The Secret Servant

said.
    He stopped briefly in the men’s toilet, where he buried his Beretta and phone in the rubbish bin, then went into the market and purchased a large-scale map of Denmark and an English-language tourist guide. When he returned to the dining room, Ibrahim was in the process of unwrapping the second egg sandwich. Ibrahim slipped it into his coat pocket and followed Gabriel outside.
     
     
     
    “Here it is,” said Ibrahim. “Lindholm Høje.”
    He was hunched over the guidebook, reading it by the light of the overhead lamp. Gabriel kept his eyes fastened to the road.
    “What does it say?”
    “It’s an old Viking village and cemetery. For centuries it was buried beneath a thick layer of sand. It only was discovered in 1952. According to the book, it has more than seven hundred graves and the remains of a few Viking longhouses.”
    “Where is it?”
    Ibrahim consulted the book again, then plotted the position of the site on the road map. “Northern Jutland,” he said. “Very northern Jutland, actually.”
    “How do I get there?”
    “Take the E20 across Funen, then head north on the E45. Lindholm is just after Aalborg. The book says it’s easy to find the place. Just follow the signs.”
    “I can’t see the road, let alone the signs.”
    “Is that where they’re going to leave the woman?”
    Gabriel shook his head. “More instructions. This time they’ll be written. They say they’ll be in the ruins of the longhouse, in the corner farthest from the museum entrance.” He looked briefly at Ibrahim. “It wasn’t Ishaq this time. It was someone else.”
    “Egyptian?”
    “He sounded Egyptian to me, but I’m no expert.”
    “Please,” said Ibrahim dismissively. “Why did they make you get rid of your telephone?”
    “No more electronic communication.”
    Ibrahim looked down at the map. “It’s a long way from here to Lindholm.”
    “Two hours in perfect weather. In this…four at least.”
    Ibrahim looked at the clock. “That means it will be Friday morning, if we’re lucky.”
    “Yes,” said Gabriel. “He’s running us up against the deadline.”
    “Who? Ishaq?”
    A very good question, thought Gabriel. Was it Ishaq? Or was it the Sphinx?…
     
     
     
    It took four and a half hours to reach Lindholm and, just as Gabriel had feared, the guidebook’s assurances that the cemetery was easy to find turned out to be false. He drove in circles for twenty minutes through a neighborhood of matching brick houses before finally spotting a postcard-sized sign he had missed three times previously. It was obscured by snow, of course; Gabriel had to climb out of the Audi and brush away the flakes, only to learn that in order to reach the site he had to first scale a formidable hill. The Audi handled the conditions with only a single episode of fishtailing, and two minutes later Gabriel was easing into a car park surrounded by towering pine. He shut down the engine and sat for a moment, his ears ringing from the strain of the drive, before finally opening the door and putting a foot into the snow. Ibrahim stayed where he was.
    “You’re not coming?”
    “I’ll wait here, if you don’t mind.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of cemeteries.”
    “No, just Viking cemeteries.”
    “They were only warlike when they took to the seas,” Gabriel said. “Here at home they were largely an agrarian people. The scariest thing we’re likely to run across tonight is the ghost of a vegetable farmer.”
    “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just stay here.”
    “Suit yourself,” Gabriel said. “If you want to sit here alone, that’s fine with me.”
    Ibrahim made a show of thought, then climbed out. Gabriel opened the trunk and removed the flashlight and the tire iron.
    “Why are you bringing that?” asked Ibrahim.
    “In case we come across any Vikings.” He slipped the tool down the front of his jeans and quietly closed the trunk. “They made me leave my gun back in that service station, too. A crowbar is better than nothing.”
    Gabriel switched on the flashlight and set out across the car park with Ibrahim at his side. The snow was six inches deep and within a few steps Gabriel’s brogans were sodden and his feet freezing. Thirty seconds after leaving the car, he stopped suddenly. There were two sets of faint tracks in the snow, one set obviously larger than the other, leading from the car park into the burial ground. Gabriel left Ibrahim alone and followed the footprints