Åke Edwardson - Never End

"I didn't hear what you said."

"It's true that I don't like him," Mattias said.

"Why not?"

"Ask Jeanette."

"I'm asking you."

The boy shrugged.

"I'm asking you," Halders said again.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"So you think he's a piece of shit too, eh?"

"Tell me why you think he's a piece of shit."

"I don't just think."

"Tell me, Mattias."

"Ask Jeanette. Again."

"Why do you keep saying that I should ask Jeanette?"

"Don't you get it?"

"What are you trying to tell me, Mattias?"

The boy didn't reply. The sea looked even blacker. Halders closed his eyes.

"You were furious the last time you spoke to Jeanette," he said.

"You don't say."

"She'd broken up with you."

"So what?"

"So, you were furious with her because she'd dumped you."

"You don't say."

Halders grabbed the boy by his shirt collar.

"Don't try that crap with me, young man."

"For Christ's sake…"

"I'll throw you into the sea, you little shit, if you don't help us with this case."

"Help you how?"

Halders grabbed his collar more tightly. The boy could see the fury in his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, you're out of your mi-"

Halders tightened his grip even more, then suddenly let go and walked away.

Benny Vennerhag called that night. Elsa was asleep. Winter was out on the balcony. Angela watched him with a smile that could have been a little bit on the sarcastic side. Winter was savoring the scent of tropical fruit and leather from the cigar he had in his hand, a Corona he'd bought along with several others on his way home an hour ago.

He came in from the balcony.

"I have a few names," Vennerhag said.

"Let's hear them."

Vennerhag named a couple of clubs.

"We've already been there," said Winter. "There's no wall like the one in the photos in either of them."

"That's the best I can do at the moment."

"Well, thanks for nothing, in that case."

"There's no need to be like that."

"I thought you were more abreast of things than this, Benny."

"Allow me to say the same about you."

"I'm looking forward to our next little chat," Winter said.

Vennerhag hung up without further comment. Angela shouted from the kitchen. He took a beer from the fridge: "I think I'll shackle myself to the computer for a while."

"I thought we could sit on the balcony for a few minutes," she said.

"OK."

The park was deserted. The sky was vast. The traffic down below seemed like sparks in all the blue. Sounds floated in on the wind. Winter lit his cigar again.

"So, you had no willpower?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You don't seem too troubled by it."

"I've realized that I can't concentrate without nicotine."

"So you feel better already."

"Yes. Ideas are flowing."

"You're imagining it."

Winter inhaled again. The smoke drifted away.

"Could be. But I can't afford to risk it. This case. The girls." He took another drag. "There's somebody out there." He gestured with the cigar. "Down there."

"There's always somebody out there," Angela said. "Always will be."

"And I'll always be here," he said with a smile. "The story of my life. Somebody out there, and me in here." He contemplated his cigar. "And then I'll be on my way to get him." He looked at her. "A bit melodramatic, don't you think?"

"Before I met you I didn't use to think the police analyzed themselves like that," Angela said, taking a sip of beer. "That they tried to… define their role."

"Do you mean to say that you actually considered the way police officers' minds work before you met me?"

"No." She took another sip. "I suppose I thought they didn't think at all."

"And then the penny dropped."

"And then I found that my suspicions were confirmed!"

"And how did that feel?"

"Frightening."

"Well, now you know."

She nodded.

"That's why this is necessary," he said, holding up his cigar. "Something to help us summon up the little concentration we're still capable of calling on."

"I almost threw the kid into the sea today," Halders said.

They were sitting on the patio. Hannes and Magda had gone in.

"But you didn't," Djanali said.

"No."

"Just as well."

Halders chuckled.

"I made a mess of it, no matter how you look at it."

"Hmm."

"He was going to say something important. About Jeanette's father. But he didn't."

"What do you think he was going to say?"

"Would you like a glass of juice?"

"Answer the question, Fredrik."

"I'll answer the next time I've talked to him."

"What did he have to say about her breaking up with him?"

"That's not what we're after anymore."

They went inside. Halders poured out some juice. They could hear the kids talking in the background. Hannes had a friend in his room. A computer game. Laughter. The sound of shooting from a computer. A single shot to start with, then a series of salvos. Halders looked at Djanali, who was listening to the war.

"Better that they do all the shooting now, before they grow up," Haiders said.

She smiled.

The gun battle petered out, and was replaced by a car chase.

Aneta Djanali left, and Halders poured himself a beer. Magda came in with a scraped knee from the flagstones in the garden. Somebody started shooting again in the computer game Hannes was playing with his friend. Bang, bang. Halders cleaned up his daughter's knee, but didn't apply a bandage. He just sat at the kitchen table, took a swig of beer now and then, and thought of nothing in particular.

Birgersson summoned Winter. When Winter entered his office, the super, unusually, didn't have a cigarette in his hand.

"Yep," Birgersson said. "I've packed it in." He looked almost as if he were apologizing. "My lungs have had enough. They really have."

"I've started," Winter said. "Again."

"I didn't even know you'd stopped," said Birgersson, taking a deep drag on his white nicotine inhaler. He took it out of his mouth and looked hard at it. "A ridiculous thing." He looked at Winter. "What's going on?" He indicated the chair in front of his desk. "Take a seat." Winter sat down, crossing his legs. "The young guy's background?"

"We don't have a clue."

"Is he a ghost?"

Winter didn't respond.

"Recently come down to earth?"

"I don't know, Sture."

"There's got to be an explanation."

"Yes."

"An illegal immigrant?"

"Why isn't he hiding away, in that case?"

"But surely he is? Pretty well, come to think of it."

"He met the girl. Angelika. All aboveboard, it seems."

"Love is all you need," Birgersson said.

"No," Winter said. "There is a limit. And that's where it's at."

"If you say so."

"I take it you've seen how this case has been developing?"

Birgersson nodded, and sucked at his ridiculous gimmick.

"It's developing outward, and collapsing inward. The more that happens, the less we know," Winter said.

"The opposite would have been preferable."

Winter smiled. Birgersson fiddled with his dummy cigarette. The sun shone in through the Venetian blinds, as usual. They were sitting there, as usual, talking over the latest tragedy. Everything was just as exciting as usual.

How is it going to turn out? Would the streets come up with a solution? Would all the threads come together in the end? Where do we start? Have I got them in my hand? Winter looked again at the ridiculous, empty holder Birgersson had in his mouth, flicking up and down like the back end of a wagtail. Ridiculous. He could have been somewhere else. Sunbathing on the rocks. Elsa and him. Five meters out. She's gasping for breath. They go for a drink. Sand in their sandwiches. Somebody kicking a ball. Living is easy. Not like this: nasty and sweaty and life threatening. Dead kids, hardly out of the nest. Nobody could care less about them apart from us, and we're paid for trying to figure things out.