B0031RSBSM EBOK

phone or his cell.
    Knutas switched on his computer and looked up the personal data on Bjarke. He was born in 1961 at Visby Hospital. He went to Säve High School in Visby and then studied archaeology at the University of Stockholm. For a long time he lived in Hägerstan, a suburb south of the city. Knutas confirmed that Bjarke had never married or registered as living with anyone. Nor did he have any children. A few years ago he had moved back to Gotland, and he now lived on Skogränd.
    Aron Bjarke had one sibling, an older brother named Eskil Rondahl. Their parents had died in a fire only a year ago. Knutas remembered that fire in Hall quite well. It was quickly put out, yet two people had died. So they were Bjarke’s parents. Knutas frowned at the strange coincidence. The police techs had done a thorough investigation, but the cause of the fire had never been determined.
    It turned out that Bjarke’s brother still lived at the family farm in Hall.
    Maybe he would find Aron there.

 
    The tension that Johan had felt before meeting the seller dissipated as he sat in his own vehicle. He felt sick to his stomach and weak in the knees. Not because the man had made a particularly frightening impression; in fact, he seemed quite timid.
    For the time being, Johan pushed aside any thought of possible consequences. He turned off the camera, hoping that he’d gotten it all on film. Then he took off his dark glasses and cap.
    In Gråbo he picked up Niklas Appelqvist, who was carrying two bottles of good wine and a bouquet of flowers for Emma. Johan was impressed. He hadn’t thought his friend would be so considerate.
    When they reached the house they were met with loud music. Pia and Emma were sitting on the sofa, each of them holding a glass of wine and rocking out to Ebba Grön. It had been a long time since Johan had seen Emma looking so lively. She needed a break. Maybe her uncertainty about their relationship had a lot to do with simple fatigue.
    At that instant he decided to take her on a trip, whether she wanted to go or not. It would be a surprise that he would book in advance. They would have to take Elin along, of course, but he would make all the arrangements. Emma wouldn’t have to do anything except nurse the baby.
    When Emma caught sight of Johan, she came dancing toward him with a mischievous smile to give him a kiss. He had a feeling that she had read his mind.
    After dinner they sat down on the sofa group in the living room to look at the video. The visual quality left a lot to be desired, and the images were shaky, but they could clearly hear what was said.
    Johan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the material was good enough for him to put together a TV report. Suddenly the face of the seller appeared, at first blurred, then clearer. Niklas gave a shout.
    “What the hell! That’s the guy from the warehouse. Eskil. Eskil something or other.”
    Everyone looked at Niklas in surprise.
    “I remember now. His name is Eskil Rondahl. He works at the antiquities warehouse. He’s been there for ages. I’m not surprised that he could get his hands on artifacts.”
    “I know who you mean!” exclaimed Johan excitedly. “I’ve interviewed him about the thefts on the phone. Good Lord. That dried up, sad old man. Are you sure it’s him?”
    “Of course I’m sure. Everyone who studies archaeology has to take a few classes from him. He demonstrates how to handle ancient relics and archive them.”
    “So that means it’s an inside job. If he’s selling artifacts, maybe there are others doing the same thing.”
    “This is fucking insane,” Niklas said, shaking his head. “I wonder how long he’s been doing this.”
    “What do you know about him?”
    “Not much. He seems like an anonymous type of guy. Incredibly reserved and uptight. Hardly says a word. A real oddball, to put it bluntly.”
    “Do you know whether he has a family? Or where he lives?”
    “I have no idea. Although I have a hard time imagining that he’d have a family.”
    “I’ll check.”
    Johan got up and switched on the computer in Emma’s study. He searched for Eskil Rondahl in the municipal records and found his address.
    “He lives in Hall. That’s north of here, isn’t it?”
    “What’s the address?” asked Niklas, who had followed Johan into the study. He was standing behind him, looking at the screen.
    “It just says Sigvards, Hall.”
    “I wonder where that is. Large sections of Hall are a nature