Jochum stayed in the car outside the hospital entrance, but didn’t bother to look round after Slobodan. The guy was no doubt running around trying to be boss, getting a hard-on because it was him who was tidying up after Jochum this time.
I shouldn’t have been seen, he said to himself, but that’s what happens, sooner or later you take your eye off the ball, and risk your position. The little guys are after you in a flash, they forget quickly and need to be reminded.
He turned the ignition key to check the time. The figures lit up. Twenty minutes. More than enough. Slobodan should’ve had time to tell her a thing or two.
Lisa was leaning against the kitchen sink. The coffee was stronger than it should be but she drank some all the same. It felt good to be able to swallow. She wasn’t even halfway through her list of patients. A long day ahead, as if the morning hadn’t been enough.
She was just about to put the cup down when the ward sister came in, flushed and agitated.
‘Dr Öhrström! Shouldn’t you go home?’
‘Not alone. I couldn’t bear it, Ann-Marie. I’ll stay here.’
The sister shook her head slowly. She still looked flushed.
‘A patient has been murdered and you saw it. Shouldn’t you get in touch with the staff counsellor? At the very least?’
‘Patients often die.’
‘It was your brother.’
‘Ann-Marie, my brother died a long time ago.’
The ward sister looked at Lisa and gently touched her cheek.
‘There’s someone here to see you.’
Lisa caught the other woman’s eye, as she drained the remains of the coffee.
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. But I don’t like the look of him.’
‘A patient?’
‘No.’
Ann-Marie sat down at the table with its red-and-white-checked tablecloth.
‘And what does he want?’
‘No idea. But he wouldn’t go away. Needed to talk to you, he said.’
As Lisa pulled a chair up to the table, she felt the floor under her feet move and heard the cups in the cupboards rattle.
It felt like the whole place was shaking.
She knew that parts of the hospital had been evacuated, but did not know why. The kitchen was shuddering and she had the distinct impression that a bomb had gone off. Not that she had ever experienced a bomb blast, but that was her only thought in the after-shock of the explosion.
Jochum Lang turned the key again, checked the time, started the windscreen wipers so he could see out while he waited. What a day. The rain was set to carry on until after dark.
Then it happened.
He heard it clearly, a dull thud from somewhere inside the hospital. He turned around, tried to peer through the wet glass of the automatic doors. Explosives. He had no doubt. It was that kind of noise.
He prepared himself for more, but that was it. Just the one bang and then silence.
The room was too brightly lit. The bloody overhead light had irritated Ewert ever since he came into the Casualty operating theatre and started to move things that were in the way. He had just heard the noise of a human body exploding, followed by Sven’s desperate shouts over the radio.
Bloody lights, he thought. Can’t stand it for a moment longer. How can anyone live with all this light? He sat down, then stood up again and almost ran across the room, past the trolley where Edvardson and Hermansson were standing, threw himself at the switch and turned off the light.
A quiet moment. No exploding bodies. No prostitutes taking charge of other people’s lives. A quiet moment. The light, his irritation, the dark, the light switch were all tangible things he could understand. And he needed to understand if he was to fathom what had happened. Just a quiet moment.
It was still light enough for them to see each other. Ewert started pacing again; he needed his circling and forgot the darkened lamps. Concentrated on his breathing, felt the blood return to his face. He stopped when he reached the corner where Bengt was sitting with the earphones still on, and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
‘Call her.’
The shaking stopped as abruptly as it had started. Lisa Öhrström was still at the table. She leaned forward and put her hand on top of the ward sister’s.
‘Ann-Marie.’
‘Yes?’
‘Where is he?’
‘Outside your office. He frightens me. I can’t think why, but what with Mr Oldйus being murdered and the police snooping about all morning…I don’t know, it’s too much.’
Lisa was silently looking at the red-and-white-checked pattern on the tablecloth when there was a knock on the door. She turned. A man, dark hair and moustache, slightly overweight. She caught a glimpse of Ann-Marie nodding. It was him.
‘Sorry to trouble you.’
His voice was soft, his tone friendly.
‘Was it you who wanted to see me?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What is it about?’
‘A private matter. Is there somewhere we could talk?’
Lisa’s stomach churned. One part of her wanted to scream and run away, the other was suddenly furious. Her attacks of fear had nothing to do with her own life and everything to do with Hilding and his damned addiction. Her whole life had been dictated by his attempts to escape and he controlled her still; even after his death, he was draining her strength.
She shook her head, didn’t reply straight away. Her stomach was burning, fear tugging at her mind.
‘I’d prefer to stay here.’
Ewert wanted him to call her. Bengt reached out for the receiver; he would have preferred to wait a little longer, a few more moments of peace. He had disliked that shuddering movement under his feet.
His mouth felt so dry, he swallowed, but that wasn’t enough. Nothing could rid him of the fear that crawled all over him, the persistent unease. He kept wondering if he should speak up, admit that he knew who she was.
Not yet.
It wasn’t necessary yet.
He had better do as Ewert asked. When he leaned forward to dial the number of the mortuary, the phone rang.
He turned, caught Ewert’s eye and saw that he was putting in his earpiece. Two rings and then Bengt replied.
‘Yes?’
‘Nordwall?’
‘Yes.’
‘You heard that, didn’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘And you all know what it means?’
‘Yes, we do.’
‘Shame that it took another dead hostage to make you understand.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Let me make two points clear. One, I don’t negotiate. Two, you can’t get in here without blowing the whole place up.’
‘We have understood that too.’
‘The hostages are fused and so is the mortuary.’
‘Lydia, if you keep calm I’m sure we can come to an agreement. But we have to know why you’re doing all this.’
‘I will tell you.’
‘When?’
‘Later.’
‘What do you want now?’
‘You. I want you down here.’
Now he knew why she had taken hostages. Somehow, he had known all along. The sense of vague dread now turned into something else, a feeling he had never experienced before. The anguished fear of death.
He closed his eyes and spoke. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s hard to keep watching the hostages at the same time as I’m running about playing games with telephones. I want you here. You and I will speak Russian together. You can make the phone calls when it’s time to contact your colleagues.’
Bengt’s breaths came in bursts. Ewert was listening in but didn’t understand. John had left the room to update his boss.
Bengt explained briefly what she had demanded. Ewert shook his head vigorously.
No, no. Not that.
Not ever.
The two police officers patrolling the Söder Hospital precinct noticed the car at once, as soon as they approached the main entrance. It was brand new, expensive and illegally parked, with two wheels up on the narrow pavement. It was hard to see inside because of the pouring rain, but there seemed to be a man sitting in the passenger seat. The driver’s seat was empty. They went to either side of the car and tapped lightly on the front windows.