the
others. So, never mind his surliness, his fits of bad temper, his oddities.
'Come
on, Sven. Get on with it.'
Sven
gave an account of Lund's hospital transport, the whole trip from Aspsås to
Southern General's casualty entrance. He described how he had used his elaborate
body- belt chains to batter the two officers. Afterwards he had made off with
the van. Now he was at liberty out there, probably stalking girls, children,
little kids who'd just started school.
Ewert
got up during this and limped restlessly about the room, waddling round his
desk, manoeuvring his big body between the chair and the stand with potted
plants. He stopped in front of the wastepaper bin, aimed with his good foot and
kicked it hard.
'How
fucking stupid can you get, letting Lund out with only two escorts? What was
Oscarsson thinking about? If he only could've been arsed to call us, we'd have
sent a car and then that fucking freak wouldn't have been at large!'
The
kick had sent the bin flying, spewing banana peel and empty snuffboxes and torn
envelopes all over the floor. Sven had seen it all before, and waited for the
next instalment.
'Åke
Andersson and Ulrik Berntfors,' he said. 'Two good men. Andersson is the tall
one, well over one hundred and ninety-something. Your age.'
'I
know who Andersson is.'
'Now
what?'
'Tell
you in a while. Can't think now.'
Sven
felt tired. It came over him suddenly. He wanted to go home. Home to Anita, to
Jonas. He had finished for the day and couldn't bear thinking about what had happened,
that a child might be violated any moment now, or anything else to do with
Bernt Lund. After all, he'd swapped to get the morning shift, because they'd
planned to celebrate. He had some bottles of wine and a posh gateau in his car.
They were meant to be drinking his birthday toast, soon.
Ewert
noticed Sven's tired eyes, his straying thoughts. Damn, he shouldn't have
kicked that effing bin. Sven disapproved of that kind of thing. Better say
something. Be calm, cool.
'Sven,
you look tired. How are things?'
'Oh,
all right. I was about to leave. Go home. It's my birthday today.'
'Is
it? Congratulations! How many years?'
'Forty.'
Ewert
whistled, then made a bow.
'Well
I never. Shake hands!'
He
held out his hand, Sven grabbed it firmly and they shook for quite a long time.
Then Ewert spoke.
'But,
young man. Regrettably, forty or not forty, you're going nowhere now.'
Ewert
had bad breath. Normally they never got that close.
'You're
joking.'
'Let me
tell you something.'
Ewert
pointed at his visitor's chair. He was impatient, jabbing towards it with his
index finger. Sven pulled his hand away and went to perch on the edge of the
chair, still ready to leave any minute now.
'I was
in it up to my neck, the last time.'
'The
girls in the basement.'
'Two
girls, both nine years old. He had tied them up, jerked off all over them,
raped them, cut them. Just like the time before. They were lying on this bare
cement floor, staring at us. The medic confirmed that they'd been alive when
Lund cut them, stuck a metal object into them, into the vagina, the anus. I
don't believe it, because I can't bear to believe it. Have you thought about
that, eh, Sven? That you can believe whatever you like, if you put your mind to
it?'
Ewert
Grens scared quite a few people. He didn't stay put where you left him. His
body was restless inside his creased shirt, his too-short trousers. Sven
understood why people kept away from him, he had avoided the man himself. But
he always felt that it was wrong to set out planning to humiliate someone.
Simple enough rule. Anyway, he'd kept himself to himself until it seemed Ewert
had accepted him. Even selected him, not that Sven understood why. The old boy
must have needed someone and it
others. So, never mind his surliness, his fits of bad temper, his oddities.
'Come
on, Sven. Get on with it.'
Sven
gave an account of Lund's hospital transport, the whole trip from Aspsås to
Southern General's casualty entrance. He described how he had used his elaborate
body- belt chains to batter the two officers. Afterwards he had made off with
the van. Now he was at liberty out there, probably stalking girls, children,
little kids who'd just started school.
Ewert
got up during this and limped restlessly about the room, waddling round his
desk, manoeuvring his big body between the chair and the stand with potted
plants. He stopped in front of the wastepaper bin, aimed with his good foot and
kicked it hard.
'How
fucking stupid can you get, letting Lund out with only two escorts? What was
Oscarsson thinking about? If he only could've been arsed to call us, we'd have
sent a car and then that fucking freak wouldn't have been at large!'
The
kick had sent the bin flying, spewing banana peel and empty snuffboxes and torn
envelopes all over the floor. Sven had seen it all before, and waited for the
next instalment.
'Åke
Andersson and Ulrik Berntfors,' he said. 'Two good men. Andersson is the tall
one, well over one hundred and ninety-something. Your age.'
'I
know who Andersson is.'
'Now
what?'
'Tell
you in a while. Can't think now.'
Sven
felt tired. It came over him suddenly. He wanted to go home. Home to Anita, to
Jonas. He had finished for the day and couldn't bear thinking about what had happened,
that a child might be violated any moment now, or anything else to do with
Bernt Lund. After all, he'd swapped to get the morning shift, because they'd
planned to celebrate. He had some bottles of wine and a posh gateau in his car.
They were meant to be drinking his birthday toast, soon.
Ewert
noticed Sven's tired eyes, his straying thoughts. Damn, he shouldn't have
kicked that effing bin. Sven disapproved of that kind of thing. Better say
something. Be calm, cool.
'Sven,
you look tired. How are things?'
'Oh,
all right. I was about to leave. Go home. It's my birthday today.'
'Is
it? Congratulations! How many years?'
'Forty.'
Ewert
whistled, then made a bow.
'Well
I never. Shake hands!'
He
held out his hand, Sven grabbed it firmly and they shook for quite a long time.
Then Ewert spoke.
'But,
young man. Regrettably, forty or not forty, you're going nowhere now.'
Ewert
had bad breath. Normally they never got that close.
'You're
joking.'
'Let me
tell you something.'
Ewert
pointed at his visitor's chair. He was impatient, jabbing towards it with his
index finger. Sven pulled his hand away and went to perch on the edge of the
chair, still ready to leave any minute now.
'I was
in it up to my neck, the last time.'
'The
girls in the basement.'
'Two
girls, both nine years old. He had tied them up, jerked off all over them,
raped them, cut them. Just like the time before. They were lying on this bare
cement floor, staring at us. The medic confirmed that they'd been alive when
Lund cut them, stuck a metal object into them, into the vagina, the anus. I
don't believe it, because I can't bear to believe it. Have you thought about
that, eh, Sven? That you can believe whatever you like, if you put your mind to
it?'
Ewert
Grens scared quite a few people. He didn't stay put where you left him. His
body was restless inside his creased shirt, his too-short trousers. Sven
understood why people kept away from him, he had avoided the man himself. But
he always felt that it was wrong to set out planning to humiliate someone.
Simple enough rule. Anyway, he'd kept himself to himself until it seemed Ewert
had accepted him. Even selected him, not that Sven understood why. The old boy
must have needed someone and it
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