Read The Killing 3 for Free Online Page B

more recent and Lund couldn’t stop reading. Niedermayer’s widow had returned to Ireland ten years after his death and walked into the ocean to die. Then
both their daughters committed suicide. One constant stream of misery from a single brutal act . . .
    ‘I’m looking at pictures of kidnapped politicians here,’ Lund said and didn’t even know if Borch was still listening. ‘Dead ones. You’ve got to get Hartmann
out of there right now.’
    The PET people barged into the crowd of hacks, almost picked Hartmann off the bonnet of the car then threw him into a security van alongside Weber and Karen Nebel.
    Flashing lights. Sirens. The three of them sat together on a bench seat, two armed officers opposite as the vehicle lurched out of the docks back towards the city.
    ‘They can’t treat me like this,’ Hartmann complained. ‘I won’t allow it.’
    ‘The police found two dead men in a ship offshore,’ Weber said. ‘Another this morning. Some photos of kidnapped politicians. They can.’
    He got a vicious, spiteful glare in return.
    ‘Lund’s handling the case,’ Weber added.
    Silence between the two men.
    ‘Who’s Lund?’ Nebel asked.
    ‘There’s history,’ Hartmann said. Then to Weber. ‘Talk to the Politigården. Not Brix. Go over his head. I don’t want her near.’
    ‘Is someone going to tell me?’ Nebel asked.
    ‘She made a big mistake once before,’ Weber said. ‘Nearly cost us an election. It’s not happening again.’
    His phone rang. The van bounced over rough ground, finally found some decent road.
    Nebel turned on Hartmann.
    ‘You should never have made those promises, Troels. You can’t invent policy on the hoof. You don’t know what Zeeland’s response might be. You need to let me handle that
side of things. I wasn’t hired to watch you scoring own goals.’
    He looked amused by that.
    ‘Is that what I’ve done?’
    ‘I can’t work in the dark. I know you and Morten go back years. I don’t. Keep me in the picture.’
    Hartmann pretended to be puzzled.
    ‘What exactly do you want to know?’
    ‘Are you screwing Rosa Lebech?’
    He rolled back on the seat, didn’t look at her.
    Morten Weber came off the phone.
    ‘Zeeland have just put out a statement denying the article. It looks as if their CEO will be suspended. Robert Zeuthen is going on the record to say he personally, and Zeeland as a
corporation, support the government’s recovery plan all the way.’
    Lights outside. They were entering the heart of the city. Slotsholmen. Soon they would be back in the warm offices of the Christiansborg Palace.
    Hartmann laughed. Grinned. Weber wouldn’t look at her.
    ‘You both knew that was coming, didn’t you?’ she asked.
    ‘Morten’s got friends everywhere,’ Hartmann told her. ‘Maybe a little bird told him the paper were going to dump on Kornerup.’ He slapped Weber’s knee.
‘Not that I want to know.’
    The van pulled into the courtyard in front of the palace. Two officers came and opened the doors. Hartmann didn’t move.
    ‘We need a press release, Karen. You phrase them so carefully. So beautifully. I wish I had that kind of skill myself.’
    A hint of a smile at that.
    ‘But let me see it first, won’t you?’ he added. ‘Then pop a copy in Ussing’s pigeonhole with my warmest regards.’
    She went ahead of them into the building. Weber stopped him on the steps, waited till the security men were out of earshot.
    ‘Is she right? Are you popping something in Rosa Lebech’s pigeonhole?’
    Hartmann’s face fell.
    ‘I don’t have time for this,’ he said and started walking. Weber’s arm stopped him.
    ‘I zipped up your flies once before with all that Birk Larsen nonsense, Troels. We were damned lucky to get out of that in one piece. Don’t ask me to do it again.’
    ‘I’m a single man. A widower. I work every hour God gives for this country. I’ve a right to a private life. A right to be loved.’ Then, almost as an afterthought.
‘I