Knutas couldn’t make the facts add up.
EMMA WAS LYING on the sofa in the living room, watching an action film on TV. It was supposed to be exciting, but she didn’t have the energy to get involved.
Images flickered past on the TV screen: a car chase, gunshots, men running after each other through a big crowd – classic scenes. But superimposed over everything she saw vestiges of herself and Johan, like damaged fragments of a dream that had never come true. Unwanted, troublesome thoughts hounded her, and she kept shifting around on the sofa cushions. It was impossible to find a comfortable position.
She was alone in the house, left to her own thoughts. Their fight the previous Sunday and the ensuing silence from Johan had truly shaken her. At first she was angry because he’d yelled at her, but then came the shame when she realized that he was right. Even though she was upset because he’d slept with another woman, she could partially understand why it had happened.
She pictured his face and how miserable he’d looked as he sat there on that bench. She had felt so awkward, just waiting there like an idiot until he stopped sobbing. Then he handed Elin back to her, got up and left. The distance between them was so obvious. What if he never wanted to let her in again? There was a risk that the door had now been shut for good.
When her parents offered to take care of Elin for a few days, Emma had gratefully accepted. She needed to be alone to think things through.
Again she asked herself what was actually preventing her from being with Johan. She had pushed him away for a very specific reason. How could she have done otherwise, when he had put their child’s life in jeopardy? But she hadn’t received any support for her actions – not from her parents or any of her friends. Everybody thought she was being too hard on him, even her ex-husband Olle. His attitude towards Johan had become significantly friendlier ever since he’d met Marianne, who was the new woman in his life. Many things in their relationship, previously so inflammatory, had now become easier, including their shared custody of the children, Sara and Filip. Right now the kids were spending two weeks with Olle and Marianne on Crete.
The kids liked Johan, and he, in turn, had clearly demonstrated his affection for them. His job was really no obstacle either; he could work as a freelancer from Gotland or find a job with one of the local newspapers or radio stations.
She sat up on the sofa and turned off the TV. Why was she so resistant to creating a future with Johan? Was she afraid of true love? Did she think, deep in her heart, that she didn’t deserve it?
All of a sudden she had a clear insight into what was going on. She was the one, not anyone else, who kept blocking their relationship, and if she didn’t stop soon, she was going to lose Johan for good.
She was suddenly in a big hurry. Now she knew what she had to do; she just hoped it wasn’t too late.
THE BOAT COULD be seen from a great distance away. A barge-like vessel was silhouetted against the horizon. It was eight p.m., and the sun, which was on its way down, had coloured the sky red. Johan and Pia were sitting on a hilltop, gazing out at the sea. They had brought along grilled chicken and several beers so it would look as if they were just an ordinary couple enjoying an evening picnic. They ate their food in silence. Pia had binoculars with her, and now and then she would raise them to her eyes.
‘Now it’s turning in this direction.’
Johan took the binoculars from her. He saw that she was right; the boat had changed course and was slowly turning towards land. Earlier, they had gone down to the harbour to reconnoitre. Everything had seemed very quiet, like the calm before a storm. Pia had made an appointment with her friend who worked at the harbour to meet them at nine o’clock. He was a longshoreman, and officially they were just friends who were getting together and at the same time planned to buy some booze from the boat. Pia’s friend, whose name was Viktor, had told them that a bunch of people always turned up on the dock whenever the boats arrived. So they could blend right in.
Johan gave only monosyllabic replies to Pia’s attempts to carry on a conversation. He was thinking about Emma, and he had no desire to chat.
‘What are you thinking about? You seem really far away,’ said Pia, opening the cool-box. ‘Would you like another beer?’
‘Sure. Thanks.’ He took a big gulp of the cold beer, then lit a cigarette.
‘You’ve really started smoking a lot. Why is that?’ Pia grabbed the pack and shook out a cigarette for herself.
‘You should talk, especially when you happen to use snuff too. But it’s the same old issue: Emma.’
‘I can’t understand why the two of you can’t get along. What do you think you’re doing, anyway? Even a blind chicken can see that you’re made for each other.’
‘Yes, but it’s so complicated.’
‘Well, don’t make it even worse. If you ask me, I think it’s just plain human for Emma to panic after that kidnapping episode, but what surprises me is that you fail to understand it.’
Johan sat up. ‘What do you mean? What is it I don’t understand?’
‘How tough it’s been for Emma, practically since the first day she met you. It seems perfectly reasonable that she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with you after the kidnapping; from her point of view, you were the one who put Elin in danger. But now she’s become stuck in that attitude, and so it’s just easier for her to shut you out completely. After everything else, her divorce, and then the fact that you can never seem to get your life together – I mean, you seem unable to decide whether to stay on the mainland or live on Gotland. And in the meantime, she’s here and has to take full responsibility and try to work things out with her other children, with Olle, and with you and Elin. How hard have you tried to understand her position? You act so damned empathetic and ethical when you’re on the job, always taking consideration of one thing or another, but how much compassion do you really have when it comes right down to it? When it has to do with your own personal life and the people who are closest to you?’
Pia ended her harangue by taking several big gulps of beer.
Johan had a perplexed expression on his face as he sat and stared at her.
‘Why haven’t you said any of this before?’
‘I’ve tried, in small doses, but you never pay any attention.’
Johan couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Pia’s mobile rang before he could collect himself.
‘That was Viktor,’ she said after ending the conversation. ‘It’s time.’
THEY DROVE DOWN to the harbour and parked a safe distance away from the huge iron gates that marked the entry to the actual harbour area.
Pia was fitted out with a camera and microphone inside her thin shirt, invisible under her jacket. The ship was just about to dock. It had arrived an hour ahead of schedule. Johan wondered what sort of cargo it was carrying besides the fuel. The harbour master, with whom he’d had a talk earlier in the day, had said that the fuel was unloaded via pipes that were hooked up to the boat, leading straight into big silos inside the factory. The operation took several hours. Then the cargo was replaced with cement. The boat would remain docked for a day or two each time.
Johan lit a cigarette and felt his pulse quicken.
More people came down to the dock. Longshoremen, the harbour master, and others, who were presumably waiting to buy booze. Like Pia and himself, they pretended they were there simply to watch.
When the boat docked, a hatch opened immediately and several rugged-looking men emerged. Pia poked Johan in the side.
‘Coarse-looking types,’ she hissed. ‘By the way, I’m shooting. I’m going to take off and have a look around.’
She gave him a wink. Between two buttons on her jacket he caught a glimpse of the camera lens.
The men from the boat jumped ashore. One lit a cigarette and glanced around expectantly. Another clearly knew some of the people who were standing on the dock, and he went over to give them a warm hug. They chatted and joked. Things started happening around the ship, and the harbour master began issuing orders. The unloading commenced at once, as an engine roared. Johan guessed that the transfer of the coal had already started.
He had disguised himself behind a pair of sunglasses and had pulled a cap down over his face as he didn’t want to take the chance of being recognized. He was frequently on television, even though he was a reporter and not a TV newsreader.
