Before the Frost
- Автор: Манкелль Хеннинг
- Серия: Linda Wallander #1
- Год: 2004
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Harvill Press
- ISBN: 978-1-84343-113-8
- Переводчик: Ebba Segerberg
- Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Электронная книга - «Before the Frost». Краткое содержание книги:
The final breakdown came one Christmas. Torgeir gave his family presents of rotting meat, old tires, and dirty cobblestones. Afterward he tried to set fire to himself, his sisters, and his parents. He ran away, with no intention of ever returning, a considerable amount of money to his name. When his passport expired and was not renewed, he was wanted by the International Police, but no one found him in the Cleveland streets where he was drifting. He kept his financial assets hidden from those around him, changing his bank, changing everything except his name. He still had five million Norwegian crowns to his name when the man he came to see as his savior turned up in his life.
But I did not take adequate stock of his weakness, he thought again. The rage that would lead to uncontrolled violence. Torgeir was blinded by his fury and hacked the woman to pieces. But there was also something of value even in this unexpected reaction and capacity for brutality. Setting fire to animals was one thing, killing a person quite another. Apparently Torgeir would not hesitate to commit such an act. Now that all the necessary animals had been sacrificed, they would proceed to the next leveclass="underline" human sacrifice.
They met at the Ystad train station. Torgeir had taken the train from Copenhagen, since he sometimes lost his sense of concentration when driving. Torgeir had bathed — that was part of the purification process that always preceded the ritual sacrifice. It was important to be clean. Jesus always washed his feet. He had explained to Torgeir that everything was there in the Bible. It was their map, their guide.
Torgeir carried a small black bag in his hand. He knew what was in it and did not have to ask. Torgeir had long since proved himself to be reliable — except with regard to the woman in the forest, which had caused an unnecessary amount of publicity and activity. Newspapers and television stations were still broadcasting the news. The act they were planning now had already been postponed for two days, and he had felt it best that Torgeir use his Copenhagen hideout while they lay low and waited it out.
They walked up toward the center of town, turned a corner when they reached the post office, and continued on to the pet store. There were no customers inside. The woman behind the counter was young. She was busy putting cans of cat food on a shelf when they arrived. There were hamsters, kittens, and birds in the cages. Torgeir smiled but said nothing; there was no point in letting her hear his Norwegian accent. While Torgeir walked around the store and made a mental note of how he would carry out his actions, his savior selected and bought a packet of birdseed. Then they left the store and walked down past the theater and toward the harbor. It was a warm day, and a number of sailboats were still coming and going.
That was the second part of their preparations, to be close to the water. Once, they had met by the shores of Lake Erie, and from then on they always sought out a body of water when they had important preparations to make.
“The cages are close together,” Torgeir said. “I’ll spray with both hands in either direction, light the lighter, and run. Everything will be on fire within a few seconds.”
“And then?”
“Then I say: ‘The Lord’s will be done.’ ”
“And then?”
“I go to the left, then right. Not too fast, not too slow. I stop on the main square and make sure no one is following me. Then I walk up to the newsstand by the hospital, where you’ll be waiting.”
They paused their conversation and looked at a small boat on its way into the harbor. The engine was loud and hacking.
“These are the last animals. We have reached our first goal.”
Torgeir was about to kneel right then and there on the pier. He dragged him up by his arm.
“Never in public.”
“I forgot.”
“Are you calm?”
“Yes.”
“Who am I?”
“My father, my shepherd, my savior, my God.”
“Who are you?”
“The first disciple. Found on a street in Cleveland, saved and helped back into life. I am the first apostle.”
“What else?”
“The first priest.”
Once I made sandals for a living, he thought. I dreamed of greater things and had to run away to escape my shame, my sense of failure, my sense of having destroyed those dreams by my inability to live up to them. Now I make people in the same way I once cut out soles, insteps, and straps.
It was four o’clock. They walked around the city and sat on various park benches, remaining silent the whole time. They were past words now. From time to time he looked over at Torgeir. He seemed calm and focused on the task at hand.
I’ve made him happy, he thought. A man who grew up spoiled but also stifled and desperately unhappy. Now I bring joy to his life by taking him seriously and giving him a purpose.
They wandered from bench to bench until it was seven o’clock. The pet store closed at six. Many people were out in the streets in the warm evening. That was to their advantage.
They went their separate ways. He walked up to the main square and turned around. Their plans ticked like a timer in his head. Now Torgeir was breaking down the front door with the crowbar. Now he was inside, closing the broken door behind him, listening for signs of anyone in the store. Now he was dropping the bag, taking out the bottles of gasoline and the lighter.
He heard the boom and thought he saw a flash of light behind the buildings. A plume of smoke rose up into the sky. He turned and started walking away. He heard the first sirens even before he had made it to the appointed meeting place.
It’s over, he thought. We are reviving the Christian faith, the Christian dictates of a righteous life. The long years in the desert have come to an end.
The simple beast who feels pain but lacks comprehension is no longer our concern.
Now we turn to the human being.
31
When Linda got out of the car at Mariagatan, she smelled something that reminded her of a week-long vacation she had taken with Herman Mboya to Morocco. They had chosen the cheapest package deal and bunked in a cockroach hotel. It was during that week that she had begun to think they didn’t have a future together. The following year they had gone their separate ways; Herman had returned to Africa and she had started down the path that finally led her to the police academy.
The smell was what triggered the memory. Mounds of garbage were burned at night in Morocco. But no one burns their trash in Ystad, she thought. Then she heard the fire trucks and police sirens. There was a fire in the center of town somewhere. She started to run.
The fire was still raging when she arrived, panting like a house-bound old woman. When had she gotten this out of shape? She saw tall flames leap up through the roof. The families that lived in the upper stories had been evacuated. A badly damaged baby carriage had been abandoned in front. Firefighters were busy securing the surrounding buildings. Linda made her way up to the police tape.
Her father was quarreling with Svartman about a witness who had not been interviewed thoroughly, and to top it off had been allowed to disappear.
“We’ll never get this madman if we can’t even follow the simplest of routines.”
“Martinsson was in charge of it.”
“And he’s told me twice that he delegated it to you. Now you’ll have to track down the witness somehow.”
Svartman left, clearly feeling wronged. They’re like angry bulls, Linda thought. All this time and energy spent marking their territory.