The Killing 3 Read Online Free Page A

that. We both knew Emilie has that allergy.’
    ‘Robert.’ Reinhardt’s hand was on his arm. ‘I’ve reason to believe the board could be difficult. You may need me there.’
    Zeuthen smiled.
    ‘Not this time, old friend.’
    Back in Christiansborg Karen Nebel was worried.
    ‘People are starting to talk,’ she said as they sat down in his office. ‘They don’t understand why Zeeland haven’t denied the newspaper report.’ Her phone
rang. ‘Maybe this is it . . .’
    Hartmann watched her go out into the corridor to take the call then muttered, ‘Are we supposed to jump up and down every time the press publish a lie?’
    Morten Weber folded his arms, leaned back in the chair by the window.
    ‘Sometimes.’
    Weber had been there throughout Hartmann’s career. A diminutive, modest, somewhat shabby man with wayward curly black hair, he’d steered Hartmann into the mayor’s chair against
all the odds. Then seized the chance to do the same with the Prime Minister’s office when the opportunity arose. His knowledge of the Danish political landscape was unrivalled, and at times
underpinned by a quiet, frank ruthlessness. No one dared speak to Hartmann the way Weber did. Even then there were explosions.
    ‘We’re dealing with Zeeland,’ Hartmann said. ‘Karen’s on to it.’
    ‘Good. I’ve cancelled this insane visit to the docks. PET aren’t happy with what’s going on there. And they don’t want us to talk about it either.’
    ‘Uncancel it,’ Hartmann ordered. ‘Ussing will say I don’t care about the homeless.’
    ‘Screw Ussing.’
    ‘We’re on the back foot here, Morten! Ussing’s using Zeeland to say I’m stealing from the poor to give to the rich.’
    ‘Troels—’
    ‘I’m going,’ Hartmann said. ‘Even if I have to catch a bus. OK?’
    Nebel walked back in, clutching her phone.
    ‘We’re not going to get that denial.’
    Weber pushed his heavy glasses up his nose.
    ‘You mean the story’s true?’
    ‘The board would like it to be. They’re trying to work round Robert Zeuthen. They think he’s weak. Ordinary—’
    ‘Listen,’ Hartmann interrupted. ‘Zeuthen’s father promised he wouldn’t move any more of the company abroad if we helped them out. Robert said he’d abide by
that. If they renege on the deal now I’ll crucify them . . .’
    ‘No you won’t,’ Weber said. ‘You won’t be in a position to.’
    Hartmann fought to keep a rein on his temper. It was at times like this that Weber was at his most valuable, and infuriating.
    ‘So what happens?’
    ‘If you give in and offer Zeeland more sweeteners Rosa Lebech won’t climb under your sheets. If you don’t our own people will start smuggling the daggers in here.’ Weber
wrinkled his fleshy nose. ‘My guess is Birgit Eggert. She thinks the Ministry of Finance is beneath her.’
    ‘If Zeuthen’s ousted we’ve got to give them something,’ Nebel said. ‘I’ll talk to the Treasury. It doesn’t need to be much.’
    ‘Christ!’ Weber yelled. ‘Why not hand Ussing the keys to the office now? Can’t you see the posters? If you’re rich vote for Hartmann. If you’re
not—’
    ‘We do nothing until we know where Rosa Lebech stands,’ Hartmann said. ‘I can bring her round. Tell PET I’m going to the homeless camp whatever they say. And . . .’
He walked to the cabinets, pulled out a clean shirt and a new suit. ‘That’s it.’
    Nebel glowered at Weber when Hartmann strode off to the bathroom to change.
    ‘I don’t like losing, Morten.’
    ‘Who does?’
    ‘Why won’t he listen?’
    The little man laughed.
    ‘Because he’s a politician. Troels only feels truly happy when he’s living on a knife edge. He likes the rush. The thrill. The danger.’ He got up, winked at her.
‘Don’t we all?’
    Brix was on the phone the moment she got back to the docks. He wanted to know what PET were up to.
    ‘They seem to think there could be trouble for Hartmann’s visit. It wasn’t my fault