and every artifact.
    Niklas had given him some tips about the types of remarks he could make. The seller was watching him attentively.
    “As I said on the phone, these are just a few samples. I have many more, but I don’t know how much you’re interested in.”
    “Now that I see what you have, and that the goods are genuine, I could be interested in a large number of items,” said Johan.
    “How much are we talking about?”
    “I’d rather not go into that right now. One thing at a time. What do you want for these?”
    “All of them?”
    “Yes.”
    “A hundred thousand kronor.”
    “That’s too much. I’ll give you fifty.”
    Niklas had warned him that he would undoubtedly be quoted too high a price, if for no other reason than to check him out.
    “Ninety.”
    “I can go as high as seventy-five thousand. Just to show you my goodwill on the first deal. But next time I’d appreciate it if you’d ask a reasonable price right from the start.”
    “When can I get the money?”
    “On Monday.”
    “In cash?”
    “That’s what we agreed, wasn’t it?”

 
    Aron Bjarke didn’t answer his home