Читать книгу The Fire Witness - Ларс Кеплер - Страница 34

Danish lorry driver Mads Jansen is being reprimanded over the phone by his transport manager. He blushes as he tries to explain the situation. Pia Abrahamsson can hear the angry voice through the phone, and the transport manager goes on yelling about coordinates and fucked-up logistics.

‘But,’ Mads Jensen tries to say, ‘surely we have to help other—’

‘This’ll be deducted from your wages,’ his boss snaps. ‘That’s all the help you’re getting from me.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ Mads says, and ends the call.

Pia sits beside the driver in silence as the dense forest flies past on both sides. The heavy rain sounds deafening in the cab. In the split wing mirror Pia can see the swaying trailer and the trees they’ve just passed.

Mads pops some nicotine gum in his mouth and stares ahead at the road. The sound of the engine and the thud of the heavy wheels on the tarmac blur into one.

She looks at the calendar that sways with the motion of the cab. A curvaceous woman holding an inflatable swan in a swimming pool. At the bottom of the glossy photograph the date is given as August 1968.

The road slopes downward, and the weight of the cargo of iron bars increases the speed of the vehicle.

Far off in the groove between the trees a strong blue light is flickering in the grey rain. A police car is blocking the road.

Pia Abrahamsson feels her heart start to beat hard and fast. She stares at the police car and the woman in the dark blue sweater waving her arm at them. Before the truck has stopped, Pia opens the door. The sound of the engine and the tyres becomes instantly much louder.

She feels dizzy as she clambers down and hurries over to the waiting police officer.

‘Where’s the car?’ the police officer asks.

‘What? What are you saying?’

Pia stares at the other woman and tries to read her face, but just gets more shaken by her serious expression. She feels as if her legs are going to give way beneath her.

‘Did you see the car when you passed it?’ the police woman clarifies.

‘Passed it?’ Pia says weakly.

Mads Jensen walks over to them.

‘We haven’t seen anything,’ he tells the police officer. ‘You must have set up the roadblock too late.’

‘Too late? I drove up this road to get here …’

‘So where the hell is the car?’ he asks.

Mirja Zlatnek runs back to her car and calls her colleague.

‘Lasse?’ she says urgently.

‘I’ve been trying to get you,’ he says. ‘You weren’t answering.’

‘No, I was—’

‘Has everything gone OK?’ he asks.

‘Where the hell’s the car?’ she asks, almost shouting. ‘The truck’s here, but there’s no sign of the car.’

‘There aren’t any other roads,’ he says.

‘We need to put an alert out and block the 86 in the other direction.’

‘I’ll get onto that at once,’ he says, and ends the call.

Pia Abrahamsson has come over to the police car. The rain has soaked her clothes. Police Constable Mirja Zlatnek is sitting in the driver’s seat with the door open.

‘You told me you were going to get him,’ Pia says.

‘Yes, I—’

‘You told me, I believed you when you said that.’

‘I know, I don’t understand this,’ Mirja says. ‘It doesn’t make sense, you can’t drive fast on these roads, there’s no way the car could have got to the bridge before Lasse got there.’

‘It has to be somewhere,’ Pia says in a hard voice, pulling her priest’s collar from her shirt.

‘Hang on,’ Mirja Zlatnek suddenly says.

She calls the command centre.

‘This is patrol car 321,’ she says quickly. ‘We need another roadblock, at once … Before Aspen … There’s a small road there, if you know the way, you can get from Kävsta up to Myckelsjö … Yes, exactly … Who? Good, he’ll be there in eight, ten minutes …’

Mirja gets out of the car and looks along the straight road, as if she still expects the Toyota to appear.

‘My boy – he’s gone?’ Pia asks her.

‘There’s nowhere they could have gone,’ Mirja says, doing her best to sound patient. ‘I understand that you’re worried, but we’ll get them – they must have turned off and stopped somewhere, but there’s nowhere they can go …’

She falls silent and wipes the rain from her forehead, takes a deep breath, and goes on: ‘We’ll closing off the last roads, and we’re calling in a helicopter …’

Pia undoes the top button of her shirt and leans one hand on the bonnet of the police car. She’s breathing far too heavily, and tries to calm down, her chest is pounding. She knows she ought to be making demands, but she can’t think clearly, can only feel a desperate fear and confusion.