Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [133]
Ten seconds of easier breathing, then some more steps, away.
Annika turned round and pushed the branch aside to take another look.
The man was on his way back into the bushes. The duffel bag was gone.
He put it in the box, she thought.
The undergrowth swallowed him up, erasing his presence in the weak light.
Annika stood up and flew along the track, only pausing at the edge of the forest. She turned and ran as quietly as she could, under the viaduct and back up to the Skanska building, past the empty car park, until suddenly she saw another figure coming towards her.
She stopped instantly, looked around with adrenalin racing through her veins, threw herself down in the forest and sank up to her chin into the snow.
It was a man. He was bare-headed, dressed in jeans and a thin padded jacket. From his stumbling gait and unsteady movements she read the signs of serious and long-term alcohol abuse, a drunk.
A few seconds later he had vanished behind the Skanska building and she was able to get out onto the road again, rushing on without trying to brush off the snow.
To begin with she couldn’t see the hire-car, and had a moment of panic before she found it behind the abandoned car. She clicked open the lock and threw herself into the driver’s seat, pulling off her gloves and fumbling for her mobile, her fingers trembling so much that she had trouble keying in Inspector Suup’s direct number.
‘Karlsson, Central Control.’
She had reached the switchboard.
‘Suup,’ she said, ‘I’m trying to reach Inspector Suup.’
‘He’s finished for the day,’ Karlsson said.
Her brain went into overdrive; she shut her eyes and rubbed a sweaty palm across her forehead.
‘Forsberg,’ she said. ‘Is Forsberg there?’
‘Which one? We’ve got three.’
‘In crime?’
‘Hang on, I’ll put you through.’
The line went quiet and she ended up in a vague cyberspace without sound or colour. After three minutes she gave up and rang again.
‘I’m trying to get hold of someone on the Benny Ekland and Linus Gustafsson murder inquiries,’ she said in a tone of panic when Karlsson answered once more.
‘About what?’ the young man said, uninterested.
She forced herself to breathe calmly.
‘My name is Annika Bengtzon, and I’m a reporter on the Evening Post, and I—’
‘Suup’s in charge of the press,’ Karlsson interrupted. ‘You’ll have to call him tomorrow.’
‘Listen to me!’ she screamed. ‘Ragnwald is here, Göran Nilsson, the Yellow Dragon, I know where he is, he’s in a small brick building next to the ore railway together with Karina Björnlund. You’ve got to come and arrest him, now!’
‘Björnlund?’ Karlsson said. ‘The Minister of Culture?’
‘Yes!’ Annika shouted. ‘Göran Nilsson from Sattajärvi is with her in a small building below the ironworks. I can’t explain exactly where, it’s close to a viaduct—’
‘Listen,’ Karlsson said. ‘Are you sure you’re feeling okay?’
She paused and realized that she sounded like a lunatic, cleared her throat and forced herself to speak calmly and coherently. ‘I know this might sound a little crazy,’ she said, trying to smile down the line. ‘I’m calling from somewhere called Lövskatan, it’s not far from the ironworks, the railway track runs right alongside—’
‘Lövskatan, yes, we do know where Lövskatan is,’ the policeman said, and she could hear that his patience was wearing thin.
‘A man you’ve been looking for for years has come back to Luleå,’ Annika said, sounding almost normal. ‘His name is Göran Nilsson, and since he returned to Sweden he’s committed at least four murders. The Mao murders. And right now he’s outside that building, or at least was very recently, a brick building with a tin roof a short way into the forest below a viaduct . . .’
Officer Karlsson sighed audibly down the line.
‘The duty officer is booking someone in,’ he said, ‘but I’ll pass on your message as soon as she gets back.’
‘No!’ Annika yelled. ‘You have to come now! I don’t know how long he’s going to be there.’
‘Listen,’ the policeman said firmly. ‘Calm down. I’ve just told