Читать книгу The Nightmare - Ларс Кеплер - Страница 16

Joona’s thick hair is still soaking wet when he opens the door to Lecture Room 11 where Nathan Pollock is giving a lecture to a select group of men and women who are training to handle hostage situations and rescues.

On the wall behind Pollock is a computer projection of an anatomical drawing of the human body. Several different types of handgun are laid out on a table, from a small, silver Sig Sauer P238 to a matt-black assault rifle from Heckler & Koch with a 40mm grenade launcher attachment.

One of the young officers is standing in front of Pollock, who pulls a knife, holds it concealed against his body, then rushes forward and pretends to cut the officer’s throat. Then he turns to the group.

‘The disadvantages of that sort of attack are that the enemy may have time to cry out, that the movement of the body can’t be controlled, and it takes a while for them to bleed out because you’ve only opened one artery,’ Pollock explains.

He goes over to the young officer again and wraps his arm around his face, so that the crook of his arm is covering his mouth.

‘But if I do it this way instead, I can muffle any scream, manoeuvre his head and sever both arteries with a single cut,’ he says.

Pollock lets go of the young officer and notices that Joona Linna is standing just inside the door. He must have only just arrived, while he was demonstrating those two grips. The young police officer wipes his mouth and sits back down in his chair. Pollock smiles broadly and waves at Joona, beckoning him forward, but Joona shakes his head.

‘I’d like a few words, Nathan,’ he says quietly.

Some of the officers turn to look. Pollock walks over to him and they shake hands. Joona’s jacket is dark where his wet hair has touched it.

‘Tommy Kofoed secured shoeprints from Palmcrona’s home,’ Joona says. ‘I need to know if he found anything unexpected.’

‘I didn’t think there was any urgency?’ Nathan replies in a muted voice. ‘Obviously we photographed all the impressions, but we haven’t had time to analyse the results. I can’t give you any sort of overall picture right now …’

‘But you did see something,’ Joona says.

‘When I put the images into the computer … it could be a pattern, but it’s too early to …’

‘Just tell me – I have to go.’

‘It looks like there were prints from two different set of shoes moving in two circles around the body,’ Nathan says.

‘Come with me to see Nils Åhlén,’ Joona says.

‘Now?’

‘I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes.’

‘Damn, I can’t,’ Nathan replies, gesturing towards the room. ‘But I’ll have my phone on in case you need to ask anything.’

‘Thanks,’ Joona says, and turns to leave.

‘You … you don’t want to say hello to this lot?’ Nathan asks.

They’ve all turned round now and Joona gives them a brief wave.

‘So, this is Joona Linna, who I’ve told you about,’ Nathan Pollock says, raising his voice. ‘I’m trying to persuade him to come and give a lecture on close combat.’

The room falls silent as they all look at Joona.

‘Most of you probably know more about martial arts than I do,’ Joona says with a slight smile. ‘The only thing I’ve learned is … when it’s real, there are suddenly completely different rules. No art, just fighting.’

‘Pay attention to this,’ Pollock says keenly.

‘In reality you only survive if you have the ability to adapt to changing circumstances and turn them to your advantage,’ Joona goes on calmly. ‘Practise making the most of the circumstances … you might be in a car, or on a balcony. The room might be full of teargas. Maybe the floor is covered with broken glass. There may be weapons, other implements. You don’t know if you’re at the start or the end of a chain of events. So you need to save your energy so you can keep working, so you can get through a whole night … So any flying kicks and cool roundhouse kicks are out of the question.’

A few of them laugh.

‘In unarmed close combat,’ Joona goes on, ‘it’s often a matter of accepting some pain in order to bring things to a rapid conclusion … but I don’t really know much about this.’

Joona walks out of the lecture room. Two of the officers clap. The door closes and the room falls silent. Nathan Pollock smiles to himself as he walks back to the table.

‘I was actually planning to save this for a later occasion,’ he says, and clicks the computer. ‘This recording is already a classic … from the hostage drama at the Nordea Bank on Hamngatan nine years ago. Two robbers. Joona Linna has already got the hostages out, and has incapacitated one of the men, who was armed with an Uzi. It was a fairly vicious fire-fight. The other guy is hiding, but only armed with a knife. They’d sprayed all the security cameras, but missed this one … We’ll take it in slow motion because it only lasts a matter of seconds.’

Pollock hits play and the film starts. A grainy shot of a bank filmed from above comes into view. The seconds tick by on the timer at the bottom of the screen. The furniture has been thrown about, the floor is littered with paper and documents. Joona is moving smoothly sideways, his pistol raised, his arm straight. He’s moving slowly, as if underwater. The bank robber is hiding behind the open vault door with a knife in his hand. Suddenly he darts forward with long, smooth strides. Joona turns the pistol on him, aiming straight at his chest, and fires.

‘The pistol clicks,’ Pollock says. ‘Faulty bullet stuck in the chamber.’

The grainy footage flickers. Joona moves backwards as the man with the knife rushes at him. The whole thing is eerily silent and fluid. Joona ejects the cartridge, but realises that he’s not going to have time. Instead he turns the useless pistol round, so that the barrel runs parallel to the bone in his lower arm.

‘I don’t get it,’ one woman says.

‘He turns the pistol into a tonfa,’ Pollock explains.

‘A what?’

‘It’s a sort of baton … like the ones the American police use, it extends your reach and increases the power of any blow because the area of impact is smaller.’

The man with the knife has reached Joona. He takes a long, hesitant step. The knife-blade glints as it describes a semi-circle, aimed at Joona’s torso. The man’s other hand is raised, and follows the rotation of his body. Joona isn’t even looking at the knife, and moves forward instead, taking a long stride and striking hard as he does so. He hits the man on the neck, just below his Adam’s apple, with the barrel of the pistol.

The knife spins as it falls towards the floor as if in a dream, and the man sinks to his knees, opens his mouth wide, clutches his neck and then collapses to the floor.