She pressed a button twice and the map graduated to cover more of Sweden. Slaton got his bearings as the captain went through her preflight checks, and he applied the message he’d found on Christine’s work message board: BRICKLAYER111029.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the islands east of Stockholm. “Get me that far and I can be more precise. Will the weather be good?”

“The whole country is in the clear today. But tomorrow may be different—there is a cold front approaching. If you still want to depart then, we should make it no later than midday. Otherwise you may be stranded for some time.” She seasoned this with a distinctly Bohemian grin.

“My friend and I will be staying in a remote location, so we should have a contingency plan. If you can’t reach us tomorrow then wait for me to call.”

“Do you have a satellite phone?”

“No, but I’ll find a way to get in touch.” Slaton reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “The first installment.”

She took it, not bothering to count. “Do you want a receipt?” she asked, adding mischievously, “For tax purposes?”

He gave her a good-natured smile. “Remember—bring extra fuel tomorrow. We may want to do some sightseeing.”

Magnussen put the money into a sidewall storage pocket, wedging it against an aircraft operating manual that looked as if it had never been opened. “I’ll bring full fuel tanks,” she said. “But if we go beyond the agreed flight time the price will go up.”

“Done. Let’s get going.”

Minutes later the engine was straining and rattling as the Cessna skimmed over the faultless morning calm of Stjärnholmsslott Bay. The wings took a grip on the air, tenuous at first, and soon the twin creases of wake behind them came to an end. An easy sea was replaced by an easy sky, and Magnussen’s hands were soft on the controls, sure and familiar. Slaton watched the glowing map display rotate in perfect synchronization to the heading of the airplane. Once established on a heading of north by northeast, everything settled. Magnussen made an effort to chat, pointing out a few sights, but Slaton was minimally receptive and she soon gave up. The only sound then was the steady drone of the engine.

Slaton began to feel restless.