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same time find out who she’d met during the weeks she’d spent in Visby studying theory. Knutas sighed. He realized that his upcoming vacation was going to have to be postponed. Lina had probably already realized as much. He knew that it would be difficult for her to change her vacation, so she and the children would probably take the planned trip to Denmark. He could join them if the case was solved quickly. Even though at the moment it seemed very complicated, he could always hope for a miracle.
    He might as well contact the National Criminal Police at once; they were going to need help. He thought about Martin Kihlgård. Although the inspector from the NCP had his bad points, they knew each other so well by now that he would probably be the easiest person to deal with. Knutas picked up the phone and punched in the number. It surprised him how relieved he felt when he heard his colleague’s voice on the line.

 
    Anyone who passed by the building wouldn’t suspect a thing. It looked like any other dreary warehouse made of gray sheet metal with several parking slots near the unremarkable entrance. No one would believe that inside those walls were unimaginable treasures that had lain buried and forgotten for thousands of years, treasures that had been used by people in a different era, a different life. Utterly unlike anything that was familiar to people nowadays.
    He used to come over here late at night when he was sure that all the employees had gone home. Then he had the whole place to himself. The same feeling of reverence struck him every time he opened the door and entered the first room.
    He could roam up and down the aisles for hours. Pull out an archive storage rack here and there, take out something at random: an animal bone, a bead, a spearhead, or a nail. It didn’t matter. For him no relic was more valuable than any other. Sometimes he would sit on the floor, holding an artifact in his hand. Everything around him would melt away, and the treasure in his hand became the focus. It spoke to him, whispered to him. He thought he could hear voices, echoes from the past. It was the same magical experience each time. Occasionally he had tried to transport himself into the same state as he did at home, but it never worked. This place had something different about it, maybe because it contained so much history from so long ago.
    He was convinced that spirits lived in these objects. In here he also sensed a contact with the gods—they listened to him, and he heard their voices. They told him what he was supposed to do, gave him solace, and stood by him when he needed them. Nor did they hesitate to give him praise when he’d done something that was to their liking. He received guidance from them; he didn’t know how he could have managed without their help. They told him what they wanted for themselves and what things they thought he could keep. He gladly did their bidding and was offered rewards when the time was ripe. His relationship with them went both ways, based on give and take, just like any human relationship.
    Some of the artifacts he kept at home; others he sold off. That was a necessity. He had a responsibility, and he didn’t hesitate to accept it. All the hidden things that were dug out of the earth belonged to him and his kinsmen; that was a feeling that had become stronger and stronger over the years. It was better for him to take care of the relics than for them to end up in a display case in some museum in Stockholm. If they were going to disappear from the island, he might as well be the one who decided where they would go. With his fingertips he caressed the shelves in the aisles. They were neatly marked with stickers and numbers, yet it was seldom that anyone checked to see that the drawers actually contained what was listed on the labels. That was why he was able to keep going, undetected. He had started out slowly many years ago and then just kept on. This was his world, and no one could take it away from him. He would never let go of his hold on it.
    For the first time in his life he felt that he truly had something important to do. It was a task that he undertook with the greatest seriousness.

 
    The investigative team had decided that all the students in the course, along with their teachers, should be interviewed before the night was over, so they had divided up the individuals for questioning. Jacobsson and Knutas took one of the students with whom Martina had had the most