Dark Angel (Anders Knutas 6) Read Online Free

but—’ The bartender abruptly appeared at their side, holding out a drink. ‘For the lady – with greetings from an admirer.’
    Viktor felt his face cloud over.
    ‘What on earth …’ She laughed, gazing around in confusion. ‘Well, this is certainly flattering.’ She looked at the colourful drink. ‘Who’s it from?’
    The bartender pointed towards the other side of the bar.
    ‘Oh, looks like he’s left.’
    She turned back to Viktor.
    ‘Honey, I need to go to the loo. Where should we meet?’
    He pointed to the stairs beyond the bar.
    ‘Go downstairs to the lounge. That section is closed for the evening, so we can sit there in peace.’
    ‘I’ll make it fast. Could you take my glass?’
    ‘Sure.’
    Viktor Algård told the bartender that he was taking a short break and then slipped away before yet another talkative guest claimed his attention. Most likely no one would notice his absence, since everyone was watching what was taking place on stage.
    Downstairs was a lounge area with a small bar and several groups of sofas. A door led to a paved terrace and a deserted side street. He opened the door and stepped out, lighting a cigarette as he gazed at the sea. He savoured the quiet. Standing there in the dark, all he could hear were the waves rolling on to the shore.
    He took several deep drags on his cigarette.
    The temperature had dropped significantly and he shivered. The chill air forced him to put out his smoke and go back inside. He sat down on a sofa, shoved a couple of pillows behind him, and then leaned back, closing his eyes. All at once he could feel how tired he was.
    A sudden sound very close made him sit up with a start. A faint rattling over by the employee lift. He couldn’t see the lift from where he was sitting on the sofa, but he knew that it was over there in the corner, near the exit to the terrace. He froze. It was too soon for his mistress to be returning from the ladies’ room.
    He listened tensely. The last thing he wanted at the moment was someone’s uninvited company.
    The music and noise from the floor above were clearly audible, although somewhat muted at this distance. He glanced at the bar, but it was closed and deserted. He looked out at the street, but it was just as dark and empty as before. Had someone slipped inside while he was having a smoke? He had, in fact, stepped away from the door with his back turned to the room. His thoughts vacillated nervously. But now it was quiet again. Nothing moved.
    He shook his head; he must have imagined it. Or maybe a couple had come down here from the party, looking for an out-of-the-way corner. That sort of thing happened at every festive gathering. But then they must have noticed him sitting on the sofa. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had passed. She should be here any moment.
    The drink she’d handed him looked enticing, and he was thirsty. He reached for the glass.
    He had barely taken a gulp before a burning flame shot up his throat. Surprised, he held up the glass to look at the contents. The drink had a bitter taste that reminded him of something, but he couldn’t think what it might be. Now he also noticed a pungent odour.
    At that instant he was overcome by dizziness. He could barely breathe, and powerful convulsions surged through his body. With an effort , he stood up and staggered forward a few steps, his lips trying to shape the words to call for help. Not a sound came out. The room blurred.
    Viktor Algård lost his balance and collapsed.

THE KRONHOLM GOLF course was beautifully situated on a promontory surrounded on three sides by the sea. Unfortunately, the idyllic setting was not having a positive effect on the prevailing mood. Anders Knutas shook his head at his son Nils, who for the third time in an hour was throwing a fit because he’d failed to sink a putt. Inspired by the conversation with his dinner companion on the previous evening, and by the advent of such glorious weather, Knutas had brought the