hallucination playing out in his head? He clenched his hands tightly under the covers. He felt the back of one hand touch something. A plastic object connected to a cable. The alarm button.
The man came closer and stopped right next to the bed. He smelled strongly of tobacco. Sarac could make out a furrowed face, the mouth a black hole in which a gold tooth glinted. His sense of unease slid into fear, making Sarac’s heart race. He fumbled for the alarm, but his hand slipped off it.
“An agreement is an agreement. You know what the consequences will be if you break it,” the man said.
Sarac shut his eyes, screwing them shut as hard as he could, and pressed the alarm button. Once, twice, again . . .
“Get out!” he roared. “Go to hell!”
There were voices in the distance. Then steps as someone approached along the corridor. Any moment now the door would open.
“You can’t hide forever,” the man hissed in his ear. “You’re going to stick to our agreement, do you hear?”
Sarac went on shouting, yelling out loud until the door opened and the light was switched on. He blinked against the sudden glare and saw the woman in white who was gently shaking his arm.
“David, how are you feeling?” she asked.
He blinked again, then rubbed his eyes in an effort to see better. Apart from the nurse, the room was empty. But in one corner was an empty chair. Its padded seat looked slightly compressed, as if someone heavy had recently been sitting on it.
• • •
The plane took off on time, at 8:35 p.m.. It climbed about seven hundred feet before retracting its landing gear and starting a long bank toward the east.
Atif leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes. He tried to fit the pieces together as best he could.
1. Adnan and his gang rob a security van.
2. By coincidence, they happen to encounter an unmarked police car.
3. The cops follow them and call in the rapid response unit, which strikes when the gangs are switching cars. Shots are fired. Adnan and Juha are killed. The third bloke, Tommy, is left a vegetable.
A perfectly consistent story. No matter how thorough your preparations, the odds weren’t always on your side. Adnan had been lucky up to then. This time the pendulum swung the other way.
Atif had made a conscious choice and accepted the chain of events exactly as it was explained to him before he had arrived in Sweden. He had decided not to ask any unnecessary questions. Not to find out any more than he had to. But he couldn’t shake off Abu Hamsa’s words:
Envy is fatal, boys . . .
Even though Adnan made his living the way he did, and even though his little brother had a remarkable ability to turn gold into shit, Atif had envied him. Envied him all the qualities that he himself didn’t have. His charm, his family, and their mother’s unconditional love.
Could someone else in Adnan’s vicinity have felt the same? And have wanted to take something or someone from Adnan? Was this about Cassandra? Atif seriously doubted it. No matter what the motive was, someone had ratted on Adnan and indirectly caused his death. Possibly the same person whom the gangsters in the gym were now terrified of.
Janus. The Roman god with two faces. The lord of beginnings, transitions, and conclusions, the god who started all wars and made sure that they all ended. Associated with doorways, gates, doors, time, and, not least, journeys.
Atif opened his eyes and looked up. The plane had become a tiny point of light that was slowly disappearing into the dark evening sky. In a minute or so it would be gone. He turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the airport parking lot.
ELEVEN
Peter Molnar looked out the window, down at the meticulously gritted yard of Police Headquarters. He put a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, then glanced at his expensive diver’s watch. That asshole Kollander was five minutes late, as usual.
The head of Regional Crime’s little power
The man came closer and stopped right next to the bed. He smelled strongly of tobacco. Sarac could make out a furrowed face, the mouth a black hole in which a gold tooth glinted. His sense of unease slid into fear, making Sarac’s heart race. He fumbled for the alarm, but his hand slipped off it.
“An agreement is an agreement. You know what the consequences will be if you break it,” the man said.
Sarac shut his eyes, screwing them shut as hard as he could, and pressed the alarm button. Once, twice, again . . .
“Get out!” he roared. “Go to hell!”
There were voices in the distance. Then steps as someone approached along the corridor. Any moment now the door would open.
“You can’t hide forever,” the man hissed in his ear. “You’re going to stick to our agreement, do you hear?”
Sarac went on shouting, yelling out loud until the door opened and the light was switched on. He blinked against the sudden glare and saw the woman in white who was gently shaking his arm.
“David, how are you feeling?” she asked.
He blinked again, then rubbed his eyes in an effort to see better. Apart from the nurse, the room was empty. But in one corner was an empty chair. Its padded seat looked slightly compressed, as if someone heavy had recently been sitting on it.
• • •
The plane took off on time, at 8:35 p.m.. It climbed about seven hundred feet before retracting its landing gear and starting a long bank toward the east.
Atif leaned back in his seat and shut his eyes. He tried to fit the pieces together as best he could.
1. Adnan and his gang rob a security van.
2. By coincidence, they happen to encounter an unmarked police car.
3. The cops follow them and call in the rapid response unit, which strikes when the gangs are switching cars. Shots are fired. Adnan and Juha are killed. The third bloke, Tommy, is left a vegetable.
A perfectly consistent story. No matter how thorough your preparations, the odds weren’t always on your side. Adnan had been lucky up to then. This time the pendulum swung the other way.
Atif had made a conscious choice and accepted the chain of events exactly as it was explained to him before he had arrived in Sweden. He had decided not to ask any unnecessary questions. Not to find out any more than he had to. But he couldn’t shake off Abu Hamsa’s words:
Envy is fatal, boys . . .
Even though Adnan made his living the way he did, and even though his little brother had a remarkable ability to turn gold into shit, Atif had envied him. Envied him all the qualities that he himself didn’t have. His charm, his family, and their mother’s unconditional love.
Could someone else in Adnan’s vicinity have felt the same? And have wanted to take something or someone from Adnan? Was this about Cassandra? Atif seriously doubted it. No matter what the motive was, someone had ratted on Adnan and indirectly caused his death. Possibly the same person whom the gangsters in the gym were now terrified of.
Janus. The Roman god with two faces. The lord of beginnings, transitions, and conclusions, the god who started all wars and made sure that they all ended. Associated with doorways, gates, doors, time, and, not least, journeys.
Atif opened his eyes and looked up. The plane had become a tiny point of light that was slowly disappearing into the dark evening sky. In a minute or so it would be gone. He turned the key in the ignition, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the airport parking lot.
ELEVEN
Peter Molnar looked out the window, down at the meticulously gritted yard of Police Headquarters. He put a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, then glanced at his expensive diver’s watch. That asshole Kollander was five minutes late, as usual.
The head of Regional Crime’s little power
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