weren't supposed to lie. And besides it seemed impossible to lie to those gleaming eyes. He realised that he felt terribly alone. He started to sweat even more. What are you going to do now? Damned if he knew. He was sitting here with a bag full of money and an imbecile he couldn't understand. He hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders.
'I'm waiting for dark,' he said.
'It's not going to get dark,' said Errki. 'It's midsummer.'
'I'm not stupid,' Morgan snapped back.
'Between midnight and two in the morning it will be twilight. Then we'll see what happens,' Morgan said.
The voice sounded threatening again, and the drums were once more off tempo.
'Now it's my turn. What's wrong with you?'
Errki spread his fingers. This was what disgusted Morgan. If it hadn't been for the way he splayed his fingers and the nasty way he rocked his head, he would have been bearable.
An honest answer, Errki thought. What's wrong with me? A shudder rushed through and stirred up the grey cellar dust. Nestor snarled gruffly. What's wrong with me? He looked down. A blood-red spot appeared in the grass, right at his feet. It started rising, slowly getting bigger. If he moved his foot a centimetre, the blood would touch his trainers.
'Well? Are you going to answer?' Morgan gave him a sullen look. 'We had an agreement. What's wrong with you? An honest answer. Come on.'
Errki sat as if frozen solid, staring down at his trainers.
'OK, I'm going to be nice, unlike you, since you're a little strange. I'll ask you another question. But if you don't give me a proper answer this time, I'm going to get angry.'
He stared hard at Errki to emphasise how serious he was. 'You moved so damned fast up this slope. I've never seen anything like it. Do you know this area?'
'Yes,' Errki said, raising his head. He was careful not to move his feet.
Morgan was excited. 'Do you know it well? Then maybe you know a place where we could sit and wait for dark? Or maybe we should build ourselves a shelter out of branches, what do you think?'
Now Errki had more questions. He struggled over them, annoyed at the man's lack of clarity.
'Yes,' he said as he checked the spot of blood. Several insects had been attracted to it and were crawling around, feasting.
'Yes, you know it well, and yes, we'll build ourselves a shelter out of branches,' Morgan said enthusiastically. 'OK. You build the shelter. I'll hold the gun. Besides, I can't stand all the prickly branches.'
Lazily he brushed aside the lowest branch of a spruce tree. Errki stared at the gun which lay in the grass hardly any distance from his feet.
'Tell me,' Morgan said, 'how good are you at observing details? If you had to identify me to the police, for example. Not that it will come to that, but humour me: how would you describe me?'
Errki whispered, 'It's my turn now.'
'Sorry, you're right. Fire away.'
He licked the paper and stuck the cigarette between his lips, fumbling for his lighter.
'What's wrong with you?' said Errki.
Morgan stared at him in puzzlement, his eyes narrowing with displeasure. Nestor snickered. The Coat fluttered its arms a bit over in the corner. He was always so loose. Powerless, in a way. Every now and then it occurred to Errki that he was all bluff. Nothing more than a damned bluffer.
'There's nothing wrong with me, goddamn it,' Morgan said harshly. 'And so far I haven't given you so much as a scratch. Whether things will stay that way depends on your willingness to cooperate.'
He felt unsure of himself. It was hard to figure out crazies; they were so unpredictable. But there was a certain logic to them, as far as he knew. It was a matter of finding it.
'Let me tell you one thing,' he said, 'I'm not completely ignorant of your problem. I did my civilian service in a psychiatric hospital. You wouldn't have guessed that, would you? I refused to do military service. I'm a pacifist.'
He looked down at the gun in the grass and gave a gleeful laugh. 'I remember one odd character there who went around sniffing his underpants. He wouldn't hurt a fly otherwise. How about you? Do you wander around sniffing your underpants?'
It was a dreary discovery for Errki to realise just how childish this man was. He checked the spot of blood. It was still there.
'While I think of it,' Morgan said, 'it's my turn to ask a question. What kind of description will you give the police if you have to tell them about me? Come on, let's hear it.'
A fool of a man, Errki thought. A rumpled clown in silly shorts. Scared most of the time. If he loses the gun, he's helpless. At the asylum they would undoubtedly say that he had been neglected as a child.
Errki proceeded to study him with such blazing eyes that Morgan was unsettled.
Height: about one metre 70, definitely no taller.
Morgan kept silent, waiting.
Weight: about 20 kilos heavier than me. Age: maybe 22. Thick, sandy hair. Straight dark eyebrows. Eyes, greyish blue. Small mouth with full lips.
Morgan took a drag on his cigarette and sighed impatiently.
Small ears with full lobes. Short, sausage-like fingers, plump thighs and calves. Puffy-looking. Attire: idiotic. Intelligence: average, but in the lower percentile.
It was quiet all about. Even the birds were still. Only Errki could hear the sniggering laughter down in the cellar. Morgan stood up and retrieved the pistol.
'OK, go ahead and be as secretive as you like. Get up. We're on our way!'
He had a sickening feeling that he was being ridiculed without knowing why.
'It's only a picture,' Errki said.
'Shut up, I said!'
'The kind that nobody bothers to turn over and read what it says on the back.'
'Get moving!'
'Have you thought about that?' Errki said. 'No-one knows who you are. Isn't that shitty, Morgan?'
Morgan looked at him in surprise. Errki got to his feet with deliberate slowness, took a big step to avoid treading in the slippery blood, and started walking back downhill, towards the viewpoint where they had left the car. From there he would just be able to see the sea, cold and blue. And the road with all the traffic.
'No, damn it! We're going to keep heading uphill! Are you a complete idiot?'
'What will you do if I go where I want to go instead?' Errki said in a low voice.
'Put a damned bullet right between your eyes and find a hole to dump you in. Now, move it!'
Errki started walking. Faster than ever. He was rested now, and he always felt better when he was on the move.
'OK, that's fast enough. If you really do know the area, then find us an abandoned cabin or something like that so we can have a roof over our heads.'
An old cabin. There were plenty of them, though most were on the other side of the ridge, a couple of kilometres away. It was rough going the whole way, and the heat was fierce. Errki was thirsty. He didn't say so, but he guessed that Morgan was too. He heard the panting behind him, and a little while later the man's voice, calmer now.
'If you see a stream or anything, just say so. I've got a hell of a thirst.'
Errki kept going. His long black hair swung from side to side, and his jacket and baggy trousers did too. Morgan stared at him in bewilderment. This guy was altogether different from everyone else. How can I get rid of him? he wondered. Why am I dragging along this black-haired loser? I could have left him in the car. Was it out of fear that he would give the police a description? Or was it something else? He might not even talk if he did fall into the hands
