He reached the entrance to the bunker, bent down and listened. Yes, there was someone in there. He could hear a child snuffling within the concrete walls. Jan hoped he wasn’t crying — and that he was just a little boy with a runny nose from being out in the cold.
Silently he reached out and slowly closed the door. Slowly, slowly... and when it was completely shut he shot both bolts across.
The previous evening he had hidden the robot’s remote control in a plastic bag under a stone next to the bunker. He took it out and pressed the button, bringing the toy to life. He couldn’t see it, of course, but he heard his own voice, distorted and metallic, echoing inside the bunker.
‘Wait here, William,’ said the robot’s loudspeaker. ‘Everything is all right, just wait here.’
Jan put back the remote control and turned away. He climbed down on to level ground and raced back towards the ravine, grabbing the red arrow on the way. He screwed it up and tucked it into his jacket pocket, then did the same with arrow number two. He slammed the iron gate shut, and when he emerged from the ravine he removed the final arrow.
He was out of breath, but didn’t slow down. Up the slope, the drums still pounding in his ears. When he reached the spot where the game of hide-and-seek had started, he looked at his watch. Three thirty-five. It felt as if it had taken much longer, but he and the boys had been playing for only ten minutes.
Suddenly he spotted a pale-green jacket between the fir trees. A little boy, crouching down in the undergrowth and trying to hide. Then he saw another of the boys slightly further away, then another.
He knew exactly where the boys were now. William was also in the right place. The plan was working; it was time for Jan to relax.
He smiled and cupped his hands around his mouth. ‘I’m coming to get you! I can see you!’
22
Before setting off for his night shift on Friday, Jan picks up an empty coffee cup and leaves his flat. He’s not going out this evening, just down two flights of stairs to visit his neighbour behind the door marked V. LEGÉN.
He can’t hear a sound; he has rung the bell on two previous occasions, but no one has answered. He tries again.
This time someone is coming; then there is a rattling sound. Legén has put the chain on the door, but he opens it just a fraction.
‘Evening,’ says Jan, holding up the cup.
His neighbour doesn’t say a word.
‘My name is Jan Hauger... I live upstairs,’ Jan goes on. ‘I wondered if you could spare some sugar? I’m making a cake.’
Legén stares at him like a weary boxer facing his arch enemy. He’s not in a good mood today. But he takes the cup and turns away. Jan silently steps forward and peers into the hallway.
It is dark and untidy, and it stinks of tobacco. The fabric bag he last saw down in the cellar is lying on the floor, next to the shoe rack. The text is clearly visible now: ST PATRICIA’S LAUNDRY. He was right.
Jan is wearing a satisfied smile when his neighbour returns with the cup half-full of sugar.
‘Perfect. Thanks very much.’
He is about to carry on chatting; he was intending to point to the bag and say that he actually works at St Patricia’s too, but Legén simply nods and slams the door shut. There is a click as the key turns in the lock.
Jan goes back up to his flat and tips the sugar into the bin in the kitchen.
He cycles to the pre-school at around nine o’clock, thinking all the time about the envelope he left in the visitors’ room on the Wednesday night. It should have been collected by now, and will have had some effect on the patients, although he isn’t sure what that might be.
But nothing whatsoever has changed. The concrete wall is as solid as ever, the floodlights shine out and everything is just the way it always is when he arrives at the Dell. Lilian is waiting for him tonight, and she has already put the children to bed.
‘Evening, Lilian.’
‘How are you, Jan?’ Lilian looks tired, but her voice is loud and brisk. Sometimes it seems as if the children are a little bit afraid of her, in spite of the fact that she enjoys playing with them. There is something tense yet fragile about her, Jan thinks.
‘Fine, thanks,’ he replies. ‘Ready for the weekend?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Will you be out enjoying yourself?’
‘I certainly will.’ But there is no sense of anticipation in her voice. Lilian quickly pulls on her jacket, but she doesn’t ask what Jan will be doing, and she doesn’t wish him a nice weekend. She just gives him one last glance, then leaves.
Jan is alone again, getting ready for the night.
He checks on the sleeping children, then carries out the usual routines before getting undressed. He is in bed by eleven, but as usual he finds it difficult to get to sleep. The pre-school is too warm and stuffy, the sofa bed feels narrow and uncomfortable, and out there in the kitchen a key card is longing for him to come and get it out of the drawer. But not as much as he is longing to use it.
Jan sighs in the darkness. But he is going to stay in bed. He is not going to go down into the basement. There is no easy way into the hospital in any case, he knows that now. The door leading out of the visitors’ room is locked. But Rettig must have a key, if he is able to go in and fetch the envelope Jan hid under the sofa cushions.
Have the patients received their letters yet? Presumably. Perhaps Lars Rettig is creeping around the corridors at this very moment, handing them out.
Jan turns over on to his side, still toying with the idea of finding a secret route into the hospital.
Perhaps via the safe room in the basement? It has two exits, and he doesn’t know where the second one leads. He doesn’t even know if it’s possible to open it. It might lead straight into the hospital, or it might have been bricked up. But if he doesn’t go down and try it, he will never know.
It’s quarter to twelve. The children are asleep, and the key card is calling to him. St Psycho’s is out there, like a huge mountain waiting to be climbed simply because it is there. Like Mount Everest. But many climbers have lost their lives on Everest...
No, it’s better to think of the hospital as a cave to be explored. Jan has never heard of anyone dying in a cave, although of course it could have happened.
He makes up his mind. Throws back the covers and sits up in the darkness.
Just a quick look in the safe room, and then he’ll be able to sleep.
Ten minutes later he is down in the underground corridor. The Angel is switched on and attached to his belt, he has turned on the light and walked down the stairs. The lift window is dark — the lift is up on the ground floor, but he doesn’t press the button to call it down. Instead he carries on along the corridor, around the corner and all the way up to the steel door.
It is closed, and of course the sign is still there (This door must be kept locked at all times!), but Jan grabs hold of the big handle and opens it. He remembers where the light switch was, and flicks on the main overhead light.
The safe room looks exactly the same as when he peeped in last time. A fitted carpet, a few pillows, a mattress. No one has been in here. Or have they? The mattress is lying on the floor now — wasn’t it propped up against the wall the last time he was here? He can’t remember. There’s an empty wine bottle — surely that wasn’t here before?
There isn’t a sound. Cautiously Jan steps inside. He leaves the door open and walks over to the other end of the room. There is the exit which might lead deeper into the hospitaclass="underline" another closed steel door with a long handle.