‘Was it you who wanted to see me?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What is it about?’
‘A private matter. Is there somewhere we could talk?’
Lisa’s stomach churned. One part of her wanted to scream and run away, the other was suddenly furious. Her attacks of fear had nothing to do with her own life and everything to do with Hilding and his damned addiction. Her whole life had been dictated by his attempts to escape and he controlled her still; even after his death, he was draining her strength.
She shook her head, didn’t reply straight away. Her stomach was burning, fear tugging at her mind.
‘I’d prefer to stay here.’
Ewert wanted him to call her. Bengt reached out for the receiver; he would have preferred to wait a little longer, a few more moments of peace. He had disliked that shuddering movement under his feet.
His mouth felt so dry, he swallowed, but that wasn’t enough. Nothing could rid him of the fear that crawled all over him, the persistent unease. He kept wondering if he should speak up, admit that he knew who she was.
Not yet.
It wasn’t necessary yet.
He had better do as Ewert asked. When he leaned forward to dial the number of the mortuary, the phone rang.
He turned, caught Ewert’s eye and saw that he was putting in his earpiece. Two rings and then Bengt replied.
‘Yes?’
‘Nordwall?’
‘Yes.’
‘You heard that, didn’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘And you all know what it means?’
‘Yes, we do.’
‘Shame that it took another dead hostage to make you understand.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Let me make two points clear. One, I don’t negotiate. Two, you can’t get in here without blowing the whole place up.’
‘We have understood that too.’
‘The hostages are fused and so is the mortuary.’
‘Lydia, if you keep calm I’m sure we can come to an agreement. But we have to know why you’re doing all this.’
‘I will tell you.’
‘When?’
‘Later.’
‘What do you want now?’
‘
Now he knew why she had taken hostages. Somehow, he had known all along. The sense of vague dread now turned into something else, a feeling he had never experienced before. The anguished fear of death.
He closed his eyes and spoke. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s hard to keep watching the hostages at the same time as I’m running about playing games with telephones. I want you here. You and I will speak Russian together. You can make the phone calls when it’s time to contact your colleagues.’
Bengt’s breaths came in bursts. Ewert was listening in but didn’t understand. John had left the room to update his boss.
Bengt explained briefly what she had demanded. Ewert shook his head vigorously.
No, no. Not that.
Not ever.
The two police officers patrolling the Soder Hospital precinct noticed the car at once, as soon as they approached the main entrance. It was brand new, expensive and illegally parked, with two wheels up on the narrow pavement. It was hard to see inside because of the pouring rain, but there seemed to be a man sitting in the passenger seat. The driver’s seat was empty. They went to either side of the car and tapped lightly on the front windows.
‘You can’t park here.’
The man was heavily built and bald. His tan looked unreal. He wound the window down, smiled, but didn’t answer.
‘This whole area is cordoned off. No cars are allowed.’
The guy just sat there smiling.
The officer on his side lost patience and glanced quickly at his colleague to see if he was ready to go for it.
‘Your identity card, sir.’
The man in the passenger seat didn’t move, as if he hadn’t heard or hadn’t made up his mind to obey.
‘We need proof of your identity. Now, if you don’t mind.’
The man sighed exaggeratedly. ‘Sure.’
His wallet was in his back pocket. The police officer took the ID card and leaned against the car door while he radioed.
‘Check this. Hans Jochum Lang. ID number 570725-0350.’
A minute or so, then they could all hear the answer.
‘Hans Jochum Lang. ID number 570725-0350. On the wanted list since this morning.’
Jochum laughed as they manhandled him out of the car. When they had him belly-down on the wet tarmac, he asked them who their witness might be. He laughed even louder as they searched and cuffed him, then shoved him into the back seat of the patrol car they had called and drove off.
Bengt watched Ewert as he shook his head vigorously. The negative was obvious.
Lighter, that was how he felt. Stronger.
Ewert had decided. He had said no.
Bengt spoke into the receiver again. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. Won’t happen.’
‘No?’
‘If I was to come down to the mortuary… it’s against our policy in hostage negotiations.’
‘Killing people is against policy, but I’ve done it all the same. And I’ll kill another one if you don’t come down here.’
‘There must be alternatives. Let’s talk about it.’
‘The police get the hostages, the ones that are alive, only when
He was convinced now. He knew where they were going now.
‘Nope. Sorry.’
‘I want you. You speak Russian. You’ve got thirty minutes. Then I’ll kill another hostage.’
The tearing, haunting anguish. He was so very afraid.
‘Lydia, I-’
‘Twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds.’
Ewert pulled out his earpiece, walked across to the switch and turned on the overhead light.
They looked at the clock on the wall. It was eleven minutes past three.
The man who was standing in the doorway to the medical ward kitchen addressed the ward sister.
‘You’d better go.’
Ann-Marie got up, looked at Lisa, who nodded. A nod in return and then the sister left, her eyes fixed on the floor, hurrying out through the door into the empty corridor.
Slobodan watched her as she vanished and then turned to Lisa with a smile. She was about to smile too when
