“He’s trying to get away,” Rolf shouted and followed at the same speed.
The chase continued at high speed. Henrik’s jacket flapped wildly in the wind stream. The cold bit into his cheeks and his hair stuck out behind.
“Police!” shouted Henrik even louder when they got closer to the boat.
He just managed to catch a glimpse of the driver before he sheered right in front of them. A dark-haired man, oldish, dark hair under a rough cap.
“Hell,” shouted Rolf, and sheered too.
They clipped the waves fast. The cascades got higher and higher.
The Chaparral slowed down unexpectedly.
Henrik raised his pistol without letting go of the railing.
“Stop!” he shouted to the driver.
But the boat sheered again and raced off.
“After him, Rolf! After him!”
Rolf opened the throttle and followed closely behind. The boat in front of them slowed down yet again. Then sheered and pulled away at a high speed.
*
Jana Berzelius knew that she shouldn’t do it. Nevertheless, she sat there with the phone in her hand and wrote a text message to Danilo. She tried to compose it as cryptically as possible. She had bought a new telephone and a prepaid SIM card and knew that would never give her away, but she was still not entirely convinced.
So she wrote: A gave me the place. Papa soon home.
She was just about to send the text when her private telephone started ringing in her pocket. She picked it up and saw that it was a hidden number. She sincerely hoped it was Danilo phoning, and she immediately answered.
It was Henrik Levin.
“We’ve got him,” he said in a calm and controlled voice.
Jana held her breath.
“We got him after a one-and-a-half-hour boat chase,” said Henrik.
“At last,” whispered Jana.
“We need a hearing. Immediately.”
“I’ll arrange it. And the interrogation?”
“That will start tomorrow morning.”
Jana ended the conversation with a brisk “see you!” She was trembling. With shaking hands she again picked up the newly bought phone and deleted the last part of the message. Instead she wrote: A gave me the place. Papa is home.
Then she pressed the button and sent the message.
*
Danilo stared at his cell.
“Hell,” he shouted as loud as he could. “Bloody hell!”
He banged his fist against the wall with all his strength.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
He was in a rage. Absolutely mad. How could he have let it go so wrong? Anders should have killed her! Anders was an idiot, a failed fucking idiot who never did a single fucking thing right in the whole fucking world. First he fails to take the boy to the island, and then he fails to deal with Jana.
Danilo sighed. He was forced to deal with it himself. As usual. It was always him who had to sort everything out. And everything was a bloody mess just now.
“Fuck!” he shouted out yet again.
He thought of different ways of dealing with Jana. For ever. Or was there a chance she could be used in some way? Could he make use of her instead?
A smile spread across Danilo’s face.
The more he thought about the possibility of using Jana, the clearer his strategy became.
After ten minutes he knew exactly what he would do. She only had herself to blame. She was the one who started stirring the shit, and once you’d done that you had to accept the consequences.
Whatever they may be.
CHAPTER
FIFTY
Sunday, April 29
GUNNAR ?HRN STOOD with a cup of coffee in his hand, and looked at the extra news bulletin on the TV which was about the arrest of Gavril Bolanaki.
The county police commissioner had demanded that the press officer should issue a press release and the news was spread within an hour of the man’s arrest.
“Does it feel okay?”
Anneli Lindgren lay on one side of the bed with a sheet wrapped around her naked body.
She too had listened to the news bulletin.
“Yes, it feels good that we caught him. He’s going to be interrogated tomorrow. Will there be time to search the whole island before that?”
Anneli lay on her back and stretched out on the mattress.
“Yes, we’ve got several Forensics working there today, and there must be lots of places we can take samples for DNA testing. At least I hope so.”
“Me too,” said Gunnar and took yet another gulp of coffee, just as the telephone rang.
It was Ola S?derstr?m.
“Now listen to this, we’ve finally got an answer,” he said. “The department of transportation has managed to identify the driver of the van that the witness Erik Nordlund thought he saw on Ark?sund Road. The van belongs to an Anders Paulsson, fifty-five. He worked as a loader for DHL for twenty years. Now he’s got his own firm, in the transport sector too. What’s most interesting is that he was married to Thomas Rydberg’s sister. She died of cancer ten years ago and he doesn’t seem to have anyone new.”
“So Rydberg and Anders are linked to each other,” Gunnar noted. “Where does he live?”
“In Jonsberg, Ark?sund,” said Ola.
“That sounds most interesting. I’ll put Henrik and Mia on it straightaway,” said Gunnar and put the phone down.
*
Mia Bolander was drinking a cup of coffee. It was still too hot and she sipped it slowly while she examined herself in the car mirror. During the night the mascara had formed tiny, tiny black dots around her eyes.
“Oh, fuck!” she swore out loud.
“Hard night?” said Henrik.
“As if you’d know what that means.”
“I know quite a lot about parties.”
“Children’s parties, or what?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you boozed so much that your head exploded?”
“So that’s what you’ve done, is it?”
“Yep. I have. And fucked too. And it was damned nice!”
“Well, thank you, but that was more information than I needed.”
“Don’t ask so much then!”
He sighed and checked the speedometer to ensure he was going at exactly the permitted speed.
Mia went back to trying to rub the mascara from around her eyes.
They had about ten kilometers left to Jonsberg where Anders Paulsson lived. Fifteen minutes later they arrived outside the red detached house. In the yard outside stood a white van, an Opel. The garden was not cared for, and the blinds were pulled down inside. The corners of the building that had once been white were now discolored and gray.
Henrik drove slowly past, parked some way away, turned off the engine and got out. Mia downed the last drops of the coffee. As she put the mug in the holder between the seats, she saw that Henrik’s wallet lay there. She acted quick as a flash, got hold of the wallet and opened it and took a one-hundred kronor bill, shoved it into her pants pocket, then put the wallet back. Then she broke into a smile, opened the car door and stepped out.
Henrik had by now snuck up to the house and was crouching down next to the back wheel of a parked van. His eyes glistened with enthusiasm when Mia approached.
Together they went up to the house and stood on either side of the front door. Mia placed a foot against the door to prevent anyone from knocking it open.
Then they rang the doorbell. The sound echoed from inside. They waited thirty seconds. Then rang again. Still nothing. They exchanged looks and rang the bell once more. Still nothing happened.
Mia went around the side of the house and saw that all the windows had their blinds pulled down. Everything was quiet. On the other side of the house she discovered an open window. She called to Henrik to come as she got a firm grip on the window frame and then hoisted herself up with one leg closely followed by the other. With a less than gracious jump, she disappeared into the house.
Once inside, she was hit by the dreadful stench of excrement. She immediately put one hand inside her jacket and pulled the cloth over her nose. She looked down at the floor and discovered heaps of shit and dried-up stains of urine.