“Interesting theory.” The most charming of smiles. “Impossible to prove.”

“You can’t explain away the fertilizer on your farm,” I said.

“And yet, that’s exactly what I had my lawyer do. We are a farm. We use fertilizer.”

At the boat dock on Garden Island I could see Tvist. At his side was an escort of firearms officers.

Bror had a look in his eye, like a dog on the hunt, expectant and keen. And as I looked toward the officers a terrible wrenching thought began to form. Because I saw now that Bror was planning the murder of Police Chief Ephraim Tvist.

Forty-Six

Bror stepped briskly ashore, nodded to the firearms officers, ignored Tvist, continued up the rise toward the buildings.

“Tvist,” I said. “You have to end this.”

Tvist watched Bror for a moment. He turned to me.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

“You don’t realize the danger you’re in.”

“I really do.”

“He spent the night at his farmhouse.”

“Yes.”

I narrowed my eyes. How did he know?

I saw him think for a moment. The tiniest of frowns. “Perhaps I can tell you this, Cal. We’ve picked up six of his followers so far,” he said. “All armed, all wearing police summer uniforms.”

“Here?”

“Here. Bror does not know, because we have disabled all telephone signals.”

“That leaves two.”

“Possibly. And if I arrest Bror before I arrest them, these men will go to ground. But on this island I have a hundred armed men and women. A hundred and eleven, in fact. And this time they are properly trained and they are primed. Bror will be arrested as soon as he attempts to leave. In the meantime we will be watching him like a hawk and noting who he speaks with. You and your family are perfectly safe.”

“The target is you.”

Tvist laughed. “Then I must hope my people are as effective as I believe.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “Edvard was there at the farmhouse. He’s been feeding information to Bror.”

Ephraim Tvist simply smiled his level smile.

“You knew?” I said.

“I can’t discuss procedure. But Edvard is no traitor.”

“You suspended him.”

“He fell under the spell of a man who promised him salvation. And when Edvard saw the harm he had done, he wanted to put that right. I reinstated him. Now . . .”

We began to walk up the hill. There were fewer of us on Garden Island today. The survivors and the families of the deceased were outnumbered by Tvist’s men and women. There was a readiness in the air, a strange sense of anticipation.

“So, Edvard . . .” I said.

“A good man may do evil if the devil crosses his path. Are we not all fallible? But Edvard passed on information about today, so I’d say he has redeemed himself.”

Those dark, dark eyes. That patient smile.