Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [132]
Annika stared at him with painfully dry eyes.
Terrorist, mass-murderer, evil personified, this was what it looked like, hunched and dull and trembling slightly?
She had to call the police.
Then realized: her mobile was in the bag on the passenger seat of the Volvo down by the abandoned car.
44
‘How can you think I’ve ever meant you any harm?’ the man said, his voice carrying through the still air. ‘All my life you’re the person who’s meant the most to me.’
The woman shuffled her feet nervously.
‘I got your messages,’ she said, and Annika realized at once why she sounded so scared. She had received the same warnings as Margit.
The man, the Yellow Dragon, lowered his head for a few seconds. Then he looked up again, and Annika could see his eyes. In the strange light they glimmered red and hollow.
‘I had a reason for coming here, and you’re all going to hear it,’ he said, his voice as cold as the wind. ‘You may have come a long way, but I’ve come further.’
The woman was shaking under her fur, her voice scared, and she was close to tears. ‘Don’t hurt me.’
The man went up to her. Annika could see him pull something from his coat pocket, black, shiny.
A weapon. A revolver.
‘I shan’t trouble you again,’ he said quietly. ‘This is the last time. You’ll just have to wait at the meeting place. There’s something I need to take care of first.’
The wind freshened, tugging at the branches of the pine trees.
‘Please,’ the woman pleaded. ‘Let me go.’
‘In,’ he said harshly. ‘Now.’
And Karina Björnlund picked up her bag from the ground and, with the revolver aimed at her back, walked inside the little brick building. Göran Nilsson didn’t move, watched her go inside, put the gun in his pocket again, turned round and walked over to the duffel bag leaning against the wall of the building.
Annika took a deep breath. She had heard more than enough. She moved softly and carefully back along the trail of footprints and emerged onto the track, casting a last glance at the trees so she could describe the site properly to the police.
Someone was moving, someone was coming towards her.
Her breathing came hard and deep. She looked around in panic.
Ten metres or so behind her was a metal box with a mass of thick cables snaking out of it, and behind it was a thicket of young pine trees. Annika fled towards them, her feet scarcely touching the crunching surface of the track. She flew into the sharp branches, parting them with both hands, then peered behind her.
The grey man emerged into the dim light from the railway track, dragging the duffel bag behind him. It was clearly very heavy. He stood still on the icy track for a few seconds, then put his hand to his stomach and bent over, his breath rising from his mouth in panting bursts. Annika craned her neck to see better. It looked like the man was about to fall flat on his face.
Then his breathing calmed down, he straightened his back and took a few unsteady steps forward.
Then he looked straight at Annika.
Horrified, she let go off the branch she had been holding back, and put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound and cloud of her breath. She stood completely still in the darkness as the man slowly walked towards her. His panting breath and strained steps grew in her head, coming closer and closer until she thought she was going to scream. She closed her eyes and heard him stop a metre or so away from her, on the other side of the little pine trees.
There was a scraping noise. She opened her eyes.
Metal scraping against metal, she held her breath and listened.
The man was doing something with the metal box. He was opening the doors of the cabinet containing all the cables. She could hear him panting, and realized that she had to take another breath, inhaling quickly and silently, only to feel a huge and instant desire to throw up.
The man stank. A smell of decay filtered through the branches and made her put her hand in front of her mouth again. He was panting and struggling with something on the other side of the trees.