‘You can’t park here.’
The man was heavily built and bald. His tan looked unreal. He wound the window down, smiled, but didn’t answer.
‘This whole area is cordoned off. No cars are allowed.’
The guy just sat there smiling.
The officer on his side lost patience and glanced quickly at his colleague to see if he was ready to go for it.
‘Your identity card, sir.’
The man in the passenger seat didn’t move, as if he hadn’t heard or hadn’t made up his mind to obey.
‘We need proof of your identity. Now, if you don’t mind.’
The man sighed exaggeratedly. ‘Sure.’
His wallet was in his back pocket. The police officer took the ID card and leaned against the car door while he radioed.
‘Check this. Hans Jochum Lang. ID number 570725-0350.’
A minute or so, then they could all hear the answer.
‘Hans Jochum Lang. ID number 570725-0350. On the wanted list since this morning.’
Jochum laughed as they manhandled him out of the car. When they had him belly-down on the wet tarmac, he asked them who their witness might be. He laughed even louder as they searched and cuffed him, then shoved him into the back seat of the patrol car they had called and drove off.
Bengt watched Ewert as he shook his head vigorously. The negative was obvious.
Lighter, that was how he felt. Stronger.
Ewert had decided. He had said no.
Bengt spoke into the receiver again. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. Won’t happen.’
‘No?’
‘If I was to come down to the mortuary… it’s against our policy in hostage negotiations.’
‘Killing people is against policy, but I’ve done it all the same. And I’ll kill another one if you don’t come down here.’
‘There must be alternatives. Let’s talk about it.’
‘The police get the hostages, the ones that are alive, only when you come down here. Three hostages against one. So far.’
He was convinced now. He knew where they were going now.
‘Nope. Sorry.’
‘I want you. You speak Russian. You’ve got thirty minutes. Then I’ll kill another hostage.’
The tearing, haunting anguish. He was so very afraid.
‘Lydia, I-’
‘Twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds.’
Ewert pulled out his earpiece, walked across to the switch and turned on the overhead light.
They looked at the clock on the wall. It was eleven minutes past three.
The man who was standing in the doorway to the medical ward kitchen addressed the ward sister.
‘You’d better go.’
Ann-Marie got up, looked at Lisa, who nodded. A nod in return and then the sister left, her eyes fixed on the floor, hurrying out through the door into the empty corridor.
Slobodan watched her as she vanished and then turned to Lisa with a smile. She was about to smile too when he moved quickly close to the table.
‘Let me explain.’
He paused.
‘All you need to know is, you haven’t seen a frigging thing. You haven’t got a clue who visited Hilding Oldйus today.’
She closed her eyes. Not more of this. Not now.
A stomach spasm. She vomited into her lap and on the tablecloth. Bloody Hilding. She kept her eyes closed, didn’t want to see, not again, not any more. Hilding, Hilding. Fuck him.
‘Hey.’
Her eyes were still shut. Her body was still racked by pain, more spasms; she wanted to throw up again.
‘Lisa. Look at me!’
Slowly she opened her eyes.
‘All you have to do is keep your mouth shut. Simple, isn’t it? One word, and you’re dead.’
Ewert Grens had expected to feel something more when he got the message that Jochum Lang had been arrested. He had waited for so long and this time had a reliable pair of eyes that had seen Lang in action, someone who could testify to the murder all the way to a life sentence.
But he felt nothing.
It was as if he were anaesthetised. Thinking about Grajauskas, who was holed up in that basement hellhole, playing games with hostages’ lives, stole all his energy. Later, when Grajauskas had been dealt with, then he could take the good news on board.
But he did leave the room so he could find a place where he could phone that prosecutor prat in peace. Еgestam had to know that they had a witness this time, a hospital doctor who had seen Lang come along to beat up Hilding Oldйus. They also had a motive. A recent report from two regional detective constables indicated that Lang was acting on behalf of his Yugoslav bosses, who had taken a strong aversion to Oldйus’s trick of cutting their speed with washing powder.
Ewert promised himself that under no circumstances would he end the call before Еgestam had understood and had agreed to charge Lang on the grounds of a reasonable suspicion of murder and then ordered a complete body search, mainly for traces of the victim’s DNA and possibly some blood. The beating must have caused a fair amount of splashing.
Lisa couldn’t hold back any more. Her stomach was in pieces and she leaned over the table and threw up again. She sensed that the man who was threatening her had come closer.
‘Lisa, Lisa. You’re not well, are you? As I had to wait to speak to you, first downstairs, what with the cops crawling all over the place, and then again outside your office, I made a few phone calls to pass the time. Get that, Lisa? A few quick calls to the right people, that’s all it takes, and then you’re king of the castle, eh? Know everything you need to know.’
His face came closer still.
‘You can’t answer. Maybe you should listen instead. Your name is Lisa Öhrström. You are thirty-five years old and have been a doctor for seven. You have worked in this place for the last two years.’
Lisa sat very still. If she didn’t move, didn’t speak, it might be over soon.
‘You are unmarried. No children. Still, never mind, you have these photos pinned to your noticeboard.’
He showed her the photographs. In one of them it was summer and a six-year-old boy was lying on a wooden jetty next to his older sister. The sun was shining and they both looked a little too red. The other picture was of a Christmas tree and the same children, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbon, their faces winter-pale but full of anticipation.
Lisa closed her eyes again.
She saw Sanna, she saw Jonathan. They were all she had. She was so proud of them both, felt like another mother to them. There were times when they stayed at her place more than at home with Ylva. They would soon be grown up. In this horrible world. She prayed that they would never have to deal with someone close to them being an addict. Prayed that neither of them would ever be haunted by the sick behaviour patterns driven by addiction. Prayed that they would never have to feel the terrible fear that gripped her now.
She kept her eyes closed and would keep them closed until all this was over.
What you don’t see doesn’t exist.
‘Ewert?’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know.’
Ewert had no idea. He still couldn’t feel anything. She had given them half an hour. Why not twenty minutes? What about that? Or ten? Why not just one minute? What did it matter, when they had no choice?
‘Ewert?’
‘Yes?’
Bengt Nordwall was holding on tightly to the edge of the trolley. He found it difficult to speak, even to stand up straight. Why ask? Why am I pushing this? he thought. I’m saying things I don’t want to say, which means that I’ll have to do things I don’t want to do. I don’t need this. Some bloody awful terror is tearing me apart. I don’t want to think about it. Not the commotion in the stairwell, not her lashed back. Not the Stena Baltica. None of that.