Red Wolf

‘I’m not sure,’ she said, ‘but I saw Goran Nilsson put a duffel bag in a transformer box next to the railway. Could that be it?’

She gulped audibly, the man raised his eyebrows.

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘so it’s suddenly time to tell the truth, is it?’

‘Can I sit down?’

He moved so that he had her in his line of fire as her knees gratefully lowered her onto the chair.

‘Where exactly is this box?’

She struggled for air for several seconds.

‘Not far from the viaduct,’ she said. ‘There’s a little clump of pine trees right next to it.’

‘How come you saw that?’

‘I was hiding, watching Karina, and I saw Goran put the bag in there.’

The archivist went up to her, put his hand round her neck, breathing right in her face and staring into her eyes.

‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘I do believe you’re telling the truth. Put your coat on.’

Hans Blomberg backed towards the door.

‘I’ll have the pistol in my pocket the whole time. If you try anything you won’t be the only one. You’ll be taking the girl in reception with you to hell. Understood?’

Annika nodded, pulling on her jacket. They stepped out of the room; the corridor was tilting and swaying. In the lift the archivist stood so close to her she could feel his chest against her breasts.

‘How did you know where I’d be staying?’ she asked, looking up at his face.

‘Your charming boss told me. I think his name was Jansson?’

The lift stopped with a jerk.

‘I shall be walking right behind you,’ the archivist said. ‘If you’re a good girl then the little lady in reception will get a chance to grow up.’

He moved even closer to her, his hands sliding into her coat pockets and down towards her crotch.

She kicked the door to open it.

He quickly withdrew his hands from her pockets, and in one hand he was holding her mobile phone.

‘Nice and quiet, now,’ he whispered.

They stepped into the lobby. Linda the receptionist came out from the kitchen, talking on the phone, and smiled warmly at them.

Ring the police, Annika tried to tell her telepathically, staring at her with fire in her eyes. Ring the police! Ring the police!

But the young woman waved to them and went back into the room behind reception with her phone.

‘And out we go,’ Hans Blomberg whispered.

The cold tore at her skin, and she felt the pistol at her back again.

‘To the right,’ the archivist said. She turned and walked unsteadily along the pavement, they passed her hire- car with Ragnwald’s millions in the boot. Hans Blomberg pulled her by the arm and steered her towards an old Passat that was parked outside a bookshop.

‘It isn’t locked,’ he said. ‘Jump in.’

Annika did as he said. The car-seat was ice-cold, the man walked round the car and got in the driver’s seat.

‘Where did you steal this one?’ Annika asked.

‘Porson,’ Hans Blomberg said, hot-wiring the ignition.

They rolled off towards the water and turned off to follow the railway track. For the third time that day Annika drove through the industrial estate on Lovskatan.

‘How did you get into my room?’ she asked, staring into the rear-view mirror. Behind them, a long way back, she caught sight of a distant but growing point of light.

The archivist laughed slightly. ‘A little hobby of mine,’ he said. ‘I can break into anything. Anything else you’d like to know?’

She thought, shut her eyes and swallowed. ‘Why did you change the way you killed them each time?’

He shrugged, braked at the opening of the narrow track with the no vehicles sign, craned his neck and peered through the windscreen.

‘I wanted to try things out,’ he said. ‘At our training camp in Melderstein in the summer of sixty-nine the Dragon appointed me his supreme commander. I was the one who would lead the armed struggle. All summer we practised different forms of attack, different ways to take a life. Over the years I kept up my interest and my education. How far do we drive?’

‘To the viaduct,’ Annika said, glancing in the mirror again, the light was closer now. ‘Margit Axelsson received a warning after the Dragon disappeared. Did you get one as well?’

The archivist laughed again, louder this time.

‘But dear girl,’ he said, ‘I was the one who sent them. They all got one.’

‘Whose fingers were they?’

‘A little boy who had been killed in a car accident,’ Hans Blomberg said. ‘I broke into the mortuary and cut them off. There’s no need to worry, he didn’t miss them.’

She looked out of the window until she could talk again.

‘But why start killing them now?’ she said, looking at him. ‘Why did you wait so long?’

He glanced back at her and smiled.

‘You’re not listening,’ he said. ‘The revolution is here. It was going to start when the Dragon returned. He promised that before he left, and now he’s back.’

‘Goran Nilsson is dead.’

Hans Blomberg shrugged. ‘Ah well,’ he said with a sigh. ‘All false authorities die sooner or later.’

He pulled up, put the car in neutral and put on the handbrake, leaving the stolen car running. He turned to look at Annika, suddenly serious and thoughtful.

‘The Dragon promised that he would come back, and I knew it was true. I waited all those years. Of course I’ve had moments of doubt, but I’m the winner in the end.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ Annika said.

He slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand.

‘So now we go out and find the box,’ he said, reaching over her to open the passenger door, his hand pausing on her stomach.

She heaved herself out, taking a quick glance backward.

Not yet time.

She turned towards the box and pointed. ‘There.’

‘Open it.’

She walked slowly forward, lead weights round her feet.

It won’t work, she thought. I can’t do it.

She listened behind her, thought she could hear the dull rumble. Not yet, but soon. She took hold of the handle, tried to twist, pulled, used both hands, pulled even harder, braced her feet on the ground, and groaned loudly.

‘I can’t get it open,’ she said, letting go.

The light was close now, the whistling sound was very clear, merging with the distant rumble of the steelworks. Soon, soon, soon.

Hans Blomberg walked over, annoyed. ‘Get out of the way.’

Holding the pistol in his right hand, he grabbed the handle with his left, gathered his strength, then pulled. The door flew open, the man’s eyes opening wide as he leaned over and stared into the darkness, and Annika shrugged off her heavy jacket and ran.

She threw herself down onto the track, slipping on the sleepers, running though her legs felt like lead, unable to hear amidst the panic.

A bullet flew past her left ear, then another, and then she was bathed in the full glare of the diesel locomotive’s headlight. The driver pulled the whistle but it was too late, she was already across. She collapsed on the other side and the train thundered past her with its endless cargo of ore-truck after ore-truck after ore-truck,