Red Wolf_ A Novel - Liza Marklund [150]
They rolled off towards the water and turned off to follow the railway track. For the third time that day Annika drove through the industrial estate on Lövskatan.
‘How did you get into my room?’ she asked, staring into the rear-view mirror. Behind them, a long way back, she caught sight of a distant but growing point of light.
The archivist laughed slightly. ‘A little hobby of mine,’ he said. ‘I can break into anything. Anything else you’d like to know?’
She thought, shut her eyes and swallowed. ‘Why did you change the way you killed them each time?’
He shrugged, braked at the opening of the narrow track with the no vehicles sign, craned his neck and peered through the windscreen.
‘I wanted to try things out,’ he said. ‘At our training camp in Melderstein in the summer of sixty-nine the Dragon appointed me his supreme commander. I was the one who would lead the armed struggle. All summer we practised different forms of attack, different ways to take a life. Over the years I kept up my interest and my education. How far do we drive?’
‘To the viaduct,’ Annika said, glancing in the mirror again, the light was closer now. ‘Margit Axelsson received a warning after the Dragon disappeared. Did you get one as well?’
The archivist laughed again, louder this time.
‘But dear girl,’ he said, ‘I was the one who sent them. They all got one.’
‘Whose fingers were they?’
‘A little boy who had been killed in a car accident,’ Hans Blomberg said. ‘I broke into the mortuary and cut them off. There’s no need to worry, he didn’t miss them.’
She looked out of the window until she could talk again.
‘But why start killing them now?’ she said, looking at him. ‘Why did you wait so long?’
He glanced back at her and smiled.
‘You’re not listening,’ he said. ‘The revolution is here. It was going to start when the Dragon returned. He promised that before he left, and now he’s back.’
‘Göran Nilsson is dead.’
Hans Blomberg shrugged. ‘Ah well,’ he said with a sigh. ‘All false authorities die sooner or later.’
He pulled up, put the car in neutral and put on the handbrake, leaving the stolen car running. He turned to look at Annika, suddenly serious and thoughtful.
‘The Dragon promised that he would come back, and I knew it was true. I waited all those years. Of course I’ve had moments of doubt, but I’m the winner in the end.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ Annika said.
He slapped her across the face with the flat of his hand.
‘So now we go out and find the box,’ he said, reaching over her to open the passenger door, his hand pausing on her stomach.
She heaved herself out, taking a quick glance backward.
Not yet time.
She turned towards the box and pointed. ‘There.’
‘Open it.’
She walked slowly forward, lead weights round her feet.
It won’t work, she thought. I can’t do it.
She listened behind her, thought she could hear the dull rumble. Not yet, but soon. She took hold of the handle, tried to twist, pulled, used both hands, pulled even harder, braced her feet on the ground, and groaned loudly.
‘I can’t get it open,’ she said, letting go.
The light was close now, the whistling sound was very clear, merging with the distant rumble of the steelworks. Soon, soon, soon.
Hans Blomberg walked over, annoyed. ‘Get out of the way.’
Holding the pistol in his right hand, he grabbed the handle with his left, gathered his strength, then pulled. The door flew open, the man’s eyes opening wide as he leaned over and stared into the darkness, and Annika shrugged off her heavy jacket and ran.
She threw herself down onto the track, slipping on the sleepers, running though her legs felt like lead, unable to hear amidst the panic.
A bullet flew past her left ear, then another, and then she was bathed in the full glare of the diesel locomotive’s headlight. The driver pulled the whistle but it was too late, she was already across. She collapsed on the other side and the train thundered past her with its endless cargo of ore-truck after ore-truck after ore-truck, forming a wall of iron one kilometre long between