The Killing - 01 - The Killing by David Hewson

Author:David Hewson [Hewson, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9781447213956
Publisher: Macmillan Publishers UK
Published: 2011-12-31T13:00:00+00:00

Politicians and women. They went together. He was a striking, interesting, intelligent man. She could see why. Could almost imagine . . .

‘I got Rie Skovgaard to talk,’ Meyer said proudly. ‘She’s no idea where he was the whole weekend. None whatsoever. She lied to the sponsors. She made up the story about him being ill.’

Hartmann was wrapping a napkin round the neck of the wine bottle. Then he poured himself a glass.

‘What’s going on, Lund? Where the hell are you?’

‘That’s fine,’ she said brightly and ended the call.

‘Anything wrong?’ Hartmann asked.

‘No. Did you bring me the list?’

‘Here you go. Christensen. The one at the top. I’d start with him.’

‘Thanks.’

Hartmann sat down, glanced at his watch, started on the pizza.

‘Maybe I’ll have a slice after all,’ Lund said.

It didn’t take long before Hartmann was in full flow, talking politics, talking tactics, talking about anything but himself.

Lund sipped her expensive red wine, wondered if this was a good idea. She stayed to entice him, to trap him. But he was doing the same to her. Had done this to many women, she thought. His personality, his looks, his energy and apparent sincerity . . . he had a magnetism she never encountered in the police.

Bengt Rosling was a good, kind, intelligent man. But Troels Hartmann, now she saw him alone, at his dining table, free of the police and the trappings of City Hall, was different. Charismatic and gripped by a visible passion, one most men she knew in Copenhagen would be reluctant to allow a stranger to see.

‘Bremer . . . It’s outrageous to have a man like that in power. For twelve years! He thinks he owns us.’

‘Politics is about staying in power, isn’t it? Not just getting there.’

Hartmann topped up her glass.

‘You’ve got to get there first. Sure. But the reason we have power is to give it back.’

He looked at Lund.

‘To you. We get everyone to work like fury and take a share of what we create together. Copenhagen doesn’t belong to Poul Bremer. Or the political classes. It belongs to everyone. That’s what politics means.’

He nodded, smiled. Aware, perhaps, that he’d made a speech, seemingly without wishing it.

‘To me anyway. I’m sorry. I sound like I’m asking for your vote.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘Of course.’ He raised his glass. ‘I need every one I can get. Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘As if I’m . . . odd.’

Lund shrugged.

‘Most people find politics boring. I get the impression you don’t think about much else.’

‘Nothing. We need to change. I want to lead that. I’ve always felt that way. It’s me, I guess.’

‘And your private life?’

‘That comes second,’ he said in a quiet, uncertain tone.

An awkward moment. Lund was smiling, out of embarrassment, out of a lack of anything to say.

‘You think that’s funny?’ Hartmann asked. ‘Why? I’ve dated half of Copenhagen, haven’t I? Or so you seem to think.’

‘Only half?’

He could have taken that badly. Instead Troels Hartmann broke into a broad smile and shook his head.

‘You’re a very unusual police officer.

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