Hakan Nesser - Borkmann's point

It was stretched across the track at just below knee height and right at the bottom of the hill-just where the leaves of a lime tree added another layer to the gathering darkness. She fell headlong to the ground, and before she had even registered what was happening, he was over her.

“I think we’ll have to ask the press to leave us on our own for a while,” said Van Veeteren, putting his hand on Cruickshank’s shoulder. “But I can take your chair.”

Munster looked up. Van Veeteren had the Melnik report under his arm, and he looked determined. The network of burst blood vessels had changed from red to blue. The bags under his eyes had prominent black edges. Positive signs, no doubt about it.

“Godammit!” said Cruickshank. “So the breakthrough has come after seven hard years? May I be the first to congratulate you. What’s his name?”

“Who?” asked Munster.

“The Axman, of course,” said Cruickshank.

“You can have a ringside interview tomorrow morning,”

Van Veeteren promised him. “Provided you’re a good boy and go to bed now.”

Cruickshank swallowed the remains of his whiskey and water and stood up. Swaying noticeably and looking as if he might be forced to make an emergency landing on the chair again, he managed to recover. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “All right,” he said. “Gentlemen’s agreement. Good night, gentlemen. You know my room number.”

He thanked Munster for his company, and walked unsteadily out of the bar.

“Poor devil,” said Munster.

“Why?” asked Van Veeteren. “I’ll have a large beer, please.”

“Well?” said Van Veeteren, sucking the foam from the top of his tankard. “Youth before beauty. What have you found?”

Munster picked up the bundle of pages and leafed through them.

“Well,” he said. “There’s this Podworsky-”

Van Veeteren nodded.

“Eugen Podworsky, yes. What about him?”

“I know nothing about him,” said Munster. “But there’s a link, in any case. I assume the others, Bausen and the inspec tors, can make a better judgment. If he’s known in Kaalbrin gen, that is…”

Van Veeteren lit a cigarette.

“I’ve just spoken to Bausen,” he said. “He says it’s not impossible, at least. Seems to be the right type-a loner who lives out in the boonies, on the way to Linden. About four miles inland in a straight line from the coast. He’s been inside for manslaughter as well, although that was an age ago. Yes, this could be an opening; it could be him.”

“Violent?” asked Munster.

“Has a long memory, in any case, according to Bausen. Not quite right in the head either, it seems. He doesn’t have much contact with other people. Took early retirement in 1975, I think it was. Anyway, we can look into that tomorrow-it would probably be as well to prepare ourselves a bit before we land on him. He could certainly stir up a lot of trouble if it turns out not to be him, says Bausen.”

Munster nodded. Van Veeteren drank deeply, and smacked his lips in contentment.

“Dammit all, Munster,” said Van Veeteren. “I only have to set eyes on his type, and I’ll be able to tell if he did it or not. It’s time we went back home, don’t you think?”

Munster shuffled around on his chair.

“What’s the matter?” asked Van Veeteren. “Are you about to lay an egg?”

“Just a little detail, that’s all,” said Munster hesitantly. “No doubt it’s not important. I had a message from Inspector

Moerk. She’d come across something and asked me to ring her-”

“And?”

“Well, she doesn’t answer. She was supposed to be home by eight or so. I’ve tried several times.”

Van Veeteren checked his watch.

“Five past eleven,” he said. “Try one more time before you go to bed. It’ll just be a man, no doubt.”

Yes, thought Munster. It’s just a man, of course.

Bausen looked unshaven but energetic. He hung his dirt brown jacket over the back of his chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves to well above the elbow.

“Eugen Podworsky,” he said, pointing at Kropke with a yellow pencil. “What do we know about him?”

“Quite a lot,” said Kropke enthusiastically. “Shall we start from the beginning, or-”

“Yes,” said Bausen. “I don’t suppose anybody’s managed to miss the fact that he is involved in two of the cases, but it’s probably just as well to establish a comprehensive background before we get going.”

“One moment,” said Van Veeteren. “I think we need to dis cuss Inspector Moerk first.”

Bausen looked around the table, as if he had only just real ized that not everybody was present.

“What’s the matter with Moerk? Why isn’t she here?”

“Hmm,” said Van Veeteren. “I think Munster had better explain.”

Munster took a deep breath.

“Well,” he said, “I received a message at the hotel last night… from Inspector Moerk. She asked me to call her.

Something had struck her in connection with the Melnik report, the note said, but she doesn’t seem to have been home since yesterday evening. I haven’t been able to contact her.”

“What the hell?” said Bausen. “Something had struck her… Podworsky, you mean?”

Munster flung his arms out wide.

“I don’t know. Presumably, but it’s not certain. She was going to check it out, the message said.”

“Check it out?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Munster.

“Do you still have the note?” asked Bausen.

Munster nodded and produced the envelope from his inside pocket. From the corner of his eye he noticed that Van

Veeteren was watching him closely, and he knew he was blush ing. There was nothing he could do about it, of course, and naturally, it didn’t mean anything in the circumstances. He cer tainly hadn’t slept for more than two hours, and ever since get ting up, he’d had this image of the conference room in his mind’s eye. Either she would be sitting there in her usual place in front of the bookcase… or she wouldn’t. Either it had just been a man, or it had been… another sort of man. He hardly dared to admit, even to himself, that he had felt a faint glow of satisfaction on discovering that it was not the first alternative.

Just a man! Of course that reaction had immediately been swamped by all the possible implications of the other alterna tive, but it had certainly been there, and undeniably gave him something to think about.

Bausen read the note. Passed it on.

“I’ve already seen it,” said Van Veeteren when it came to him. Munster took it back.

“ ‘Home by about eight,’ ” said Bausen. “Hell and damna tion! You don’t think that-?”

“What did it say?” asked Kropke. “ ‘Rather bizarre’?”

“ ‘Pretty bizarre, but I need to check it out,’ ” said Munster.

Bausen took out his pipe and sat there with it in his hand.

The silence in the room was almost tangible. Bang was chew ing gum. Van Veeteren was devoting meticulous attention to two toothpicks, comparing them in detail, before dropping one into his breast pocket and sticking the other between his front teeth. Kropke was drumming his fingertips against one another, and Mooser was gazing out the window.

Good Lord! thought Munster. They’re all seeing her in their mind’s eye! He swallowed, and felt something cold and wet creeping up into his throat. There was a cramplike convul sion in his diaphragm.

“Excuse me,” he managed to blurt out as he stood up and hurried to the toilet.

“Kropke,” said Bausen, “go to your office and phone her.”