He carried on into the ravine, quickly went through the old gate, and slowed down only when he had almost reached the slope leading up to the bunker. He had to be careful here.
The small metal door was just as well hidden as before, and when Jan moved the branches aside he saw that it was still firmly closed.
He let out a long breath. Time to assume the role of the innocent classroom assistant who goes into the forest and happens to do what no one dares hope for any longer: he finds the missing child. By pure chance.
He put his mouth close to the door and shouted, loud and clear, ‘Hello? Anyone there?’
He waited, but there was no response.
Jan could have carried on shouting, but after waiting for a few more seconds he pulled open the door. ‘Hello?’ he said again.
There was no response this time either.
Jan wasn’t worried yet, just puzzled. He bent down and stuck his head inside the dark bunker. ‘Hello?’
It was messier in there this time. The blankets lay in a heap by the wall, and there were many more empty sandwich packs, drink cartons and sweet wrappers strewn around. Roboman was also lying on the floor, but he was broken. His head was cracked and his right arm was missing.
But there was no sign of William.
Jan crawled inside. ‘William?’
He shouldn’t really call out the boy’s name, but he was worried now. The boy wasn’t in there, and yet there was nowhere he could have gone.
Eventually he caught sight of the red bucket. The toilet bucket. It was standing right by the back wall, but it was upside down. Why?
Jan looked up at the wall and saw one of the long, narrow gaps that let in air — but it had somehow become slightly bigger. Someone had poked away the earth, branches and old leaves, and managed to clear the opening so that it was now between twenty and thirty centimetres deep. Not big enough for an adult, but big enough for a five-year-old.
William had found a way out. He had probably tried to take Roboman with him, but had dropped the toy on the floor.
Jan tried to remain calm. He knew what he had to do, and set to work. He spread the blankets out on the floor and gathered up everything he had brought into the bunker: the food and drink, the toys and the plastic bucket. Then he bundled everything up in the blankets and dragged them outside. He had now removed all traces of himself from the bunker. The old mattress was still there, but couldn’t be linked to him.
He quickly carried the bundles down to level ground, took exactly one hundred and twenty paces away from the bunker and hid the lot under a dense fir. He would fetch it later, when he had found William.
Jan looked around. It was twilight now, but nothing was moving in the forest.
Where should he start?
41
Jan goes to work earlier on the Sunday; he wants to get to the hospital before the sun goes down. It is shining like a big yellow ball in a dark-blue sky this afternoon. Autumn days can be so fresh and clear sometimes.
The sunshine is perfect, because after the reply from Rami, he wants to see the hospital in daylight.
I have marked out my nest, the letter had told him. Come out of the forest and see.
The forest is at the back of St Patricia’s, so Jan has to make a detour. This is not without risk — he must keep out of range of the cameras and alarm systems. But the slope leading down to the brook that runs alongside the fence is thick with undergrowth and dense fir trees, and he is able to remain hidden in the shadows.
He stops between two firs and gazes over the fence at the rows of windows. From the edge of the forest he spots something new on the stone façade: something is fluttering in the wind up there.
A white flag. It looks as if it has been made from a torn sheet or a handkerchief, and it is hanging down from one of the windows.
Now he understands what the squirrel meant when she said she had marked out her nest.
Jan counts silently, circling the window with the flag in his mind’s eye, as if the façade were a map: fourth floor, seventh window from the right. He must remember that position.
There is no sign of anyone behind the glass; the room is in darkness, but Rami has shown him exactly where she lives.
All he has to do now is get there — but the only way is through the basement.
Before tea Leo and Mira are playing doctors. Their cuddly toys are poorly, and the children are going to make them better. Jan helps them to sort out the little beds, then he has to lie down and be a patient too.
After they have eaten they go outside for a while. Leo and Mira want to play on the swings, but Jan is somehow detached from their activities. He gives them both a push, then glances over at the fence. It is dusk now, and the floodlights have come on, shining on wet leaves and the sharp points of the barbed wire.
Fifteen years have passed, but Jan hopes that Rami will still be there. His Rami, that is. The Rami who was in the room next door to him in the Unit for a while. The girl who let him in and was the first person who seemed to think he was worth talking to. No, not seemed to think — she actually liked spending time with Jan. And the fact that she left him and ran away like a squirrel — well, that was because of something else altogether.
It is late by the time the children fall asleep — just before nine.
Jan should be able to relax now, but it is impossible. Leo had trouble getting to sleep, and shouted for Jan several times. Jan’s nerves are already at breaking point, and tonight he has a long journey ahead of him. Long and uncertain — even if he knows his goal.
Fourth floor, seventh window from the right.
At quarter past eleven he checks on Mira and Leo one last time, then heads down the stairs to the basement with the Angel clipped to his belt. There isn’t a sound; the children have been fast asleep for more than two hours now.
He opens the door into the safe room; the door at the far end is still unlocked. He walks into the darkness.
He is back in the hospital basement, but he is better prepared this time. The Angel has new batteries, and the little beam sweeps across the old tiled walls. He knows where he is, but he is still unable to relax. Last time Hanna was upstairs listening in, but tonight he is all alone.
He sets off, with Legén’s primitive map in his hand: the arrows should help him find his way.
To make sure he doesn’t get lost, he has something else in his pocket: white paper. Before he left he sat in the kitchen and tore up several sheets of paper into tiny pieces. As he walks along he drops them one by one, a couple of metres apart.
Marking out his escape route.
He eventually reaches the grubby tiled rooms, and tucks the Angel underneath his jumper so that the light won’t show too much, just in case any patients are wandering around down here. He is getting close to the laundry now, and even though Legén maintained it was closed on Sundays, he doesn’t want to advertise his presence.
He looks up at the ceiling. Thick, snake-like electric cables are intertwined up there. And somewhere above him are the rooms where the patients live. About a hundred, Högsmed had said. And he is hoping that one of them, on the fourth floor, is Alice Rami.
He has reached the laundry. The door is closed. And locked? He reaches out and pushes down the handle. The door is stiff, but it opens.